#the answer to both questions COULD be yes

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the Wife at First Sight series)

When Ghost had asked if you would help him with something, you’d answered yes without a question. You didn’t ask for details, smiling and thanking him every time he opened each door that led to the base’s parking garage, giggling when he even insisted on opening the truck door for you. You’d come to grow fond of your work husband, appreciating how he never failed to make you feel special.

You sometimes wished his affections were genuine, rather than part of what you’d assumed was a strange hazing ritual in the military (which you couldn’t deny kind of worked, the two of you had grown closer hadn’t you? Was that the point of hazings?).

But you knew that line of thinking wouldn’t lead anywhere, other than potential heartbreak. He surely was only joking around, wouldn’t return your feelings. That’s why you played along with the ruse, but tried your best not to fall too hard for the man who was making that more and more impossible.

Still though, you couldn’t deny the pang in your heart when you discovered the errand he requested your help with, was to go look at engagement rings.

Did he actually have someone special in his life? Someone he hoped to propose to?

You felt guilty, thinking there might be another person out there that he loves enough to ask them to marry him, all the while you’re enjoying his attention at work, pretending he could ever actually want you as his wife.

You follow him into the shop, eyes widening at the never ending cases and displays of shiny, glittering jewelry, as far as the eye can see.

He chuckles at your expression, telling you not to worry your pretty little head over any price tags, just to pick out whichever one you liked.

You appreciated that he trusts your judgement so much that he wanted your opinion on which ring to buy his partner, and so you take your time looking through them all, even if it makes you sad to picture him slipping this ring onto another person’s finger.

Gaze scanning the displays, your eye is instantly caught by one ring and one ring only. You point to it, Ghost humming in agreement, signalling for one of the employees behind the counter to unlock the case.

The man pulls the ring out, handing it to the Lieutenant who examines it in between gloved fingers.

“Let’s see how it fits.” He murmurs, taking your left hand in his and slipping the band onto your ring finger, both of your eyes locked on the movement.

“Like a glove.” The employee says with a smile, moving to gather a selection of ring boxes he hopes to show you both, seeing that the ring has evidently found its owner and fits perfectly.

“It’s really beautiful Ghost.” You tell him, admiring the ring as he admires your expression. “Your wife’s a lucky woman.” You add, thinking of the mystery woman you’re convinced he’s buying this for, assuming you must have a similar ring size to her or something, if he’s having you try it on.

Your eyes meet his own warm gaze as his hand folds your fingers, bringing the ring up to his lips to press a kiss through the mask.

“Not as lucky as I am to be her husband.”

[parfaitblogs]

making the bed ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your night crumbles around you, and spencer is happy to pick up the pieces. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort  tags: established relationship. (prior) alcohol consumption. reader is semi-drunk (but sobers up). post drinking depression. healthy alcohol information/discussion 🫡 word count: 2.1k a/n: do not read too much into this for you will begin to question why i still enjoy going clubbing. (joke...) 😄 plsss tell me if u liked this or even if u didnt thank u i love uuuuuu

Alcohol is a depressant. 

You remembered the God awful lecture your boyfriend had given you when you woke up one Sunday morning with this feeling of existential dread, and nothing to pin it to. A ramble about how alcohol can temporarily increase the body's production of dopamine and serotonin when entering, causing a worse crash of both chemicals when it leaves. Leaving you, evidently, depressed and anxious after a big night. 

You knew that. 

You also knew how quick you were to seclude within your mind when you were with people. Too many drinks and not enough social interaction tended to lead to your own isolation, sitting on the outer edge of the booth, absentmindedly playing with the charm on the end of your phone. 

The room no longer spun the way it had an hour ago. You missed when it spun. When it spun, you weren't thinking about how little you had to contribute to the conversations your friends were having. You weren't tallying up how many drinks you had already drank, then falling flat when you realised you couldn't remember, and that was a thought more horrifying than knowing it was over ten. You were fun, when the room was a carousel. 

Now, it's simply overwhelming. Loud chattering from both your table, and the surrounding ones. Clinking of glasses at the bar. A sports game on the television across the room. Balls on a pool table being dispersed for the first time in a game. Dancing feet. Music. People. So many fucking people.

Your phone buzzes against the table, and you pick it up before any of your friends could turn their heads to see where the vibrations were coming from. You figured they were too drunk to conclude it was you, anyways. Or to care. 

Spencer had texted you fifteen minutes ago to check in on you, and though it wasn't long ago, you not responding immediately in a flurry of half strung together sentences and emojis was worrying for him. That was probably why his name was now lighting up your screen, a funny photo of him mid-bite of an ice cream as his contact photo, enlarged. 

You hadn't responded for no reason other than the fact that you had no will to. Which should've been a big enough red flag to yourself that you should text him, and you should ask if he can pick you up. Thankfully, he loved to prove how well he could read you, and he was calling you anyways. 

"Hi," you mumble into the phone, angling your body away from your friends, hand held up to your other ear to block out some of the noise the best you could. 

"Hi," he parrots back to you. "You okay?"

An automatic yes manifests on your tongue, but you're quick enough to keep it to yourself before you can lie to him. Instead, you let out a quiet, "No."

He seems to have expected that answer, for he leaves no silence in between your admission and his response. "What can I do to help?" He also seems to be expecting your hesitance at asking him for anything that would require him to move, because he adds, "I can pick you up. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"Yes. Please?"

"I'm already leaving," he tells you, and you can hear his shoes against the wooden floor of his apartment to confirm that. "Did something happen? Are you safe?"

"No, nothing happened. I'm safe," you reassure him. "I started feeling sick so I stopped drinking an hour ago. Now I'm just sad."

"You remember what I told you about it being a depressant?"

"Vividly," you mutter, and while it isn't meant to be funny, you hear him huff a short laugh anyways. It makes you feel a little better. 

"It's important to know," he defends. "I'm sorry I shared important information with you."

"Mm."

Your lack of a verbal response was expected, but he still hated the sound of it regardless. You heard him sigh. "I have to hang up now. I'll be there in forty minutes. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too."

No matter how much time had passed, your head lifted every time the door — that your group was so conveniently close to — opened, letting in a rush of cool air and sobering you up with every hit of it. 

True to his word, Spencer was entering the bar after forty minutes, face scrunching up at the sudden onslaught of noises and visual stimuli. Same boat as you, only he had not a drop of alcohol in his body. At least you weren't crazy about it being overstimulating. 

"This is why I don't go to bars," he says once he's approached your booth, and you had stood up next to you, his hand finding an automatic place on your waist. 

"It's usually not this bad," you tell him, but he decides not to ask you anything else upon hearing just how exhausted your voice sounds. You're grateful for that.

The goodbye to your friends is quick, Spencer rattling off a lie about him needing you home for he had work early the next morning, and you only had one key to the apartment. Even the friends who knew that wasn't the case didn't comment on it, and you made a pointless mental note to thank them for it later. You knew you wouldn't. 

The drive home was even faster. Silence, aside from the rush of the wind from your slightly cracked window as Spencer drove, that helped the sick feeling in your stomach from the alcohol you had consumed. 

It didn't seem to help the hollowness of your chest, though.

You weren't sure if anything would, really. A chemical imbalance in your brain — even one as temporary as the deflation from being drunk — was hard to fix without medication. It would go away, yes. But then you would make the mistake of drinking once more, and you would find yourself back in this brain peeling predicament. 

You showered alone. Despite Spencer's offer to join you, and your own personal desire for him to be there with you. It didn't help your fogged mind at all, and you were exiting the bathroom feeling like you had retreated further into your bones. Every movement felt clunky, your skin a heavy coat to your skeleton, restricting your movement down to short shuffles and barely lifted arm movements. 

He was reading when you reentered your bedroom, and you've never seen him put a book and his glasses back on his bedside table faster. He looked visibly tired. Keeping himself awake a seemingly difficult struggle, that you could feel your body heading towards to as well. 

"Hey," he says as you climb into the bed, and he's very patient as you figure out what position you want your bodies in. Head on his chest, but next to him, you had decided on, and his fingers entangled into your hair.

"Hi," you mumble, staring up at the ceiling, counting brush strokes of the paint, as if it were possible to.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You huff at the phrase, tilting your head upwards so your eyes could land on him. "Do you have a penny?"

He pauses, then angles his head closer towards yours. "Okay, kiss for your thoughts?"

"That'll just distract me."

"Is that what you want?"

You should say no. Arguably the last thing you should be doing when you're sad is let intimacy with your boyfriend distract you. But then again, you're not the best advocate for healthy coping mechanisms anyways. 

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" he muses, and his lips brush against yours. Your heart flutters. 

"I don't really know what I want," you settle on telling him, honestly. "I want my brain to shut up."

His body deflates beneath you, and you feel guilt chip away up your spine at the killing of the less depressing atmosphere. 

"Sorry," you mumble.

"No. It's good. Be honest with me," he reassures you, quietly. His fingers tap at your scalp, "What's going on up here?"

"I'll cry if I try to verbalise it."

"Crying's good for you, you know," he hums.

"I'm pretty sure I still have eyeliner in my waterline. I'll just stain your sheets," you retort. 

"Yeah, probably. That's fine."

You're silent for a few moments, gathering your thoughts in your brain the best you could despite yourself, before you sit up, his hand dropping to the bed beside you.

"I just don't like being... here? Out? I don't know. I'm just really sick of being sad every time I drink. Is there something wrong with me? Did you get sad whenever you drank? Everyone else I know loves going out for drinks because they have fun and they're giggly drunks, or they're clingy drunks. And if I drink too much then I'm a fucking sad drunk, and I'm the only person I know that gets that way. I want to be normal."

He's silent your entire rant, and then some, waiting for your heaving chest to slow, having caught the few tears that slipped down your cheeks. You were grateful — you needed that time.

He reaches a hand out, and you let him tug you back down to the bed, slotting your body atop his own, just so he could see you properly. 

"To answer your question, no, I didn't get sad when I drank," he says, brushing your hair out of your face, before his hands rest on either side of your face. "But I wasn't really happy, either. I just talked more."

"You already talk a lot."

His lips twitch. "I do. Double whatever you think my worst is, and that was me drunk. Focus on the part where I said I wasn't a happy drunk, please."

"But you weren't sad. So there is something wrong with me."

"No, there's not. Alcohol is a depressant," he punctuates his words with a kiss to your nose, which you gratefully accept despite your emotions. "Are you willing to give up alcohol as a whole?" 

"My friends will think I'm boring, then."

He hesitates in his response, but ultimately settles on asking, "Do you think I'm boring because I don't drink?"

"No. Obviously not. And you have a real reason for not drinking, so—"

"—and being sad isn't a real reason to not drink?"

Taken aback by his sudden sternness, you go quiet, breath hitching within your throat. He was right, ultimately. No reason is reason enough. You knew that. 

Sensing your discomfort at his tone, he expels a breath of air and lowers his hands down to your hips. His voice drops to something a little less harsh, as he murmurs, "You are allowed to not want to drink alcohol if you don't like the way it makes you feel. If your friends think you're boring for that, then they're not worth it."

You silently nod your head, beginning to curse your emotional regulators. For while you had kept your tears at bay for the vast majority of this conversation, it seemed all it took was the gentle rubbing of circles onto your hip bones, and a fact checked piece of life advice from your boyfriend to make you cry. 

"Sorry," you sniffle, dropping your head to the crook of his neck to hide your newly tear stricken face. 

"Crying's good for you," he repeats his earlier words, and feels you nod your head. "You don't have to decide tonight. I'd encourage you not to, actually. You're technically still intoxicated."

"I'm sober," you protest, weakly. 

"Okay, honey." He's only agreeing with you to wane any further argument. "I don't think your friends will think you're boring, though, if that's any help."

"I don't think they will either."

He nods his head, and you're relaxing against him a little more. 

"Are you just trying to not be the only loser who doesn't drink?" you mumble, voice muffled by his skin.

"You've caught me."

He relishes in the laugh that leaves your lips, and he places the gentlest of kisses on the side of your head, which prompts you to lift it to look at him again. 

"You're not a loser for not drinking," you say, and his lips pull into a smile. 

He leans his head up, brushing his lips against yours, despite the mix of mint toothpaste and alcohol on your tongue. "I know. You wouldn't be either."

"I know."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[anadiasmount]

https://www.tumblr.com/anadiasmount/766146994146295808/could-you-write-something-about-jude-realising

I loved the only jude pov idea so could you write something about jude telling his (and/or your) parents that he wants to marry you and he’s been thinking about it for a while and that he’s convinced you’re the love of his life and he will do anything he can to prove it to you every single day

this might be a little rough but hubby jude has my heart… 😕😕

“here’s your morning juice and vitamins, don’t forget we have a dinner tonight,” you half understood jude as he spoke quickly, he was late for training like usual, but he never left without saying goodbye. whether you were awake or not, a kiss on your cheek and he was gone for the day. though today seemed different, felt different but you brushed it off.

jude was running late to his appointment, he had no training today but you didn’t have to know that. he went to a small yet very popular jewelry store in downtown madrid, where he had picked out your dream engagement ring. he needed your friends help and they were more than willing to make that trip and helping out a nervous jude.

the ring was set to pick up, and he would ask for your parents blessing tonight when you visited them. you were oblivious, they were oblivious. only your friends and him knew about this. yet all he wanted was the scream that he was closer to marrying you. he had no doubt that you’d say yes. jude knew you wanted to get married, with him. you had drunkenly confessed after a night out and reminded him weeks later when you said your first “i love you’s”.

so jude was ready. you were ready.

you had graduated and landed your dream job. he considered you as his wife already. you knew him from the back of your hand but with jude, he wouldn’t fail to answer any questions related to you. whether it was from your favorite foods, to a movie, to a makeup product, to a favorite memory, he knew all of you. inside and out.

your friends had gasped and covered their mouth, eyes tearing up when jude showed them the ring. they all were in awe, jude especially since it was getting real for him. he couldn’t deny that feeling in his chest, getting choked up with his own emotions, knowing you were his forever home. the only home he wanted to be in, in this life and the other. “it’s absolutely gorgeous jude!” one of you friends reclaimed.

“our y/n is going to love it!” replied your other friend to while jude let out a breath of fresh air. “when do you plan to pop the question?” they asked, “after international break, we have a couple days together and i want to take her on a small getaway. but i want to get her parents blessings first, which we’re doing today because we’re going over,” jude nodded, hearing them let out a small squeal of excitement.

“look mom…” jude whispered, his dad sitting down next to her as jude pulled out the red velvet box from his back pocket. “is this what i think it is?” she gushed, opening the box gently, her hand resting against her chest as she admired the ring. “having this around me is so tempting you don’t understand. all i want is to ask her to marry me,” jude smiled, immediately thinking of you.

“i don’t even have to ask if you’re sure, your eyes and smile say it all,” his dad said making jude look at them. “we’re happy for you both. there’s no doubt in my mind that the two of you are made for each other. while marriage can be hard, it’s also the most beautiful thing that’s ever been created. she’s your soulmate, protect that forever,” his dad continued, standing up to give jude a hug. where he couldn’t contain his emotions.

“thank you guys for everything…”

on the way back, jude had picked up a few groceries and snacks for you. along with his bouquet of flowers since it was time to get a refresh. making sure to stock up on waters and different beverages as well.

after a while jude had returned back to your house, immediately looking to see where you were. “y/n? darling?” he asked, “in here! i’m in the study!” you yelled, meeting jude by the doorway where he engulfed you into his arms. “god i missed you so so much,” he murmured, smelling the sweet scent of your hair. you tippy toed and pressed a small kiss on his lips.

jude laughed at the small state you were in, hair in rollers, and he was guessing setting powder beneath your eyes and nose. “i’m almost done getting ready, i just had to quickly take a call because they needed me to give authorization for something. do you know what you’ll wear?” you say as you walked into the kitchen and drank water.

“yes i do…” jude couldn’t stop staring at you, that look he gave you full of love and respect. “i know i look funny but it’s just the powder,” you laughed, “stop! why are you looking at me like that!” you exclaimed walking over to where he sat. “because i love you, but you do look a little goofy with this on,” he joked feeling the playful slap on his shoulder. “go get ready! now before we catch traffic!” you said seriously while jude just nodded.

while jude anticipated to be nervous, he wasn’t. the sense of comfort yet worth filling his head. this was a huge deal, asking your parents for their blessing. but jude could radiate the answer from a mile away. the love you had together was so traditional and old school, the two of you loved that. it didn’t exist much these days, but the love you and jude had made everyone around you feel alive and happy.

as the night filled with laughs and talks of the past, you had taken over and helped your sister in law with the babies. jude knew this was his chance so he booked it, watching as you disappeared and went upstairs. “could i talk to you both?” he whispered seeing how their faces pulled into confusion but followed him either way. the three of them sat in the living room, jude pulling the ring back out from his back pocket.

“i’ve never in my life been so tempted to risk it all for a person. y/n is my person. my happiness. my home. my all in this world. i never knew if i’d find that. but with y/n it was a quick and undeniable feeling. i feel like i’ve known her my whole life. she knows me more than i know myself, and i knew she’s the one for me since she’s stood and sacrificed for our love…” jude said, your mother letting out a few tears as she looked at the ring.

“it would be an honor if i could have your blessing to marry your daughter. i promise you now i will take care of her forever. not just for marriage, but it’s because im giving you my word. because i love her with my entire heart…” jude asked shakily, knowing how much this meant to you and him. knowing this is just a step closer to finally having your happy ever after.

“you have my blessing jude,” your dad said, standing up and hugging him deeply, knowing there’s no hesitation because jude has never given them the reason. that he knows jude isn’t lying and will stick to his word. “yes you can marry my little girl,” your mother gushed going to jude and hugging him tighter, the two men laughing. “you did an amazing selection with the ring… she will love it,” she said.

“i’m willing to prove whatever it takes to show her how much i love her…” jude sealed. “what are you all doing without me,” you came back with a huge smile, joining your parents and boyfriend.

“i want in on whatever it is…”

[weltraum-vaquero]

Swan song

Professor Viktor x TA Reader

[PART 1]｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆[PART 2] ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[PART 3] (coming soon)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[AO3 link] ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

Summary: You’re a bright phD student who won’t shy away from a challenge. Getting the most notorious professor at the University of Piltover to hire you as his assistant is one of them.

Tags: Modern AU, SFW (for now…), DILF professor Viktor, romanticizing and eroticizing borsht, lab shenanigans, reader being filled with equal parts shame and lust

Word count: 7.8k

Notice: This fic is written with a transmasculine reader in mind, but that won’t come into play at all until the final third chapter of this mini-series.

Notes: A little something something while we await season two ;] The draft for this post deleted itself twice now. If the formatting looks wonky (especially in the texting section), NO, it doesn't. Shut up.

He didn’t lie. 

Which is all the more shocking, considering you attend his 8AM lecture on the very same day, and he seems more bright and alight than you’ve ever seen him.

When did he find the time?

Though there isn’t a daunting amount to your thesis just yet, you still want to believe you’ve written something quite substantial over the past months. 

You toss one glance around yourself before you follow him into his office after his lecture, and you find the stack of papers you’d left on his desk last night looking positively devoured, in the most… academic way possible. Scribbles and notes litter the margins, the edges of the papers are already somehow lightly worn. 

He must have read it multiple times.

“Coffee?” He offers.

“Yes, please.”

As he gropes the machine in search of its switch again, he cocks his brow at you. “And what was that for?”

You frown. “What was what for?”

“That… glance, before you followed me into my office.” The switch clicks, the light comes on. “Looking around like you were being followed.”

“Oh,” caught in the embarrassing act, you shrug. “I don’t know. Being cautious, I guess. Students have been looking at me a little funny, lately.”

“Much too late for caution, I’m afraid.” 

Uh oh. 

As he retrieves two paper cups, you’re left wondering what exactly that should mean.

“Why’s that?”

“I thought you were well aware of the fact that rumors would start, um… circulating the moment I made it public that I had hired an assistant.” Coffee trickles into the cups, a soothing little melody. Viktor leans against the wall beside the machine as he watches the cups fill.  “I’ve always been adamant about not needing one. It is natural for people to have questions — and to come up with, eh, answers — when I suddenly do.”

The notion of the answers students might have come up with swirls around in your brain. 

You wish they were right.

You’re glad they’re not.

You look at Viktor.

“Do you mind it?”

The coffee stops pouring. Viktor does that thing again, spreading long fingers apart to grasp both cups. And he’s quiet — for a beat longer than he should be.

“No. There are more important things to worry about than… gossip.” He sets the cups on the table, then takes his seat. He hesitates for a brief second, craning his neck before he fixates on you, motionless. Waiting. “Do you?”

“Trying not to.”

The answer makes him… deflate, somehow. It’s barely visible, for just a fraction of a second his chest sinks, before his tone is back to his composed cadence.

“You will get used to it,” he assures. “Now, onto more interesting matters — your work.”

Thank god. You don’t know how much more of the awkward tiptoeing you could have handled.

“Yes.” Your heart leaps into your throat. Acting normal has never been so difficult. “What did you think?”

“Very impressive.” He slides the stack of papers towards you. “I have made some… suggestions here and there, should you wish to take them into consideration. But, I think you struck gold with your hypothesis. Should you need a conversation partner, guidance, anything at all — I would gladly be at your service.”

“Thank you, Viktor. I really appreciate this.”

At the sound of his own name coming from you, something in him shifts. Shifts with an unfamiliar near bashfulness, he stifles a little smile into the rim of his paper cup, the corners of his eyes crinkle, he settles into his seat a little further.

“But you never held up your end of the bargain,” you point out. That snaps him out of it.

“Ah, yes. I did not.” He continues to hide behind his cup, before he finally seems to decide to take a metaphorical leap, as he sets it down and stares down at it. “I fear the unfortunate truth may be that when it comes to research, I either work better with a partner, or that… Cecil is right and I need to slow down. Though I’d guess the former is more likely.”

“You used to work with, uh…” you’re not sure how to approach the topic, “Talis, didn’t you?”

“The five basic principles of applied arcanism are commonly referred to as Talis’ princies, you do not have to feign uncertainty to appease me.”

So you drop the attempt to tiptoe around the subject, and ask, plainly:

“Why wasn’t your name added on?”

Viktor scoffs. “Talis-Sidorov-Sviboda has a terrible ring to it. Or so he’d said. And admittedly… I was more of a conduit than the co-author of his idea. He said we would name the next big thing we would discover after me, but… well, you know how it is. I dedicated myself to teaching, he retired to lead a quiet life in his gaudy mansion with his sports cars and his purebred German shepherds after he married some businesswoman.”

Though his story does line up, those aren’t necessarily the rumors you’d heard. There’d been talk of more than just a mild dispute of names, and… well, there had been… something between Talis and Viktor. But that’s about all you know.

Under your gaze, Viktor grows suddenly uncomfortable — both with the subject and the fact that he might be able to tell you know more. He’s quick to redirect the conversation.

“As for my research: I have been studying the laminal hexoin cascade in stabilized hexgems in various matrices. And though bold, I have been attempting to figure out the ideal matrix — something that will allow for close to a hundred percent energy renewal and render all other sources of energy obsolete.”

”That is bold,” you say. Your other thought, you keep to yourself: it also sounds impossible. You suppose stabilizing hexgems 20 years ago was also something thought impossible — and yet, Viktor hadn’t shied away. If anyone is apt for the job, it is him. “Any luck so far?”

“Partially. They have been yielding favorable results, but not enough to be viable energetic alternatives as of now.” He takes his cup again, bringing it to his lips in a rushed movement, drinking a mouthful, rather than a sip. Once Viktor sets it down, his hand remains on the table, fingers tapping on the shiny surface once, twice— “I could use a theorist to assist me with a few things.”

The implication dizzies you. Is he…?

But then he slides another one of his drawers open, and retrieves a stack of papers. Slanted handwriting, barely legible — you’re by now intimately familiar with it: his cursive. It litters the pages, in different inks and in pencil, diagrams, sketches… just looking at it makes you hungry to read it.

He smiles as if he’s read your mind, again.

“I was thinking it could be you.”

—

You’re invited to his office for lunch break the very next day too. And though he assures you there is no pressure in having to read through his notes by then, you disregard it.

It takes you a reread to be able to make sense of all his scribbles, but… it’s brilliant. He’s brilliant. 

It should stop surprising you by now — his ideas, his drive, his curiosity, his mind — but with every single time Vikror impresses you anew, he becomes something more distant.

As you’re marveling at his intricate weaving of concepts, it strikes you, unpleasantly, that this is the same man you’d wanted to devour just days ago. The man who’s made you coffee, the man whose sharp eyes fold at the corners when he smiles. 

You’d have deified him, had he been your teacher. You still do, especially now, after you’ve seen more of what his mind is made of. The mere notion of him becomes terribly out of reach, and you’re plagued with guilt for that night. Guilt for having tainted such a man with your thoughts. 

And yet, you still can’t help but think of his neck, the soft pink of his chapped lips, the hollow of his cheeks. You wonder what his mouth tastes like, and you want to slap yourself on the wrist for it. You should have, because minutes later, you wonder about worse things too. The scent of his skin, the coarseness of his body hair, how far up under his navel it might reach.

And when you finish reading his notes a second time and bring the paper to your nose to sniff it — hoping for a trace of him — you realize you have a problem. A serious one.

It torments you for the rest of the night, through the hours you spend writing up some suggestions and ideas, all the way to when you switch off the light, and hug whatever pillow’s within reach close.

When you get the urge to tilt your hips against it, you decide to get up and splash your face with water.

And you wish you could do the same thing the very next day on your lunch break, when you’re standing in the doorway of his office and he’s eating borscht. The sweet-tangy smell of vegetables, beef and beets makes your stomach growl, but your physical hunger is long lost on your otherwise preoccupied brain.

The beet red of the soup has pigmented his lips. They look kissed raw, puffy, ripe. A lavish speck of colour on his otherwise pale face, it draws your gaze and does not let it stay somewhere more respectful.

You want to taste them.

He does it for you, raspberry pink tip of his tongue darting over the plush of his lips before he swallows and finally greets you.

“Sorry,” you say, and it comes out tense, near horrified. You’ve caught him eating soup, for chrissakes, not being bent over his table. Oh, god. Why did you have to think about that? ”I’ll come back later.”

“No,” Viktor gestures to the empty seat across from him. He screws his thermos shut, and puts it away. “Please, I’ve been waiting for you. Sit.”

And you do, like the dog you feel like you are right now.

“Did you manage to find the time to read my notes?”

Oh, did you.

“I… followed your example and made some suggestions of my own. But on separate pages. Here.”

His reaction is more than what you’d hoped for. It’s more than the impressed raise of thick brows that had kept you fueled last night, it’s more than the smile you’d been hoping for. 

“You are unbelievable,” he grins, and takes what you offer, pushing his glasses up his nose before he starts reading. You selfishly use the distraction to stare at his lips again. He mutters to himself as he reads, pink mouth molding around whispered jargon, nodding. “Yes, this… this is exactly what I’d hoped for, when I’d asked for your assistance. Your fresh set of eyes is invaluable. I hadn’t thought of approaching the modification from that angle.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the page for even just a moment, flipping it surprisingly fast, and taking it with him as he leans back in his seat. 

And decides to torture you.

Viktor traces the pad of his own thumb over the curve of his bottom lip as he takes in your handwriting. The give of the flesh under his fingertip hypnotizes, the slight drag of rough skin on soft pink one, your mind is long gone.

You think of rough fingertips on his lips, on his chest, rough fingertips on the pasty white of his gaunt lower stomach, rough fingertips in coarse hair. Rough fingertips dipping between his milky thighs, rough fingertips on where he runs just as pink as he does on his lips, rough fingertips dipping, slipping on slick skin—

You need to stop.

And you most certainly need help.

“Is something the matter?”

It feels like you’ve swallowed your own brain whole when he speaks, because your skull rings hollow when you try to come up with a reply that isn’t incoherent babble.

“Wh— me? No. Why?”

And because embarrassment loves to stick around once it has made its presence known, the stars align for the next social disaster: your stomach growls. Loudly.

“Did you not have lunch?” Viktor asks.

“I… didn’t get around to it,” you admit.

“I won’t take up too much of your time, then,” he assures. If he knew just how much of your time he’s started taking up — and the fact that you wish you could give him what is left of it to him, too.  “I would like you to work alongside me on my research. But if you don’t feel like you can squeeze another project into your presumably busy schedule, I understand. I would be glad to have you merely as… a colleague to consult with, as well.”

Is that even a question? He’s offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. You would be an idiot not take it. 

And an even bigger idiot to turn down more time spent with him.

“You don’t even have to ask,” you joke. “Yes. I would be thrilled, Viktor.”

This is his first smile you witness when his pretty boyishness doesn’t shine through. It’s a gentle quirk of his lips, no teeth to be seen, just tenderness. It makes your heart leap to be the cause of it.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Thank you.”

Silence.

Just as you’re about to breach it — he does it first.

“Would you be free for lunch tomorrow as well?”

He watches you from below long, dark lashes as you give a breathless yes.

—

“I brought you something.”

It’s the last thing you expect as you step into his office at noon, upon exchanging hellos.

You’re alight. With curiosity, above all else. And with worry — why would he bring you something? What will you do to reciprocate? 

“Thank you,” you say, though you have no idea what for just yet. “What is it?”

“I saw you eyeing my borscht yesterday.” There’s a glint in his eye that suggests more, so much so you can’t decide between flirting or digging a hole for yourself in the hardwood floor of his office. 

The middle ground is standing in his office awkwardly as he unzips his backpack.

He retrieves two thermos bottles: the one you’re already familiar with, and another that looks older, more worn, and sorely lacks the sticker you’ve so come to love and fixate on and dream about. “I, eh, I made you some. In case you wouldn’t get the chance to eat before you came here.”

Your chest swells so much it hurts. 

He made you soup?

“You… Viktor, this is… thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to. Have a seat.”

You practically jump into the seat across the table from his — a seat you’ve come to associate as yours, in spite of being well aware of the oppisite.

As he screws the bottle open and pours some steaming soup out into a paper bowl — god, he’d brought paper bowls — his eyes flick to you.

“But if you don’t care for borscht, you don’t have to—“

“I do care.”

And that rings true not just for the borscht.

It rings true for the soup he brings you the next day too, it rings true for every word that passes his lips. And it rings true for the time you start to spend in the insane coffee shop queue to surprise him with his preferred order and a slice of cake (a different one each day, until you figure out his favorite: cinnamon coffee), it rings true for the dark blue roughed up thermos he lets you take home the day you don’t finish the soup he brings you because you’re just so busy talking.

It’s November before you know it.

As the days grow colder, it’s not rare to be finding warmth by lavishing in Viktor’s attention as you ramble on about ideas — either for his research, or your thesis. All while he intently follows your thoughts with a smile, stopping just to shave another mouth-half-full’s worth off his cake of the day with his plastic spoon.

And once he savors the last bite, Viktor almost always flips it hollow side down, sliding it down the swell of his tongue within his mouth, removing it from between puckered lips. His cheeks hollow, he holds eye contact all the same, and it’s a mental image that haunts you. A mental image you project in your mind, nestled between the apex of your thighs. The thick of his tongue. The cushiony seal of his lips, the suction of his cheeks. 

It never becomes any less distracting than the first time it happens. 

You startle when Viktor speaks as he sets down the plastic spoon into the now empty packaging. 

“I would like you to accompany me to the lab sometime soon. When would you be free?”

You’ve been before — but just a handful of times. Mainly for him to demonstrate or disprove certain guesses, or test conclusions you’d reached together. 

“I’m free right now,” you suggest.

Viktor shakes his head. “I have a lecture in an hour.”

Right. 

“I mean… I think we could make it in an hour.”

“I prefer to take my time.” Viktor leans back in his seat, stares thoughtfully at the clock on his wall for a moment. “Would seven PM work for you?”

“Uh…” you mentally go through your schedule for the day, “yes. It should. I might be a little late, though. How about… seven fifteen-ish?”

“Good.” The flow of the word is syrupy, yet his next sentence comes out surprisingly peppy with excitement: “See you then.”

—

Though you’re well into the final week of November, it never stops bothering you just how quickly the sun sets. By the time you get to the lab, the air’s gone cold, dry, and the darkness is heavy and thick.

Viktor waits for you just outside the university lab, under the halo of the street light — perhaps just a hint overdressed for the cold, in your opinion. It’s certainly trench coat season, though his is surprisingly long, reaching somewhere along the middle of his shins. The hand he hasn’t tucked in his pocket holds his cane and is clad in a leather glove. Around his lengthy neck, a red knitted scarf lays in chunky, impenetrable layers, reaching almost all the way to the swell of his top lip and his ears. You can hardly see his smile from underneath when he spots you — but his eyes give him away. 

“Right on time,” Viktor’s tone has just as much pep to it as a few hours ago, perhaps even moreso. He rolls his shoulders, before he subtly nuzzles further down into his scarf, shying away from the biting cold. “Let’s get inside.”

He leads the way into the building, its warmth embracing you the moment you step in. The tip of your nose and your fingertips feel like they’re beginning to thaw, tingling just a hint. As you go to take off your coat, you notice Viktor isn’t in a rush. He rests his cane against the wall before he unwraps the thick, wide scarf from around his neck, folding it. He sets it on a nearby table, shucking off his trench coat, slender shoulders under a wool sweater. You watch closely as he then takes his scarf and stuffs it into the sleeve of his coat before he hangs it up. 

There’s something stiff, painful, about how he moves. You wonder if it’s the cold.

“What?” He watches you with appeased amusement.

Caught red-handed, you jump, still halfway clad in your coat.

“Nothing,” you reply, scraping for a way to deflect from your obvious staring. “Not a big fan of the cold?”

“Never.” He says it like it’s a very serious matter. “I still don’t know how I made it through my first eighteen winters in St. Petersburg.”

“You grew up in Russia?”

He laughs through his nose like you’ve told him a half good joke. “What gave it away? The accent? The surname?”

“No, I just thought… Svoboda is a Czech surname.”

With how his smile turns knowing, self-satisfied, you’re suddenly back in his office again, uncertain and nervous and asking for a job as his assistant. He could taunt you with the knowledge that you’ve looked up his last name, embarrass you a little, play with you.

But he isn’t that man anymore — not to you. This time, he feeds your curiosity, albeit just with crumbs.

“My mother’s,” he clarifies. “Sidorov is Russian — my father’s.”

Oh.

“It’s nice that they used both their names. I’m assuming that wasn’t… common, back then, and back there.”

“It wasn’t, and they did not.” Viktor waits for you to hang up your coat, watchful gaze making your every movement feel loaded with static that’s about to snap. “I added hers when I changed my name.”

Changed his name?

The image of the sticker on his thermos turns up fresh in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder…

“Well? I was hoping we could discuss more in the lab, but if you prefer the coat hanger…”

Goddamn it. Focus. You need to focus.

“Sorry.”

You catch up, then slowly follow Viktor down the hallway, into the small lab he has been assigned. It’s one of the less grand ones, but it has all it needs — from a pretty new hexion accelerator to a humble whiteboard. It smells sanitized, sterile, ozonic.

You assume your usual seat by the whiteboard while he sets up. It still doesn’t feel… right to let him do all of that by himself, but he insists upon it, so, you stay out of his way. Viktor tidies up the space just a little, finding his goggles among the mess. He slips them onto his head, elastic pulling back his soft hair into a fluffy grey and brown mess. His cane thumps against the linoleum with every hurried step — though he doesn’t seem to be hurrying on account of you being there as much as excitement to show you.

Once he’s done, he sits in front of the accelerator, slipping his goggles on, and nods for you to come. Which you do — you’d be at his beck and call beyond just the academic context. For a moment, you pluck the inviting tilt of his head and the quirk of his lips out of their context, and you plant it atop your own bed, him in just a loose shirt, underwear, lax with freshly received pleasure. More comfortable than he’s ever been, all because of you. Beckoning for you. Come here. Smiling at you when your knee dips into the mattress, tucking his index under your chin as you crawl to him, reeling you in for a kiss.

“Come closer.”

God help you.

You comply with a wildly beating heart, stepping forward until you’re close behind his sitting form, watching the accelerator over his shoulder. 

He smells nice. Like an indistinct, aromatic cologne, covering up the natural, gentle musk of his skin. You have to resist the urge to dip your head down and trace the tip of your nose along his spine, from where the bones of his neck show to where the scruff at the back of his head goes thicker, fuller. You wonder if he’d shiver as you let the scent of him imbue you… you wonder if he’d lean into it, if he’d tilt his head for you, let you dip your face into the slope of his shoulder, where his scent’s more potent.

The mere thought of him, vivid in your nostrils and clinging to your palate and the floor of your brain, rattles you with a shiver.

“I thought I’d rather show you than tell you,” he explains, wrapping both pale, bony hands around the handles of the accelerator. Steam hisses from the exhaust, flooding the room with more ozone, and gently, but certainly, the gem starts to spin behind the glass panel, beginning to levitate out of its socket, illuminating the room. 

God, you should have put on goggles too, it’s making your eyes hurt. It’s a welcome reminder as to why you chose to spend most your days staring down a blackboard rather than the thing itself. The screen right above it is more of a familiar sight to you: numbers, reading the rotations per minute, as well as energetic output, steadily increasing. 

It whirrs, magic static whirling up around the blue orb, electricity crackles. 

You can see the appeal of this over a blackboard. But you’d still take the chalk. Especially considering the deafening noise. 

Nevermind the damn goggles. You need to remember to bring some ear plugs.

“Watch the panel.” Viktor raises his voice over the hum of the machine, and turns to you, watching you from behind foggy lenses with a smile. You wish you could see the way his crow’s feet deepen. It rumbles harder, so much so Viktor almost has to shout the next thing he says, which is a shame, because his usually playful lilt is lost in the noise of it. “Not to… spoil the outcome of this experiment for you, but I implemented the conclusions we came to last week, and, it is safe to say…”

With a well-timed click and tug on a lever, the machine disengages, and the gem drops back into its socket under the influence of gravity. Its violating light returns to a faint, blue glow, like an artificially lit aquarium; fluctuating and undulating gently in its intensity. The potential energy indicator’s numbers climb back up, steadily, but faster than what you’ve seen before. 

Much faster.

You can’t help but grin with excitement. “It’s regenerating fast.”

Viktor smirks at you over his shoulder like you’re sharing a sacred, intimate inside joke. 

“It is.“

You await the verdict with a bated breath.

“How much?”

Viktor’s smile only grows, like he’s about to give you a present. And, all things considered, this is going to be one, in months’ or maybe even years’ time.

“A thirty-seven percent recovery after usage within an hour.” Viktor spins in the lab stool to face you with the theatrical self-satisfaction of a magician who just sawed his assistant in half and is waiting for the applause. You nearly forget to step back to give him the space for it, so much so your knees knock together. But there is no chance for you to apologize, Viktor is unbothered, sliding the goggles up his forehead enthusiastically, his show of complacency ditched in favor of pure excitement. “That is more than I’ve ever achieved thus far. Thanks to y—” 

His voice sticks in his throat, turning into a pained hiss.

His hair’s tangled in his goggles.

“Oh, wonderful,” he grits out sarcastically. 

A frustrated half-sigh half-groan rumbles in his chest as he pulls again and only makes things worse.

“Could you get me a pair of scissors? I should have some in the third drawer over there.”

“Wait. At least let me try first,” you insist. Reluctantly, you step closer, and after a moment’s hesitation, Viktor lowers his head for better access like a feral animal letting itself be pet for the first time. He sits still, the sound of both your breaths suddenly loud in the tall, quiet room as you’re forced to step even closer. “Could you…”

You nudge his ankles apart with the tip of your shoe.

He listens.

After a stuttering, fragile exhale, Viktor spreads his thighs. 

You take the space offered. And you try not to think about kneeling, about making a home for yourself between his thighs.

“Do you think you can do it?”

You wish he’d asked you that about any number of things, except for the goggles tangled in his feathery, soft hair.

But yes. You think you do.

It would have been a terrible shame to cut it — though some shorter, bluntly cut hairs that sit a little further back near the top of his head tell you his suggestion was not the product of a new idea. Carefully, you pull whatever hairs are looser from between the lens and the bridge of the goggles, though a strand remains stubborn. 

You try to ignore the warmth of his breath on your shirt, the intoxicating, soapy, yet distinctively human smell of his scalp, and the mesmerizing ratio of grey to dark brown, the subtle heat on the sides of your palms and wrists, resting on his head for stability.

As you separate another few hairs from the stuck strand and accidentally tug at them, Viktor has no reaction. Beyond swallowing thickly, and sitting through it dutifully. 

You wonder if he’d act just the same, had you bunched his hair into the spaces between your fingers and tugged — simply biting his tongue and chewing through the pain — or if he’s leaned into the force, moaning with it, and god, you’ve hurt him, and you haven’t even apologized.

“Sorry.” You sound twice as genuine — mainly because you apologize for much worse than the inflicted pain. “Almost done.”

“The scissors would have been faster,” he half-jokes.

His voice sounds different. A hint more… strained. He shifts in the seat, wipes his hands on his slacks.

“Would have been a shame, though. You have pretty hair.” The last part of the sentence positively escapes you, and once you hear it, you freeze. Your brain scrambles itself trying to add something that will fix the inherent following awkwardness, the horrifying realization you just called your boss pretty, the fact that it’s true, the fact that—

Viktor flinches with another accidental tug of his hair, and so do his thighs — jumping with the surprise, clenching together until they squeeze around yours. But they’re gone just as fast, flinching away with horrified urgency. Before you get to savor the supple flesh pressing into your own in another new perverted way, before you get to imagine his ankles locking behind you, tilting and rubbing your hips into the hug of his thighs.

You need. To get. A grip.

“Sorry.”

You continue on in silence, and thank everything above he at the very least can’t see the way your hands shake, because he’s staring at the floor like he could drill a hole into it with just his eyes. 

You should have gotten the damn scissors. As if through divine intervention, the rest of his hair comes loose not soon after.

“Okay. All done.” You smooth the slightly crinkled, but now free strand back down into the rest of his soft hair. 

Viktor’s dainty features come into view from below his face framing pieces as he tilts his chin up. His lips quirk into a gentle smile, his eyes sparkle in the faint blue glow, soft shadows under the hollow of his cheeks and the swell of his lip and the tip of his nose and the bone of his brow. You wish you could immortalize him in whatever way he’d let you — a sculpture, a painting, a poem. He looks ripe for kissing, eyes half-lidded and twice as dreamy as he peers at you.

You’re going to see him like this in your mind’s eye later tonight.

Nestled between your thighs, or kissing down your stomach, molten gold under long, dark lashes, sitting atop carved marbled bone.

“Thank you.” He says it quietly — like it would break the sudden holiness of the moment to say it any other way.

He’s so warm. 

You could kiss him. See what the ozone of the room tastes like in the slick of his mouth. You wonder if he’d let you, if he’d suckle your tongue into his mouth in a show of submission, or if he’d bite your lip, licking your teeth, pressing, pushing, make you earn the privilege to taste him. 

You wonder if he’d hold you, or if his curious hands would roam, tracing the front of your stomach, or your spine, or press to the middle of your breastbone like he wants to see where you’d split open for him down the middle like a ripe peach. You wonder if he’d let you dip a hand down the front of his slacks, you wonder if he’d tilt his hips into it like he’d been aching for it, aching for you. Scorching your hand with want, materialized in slick or straining hardness. You wonder which it’d be.

From where you’re standing, the distance between the apex of his chin and the space where his slacks stretch between his thighs is small — and your gaze takes the leap, searching. But the material dips and curves in such a way that you’re left none the wiser, and with nothing but a disgusting realization.

You’re staring at your boss’ crotch.

You step back from the heat between his thighs, painfully awake, aware. It squeezes and wriggles in your chest like you have a parasite lodged in the chambers of your heart. 

You’re disgusting.

You need to put an end to this.

“You’re welcome, professor.”

With that, you’re practically bolting from between his thighs, to stash the scissors away again.

You’re neglecting your job, you’re putting it in jeopardy. Putting yourself in jeopardy, risking all the rumors circulating becoming a shameful truth, you’re risking the first man who ever kept up with you, followed you where you wanted to go and took you further — you’re risking it all because he makes you unbelievably fucking horny. 

And it’s absurd. Embarrassing. You need to get a hold of yourself. 

“I was… thinking, actually,” you begin, and want to punch yourself over how Viktor perks back up from where you’d left him. “About some things regarding my thesis that I’d like your thoughts on.”

“Oh. Of course.” You have got to be imagining the subtle disappointment in his tone. The second you let yourself believe it’s more than just a figment of your make-believe, is the second you will be doomed. 

Viktor, with all his years and experience, would and does know better than to fall for his assistant. You know he does.

“What’s on your mind?” He prompts after your prolonged silence.

If he knew the half of it.

—

You’re late.

And it’s a direct, shameful consequence of last night’s lusting, the time you’d spent frustratedly tossing and turning and thinking of his mouth and his eyes and his scent, before you’d given in past midnight, and humped your hand into completion.

Thinking about him under you, about pressing your face into his neck, about pressing him into the mattress and rutting into him until he gushes and his tired body sings for you and his voice cracks. Until he breaks for you, until pleasure itself oils and unscrews all the biological cogs of his body and he comes out unstrung, reborn.

Viktor’s in a wheelchair. 

And he looks worse for wear than you’ve ever encountered him before, slumping in the chair and massaging his eyelids with his thumb and index, seemingly gathering his thoughts. He’s dressed even warmer than usual, in a loose but thick, dark red sweater. There’s a colorful knitted blanket folded and set over the tops of his thighs. 

Viktor doesn’t acknowledge you when you come in and sit near the whiteboard, simply resumes his lecture as he regains his mental footing. And he goes on for a while, not sparing you a single glance, as he goes through powerpoint slides today, instead of his usual writing and hand drawn diagrams. 

He’s at it for a while, not as fast as his usual pace, but undeniably concise, certain. Until…

“The energy output increases proportionately to the spin, and, with powerful enough matrices, some hexgems can create force fields of their own. This is a particularly common phenomenon in unstabilized gems as well, though with the activation of their force field, those tend to also create… eh…”

Viktor stops, sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose. He frowns, mumbling something in another language, which, judging by the heavy consonants and squeezed vowel, you’d assume it’s Russian. The word must be slipping his mind, so you decide to help out.

“A shock wave.”

Viktor’s gaze cuts. He’s looked at you with disinterest before, sure, but this… 

He doesn’t even turn his head to look at you, just eyes you from the corner of his vision like something unworthy of acknowledgment. You wish you could swallow your words back up.

“Yes,” he says. “Thank you. A shock wave.”

You don’t say anything again for the rest of the lecture. 

Once the door falls shut behind the last few students who have left the room, Viktor turns to you. You wish you could shrink; and it feels like you do, when he finally speaks.

“I appreciate your intention to help — but do not interrupt me again. I know what I’m trying to say.” He sounds utterly unlike himself, both spent and angry. “I don’t need help. Especially not in the middle of a lecture.”

“Sorry.”

That alone softens him up a hint. He looks away, rubbing his thumbs against the wheels of his chair, before he speaks again. Calmer. 

“Just… do not let it happen again.”

As he slumps in his seat, massaging at his temples, you understand that his anger… might not have been as directed at you as you’d initially thought. He’d been snippy when his back hurt — having switched to a wheelchair must mean he’s in a lot more pain now.

And you understand his frustration. He’d just gotten himself an assistant a few months back, and started a new project — looking like he requires help in front of his students is certainly not doing his reputation right now any favors. 

“But if there’s other things I can do to make your day a little easier, I’d like to do them.”

“No, thank you.” He shakes his head, before he grabs both wheels and advances to where he’d left his bag. As he starts packing his things, he stops again, quietly groaning somewhere in the back of his throat. “Where did I put my pen…”

Viktor eventually finds it right behind his water bottle on the table, tossing the both of them into his bag, shutting it tightly. You expect him to wheel himself over to the ramp that leads to the exit, but he just hangs his head, massaging at his temples again, before he looks at you.

“Actually, I’d like it if you went to my office and got me a silver tin box in the… fourth drawer on the left side of my desk. Do you have the key with you, or should I give you mine?”

“I have it. I’ll be quick.”

“Thank you.”

And you deliver on your promise. You don’t run, but you power walk there, and you’re back with (hopefully the right) tin box in the same lecture hall before his break ends.

Viktor takes it from you gladly, popping it open. It contains two foils of painkillers, one already half empty, a small ziploc bag of… gummies, and at the very bottom, some dark chocolate. 

You must have pulled a bit of a face at the contents — particularly the gummies — because Viktor cocks a brow at you, before he faintly chuckles under his breath and pops three painkillers in one go.

After depositing the foil back in the box, he fishes out the dark chocolate bar. It looks to be the expensive kind, something Belgian — Viktor breaks off a piece, putting it in his mouth, before he holds it out to you.

“Peace offering,” he clarifies when you hesitate. 

You’d be a fool to turn him down. You take some — it’s rich, buttery, and melts on your tongue. It coats your mouth with its taste, dark and aromatic and unfortunately not as sweet as you thought Viktor preferred. He’d always favored the almost disgustingly sugary cakes.

“Didn’t think you’d like something so bitter,” you say.

“I do not. It sometimes helps with my migraines,” he tells you. “Sugar makes them worse. A very… devastating discovery to make, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

You wonder if right now is the right time to be curious — and you decide it might be.

“Do the migraines also affect your leg? Or the other way around?” 

“No.” Viktor shakes his head, popping off another piece of dark chocolate. “This,” he gestures at himself, the wheelchair, “was just a very unfortunate… overlapping.”

“Oh.” You grimace in sympathy. “Fun.”

“A punishment for it, more like.” 

What’s that supposed to mean?

“Let’s hope my migraine eases up on me throughout this lecture.” He smiles at you — and for the first time you’ve known him, he looks old doing it. Exhausted. The face of a man who’s seen enough hardship for a lifetime, but has yet to cave under it. 

You wish you could hold him. You wish you could melt it away, kiss it better, love it better. Whatever he’d let you.

You surprise both him and yourself when you lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and let your thumb rub a small circle over the wool. 

Though he flinches at the first contact, once something in his brilliant mind unfurls and settles, so does he. Through the cracks, tenderness shines under the fatigue. Viktor can be soft — in spite of everything im his body and his past that protests against it. “Thank you.”

You take your hand away sooner than you’d like — but at the ideal time to keep it from being anything more than a friendly touch.

“I’m glad I could help,” you say.

—

Viktor isn’t there at all next week. 

You come in on Monday to find his office empty during lunch break, and when you attend his lecture, it’s another professor from his department teaching it. The students don’t seem all too excited about the change either — and you leave before it even starts.

Heimerdinger is none the wiser about Viktor’s situation when you talk to him — in spite of their shared history. He simply tells you he’d taken the week off and had arranged for substitutes.

You consider messaging him… and ultimately end up doing so, after some internal debate. You simply text him to get well soon and that you hope he’s getting some well-deserved rest. He replies with just a plain thank you.

Tuesday is quiet. You receive a stack of midterms you need to get through from the substitute, and you do, by Thursday morning. Which is when Heimerdinger messages you.

Dr. Prof. Cecil B Heimerdinger

Good morning! I’m well aware this is on very short notice — but the substitute professor has unfortunately suffered a minor car accident. Not to worry; they only sustained small njury. However, I am finding myself forced to task you with Viktor’s lectures today. Do you think you could take care of that? Thank you.

-Cecil B. Heimerdinger

9:32

Just the thing you needed — teaching two full lectures, entirely unprepared.

Alright. You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You just need to find out what’s even on the agenda for today. You could text Viktor, right? If he answers on time, that is… he’s sick, he might as well be asleep right now. You could call, but… he said only to do that in the case of an emergency when he gave you his phone number. 

Would this count as an emergency?

Your phone beeps.

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

There should be a black flash drive in the third drawer on the left in my desk. It has all my lectures.

9:34

Today’s topic is LHC segments naturally occurring in unstabilized gems. Feel free to use my work laptop to familiarize yourself with the presentation before the lecture.

9:35

Me

Thank you so much! 

9:35

His answer comes a few minutes later, just as you fish the flash drive out of his drawer, and plug it into his laptop.

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

Good luck 👍 

9:42

It would be a lot easier to get caught up in the desire to snoop around on his laptop if you didn’t have less than 20 minutes left until the lecture. His background is disappointingly the default image, but some of his folders look undeniably tempting — not just the scientific ones, which take up most of the space. There’s some photo albums titled with the year and location: Germany 2011, Czech Republic 2009, among many others. There’s also a photo album titled Persichka. 

Who is that? 

You almost click it. But then you check your watch again and realize you only have 15 more minutes until the lecture, and decide against it.

—

For how utterly unprepared you are, it goes surprisingly well. You stumble, once or twice, but you’re glad to see that even by the end of the lecture, you still have most students’ attention.

After you dismiss the class, you don’t expect questions. But a good handful of them, a little under ten, approach your desk, whispering among themselves, before a hastily appointed representative emerges. 

“We were just wondering,” she awkwardly begins, “if professor Sidorov-Svoboda is alright. And when he’s coming back.”

“Oh.” You hope they’re asking because they understandably prefer him, and not because you did a particularly shabby job. “He texted me just today — he’s doing alright. But I can’t give you an exact estimate for when he’s coming back just yet.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

With that, all of them turn to go. After the last student has left the room, you reach for your phone, and pray you don’t see any other day-altering messages today. 

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

I did not mean for you to have to do this. 

10:11

You unlock your phone and jump straight into the chat.

Me

Don’t worry, it’s alright. I handled it :)

12:02

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

I knew you could.

12:02

Thank you.

12:02

Me

Focus on resting up and getting well soon! 

12:03

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

I have been. I actually feel well enough for company now. Coincidentally, I’ve gotten some ideas for your thesis and I would like it if we discussed them sometime. Would you be free this weekend?

12:05 

He wants to meet? Outside of the university? Undoubtedly for academic purposes still, but your heart squeezes and bounces and pops with the implications. 

No. You shouldn’t let yourself hope for more than just a few formal, at best friendly hours spent together.

Viktor doesn’t want you. He would never want you — he knows better. You know better.

Me

I’d like that! Saturday works for me. Where would you like to meet?

12:05

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

If you’d prefer somewhere on academy grounds like my office or the coffee shop, either would be fine.

12:06

My apartment is also an option.

12:06

The choice is obvious.

[ganxiously]

So, it turns out what I needed to get out of my writer's block was soul-wrenching grief and heart-crushing disappointment. And while I am happy about that (to an extent), I also wish my muse wasn't angst because I think I am hurting myself writing this fic and I need to now make it everyone else's problem.

Sitting there in the dark, on Eddie’s sofa, curled in on himself like it’s supposed to do anything to hold him together, one thought pops into his head, bright, neon red and in bold among the constant litany of boorish, black ‘This is all my fault’ — All of this is because I didn’t know what a Kinsey six is. The thought is unexpected enough that Buck unfurls a little, wondering where it came from and then he remembers their anniversary date. The memory leaves him breathless but he is curious enough to push past the newly burgeoning hurt and take out his phone. A quick Google reveals it to be the rating for ‘exclusively homosexual’ on the Kinsey scale so he looks that up next and as he’s debating whether to start from Wikipedia first or dive right into the Kinsey Institute website, his eyes land on the conspicuous ‘test online’ button right below the search bar. A part of him doesn’t want to find out, doesn’t want anyone else telling him what he is but the taunt is too much. If you had known, if you had just taken a moment to figure yourself out, maybe you could have said something. Maybe you could have stopped him before he walked away. He clicks on the first test that pops up, looks at the first question, goes to select option 1 and then stops and stares. ‘To whom are you attracted?’ should be an easy question to answer but the confidence to not think much has left him. He could easily choose ‘Both men and women’ but would that even be correct? He’s been so sure that he has felt attraction towards men a few times in the past but what if that was a mild interest at best? After all, no one had really pinged his radar the way Tommy had. He looks at the next question and that’s when the panic really starts to set in because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he prefers men over women or if he just prefers Tommy over women, over everyone else. What if Tommy is the outlier and he prefers women over men after all? The pressure in his chest becomes more and more painful the longer he stares at it so he closes the test and opens the next one on the list. That one starts off mild. The way the first question is framed makes it easy to answer that yes, while he mostly notices women, the occasional man does turn his eyes. The next one asks what he would be comfortable in calling himself and he thinks he could get away with calling himself bisexual but then there’s an option saying ‘could be bisexual but not sure if that’s correct‘. And again the thought hits, What if it’s just Tommy? He debates it briefly and then gives in and chooses the latter option. He breezes through the next couple of questions because he is at least sure that he would find it desirable to kiss people from both genders but then they hit him with the sexual preference question again. He backs out so fast his phone nearly slips out of his hand and with a sigh of frustration, he clicks on the next test. That turns out worse because the very first question stalls him and so it continues again and again and again until tears start prickling at the corner of his eyes and his breath starts coming in sharp, short bursts pulling his throat tight but not taking any air to his lungs. He keeps at it until there’s one more nameless person behind one more useless test clamouring at him, Tell us, tell us, tell us. Tell us you know what you want. He hurls the phone across the room, thankful when instead of landing on the floor, it silently hits the backrest of Eddie’s armchair and slides down into the crease with a swoosh. He should get up and retrieve it, he should go home really but what he does instead is let his head fall forward onto his raised knees and give in to the caricatured voice of his mind telling him, Of course, he thought you would break his heart. Look at yourself, you idiot.

This is basically just the set-up for the fic but rest assured I am dragging Buck down to the trenches before I let him swim up to Tommy again.

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖

Chapter one:

Summary: Y/N meets Nabi.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Good morning, welcome to Megaversé Café. I'm Y/n. How can I help you today?” Y/n asked politely, her tone warm as she greeted the man standing in front of her. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than usual—he was undeniably handsome. His striking black hair was perfectly styled, and his outfit was sharp and carefully put together. His presence was commanding, like he carried a weight of authority wherever he went.

Y/n’s omega instincts tingled at the powerful aura he radiated, and when his scent hit her nose, it made her pulse quicken. It was the scent of an Alpha, one that could make any omega instinctively feel both drawn to him and slightly intimidated. She swallowed, trying to remain composed, but she couldn’t deny how her body subtly reacted to him, her instincts urging her to be cautious yet respectful.

“Umm… hello,” he spoke softly, his voice calm yet full of purpose. “I heard you run a daycare here? Is that true?” He flashed a polite smile, his eyes briefly roving over Y/n’s face. She was quite beautiful, he noticed, though something about her also felt… different. There was a vulnerability there, one that intrigued him.

“Oh right, yes, we do, sir,” Y/n answered, her smile widening as she relaxed a little. “Are you interested in the program?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “My mates and I are looking to enroll our pups.” He paused, searching her face for any signs of judgment or surprise. “Is that possible?”

“Of course, sir,” Y/n said eagerly. “You’re in the right place. If you just follow me, I can introduce you to the person in charge of that area.” She gestured toward the door on the opposite side of the counter.

The man, who introduced himself as Chan, gave a small nod of approval and followed her closely. Y/n couldn’t help but notice how attentive he was to his surroundings, his eyes sharp and calculating, like he was weighing every detail.

They made their way down a hallway that led to a spacious daycare center, and as Chan entered, he was immediately impressed. The room was bright and inviting, filled with colorful toys, and it felt like the perfect environment for children. He nodded to himself, already picturing his pups playing in this space.

"So," she began, trying to make small talk to ease her nerves. "Do you have any specific requirements for the pups? Anything you'd like to know about our program?"

"No, just... a safe environment," he replied thoughtfully. His gaze swept the hallway as they passed, and Y/n couldn't help but feel his eyes on her, studying her closely. She glanced over her shoulder, catching the faintest hint of a smile on his lips as he continued. "We just want them to be well taken care of."

She pushed open the door to the office, where a young woman with short, spiky hair was typing away at her laptop.

“Right, okay, this is Yenji. She’ll be able to help you with everything,” Y/n introduced him to the woman sitting behind the reception desk.

“Okay, thank you,” Chan said, squinting a little, trying to recall Y/n’s name. “I’m sorry, could you remind me of your name again?”

“Y/n,” she replied quickly with a soft smile. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Chan nodded, but as he turned to face Yenji, something about Y/n lingered in his thoughts. Her scent, her movements… his alpha side immediately picked up that she was an omega. It wasn’t just her scent; it was the way she carried herself, the soft yet polite mannerism. There was no mistaking it.

“Thank you once again, have a good day,” Chan said, offering a polite smile. He waved goodbye, and Y/n returned the gesture, heading back toward the counter.

As she walked away, Chan’s curiosity got the better of him. He turned to Yenji. “Is she an omega?” His voice was low, careful not to make it sound like an interrogation, but the question hung in the air.

Yenji chuckled softly, looking up from her laptop. “We normally can’t disclose that kind of information, sir…” she trailed off, her tone turning conspiratorial. “But yes, she is.”

“Ah, I see,” Chan murmured, nodding in understanding. He felt a small pang of something he couldn’t quite identify at the thought, but he quickly pushed it away.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Yenji said, waving him off. “You’re not the first to ask about her. She’s new around here, and she definitely has an effect on Alphas. But she’s a sweetheart, really.”

“Hmm…” Chan hummed thoughtfully. He was still trying to figure her out, but that would have to wait.

Yenji smiled, shifting gears back to business. “Now, shall we get started?” She gestured toward the chair across from her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Yenji looked up from her laptop, her expression polite but curious. "How can I help you today?"

Chan smiled warmly at her. "I heard you run a daycare for pups. My mates and I were hoping to enroll them."

Yenji raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Of course, we can help you with that. What are their names and ages?"

Just then Nabi’s stroller had just rolled in, and it was Felix, Chan’s mate, who was rushing in with the child.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" Felix's voice echoed as he hurried into the office, his face flushed with stress. "Nabi was having a meltdown, and the twins got into a fight. It’s been a whole morning!"

Chan's expression softened as he stepped forward to help Felix with the stroller. "It’s okay, don’t worry about it." He gently took the baby bag from Felix’s arms, giving him a smile. "You’re here now. That’s what matters."

Felix sighed in relief, looking over at Yenji. "I’m so sorry we’re late. I hope this doesn’t cause too much trouble."

Yenji waved off his concern, giving him a reassuring smile. "Not at all! We were just going over some details."

Chan and felix sat back down, and the conversation shifted to the practicalities of daycare for their pups. Chan, always a man of few words, laid out the details clearly but Felix was the one doing most of the talking.

“We have seven pups in total,” Felix began, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his little ones. “They haven’t presented yet, so for now they’re just regular pups. We were hoping you could take care of them during the day while we run the pack’s village.”

Felix looked at Yenji with a sheepish smile. “Did you tell her who we are?”

“No,” Chan said, leaning back in his chair. “We’ve been trying to keep it low-key, but it’s hard with how well-known our pack is.”

Felix sighed, shaking his head. “You’d be surprised. Some places don’t care who we are. We’ve had a hard time finding a daycare that’ll take this many pups.”

Yenji’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No way. People refuse you? I don’t get it.”

Felix ran his fingers through his hair, looking frustrated. “They don’t know who we are half the time, and even if they do, we’re still rejected. But we’re glad you can help us.”

Yenji blinked, looking up from her notes. “Wait, a village?”

“Yeah, our pack runs a whole village. We’re the SKZ pack.”

“Wait, the SKZ pack?” Yenji gasped, dropping her pen in surprise. Her eyes widened as she looked from Chan to Felix. “I didn’t realize—wow, it’s such an honor to meet you! I’ve heard so much about your pack.”

Chan chuckled softly, clearly accustomed to the reactions his pack’s name stirred. “Yes, that’s us,” he said with a smirk, though his tone remained humble. “But we’re just a regular family. No need for all the fanfare.”

Yenji couldn’t help but smile. “Right, right,” she said, trying to gather herself. “So, about the pups. How old are they?”

Chan ran through the details smoothly. “Eunji is the oldest, seven years old. Then there’s Joon, who’s also seven but a few months younger. The twins, Aera and Hwan, are six. Tae will turn six soon. Chul is four, and Nabi just turned one last month.”

Yenji scribbled down the information, noting every detail. “Okay, and do they have any dietary requirements?”

“Not really. Their other mum is very strict about their diets, but they’re mostly fine with whatever,” Felix said, though he smiled fondly at the thought of his mate’s fussing over their pups’ food. “They’re picky, but nothing unusual.”

“Alright,” Yenji nodded. “Any illnesses we should know about?”

“Not at all,” Felix replied, thinking for a moment. “Well, Joon did break his arm last week playing in the backyard, but it’s nothing serious.”

“A broken arm?” Yenji raised an eyebrow, noting it down. “Okay, does he need any ongoing medication?”

"Hmm…" Felix thought for a moment. "Just a few things. Some painkillers here and there, and… what’s it called, babe?" He turned to the man.

"Intranasal and dietary supplements," Chan answered, smiling a little sheepishly.

"Right," Felix nodded. "That’s about it. Other than that, they’re pretty healthy."

Yenji gave them an understanding look, eager to help in any way she could. "No problem. We can definitely accommodate that."

"Is there anything specific you’d like to ask about the kids? Diapers, snacks, or dietary restrictions?" Felix asked.

Yenji spoke up. "Actually, does Nabi wear diapers?"

"Yes, she does," Felix confirmed, Yenji started jotting something down. "But we always pack extra in her bag. No offense, but I’m a little bit of a control freak when it comes to what diapers she wears. I also prefer if the kids don’t borrow clothes from other children."

"That’s totally understandable," Yenji nodded, not in the least offended. "We’ll make sure to accommodate that. Actually, I’ll reserve some lockers for you to store extra clothes. Just in case they spill something or need a change."

Felix seemed to relax a little at that. "I appreciate it," he said, looking over at Chan who gave him a reassuring nod.

"I have a question," Chan spoke up, still eyeing the room. "What does their schedule look like? I’m also a little concerned about the cafe being so close by… Anyone can just walk in, right?"

Yenji shook her head immediately. "No need to worry about that at all, sir." She smiled warmly, clearly proud of their security measures. "This is just the front office. I’ll take you to the back where the daycare rooms are, and you’ll see—no one gets in without their parent cards."

"Parent cards?" Chan’s brow furrowed, clearly confused.

"Yes, every parent has to have one to get through the door," Yenji explained, gesturing toward a scanner by the back door. "You just swipe your card, and then the system uses facial recognition to verify your identity. You’ll also need to sign in whenever you pick up or drop off your pups."

Felix raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Okay, but let’s say I lose my card, and someone tries to use it. What happens then?"

Yenji chuckled lightly. "They wouldn’t get through because of the facial recognition system, and our security personnel would definitely stop anyone who wasn’t familiar with the kids. We take safety very seriously here."

Felix purred, clearly satisfied with that answer. "Hm, I like this place already."

"I’m glad to hear that," Yenji replied with a smile. She continued, "As for the kids' schedules, it really depends on the day. Most days, they’ll do arts and crafts, reading, and even digital games. The older ones have structured activities like sports, while the younger ones do more normal activities like sensory play or free time."

"Can we get a copy of their schedule?" Felix asked, clearly curious.

"Of course," Yenji said, scribbling down a few notes before handing Felix a sheet of paper. "Also, we need to know who will be picking up the kids. We’ll get cards made for those individuals as well."

Chan spoke up again, organizing the details. "It’ll mostly be the moms—Han and Felix—but some days, Lee Know and Hyunjin might need to pick them up. So, we’d need cards for all eight contacts."

"Eight?" Yenji blinked in surprise.

"Yes, our schedule is complicated. Trust me, it’s easier this way," Chan chuckled.

The conversation shifted to timing after. "Daycare officially runs from 6 a.m. to 12 p.m., but if that doesn’t work for you, we can shift it to 9 a.m. to 3 p.m."

Felix quickly jumped in. "Oh, hyung, can we do the 9 to 3 shift instead? It’ll make it easier for you guys to work in the afternoon, right?"

Chan nodded, thinking it over. "Yeah, I think we’ll go with that."

Yenji jotted down the change. "Got it! We’ll adjust that for you."

As the meeting continued, Felix turned to Yenji with a slight smile. "So, who exactly is in charge of the kids? We just want to make sure they’ll be in good hands."

Yenji smiled back. "Only omegas are in charge of the kids here. We don’t hire alphas, except for security."

Felix let out a relieved sigh. "Thank God. I don’t trust any alphas with my kids unless I’m around."

Yenji smiled, understanding the concern. "I’m a beta, by the way. We’ve got a few of us, but we’re all trained extensively. Your pups will be in great hands."

Felix’s shoulders relaxed at that. "I’m happy to hear that."

"And we have a nurse on staff at all times," Yenji added. "You’ll just need to fill out a medical form. The fee for each pup is 279,640 won."

"Wait, what?" Chan gasped dramatically, earning a playful slap from Felix.

"Hyung, stop it," Felix giggled, swatting him playfully.

Chan pouted. "You omegas are going to make me run broke."

Yenji laughed at their playful exchange. "It gets worse, I’m afraid," she teased.

"Oh God," Chan groaned. "How much more?"

"We can discuss the fees later," Yenji said with a chuckle. "First, let’s finish the campus tour."

Chan grinned. "We’re not buying a new car."

Felix faked a pout. "But baby…"

"Absolutely not unless you’re getting it out of Changbin or I.N's account," Chan teased, looking at Yenji, who couldn’t help but smile at the dynamics of the pack.

Finally, it was time to wrap up the meeting and head for the campus tour. "We can leave Nabi in the stroller while Y/n watches her," Yenji suggested, getting up from the desk. "Don’t worry, she’ll be safe."

Felix’s omega instincts immediately protested. "Uh... Alright, that’s fine," he said reluctantly, but Yenji noticed the concern in his eyes. He didn’t know her, but he didn’t want to leave Nabi with anyone else.

Yenji quickly excused herself to grab Y/n, who was just outside the office. "Do you need me to remove my scent patches?" Y/n asked politely when she entered the room.

"Can you?" Felix asked, his voice soft but firm. "I just don’t want her to get fussy. And please, don’t scent her. I don’t feel comfortable with that."

Y/n gave him an understanding nod. "Of course, I’ll make sure to be gentle with her."

As Chan slowly handed Nabi over to Y/n, he sighed. "God, she’s getting heavy."

"Well, you know how Changbin gets about skinny pups," Felix teased as he adjusted the baby bag.

Y/n carefully cradled Nabi, the little pup settling back to sleep with a small sigh.

Chan, who had been watching all this with a bemused expression, let out a loud huff. "Can we hurry this up? I’ve got a studio session in an hour."

Felix chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Let’s go."

"Shall we?" Yenji asked, gesturing toward the hallway. "Follow me, I’ll show you where the daycare rooms are. This area is just for the front office, so it’s not where the kids will be spending their time."

Chan and Felix exchanged a look before following Yenji down the hall, their footsteps echoing in the quiet building. The daycare was spacious, with colorful walls and a number of rooms dedicated to various age groups. As they passed a playroom, Chan’s eyes flickered toward it, noticing the well-organized space and the ample toys.

"This place is bigger than I expected," Felix commented, clearly impressed by the setup. "It seems really well organized."

"We take pride in our facilities," Yenji said with a small smile, leading them into the main area. "We’ve got separate rooms for different age groups."

"Sounds like it’s well-thought-out," Chan said, nodding approvingly.

They made their way through the different sections of the daycare, which were full of age-appropriate toys and even small rest areas. There was a quiet, calming atmosphere to the place, and the alphas were reassured that their pups would be safe here. The walls were decorated with happy drawings from other pups, and each room had its own dedicated staff, all of whom were betas or omegas—never alphas. The care here was personal, and it was clear that the staff was well-trained and genuinely cared about the pups.

As they returned to the office, Y/n was sitting on one of the office sofas, rocking the baby gently with one hand while cooing softly at Nabi, who was still tucked under a light blanket.

"Oh, you sweet little thing," Y/n whispered, a soft smile on her face. The little pup stirred slightly but stayed asleep, her small hands curling into tiny fists as she nuzzled deeper into the warmth of her blanket. Y/n’s omega instincts kicked in as she carefully and gently rocked her, murmuring quiet words of comfort. It was almost like an instinct, this bond that formed between omegas and pups. She couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection for the baby in her arms.

Felix and Chan returned, clearly pleased with the daycare’s setup. Chan took one look at the sleeping Nabi in Y/n’s arms and smiled.

"Looks like she likes you," Felix commented softly, walking over to gently lift Nabi out of Y/n’s arms.

Nabi woke up with a small whimper but settled back when she saw Felix, her mother. "I think she really likes you, Y/n," Felix added, chuckling softly as he took his daughter into his arms. "She’s a little attached."

Y/n smiled warmly, her heart fluttering. "She’s just precious," she cooed, watching as Felix carefully adjusted her in his arms.

“She’s so cute, right?”

Y/n smiled at the baby in her arms. “She’s adorable.”

Felix’s voice softened as he chuckled. “She takes after I.N, I think.”

"It was an absolute pleasure working with you both," Yenji said, excited that such a well-known pack would be joining their daycare.

"I’ll be seeing you on Monday then," Y/n added, her smile warm but slightly bittersweet.

"Yes you will," Chan responded pulling out his phone to check a message.

After completing the final bits of paperwork, Chan, Felix, and Yenji exchanged a few more pleasantries, clearly satisfied with their decision to enroll their pups here.

As Chan, who had been watching all this with an amused smile, stood up, he gave them a friendly wave. "Have a good day, guys!" His voice carried a light tone, though his eyes flickered a deep red for just a second.

Y/n blinked in surprise at the brief flash of red in Chan's eyes. It wasn’t something she saw often, but the flicker was enough to make her heart skip a beat.

Chan was more focused on the fact that Y/n’s scent was undeniably strong now. His alpha instincts reacted involuntarily, stirring a sharp, deep craving within him. He quickly averted his gaze, trying to control the pull he felt.

Damn, he thought, swallowing hard. Her scent is so strong…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: This was kinda messy but i just wanted to get the series a start so bare with me.

Taglist: @ihrtlix@bowsnbang@katsukis1wife@thegingerthatwaited@thicccurls

@xxeiraxx @paleangelsweets @klaydohart @eastleighsblog @ivrespace

@galaxy4489 @purplepursepaint @catlove83 @sillystormsstuff @iwuberic

@cocofia143 @royal-shinigami @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @memersanonymous

@skz-stay13 @seungminsbest @hogwartslife64 @sinfulfic @hyunnesblog

@maisyyyyyy @cluelessred3 @leezanetheofficial @cocofia143 @lemonn015

@kkamismom12 @mei0packet @igetcarriedawaywithyou @hyuneyeon

taglist: closed :(

[writingbynova]

Business 101

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ⊹ : pwp (porn with plot) - mdni - Boss&Husband Nanami x Assistant&Wife fem!reader - office sex - table sex - oral(f! receiving ) - rough sex - overstimulation - missionary - praising - dirty talk - lmk if I missed any tags...

AN: hope y'all enjoy :)

Working with Nanami was something. Being his wife was another. Just be ready to accomplish both roles...

Imagine being nanami's assistant. And by the way also his wife. Yes you are, but not in the precinct of the company. No at work you're just his assistant and only his assistant. A woman that applied like many other to take on the job of working with one of the hottest, richest man in the city, went through habitual examination and was luckily and impartially picked based on the length and experience of your resume and definitely not based on the quality of your blowjobs...  External romantic interaction cease to exist the second the anyone walks through the main hall. That's what the rules dictate.

But everybody knows Nanami Kento doesn't give a a fuck about the rules imposed by his father decades ago. You the first. The only rules you had to follow were his. So when your husband— Sorry. When your boss, who happens to really like you, has a problem. A very urgent family meeting out of state which obliges you to attend all his meetings for him via zoom, you have no choice but to accomplish your duty as the perfect assistant and help him figure it out.

Goof thing you had gotten the privilege of being trained by Nanami. He taught you everything you had to know to be his perfect assistant. He called it 101, the basics. Somehow you were expecting to actually learn things, but this wasn't so bad anyway. Nanami didn't need to teach you how to remind him of meeting, classify and range his documents. No he only needed you to help him lift the stress off his shoulders. Take on his anger. And so that's what you learned.

How to multitask. Pay attention to the conference while stroking his cock under the desk. How to be keep composure. Letting no hints whatsoever of what was really happening behind the camera during online conference calls. How to follow a schedule. Managing the 15 minutes that separated a meeting from another.

The first notion was easy, you were already skilled at looking your upmost innocent while doing the vilest thing. However today's class was harder.

So you've been sitting at his desk for the past 3? 4 hours maybe. Going through meeting after meeting. Mic ON. Luckily for you, camera OFF. Nanami says you can only have one of those two off at all times. To look attentive he says. Distant voices echo in your head but nothing stays in. You're too distracted.

Head thrown back, legs widely spread, seat drenched and your— boss no not husband. Your boss, face deep between your thighs... See there wasn't really any family meeting that required him to fly out of state. You knew that because you were his assistant in charge of all his affairs and among other things, his schedule. But who could ever blame or even dare to question him ?! He was very busy man but also had a private life. And really what was the most important? Listening to boring old men converse about trading and the color of their tie ? Or reunite with your gorgeous pussy he'd already missed for a whole 24 hours ? The question is quickly answered.

Hence why his seat was soaked with your cum, his clothes damp from how much you had squirted on him, his tie loose from how long he'd been down there. Your hand tightly gripping his hair, your hips jerking up in desperate attempt to be released from his evil tongue. In vain. He watched in awe as your chest hovered up and down, faster and faster. Your mouth parted but no sound came out. You had learned with the experience he gave you, exactly how to be silent, though it cost you some extra hour in overtime training, you got the hang of it, until you became a fucking pro. Your eyes rolled back yet another time and your eyelids twitched as the most intense orgasm spasmed through your body. Thick white cum leaking onto his tongue. While you gasped, silently inhaling as much air as your body could. You were honestly starting to lose it. Mind oscillating as he kept ravaging your cunt. Greedily and hungrily cleaning up any drop he might have missed. You bit your lip so hard you were actually amazed at how it hadn't bled yet.

"And that concludes our meeting, Ms, Kento you'll tell your boss we deeply regret-" The man's voice was cut off by the slamming of the portable computer.

"You know I don't do overtime darling."

Your legs were widely spread with your feet barely reaching over his shoulder "can't ah believe I had to make this pretty pussy wait so, mhm, so fuck long, I can tell she's been waiting, sooo patiently" he groaned. Slowly sliding himself in and out of your heated entrance. Parting your oversensitive walls appart. Your body had given up a long time ago. Loud mewls echoing through the office. Toes curling again and again. Butterflies rushing in your lower belly as his cock slammed repeatedly into you, fucking the voice out of your throat. He was in so deep, physically and mentally. A little bump apparent on your lower lower belly, disappearing to the rythme of his thrusts. "Mhm, I've missed that voice"

He was completely whipped for fucking you. Addicted. Addicted to your broken voice pleading for a faster release. Addicted to how you behaved, the way your body stretched before him, how you scrambled desperately to hold onto something, searching for a semblance of release even though you knew the only release you could ever get was through him. Addicted to how eager you unknowingly were, how fucking wet you got everytime his angry cock slapped against your wet slit, how your pussy throbbed and yearned to feel him, to suck him in and nuzzle him in the core of you heat. Addicted to your face. Your dazed eyes, the shock that wavered on you expression when he hit so deep, so deep your breath hitched. Hitting your cervix with all his might. Bruising you for pleasure. More than ever he was addicted to seeing how fulfilled you looked each time he filled you with his cum.

So he'll impale you on his cock as invasively as possible, anywhere he can. Just to taste you, to spark those sensation again, those who course through your brain, emptying every thought, worry, and sorrow.

The office was filthy, everything that once decorated it, now spilled across the floor. You wanted to talk and communicate but to no avail. Your brain had short circuated, completely fried. Stupid, confused moans broke out of you when you toes curled once again, your climax hitting you with a new found force. "Feels good?" He asked with a hint of pity. You nodded and moaned fast, so weak and pathetic but adorable. You wished to tell him the extent of your sensations, how troubled you body felt, tired hips still rolling back and forth to ride out the overbearing pleasure that burned through the tip of each and every one of your limbs

The sound was pornographic, the sight was worse, sweaty bodies slamming against each other frantically chasing for release again and again. Pussy and cock hardly distinctable from how coated they were, thick white and slimy substance sticking and dripping onto any available surface.

His cum filled you again, spreading and coating your insides. You watched him through teary eyes, amazed. His neat appearance was now messy, his chest quicky and rose and fell, his lashes fluttered and you could still feel his cock throbbing from how overstimulated he was. You stretched your arms out to hold him. And he laid his head over your heart, listening to your heartbeat settle.

You were in a daze when you heard the familiar beeping of your alarm, signaling you your next meeting was about to start. Kento watched you. A mischievous smile on his face.

"How about I attend this one for you?"

[apomaro-mellow]

Yall said you wanted more of Victorian steddie cucking Jason so here ya go

Read on AO3

Steve had been distracted and it only got worse as his appointment with Doctor Munson got closer. He had never felt that good before. No omega he’d ever talked to had mentioned that an alpha’s touch could feel like that. He didn’t even know using mouths was an option. Was it strictly a medical procedure? Surely he couldn’t expect his husband to perform that for him. Only a licensed expert should….should…

He clenched his legs together and bit his lip, trying to look like he was present as his husband went over the final preparations.

Jason sighed. “I do wish you didn’t have to see the doctor on the same day as the party. What if you fall ill?”

Steve sighed. “It’s for the best. You want a child, don’t you? One of our very own. And Doctor Munson has been recommended by all our friends.”

Of course, Jason had been the one to seek him out, but when Steve mentioned the name Munson to his own circle, Heather and Carol had nothing but praise for the man’s practice. Carol had even confided in her own struggle to conceive before taking him on as a physician and now she was set to pop any day now.

Before, Steve had chalked it up to a pill or tonic, something that made her and her husband’s attempts more fruitful. But…when he remembered how the doctor had helped him. Now Steve was wondering if Carol’s child would be born with hair darker and curlier than it should be. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that but the only way to know more was to get to his appointment.

Jason wouldn’t be joining him for this one, too busy with the last minute details. They were hosting a celebration for Jason’s commendation and Steve hoped he’d be in a jovial mood when it was time to get to bed.

He didn’t even have to spend time in the waiting room when he arrived. Doctor Munson was already in the front room, almost as if he’d been waiting for Steve.

“Mrs. Carver, right on time, follow me.”

Steve did, entering and sitting down on the table as he had the first time. Doctor Munson closed the door behind himself. He started with asking baseline questions. Most of which were easy to answer, as it had only been a week since he had been here last. Nothing much changed except…well…

“And your urges? The ones Mr. Carver was worried about? Did they get any better?”

Steve started to wring his skirt before remembering his manners and straightening it out. “I um, well, yes and uh no?”

Doctor Munson chuckled. “So a solid maybe? Could you elaborate? Are they different from before?”

Steve thought about it. He still felt an ache, a need. But they only came upon him when he thought of-oh.

“The urges used to be directed solely at my husband. But I don’t think about him anymore. Instead I-”

“Instead?”

Steve cleared his throat and turned up his gaze from his lap to the man before. “I’ve been thinking of you.”

The grin that came upon the doctor’s face was both endearing and searing. Steve felt his body get warm and his eyes were drawn to that mouth. He missed entirely what was said next.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said that’s perfectly natural. Your omega desires the one who will care for your needs. Typically it would be your husband. But it’s not uncommon for an omega’s sights to turn to someone else.”

“Oh.” It felt better to hear that it was normal.

“Now, let’s not dither any longer. You have a party to prepare for.”

“Speaking of”, Steve started as the doctor scribbled something down. “I know it’s very last minute, but we would be honored if you attended.”

“Would you now?”

“Of course. If all goes well, we-I’d have you to thank for my child.”

“In that case, I would be honored to attend. Now, onto business. Do you feel that need arising now? When you look at me?”

Steve thought about the times he had admitted to Jason the sort of feelings his husband caused within him; how his husband had recoiled to know his inner thoughts. Steve didn’t want Doctor Munson to be repulsed by him. But if he lied to a physician, what was the point?

So he nodded. “Yes. I am, I mean I do, feel those things.”

Doctor Munson nodded and moved to stand behind Steve. “I’m sure you and Mr. Carver have plans for a more private celebration tonight, yes?”

“Yes. We want to make the most of my appointment today.” He could feel the doctor’s breath against his ear.

“And as I understand it, this will be your first knotting. Being knotted and pupped up, you’re going to experience some changes. It’s time you got acquainted with yourself more than ever before.”

Steve tried to turn to see what he meant but Doctor Munson was already moving, placing a large mirror in front of him. The doctor got behind him again and put his hands on Steve’s waist.

“May you lift your skirts and spread your legs?”

Steve felt his cheeks heat up but obeyed. When all was said and down, his core was exposed to the world. He was only able to glance at his reflection before turning his head away. He was surprised to feel a gentle hand massaging his hip.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of down there.” His hands moved down to Steve’s thighs, slowly making their way inward. “You have a healthy thatch of hairs.” 

His hand cupped Steve then, simply holding him. Steve’s breath got short and yet he felt secure, safe. Doctor Munson hummed, sounding observant and pleased.

“Has your husband ever told you how lovely you are down there?”

Steve’s eyes snapped open, though he wasn’t quite sure when they’d closed. ‘Lovely’? Down there? He turned his head to look at the doctor’s face but he wasn’t even looking at Steve. His eyes were on the mirror. Steve turned his gaze to that and found eyes transfixed on their reflection. Specifically on what was happening….down there. Doctor Munson’s finger was stroking up and down.

“I asked you a question Mrs. Carver. Are you still lucid?”

“He’s never-n-never said that about me, um, rather about that part of me.”

Doctor Munson tutted. “Husbands aren’t always the best at expressing themselves, I’m afraid. But I’m sure he must think so. Beautifully pink in color. And the shine.” He took in a deep breath in the same moment that Steve breathed out. He pushed a finger in, a low growl coming from him as he watched it get sucked in.

“All alphas owe their lives to this. It’s a pity they don’t always know how to show appreciation. So allow me to tell you - the way you could take a knot is divine.” He pushed a second finger inside. “And the way this same part can pass through a child, bringing new life into the world, is godly.”

Steve’s hips shifted but he fought to keep them still. In his mind he could hear Jason reprimanding him. And he could also hear his governess telling him that good omegas stayed perfectly still so their alpha could complete the deed without interruption.

“Don’t fight your instincts.”

“B-but I-I was told-”

“Your body knows what it needs. And if your mate hasn’t given it to you right away, use your body to tell him what that is.” To prove his point, Doctor Munson stilled his hand.

Steve couldn’t help the whine from the back of his throat. His hips squirmed without any coordination for a few moments before he was able to find some kind of rhythm and he watched through the mirror. Watched as those deft fingers moved in and out of him.

“That’s it, Mrs. Carver. Just like that.”

“Steve. You can-that is to say-you may call me by my first name.”

“In that case, you may also drop the formalities with me. Those close to me know me by Eddie.”

“Eddie”, Steve sighed, trying it out. It certainly felt more intimate than calling him by ‘Doctor Munson’. And right now, he didn’t want to be known as ‘Mrs. Carver’.

“You’re doing wonderfully Steve. You produce slick like a master and your scent is perfectly enticing. You can take a good stretching”, he said, a third finger slipping inside. “And then there’s this little button.” His other hand pulled at the top of his mound.

After his first appointment, Steve had been curious. He had thought to look but could never quite gather the nerve to look for long or do any true exploration. But he remembered where he had felt Eddie’s tongue that sent jolts of lightning through his body.

“Do you know what this part of you is for?”

Steve shook his head. Hole was for the alpha and then later the pup to come through. Everything else was a mystery that only men in medicine knew. He watched with hungry eyes as Eddie finally touched it, just with the tip of his finger and still he reached up and clung to the sleeve of the doctor’s coat. 

“Do you understand now?”

“Wha? Mmn, what?”

“Pay attention, Steve”, Eddie reminded gently. He touched the small nub again and this time Steve paid attention to his own reaction. Not just how it felt good but what his body actually did in response to it. How his hips lifted to meet the touch, how he tightened around Eddie’s fingers, and how more slick came from him.

“Do you see now?”, Eddie asked. “Most will ignore it but this part of you is important too.” He used the hand not currently in Steve to spread his slick around. “It will make you clench around your alpha. That, combined with his knot, will make sure none of his seed leaks out. An evolutionary advantage, back from the days where an omega could be taken by any alpha. It made certain that even if that happened, a bonded omega would already be pupped by the one of their choosing.”

His fingers started to thrust deep into Steve while the ones on his other hand rubbed quick circles. Steve’s head came to rest on his shoulder, mouth agape and eyes rolling back. His husband was most definitely the last thing on his mind right now.

“That’s it Steve, let go. Just feel. An alpha should consider this his honor, his sacred duty.”

Steve found it hard to believe any alpha would feel that way but certainly Eddie must. He was focused on his mission and nothing else. And Steve felt that delicious heat build up in him again just like last time. Then he felt Eddie nuzzle at his neck. His high collar kept from any pure skin contact, but it made him burn all the same. Eddie buried his nose on the side of his mating bite.

A clear challenge to the alpha who had already bitten him.

Steve opened his eyes in time to see himself put Eddie’s fingers in a death grip and watch everything down there pulse in time with the waves of pleasure that crashed through him. This time, instead of washing his hands, Eddie brought his slick-soaked fingers to his mouth and cleaned them off with his tongue.

“What time is that party?”

For the evening’s events, Steve changed his gown to something more celebratory. It showed his neck and parts of his shoulders and collarbone. But of course, his bond bite was hidden under a choker, as was custom. The only omegas who went without were those without a bite to show. Steve had spent the better part of the evening distracting himself with idle talk.

Eddie hadn’t arrived yet and it made Steve’s thoughts wander. Did he help out all omegas the same way? Was Steve just next in a long line of conquests? Eddie had never offered Steve anything but his medicinal techniques and yet he was clearly challenging Jason. And Jason didn’t even know it.

Jason said nothing about Eddie’s scent on him when he returned home, though Steve was sure he must be able to smell it. He washed himself before the party just to be sure.

And speaking of the party, it was going swimmingly, he had to admit. Everyone was enjoying themselves and Jason had his chest puffed out all night. It made Steve anticipate their bed all the more. When it was time to dance, Steve took his husband’s hand and followed his lead. Dancing for him was an excuse to have his alpha’s hands on him in public. Jason always kept a respectable distance though. Sometimes more than respectable. 

After one dance, they moved to the side. Steve could have danced more but sometimes it felt like Jason only wanted to touch him when necessary. Jason conversed with some of the other men, Steve loyally at his side when someone tapped his bare shoulder.

“Eddie?”

“Apologies for my late arrival.”

“‘Eddie’?”, Jason echoed.

“I would like to make the most of what time I have left in the party. So if I may impose, may I have the hostess’ for this next dance?”

Steve was tempted to take Eddie’s hand even without his husband’s approval. But he still looked to Jason, hoping he didn’t look too eager.

“You have my permission, doctor.”

Eddie took Steve’s hand and led him to the dance floor. He didn’t wear his white coat and his hair wasn’t pulled up like in his office. Instead, it fell over the shoulders of his dark jacket. Eddie nodded to Carol and Steve was reminded that she was one of his patients. Eddie brought him into a dancer’s hold so close that their chests rose and fell against each other.

“Carol is due any day now”, Steve commented as they swayed to the music.

“And glowing with the pride of it. Mr. Hagan must be proud.”

“I’m sure they appreciated your help. Carol was so worried before conceiving.”

“And that worry was stress that made it all the more difficult for their family to grow. It seems they’re doing quite well now.”

“Do you help all omegas in the same way?”, Steve ventured to ask.

Eddie grinned. “Each person who passes through my practice requires different care. I don’t normally gossip about specifics, but for the Hagans, I simply coached Mr. Hagan through some bedroom techniques. Mr. Wheeler simply needed a tonic for vitality. But you, Steve…”

His gaze got intense and Steve realized he could scent him for the first time. It made sense for doctors to cover their scent, otherwise it could unease a patient. But this was a social event and Eddie had no need to hide his cinnamon and cloves scent.

“Yes?”

“I knew I had to assist you by any means necessary. And if that meant I was allowed to touch…to taste…”

Steve’s body grew warm. “Tonight-”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“But Jason-”

“Will be taken care of. He is still your husband. And I intend to respect his claim over you. But you deserve a pup. You deserve to hear a child’s laughter in your halls and to be someone’s mother.”

“Eddie”, Steve sighed, not even realizing how close their bodies were pressed until the musicians changed the tune.

Their bodies separated and Steve was returned to his husband. Steve fanned himself and used the dance as an excuse as to why he was slightly flushed, not that Jason acknowledged it beyond a sneer. As the party began to wind down, Steve noticed his husband was more intoxicated than usual. He became worried about what this meant for the night and his suspicions were proven correct.

Their guests had gone home and the married couple dressed for bed. Jason needed help getting into his gown and he was in bed while Steve was still sitting at his vanity, brushing his hair.

“Jason? Jason?”, Steve called out, going over to his side of the bed. “Don’t you remember tonight?”

“He’s just about passed out”, Eddie’s voice sounded from the door, causing Steve to whip around.

“You’re here.”

“I said I would be.” Eddie shrugged his coat off. 

“Here? Now?”, Steve asked his heart rabbiting.

“Yes”, Eddie nodded. “He won’t wake until morning. But the scent you make and the sounds you produce should reach his subconscious mind and make him more susceptible to you.”

“You’ll give me a pup? Tonight?”, Steve put a hand to his chest, trying to calm his heart.

“I promised it to you and your husband. And I am a man of my word.” Eddie closed the distance between them and cradled Steve’s face, illuminated only by moonlight, then kissed him sweetly.

It was a different kind of kiss than what Steve was used to. Barely there pecks. This was like a thunderstorm after a drought. Eddie’s hands smoothed down Steve’s neck, around his waist, and then settled on his hips. Steve’s hands stayed perfectly still at his side. When Eddie pulled back, he took Steve’s hand and guided him to the other side of the bed where he normally laid. Steve laid down on his back.

His heart had just calmed down but it picked up again as Eddie undressed himself fully. Steve’s legs trembled, fighting between the instinct to spread and show himself and his learned behavior of keeping his legs shut. But he remembered the alpha’s words just that morning. He was allowed to give in to his instincts. So he not only spread, but he pulled the hem of his nightgown up and over his knees, exposing himself to the room. 

“There it is, just as gorgeous as always”, Eddie praised, coming onto the bed.

Steve thought he should feel more shame. Or more reservations. He was letting another alpha take him while his real husband and mate slumbered right next to them. But Jason benefited from this too. Eddie started to kiss his thighs and Steve just about forgot the presence of his husband. He felt warm breath on his loins and covered his mouth before he could cry out. Then a hand came up to pull it away.

“Mr. Carver needs to hear you. He needs to associate your sounds with satisfaction.”

“But I’ve never…”

Eddie licked a stripe up his core, eliciting a sound somewhere between a hiccup and a gasp from Steve. “The more you allow yourself to feel, the better chance you have at conceiving.”

Steve’s lips parted and he allowed short breaths. Then Eddie’s tongue started to draw circles and whimpers fell from him. He thought he’d be more scared of Jason waking up. He turned his head to see his husband on his back, appearing almost dead to the world. Then Eddie blew cold air onto his hot flesh and Steve jolted, a sharp cry coming from him. Jason shifted, turning on his side now so that he was face to face with Steve.

That only stoked the flames in Steve’s body and he felt himself get more wet. Eddie hummed, seeming pleased at his reaction.

“You feel good and you want your alpha to know that.” He rose up and kissed Steve’s chest through his gown while rubbing a finger against his slit. He pressed the first one in and released a low rumble, pleased at how easily it slipped in. His lips found Steve’s neck, the unbitten side, and sucked a mark into it.

“Alpha”, Steve moaned softly, arms winding around Eddie.

Eddie got him to three fingers like before and then pulled them out. Steve’s eyes fluttered as he felt the head finally slip in. One hand fell from Eddie, needing to grip something and that ended up being Jason’s nightgown. Steve could feel his husband’s chest rise and fell while Eddie sunk deeper and deeper into him. His mouth fell open and every indecent sound he had held back all these years were set free as Eddie thrust in and out.

Every touch was true to Eddie’s words from earlier. He considered it a privilege and an honor to be allowed to do this. Steve felt something else begin to push up against him and realized in euphoria that it was a knot. He was going to be knotted, he was going to be filled and thoroughly seeded and it would finally take root and turn into a beautiful life.

When it popped into him, he could hear Eddie growl into his ear. Eddie bit into his shoulder and Steve saw stars.

Jason didn’t stir until morning came. He sat up, head still swimming from the previous night. He rubbed his temples and slowly stood up from the bed. It was only then that he noticed Doctor Munson sitting in a chair on the other side of the room.

“What are you-?!”

“Shh”, Eddie put a finger to his lips. “Watch your volume. Your wife is still resting.”

Jason looked down to see that Steve was very much still asleep. “Why are you here?”

“Mr. Carver when a patient puts their trust in me, I see it through to the end. And I must say, you performed quite well last night. As I was able to observe, Mrs. Carver was properly knotted.”

Jason’s brow furrowed. He didn’t want to say that he had no recollection of that. But he truly remembered nothing after collapsing into bed. Eddie stood and walked over to the bed. He was fully clothed, excluding his coat and hat.

“The proof is right here.” Eddie pulled the blanket back and then lifted Steve’s gown. He then very gently spread his legs. “His amount of slick is proof of a coupling. But if you look very closely, not a single drop of your spend is on the outside. I say not even a textbook would have a more perfect illustration.”

Steve shifted and Eddie covered him back up. Jason swallowed, feeling challenged and yet now knowing why.

“So it is done?”

“Conception should be complete, yes. But your journey has only just begun. We can discuss it more later. But I recommend that Steve visits my office regularly from now on. Perhaps every two weeks or so.”

Jason watched as Doctor Munson put his coat back on and then his hat. “Um, yes, very good. Thank you, doctor.”

“My pleasure, Mrs. Carver”, Eddie smirked.

tbc?

[lizzybeeee]

DATV Spoilers - The Handling of Previous Story/Lore In DATV

Quick PSA: If you’ve read my post on the lore/story threads dropped – it’s not a list of what I expected or even wanted to see addressed/answered in DATV.

It’s pretty much a given that Kieran and the Architect were never going to come back in any meaningful way, I understand that. Questions about what happened to Anora, Anders, Cullen’s clinic etc...never expected to get an answer about them – at all. The line of succession in Ferelden and Orlais? I expected that sometime down the line it would have to be streamlined into one option for both nations, not a problem – there’s so many choices it’s impossible to account for, and I understand that.

A codex entry or letter would have been nice – but my expectations for DATV was solely for a good story that added to the lore and world of Thedas. Instead, it felt entirely reductive – glaringly so when you account for the ‘Executives’ twist. The slavery in Tevinter is non-existent, the Crows being an organization that indoctrinated children is never touched upon, any mystery of ancient Tevinter and the elves is answered (badly!), the Dalish have effectively disappeared and become the Veil Jumpers...it all feels so hollow, so shallow, that I ever cared about these things in the first place.

There’s no DLC planned – the team is working on Mass Effect 5 now. There’s no conclusion to the fate of the south of Thedas outside of two codex entries and some dialogue. They can patch the Executors cutscene out, maybe - perhaps they could even do the same to anything relating to the south of Thedas. Yes, these areas were not completely destroyed by the Blight – they can rebuild – but it comes across as being so meaningless that I ever cared for these places in the first place. To learn that after ten years of waiting all we cared for get devastated and left in limbo...it’s hard to put into words the bitterness I felt at that realization, and seeing that final cut-scene drove the nail into the coffin of how foolish I felt for even caring in the first place.

The issue is that the dev’s gave us only three choices, told us that as the story was contained to the north of Thedas – that our other choices weren’t relevant to the rest of the game – that their intent was to not effect anyone's head-canons...before doing so with ‘the blight has devastated most of everywhere you went previously’.

These were story/plot threads that were woven throughout the narrative of the first three games – the things that made me care and become invested in the world of Thedas to begin with. In a game that was set-up to be a direct sequel to Inquisition and Trespasser I hoped that, at least, what was brought up in Inquisition would be mentioned.

Perhaps my list is a little too detailed with plot threads and issues – if anything that can be attributed to the incredible world-building done in the first three games! I love those games, I love the world of Thedas...which is why this game utterly baffles me with its choices.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard is a good game but not a good Dragon Age game.

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

Edit: DATV is absolutely a godawful rpg game - decisions are basically meaningless, lack of dialogue options, lack of conflict, blunt therapy dialogue, bad writing of characters and lore/story...my opinion of a game being 'good' is basically that it works at launch - coming from someone who played Cyberpunk 2077 at launch.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard is a game that exists - it's playable, releasing fairly well optimized (especially in a gaming landscape that seems content to rush half-baked games out and then patch them later) and that's perhaps the only good thing I can certainly say of it.

It fails as an RPG in practically every way, especially when compared to its predecessors.

[thatnonameuser]

how would the yan boys mark/claim darling?

There are many different ways a darling can be marked. 

Temporary Binding Spell. designed to temporarily mark them until the permanent spell can be applied. The mark prevents other yanderes from setting any other magical claiming marks. It leaves a mark in usually visible places, or somewhere more intimate depending on the yandere’s preference. 

Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater, Riddle, Rook, Epel, Neige, Rollo

Bite marks. Placed on either the ring finger or the nape of the neck (sometimes both). While it does not have any magic properties protecting it, the animal instinct that all beastmen and merfolk have prevents them from violating it. After marking, a potion is used to block make it have the same effect on other magic users trying to lay marks. The temporary mark can be strengthened by magic later, and the scar from the mark never fully heals until the permanent one is applied. 

Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Floyd, Jade, Rook ( Yes, Rook’s here for two of them), Chenya

Unique Magic. For Azul, his UM can serve as a temporary and permanent mark for the MC. ‘It’s A Deal’ has the power to bind you eternally to him and restrict your movements and life. Your contract is binding unless he releases you, (like that will ever happen) and it prevents anyone not already listed in the fine print to attempt to claim you

Jewelry of Binding. Originally used by the yanderes of old as gifts of devout, worshipful love, they’re now used to mark the . Fueled by magic once they’re on the clasp vanishes and reappears only when the yandere attempts to remove it. The jewelry is supposed to be as soft as silk on skin, loose enough to breathe and live without any discomfort. But the darling could pull with all their might and they’ll never be able to remove it or choke themselves. (Additionally, it serves as a tracker, to ensure that they can never run or be stolen away without the yandere not being able to find them.)

The jewelry is usually heirlooms. Passed down from a yandere’s parents to them when they find the one. 

Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus, Silver, Sebek.

You would think that Idia would use a magical pomegranate because of his connection with the Underworld. But the pomegranates are used specifically for engagements and matrimony because if he dies during the claiming process, the MC will get sicker and sicker until she joins him in death. So jewels of binding apply here (Hades was the God of Wealth after all)

Hope that answers your question.

[rebeltigera]

Absolutely obsessed with V!Wukong and Blind!Macaque.

I have questions, overall comments and some hypothesized things. (Feel free to ignore or not answer all of them, but the ADHD has kicked in and I gotta splurge because YES)

OKAY! So;

You’ve mentioned in the past that B!Macaque is terrified of Wukong because of what was done to him, PTSD is a bitch. How would V!Wukong get around this to show that, to Mac, he’s not a threat?

* My first thought was, oh! He could start leaving his things around that smell like him so Macaque gets used to his smell, but that seemed more like training a dog, so probably not. But maybe?

Would V! Wukong try and steal Macaque some new eyes that work or an elixir that could heal his sight? Is it possible for his sight to even be healed at this point? Is that something Macaque would even want?

Once some time has passed and Macaque got more comfortable with this Wukong, would Macaque show his growing trust for V!Wukong by grooming his fur? Or allowing V!Wukong to groom him?

How would they show their growing intimately outside of… well, physical affection? Would they feed one another? Pick out clothes they know the other likes? Little things unique to them.

Would V!Wukong ever tell B!Macaque about his macaque? And if he did, how long would it take him to open up? Same scenario with Macaque, how long would it take him to open up?

I like to imagine that the word “Destiny” is a forbidden word for both of them. Neither of them like hearing it. Good way to get V!Wikong to start growling.

Your B!Macaque is so beautiful, he reminds me of a delicate crystal flower, I like to imagine V!Wukong is scared to touch him for a while because he’s afraid he’ll break him further.

V!Wukong violently protecting B!Macaque is something that just makes my heart happy for some reason, and B!Macaque gently cleaning up and healing him afterwards even though V!Wukong is the last person who’d ever need healing is such a tender vision in my mind.

Okay, I believe that’s the end of my rambling. I can’t think of anything else at the moment. I hope you have a wonderful day!

THE TISM HAS TISMED AAAA LOVE IT-

IDK why y'all decided that this ship is interesting after like - one art sksksmssm

But alr

... Oh boy the first one -

To be honest? I Don't know, maybe it would be his charm, the little things he'd do , or that he'd rescue Mac from falling into his own shadows. I didn't ever thought much about it

Mac wouldn't notice him at first . His heartbeat concealed, his power too. Wukong would indeed leave little things around but not in a "find my smell comforting way" . He would do that , move cluttery n dishes to more accessible places. Mac tend to leave them in the sun (to see them through shadows) but once the sun is gone they are gone from his view cuz they don't leave shadow anymore or are concealed by it.

Mac's eyes are not able to heal anymore. However Wukong would find a way to connect in a way their eyes. It wouldn't be permanent thing , just sometimes. See what I see kind of thing

Mac might not want but would need it. Because the last thing he saw was Wukong striking him . And it stuck like super glue.

Wukong might be the one to get a grooming session first. He'd be so confused and scared in a way . Like- he wouldn't expect that and sit obediently like a puppet till Mac would be done . Wukong wouldn't get to touch his fur tho.

Casual Physical affection would be everything to them . Because they both would be reluctant to it at the start .

Wukong wanting to touch but never doing so , Mac starved for it but never asking for it .

So their trust would be shown by it fully .

One thing that I can think of rn is that wuk would wake him up by gentle touches. He relies mostly on his hearing nowadays so it would be nice n comforting.

Whisper when he'd get a feeling Mac would get overwhelmed.

Outside of it , cooking , clothing etc etc - yeah it would happen

About telling him about his task- he wouldn't. Coming to that universe his memories become no more than flashes of the past. He doesn't even know what he searched so long for . He still get flashes of past Mihou and it brings him pang of pain but it'll pass.

For Mac to open up- months? Maybe years . Once he'd realize that V!Wuk is not a threat It would be easier. Wukong got nothing to hide from him so he'd be open like a book.

Mac speaking of destiny

Wukong growling it's bullshit, while hugging him closer

He'd get some pats.

The other moments he might growl more would be in safe heaven called nest, but it's story for a different acc sksksks

Wukong indeed would be scared to hurt him. Those bloodied hands are the one that destroy everything. He wouldn't dare to taint Mac with em. He would have moments when he'd think if he held him too strong he might crush him . Just like that.

The last thing might've happen , but wukong would rather want to keep to himself if he'd ever got hurt or dirty with blood . Mac is too pure.

[stark-ironman]

What happens in Vegas... Part 2

18+ No Minors

A/N: guess who finally wrote a long fic!! Well long for me. This was going to be 3 parts but I got carried away. I still could though 😈 also, the Hugh drama with his Broadway costar came back up during this sooooo i wrote it in. Enjoy 😁

Warnings: Accidental marriage, angst, jealously, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it)

Part 1

The next few weeks have flown by quickly as you and Hugh learn more about each other and this new life you both chose to live. The four of you had to leave Vegas early due to the fact someone leaked some pictures from inside the wedding chapel and your hotel was swarmed by paparazzi.

Ryan and Blake reassured you that everything was okay and they was fine going home early because they was ready to see their kids. Even Hugh tried his best to cheer you up but it didn't last long due to the fact your publicists and both of your families were blowing your phones up with questions on your relationship.

As of right now, everybody thinks that the relationship has been under wraps for a while now and you both decided to just elope so until you're ready to discuss it, only Ryan and Blake know the actual details of what happened. Since leaving Vegas, you and Hugh decided it would be a better and safer decision to stay at your house in Colorado instead of his penthouse in New York.

Your place is secluded on a big plot of land and it's been the perfect opportunity for the two of you to get to learn about each other in a more intimate way, minus the kissing and the sex. Don't get it wrong, you want to do those things with him but you both agreed to move slow with this relationship so you're waiting on Hugh to feel comfortable enough to make the first move.

"Y/N, did you hear me?" Hugh asks taping his fork on your plate, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Sorry, I guess I zoned out. What did you say?" You look at him and see a small smile on his face. "I asked what are we going to do when it's time for me to head back to New York since you live here and I live there." He says cutting another piece of steak.

"I've been thinking about that actually and I wanted to talk it over with you. You know how I feel about living in big cities, especially New York.." Hugh nods and you continue, "Would you want to move here and we just keep your place in New York so we could visit? Or we find a house on the outskirts of New York?"

Hugh takes a deep breath and thinks it over for a moment before saying, "You're my home, darling. I will go wherever you go." You feel your heart skip a beat at his words and tears well up in your eyes. "Are you sure? I know how much you love New York." He grabs your hand and nods. "We can visit whenever we want. Since staying here with you, I've become a little spoiled by this secluded farm life you live. I love being here and I love being with you." His voice is sincere and you can't help but feel yourself falling in love with him even more.

"Hugh, I need to tell you something.." You start to say but you're interrupted by his phone going off. Hugh apologizes and answers, standing up and walking away, leaving you with your thoughts.

You almost admitted to this man that you love him and while you're sure he feels the same, you don't know if he's ready to take that step yet. One thing about Hugh Jackman, the man is a flirt with everyone. He's a very smooth talker and he is really easy on the eyes. Would he be willing to give all that up? Would he ever cheat on you when he tires of you?

While you know him as a loyal friend, you don't know him as a partner or a lover. Yes, right now he's saying he's happy with you but what happens once you both go back to work and he has to kiss a girl for a movie? Or do a sex scene with one? You know you're not the best looking woman in Hollywood but you try to at least hold the self confidence of one.

Your eyes search across the room until they land on Hugh and you can't help but admire the way his back muscles look and how his pants fit in just the right places. You need to snap out of this little crush before you wind up hurting yourself and the friendship you two have had for many years.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by Hugh walking back in the dining room, sitting back across from you with a sigh. "That was my agent. They want me to come back to New York and do a Broadway show called The Music Man." He says, looking in your eyes as if trying to see your reaction. "When do they want you to leave?" You ask, trying to be a little nonchalant but you know he can tell you're not happy. "They want me to fly out of here tomorrow and be in rehearsals the next day."

"You should go. It's a great opportunity for you." You say. "Are you sure?" Hugh's eyes widen, shocked at you giving him the opportunity to leave. "I'm not going to stand in the way of this. You love singing and I love seeing you happy. Plus, I can come stay with you once I get things settled here."

Hugh breaks out in a smile, kissing your hand softly before standing up. "Let me go pack and we will spend the rest of the night watching movies and cuddling." He runs off to pack, leaving you sitting at the table by yourself with a heavy heart.

You don't want him to go but you're not the type of person to ruin a great opportunity for anybody, especially Hugh. You just hope he doesn't find somebody else while you're both away from each other.

------

It's been about a month since you've seen Hugh. He had his first show and you was there in the front row happily supporting him but shortly after the show ended, rumors circulated that Hugh was already cheating on you with his co-star, especially after she came out saying they spend a lot of time together in her dressing room. You seen the chemistry on stage between them but you was hoping it was nothing.

Hugh has tried to call and text you for the past couple of weeks but either you've short replied him or just said you was too busy to talk.

You were hurt. You knew it, Hugh knew it, everybody knew it. Ryan and Blake have even tried calling to tell you the rumors weren't true but you just couldn't handle hearing it.

A knock on your door sounds throughout the house and you already know who it is. "Darling, please open the door." Hugh's voice is muffled by the door but you ignore it, feeling the tears well up in your eyes again.

"Baby, please. I promise you nothing happened between me and her. She's just doing it for the publicity." He says, hearing something sliding against the door as he continues, "I know things have been less than ideal with us but the past few months have been the happiest of my life and it's all because of you. I only have eyes for you, even before we got together, it was always you. Ryan used to make fun of me for how in love with you I was and that's never changed. Accidentally marrying you was the best thing I ever did and I would do it all again in a heartbeat. I love you, darling and if you don't want me here then at least tell me that you don't."

Hugh goes silent and you can't help but walk towards the window, seeing him sit with his back against the door wiping at his eyes. You open the door slightly, watching as he stands up quickly to look at you.

"I'm sorry," You whisper, looking into his eyes, "I knew this would happen the day you recieved that phone call to go back to New York. I didn't want you to go but I will never stand in the way of your career. I tried to stop myself from being happy with you, from loving you, but no matter what I do I can't help but fall in love with you even more with each passing day. I ignored you because I was scared the rumors were true and I wanted to protect myself. You're a natural flirt, you do it without even knowing majority of the time and I didn't want to make you change anything about yourself. I love you the way you are but Hugh, I don't want you giving other girls the time of day. Call me selfish, call me whatever but I want you to myself. I want to have kids with you and live on a plot of land away from the spotlight. I love you more than I ever loved anybody and it scares the shit out of me."

Your confession causes the tears to flow as Hugh steps in the house, taking your face in his hands as he wipes the tears away. "I want this. I want you." He whispers, looking down at your lips.

His lips meet yours. Your arms wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, vaguely hearing the door shut as he leads you to the living room, laying you gently on the couch as he slots himself in between your legs.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt, raising it up and over his head as his lips meet yours again, his tongue running across your bottom lip before sliding past and attacking your tongue. A moan escapes your lips,

"Do you want to stop?" He mumbles against your lips. "No." You whisper back and he quickly sits up, removing your clothes before doing the same to his. Your eyes widen, quickly remembering the last time you two had sex was when you both blacked out in Vegas, but Hugh quickly reassures you. "I'll take my time, darling. I'll be easy... today." He smirks, crouching on the ground as he spreads your legs,

Hugh admires your core, as if savoring the whole thing to memory before lowering his head and licking a stripe up your slit, running it over the little nub and teasing it. "Taste so perfect.." He murmmers, wasting no time closing his mouth down and latching onto you as if he's been starved. You gasp as his tongue worked against you with long, calculated strokes, your hand gripping his hair as if your life depended on it as his lips enclose around the sensitive little bud.

You moaned his name loudly, your back arching with each pass of his tongue as the pleasure hits in ways you've never experienced before, your head falling back against the arm of the couch.

His mouth continues it's assault, your legs trembling around him as he pulls you close to your orgasm when you feel two of his fingers slide in, his lips enclosing around your sensitive spot causing you to cry out from the pleasure. He slides a third finger in, pumping his fingers into you as your release rips through you, keeping his mouth on you as he works you through your release.

Your body trembles and you're left breathless, thighs shaking from the intensity of the moment as he sits back to look at you with the most sinister smirk you've ever seen on him. His lips glossy and his hair tousled from what just happened and he leans forward, kissing you deeply to let you taste yourself.

Hugh's hand grabs his base, rubbing the head of his erection against your entrance and you shiver from the sensitivity, moaning softly when he dips his head down towards your breast and takes a nipple in his mouth.

He presses the tip against your wet folds, sliding into you slowly as if to not hurt you. Once he bottoms out, he let's you adjust to his length and when you give him permission to move, he moves slow making each thrust hard and deep. You notice he's holding back though so you decide to remind him not to.

"Hugh," You breathe out, "I won't break.. you can fuck me." Hugh let's out a low growl, placing your legs over his shoulders as he starts pounding into you, the force causing the couch to slightly move and your fingers to dig in his forearms.

His thrusts continue to go deep as you watch his head fall back from the pleasure, his mouth slightly open and low moans fall from within. "Fuck, I knew you were made for me... your pussy was made to be all mine.." He grunts, leaning down to sloppily kiss you, pressing your knees to your chest. "I'm never letting you go after this. You own me now, baby." His voice is full of promise and you kiss him again, holding on tightly to his shoulders while he continues his hard, brutal pace.

"Hugh... I'm close.." You choke out against his lips and he smirks at you. "Come for me baby." He says angling his hips just slightly, memorizing your face as you release all over his cock, moaning softly when he hears his name fall from your lips.

He continues his pace, chasing his own release. You clenching around him pulling him closer and closer, finally releasing deep inside of you and a deep growl erupting from him. Hugh rides out both of your releases, thrusting slowly inside of you for a few minutes before finally pulling out, both of you moaning softly at the feeling.

Hugh grabs you and pulls you on top of him, holding you close as he kisses the top of your head and you play with his chest hair. "I meant it, darling. After today, you own me. I don't want anybody else." He softly says, looking down at you. "I'm all yours too. Especially after that." You say with a chuckle, causing him to chuckle to.

"Will you marry me, again?" Hugh asks and you lift your head up to look at him. "I know it's not the most romantic time but we agreed we would do a ceremony if we chose to be together. I want to marry you and say our vows, this time with us both remembering it."

"I would marry you in every lifetime." You say, kissing him softly.

For the first time since Vegas, you finally feel like everything is falling into place and you are extremely happy for the future with Hugh.

[moveslikekeithrichards]

entire family including my brothers girlfriend in shouting argument last night bc we were playing 20 questions (generally more like 800 questions) & my mom wasnt playing but had to get involved when my brother showed her a picture to confirm the genre of the character he was thinking of & she became absolutely enraged bc he had said Yes to "are they humanoid in shape" and she tried to tell me the character was more robotic than anything else (but not actually robotic) and he was telling me No He Is Not and they were both giving fully conflicting answers & telling me not to listen to the other & only after their difficulty answering when faced with the question "is the character live action" did i realize it was a muppet and that maybe my brother and i are horrible at playing 20 questions but we're the only people who can play it with each other bc nobody else understands our brain cells. anyway poll

(NOTE: when i say Humanoid In Shape i mean like, you could take a stick figure and flesh it out into the character, not that theyre human or human-looking or apelike etc, which is how my mom interprets it. idk if this is a Correct Definition but my brother & i both knew what i meant)

[clubsmarties]

Eli smiled against her lips as she returned the kiss he had just given. There was no hesitation in reciprocating it. His hand cupped her face and pulled her close as he deepened the kiss for a brief moment. If this was what people called love, he wouldn't mind falling and break every bone in his body. The feeling was euphoric. Or maybe that was just Laurel. A soft chuckle escaped him as he dropped his hand and opened his eyes again to look at her. "I'm a man of many talents." His head nodded in acknowledgement. "They're the best but she's the one I watched grow up. She was the legit baby of the family. I cuddled her at night when she wouldn't settle. I think a big part of why her parents liked me was that I was the baby whisperer." Not only that but Emma understood him. Isa and Inez did too but they were different. Each sibling unlocked a hidden piece of what made Eli him. "You have a lot more hope for Chicago than I do. I think that is a nice sentiment but I think I'm done there. Visiting them is one thing but having a home, not really. That died with the parents." Again, Eli reverted to himself, the nomad having nowhere to call home. "Yes, really," he laughed. "I'd love to meet them. I am kind of curious to hear stories about you."

He felt for her but it wasn't pity. There was a longing there in her voice that told him that her mom wasn't a subject she liked going into but still would be willing to answer the question. Settling his hand over hers he smiled. "Sometimes people don't realize what type of diamond they have. They just see the dust and assume they're not worth much. Just because your mom had a harsher way to treat you doesn't mean you aren't worth it. Don't feel like you need to tone it down for me. I want you to be your unapologetic self." What he wanted her to take away from this was that he'd never make her change into something else to fit a mold she would never fit. "Mhm. I do like to learn. I like to get into something I've never done before. Cooking is one. Maybe we can come up with a new recipe."

An amused smile took over his features. "Fair enough. Drew you in." Lucky for him she even turned her head. "Pretty green eyes. I like it." Truly just because she said it. "Is that going to be your way to get my attention moving forward?" Amusement danced in his eyes as he leaned forward and chuckled thinking of the way everyone with colored eyes would turn if she did scream that out in the courtyard. "Definitely. I can't stand the heat. It makes me irritable. I don't like heatwaves." Now why did he pick Texas for his home would be something he'd never be able to explain but it felt like there was an inexplicable pull drawing him in to the blazing boot of a state.

"We can go together. Why not right? A cabin in the snow seems like we would both enjoy it." His eyebrows furrowed and a laugh was kept at bay as he realized she'd never had a real vacation. "Maybe we can change that. The winter break is coming up so why don't we head down to one of the National Parks and spend a day with nature. If you want to spend a day with me outside. I am a great nature guide." Eli slowly fanned his eyelashes and smirked. "Good to know you think nerdy is hot. Oh, you don't share is that it?"

"I might be trying to test your knowledge. See if any of those clap clap cheers stuck. Now, see that works well. I've got a few ideas on what we could do and since you're pretty confirmed to try something once then this should be easy." His mind had come up with multiple activities they could do and that already brought a smile to his face. "Company I can give. I'll bring at least one or two facts. It seems sad if there isn't something to learn." He took her hand and lead her out. Bag in the other hand and his hand holding one making sure they were locked. "Favorite color? Don't laugh but green. I like the color. It's nice and pretty. Place? Madrid. It is so vibrant. I'd love to go walk down their streets and eat their good food. You?" The shop wasn't too far from his dorm room which he was grateful for since he didn't want to keep walking so long. They reached his building and as he let go of her hand he took out his keys and opened his door for her to enter first. He dropped the bag of food on his desk, a neat pile of books and a laptop sitting on top and closed the door. 'Make yourself comfortable. If you want something to wear like a sweater take your pick. It gets cold here since I open the window. I'll be back."

He went to his closet and grabbed a blue sweater and sweats and his socks. After a five minute absence he came back out, hair outof his face and comfy clothes now on his person. "It's a thing we used to do. We don't sit with outside clothes on the bed."

Her smile couldn't be contained watching as he stood centimeters from her. Hiding how she felt and what she anticipated was not possible in any way or form. Laurel's eyes fluttered shut upon feeling those soft, lovely lips she had been hooked on from the start. "High praise, and you say I'm the one with the flirting skills," she teased, her hands cupping his face before pulling him in for a kiss of her own. The last two have been initiated by him, it was high time she give one to him. It's all she'd been thinking about for the last two weeks. "Hey, that night was great. No apology needed. I understand family, I just got it all mixed up. That's so sweet, being so close to your little sister." She zipped up her lips, "You're a great brother, and don't worry, I'll keep your secret." He had mentioned that last time, with that same sad tone. Chicago really was home, it seemed. "Well, for what it's worth, Austin is not that bad. It grows on you for sure, but don't say goodbye to Chicago. You never know where life could take you." Laurel was giddy at the thought of him meeting Julia and Aaron. Julia will be thrilled, especially when she was already such a big fan. "Wait, that's great! I love it, I'll let them know meeting you has made it to the itinerary."

It hadn't occurred to her that her answers had a deeper meaning somewhere in there, but she had said she was an open book. "I'll hold you to that," she said with a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. His question had thrown her off for a second. "Yeah. My mom, when she was still around. She was always going on and on about being a bit much, which is fine. It makes sense, I suppose. It helped me learned to tone it down." Though, she supposed toning it down was debatable. "Really? You'd learn with me. That would be so much fun, and we'd get a new skill out of it. Hopefully, some good food too." The thought was intriguing - her mind already trying to think of how could they make this work. Maybe borrowing her dad's kitchen, because the communal kitchen in the dorm buildings wouldn't cut it. "True, but it's all you at the end of the day. Pretty green eyes," and just like that - new nickname unlocked.

Laurel happily listened to him talk about his family. Usually, the family talk bummed her out, only reminding her of the odd mess she had. But, hearing him was a breath of fresh air. His family just sounded so sweet, full of love. Hearing that kind of love envelop him comforted her, especially when she thought back to the melancholy in his tone now. "Fooled me, or drew me in?" Wasn't it all about perspective? "Both of them like dancing, sounds like I need to thank them for their hard work teaching you. So, you're a snow over heat kind of guy?" Yet, he ended up here. How amusing. "That sounds so relaxing, cabin for holidays. You'll have to let me know how it goes. To Aspen? Unfortunately, no because you make it sound so fun. When we did vacations, my mom was always picking the places, and it was New York or Paris. I was also a kid, so it was a lot of following her around during shopping trips and then spending time with some random caretaker while they went out. Once it became my dad and I, then we tried visiting the Grand Canyon and sprained his ankle, so vacation cut short. But, his job keeps him busy too, so vacations are not too fun." He did try though, and that effort was everything to her. "Oh, true. Nerdy can be hot though, still doesn't matter if it's others' favorite hobby. Just yours. A self-help book, to teach others to flirt with you? No, thank you. I'll politely decline," she joked with a wink in his direction.

Something in common made her feel excited, eager to discover what else they could have in common. The possibilities seemed endless, which only made it better. "Random hobbies, huh? I mean, I'll try anything once really," that was said with a shrug. Her curiosity had a tendency to lead her to the most odd roads. "Are you trying to test my knowledge? Maybe so, or maybe I don't, but I could just throw random moves together and you wouldn't even know the difference. I'd have to dig the pom poms out of retirement," she laughed at the thought, though her attention was drawn back to his words. Laurel had never thought of silence that way, but there was no way to say that without it sounding pitiful. "The first one sounds familiar, but I guess I haven't had much of that second option. It could also be because I can never be quiet." Deflecting with jokes, a fine option. "You are just checking off all my boxes - cooking classes and stargazing, I am too lucky. I will be taking you up on that offer! I don't need the facts, just the company." His company, more specifically. "Yes, sounds like a plan. I still need to see these awesome blankets you hyped up earlier." They'd covered a decent amount of things already in the getting to know you trail, but she was quick to think of other things. "Okay, favorite color and what's one place, anywhere in the world, that you've always wanted to visit?"

[suffarustuffaru]

Genuine question do you think there's a chance that Julius could be into Subaru? Because I only really hear about Subaru being into Julius when it comes to Juilsuba

(no arc 5+ spoilers in this post)

short answer: yes, i think there’s a chance. a pretty good chance. but whether you want to interpret julius as being Romantically into subaru is up to you. however theres no denying that subaru is special to julius and that julius Loves this guy.

long answer: so i will give the following disclaimer to this, which is that i can only really speak for my own interpretations of the text. for this ask i talked a bit with a few different mutuals about this (bc while i really enjoy julius and julisuba A Lot i wouldnt consider myself an Expert so—peer reviewing it is :3) but—yes im speaking for my opinions here, so in general i recommend looking over the text/media yourself to see what you think too 👍👍

and i think in general like. i wish we saw more subaru ships from the non-subaru lens of it!! :o speaking as someone whos made shippy content from both subarus pov and the other pov, while im not perfect with it either, i just think that it’s always important to get that other pov. and sometimes its kind of a forgotten part !! :< i just think its interesting 1. seeing someone fall in love from subaru, 2. getting that outside pov of subaru, and 3. it makes the dynamic truly equal to focus on the other side of it too 👍 i dont have a lot of julisuba content atm (this will change eventually) but in the past ive rambled a bit about julius’s side of julisuba in one of my….. bdsm……………… posts :3 but anyway ill summarize what i think is going on with julius’s side here:

for julius, his prim and proper knightly persona is pretty like. i get the vibe that hes really Cultivated himself into this over time, especially bc he wasnt involved with nobility until his parents died and his uncle took him in and joshua started trying to shape julius too into what he is now. julius used to be a bit of delinquent (dont know How delinquent he was exactly but just that he was) and of course theres a big switch into julius learning noble and knightly ways and norms, julius trying to keep that armor around his heart, according to subaru. it’s learned behavior and now he struggles a little taking it off. being a knight is entrenched into julius’s familial and personal values, and julius Always strives for perfection. julius seems so put together that we kinda forget he too has his flaws but similar to subaru, he can be a bit pushy, a bit oblivious, a bit reckless. looking at the world in slight rose colored tint. pushing for More. accidentally stepping over others, maybe, but striving for strength in their own ways. Greedy. they’re kindred spirits in that way.

on the flipside of that, subaru inspires imperfection out of julius. repeatedly. subaru inspires julius to get that part of him from his childhood where he was this earnest overzealous passionate little kid and let it out again instead of being prim and proper 24/7. “juli”.

julius steps in to save subaru during arc 3 also bc julius sees himself in subaru—a passionate kid who fumbles in every single direction but that heart is there, and subaru is a walking whirlwind bc unlike julius, he can’t slap a prim and proper persona over it. he wears everything on his sleeve. he’s misguided, in the wrong, but still. his Heart is a tempting sight, and it hits julius a little personally. subaru was a mirror of julius, the part of julius that julius tried to hide a little all while subaru Offends the knights and says shit like how the knights cling to their father’s names (when julius almost kinda does cling to his family name and his knightly ideals to make himself into something Bigger and Grander), but of course julius has Morals and cant let subaru get hurt to the other knights. and sacrifices his reputation in the process—

(these are from the Arc 3 interlude that shows Julius’s side of the duel aftermath)

“did you find his tarnishing of your knightly pride unforgivable to that extent”…… and of course julius readily accepting punishment 👀👀

“the very symbol of his pride as a knight”…. yeah that duel meant several things to julius, and it sets up the entirety of julisuba from here on out. julius treasures idealism—

(hooray juliemisuba crumbs!!) but… julius noting how this duel wasn’t enough to break subarus spirit 👀👀 “It would not be such a bad thing to trade swords with a fool full of idealism once more.” “As for an annoyance… perhaps he was that, a little bit.” fucking hilarious but also so true—bc julius himself is Also a fool full of idealism. naturally, he takes a liking to subaru quickly which then leads to him declaring subaru his friend in later arc 3 <3

“It is truly in Lady Emilia’s nature to cause pain in others…. That very nature is what allows her to live as nobly and beautifully as she does. I do not deign to wish her to change. Thus, all I can do is hope that she lives more righteously, more genuinely, without anything to be ashamed of.” / “Does that go for the boy, too?” / “It goes for everyone…. It is for that very reason I wield a sword.”

It goes for everyone, julius says. these are values he treasures most in himself and in others, and once he sees it in others, he finds himself drawn to them. (though def interesting how julius doesnt 100% answer ferris’s next question on subaru straightforwardly…) julius comments on emilia here, but its also like. why does julius, the upstanding picture of a knight, follow anastasia, a cutthroat business woman? (other than her being the absolute coolest and the ana camp being a whole family <3)

its bc of greed and ambition. the strive for something greater, to dedicate your life to your passions and devotions. theres a whole ss about how julius is told by ana that she wants the best knight possible and bc of his own insecurity assumes she Must mean reinhard—but no. julius is the finest knight for a reason—bc he painstakingly shapes himself to be that way. of course he sees a similar sort of trait in subaru, how subaru shapes himself to be something greater too, and julius finds himself a littleeee starry eyed. perhaps. pun intended.

anyway. this is my long winded way of saying—yeah, julius is drawn to subaru for a lot of reasons. julius quickly finds himself attached to subaru in arc 3, and subaru coaxes out julius’s imperfection while encouraging julius’s passions.

as far as i know (of course feel free to add onto this if im missing stuff), there isnt anything in canon that reads as particularly homoerotic about subaru from julius’s pov. at least not to the same level as subaru repeatedly checking out julius’s body and saying julius is oh so handsome LMFAO. (though julius’s rainbow spirits are super cool.) so i cant definitively go “julius is 100% romantically into subaru”. especially as im asexual myself so personally romance is fun to me but not always a requirement for every ship’s depiction (or at the very least i Love exploring ships having different dynamics across different iterations of them)—so this is more so me going “theyre so intimate with each other in their own ways !!! i love viewing them from multiple angles !!!” <3 but their friendship and what they have in canon is extremely good foundation for romance. and julius likes subaru a Lot!! theyve gone through quite a bit together and theres More to come !!

[h2llish]

⁀➷ ˖ what a show

notes ─── happy birthday @floydsteeth! love youuu

FLOYD LEECH ─ secrets that aren't secrets.

warnings ♡ fluff, male reader, lowercase intended, shenanigans ensue, floyd's a loser in love /aff, reader can sew

there's something so amusing to jade as he watches his brother experience his first time having romantic feelings for someone ─ before and after he established a relationship with you. (and while jade himself has never experienced such attraction, he knows his brother, and he can tell this is nothing like when floyd catches an interest in someone or something. ─ yes, this is different.)

floyd may not be the easiest person to get along with ─ mood swings that remain hard to predict, his intimidating appearance, and of course, the threats. but you made it seem like it was no trouble to get along with someone so many tended to avoid. (and jade found it almost funny, how quick you were to match floyd's energy. perhaps that's why floyd liked you so much.)

before you two started dating, jade had made it game between himself, tallying everyday as he watched the two of you interact ─ waiting to see if his brother would notice his feelings towards you. and, if he was correct in assuming you felt the same way towards floyd, if you would notice your own towards his twin. the count began the moment he noticed floyd's feelings; and for the longest time there was no clue towards any change between the oblivious dance his brother was unknowingly leading. ─ and well, it sure was a show.

but while things did change when you two finally realized your feelings ─ it wasn't all that different from before. jade still found it funny to watch.

even more so when it seemed as if your friends were completely unaware that you two were dating at all. ─ perhaps because your attitude towards each other weren't so different from when you guys were still friends and unaware of your feelings. perhaps because you guys never outright told anyone; simply let it happen as it was, for people to figure out on their own. ─ the only thing, is no one was quite figuring it out. (save for jade, and perhaps rook, as nothing goes past the hunter. and he's sure there were others, but those close to you, well, they seemed clueless.)

"where were you? what are you smiling about?" azul asked as floyd entered the mostro lounge, a grin that was much too wide to be deemed comfortable on his face. azul was eyeing him with suspicion, while jade approached with a knowing smile upon seeing his brother return after floyd had skipped out on his duties in the lounge. (he knew his brother too well ─ that was no smile of mischief, but rather an eel who was feeling prideful and maybe even giddy.)

jade folded his hands in front of him as he looked between azul and his twin, "my guess is the prefect."

of course, azul knew about floyd's relationship with you, there's simply no reason for him not to ─ it's one of things floyd doesn't shut up about when he's working. jade is quite sure all of octavinelle is aware (which begs the question, how your friends weren't). azul however, chose to face it with a sigh and a complaint every time floyd skipped out on his duties at the lounge to be with you.

floyd didn't appear or express annoyance at the immediate interrogation of his return, rather it seemed as nothing could quite snuff out his giddy mood. he was carefree as he often appeared when he was teasing someone or having fun, "hey i'm gonna borrow the kitchen, okay, azul?"

"for what? it's late." azul asked. floyd didn't answer him, marching past him, and both azul and jade were sure he was giggling to himself.

jade chuckled at his brother's behavior while his twin disappeared into the kitchen. ─ floyd's attitude and his question no doubt influenced by something that had to do with you, he's sure. he and azul could hear the start of floyd beginning to cook ─ what and why, they weren't sure.

azul stared at the door to the kitchen with a frown, before shaking his head and turning away to begin towards his room, likely to begin turning in for the night, as many of their peers had already begun to do.

jade remained in place for a moment, his smile amused as he listened to the sounds of his brother in the kitchen. he didn't know the context of his behavior, but you were the most reasonable answer. ─ with a hum, jade turned to begin towards his own room, knowing floyd would join him when he was done with whatever it was, he'd busied himself with making.

it turns out what floyd had been so giddy to make, was lunch for you and him to share outside of the cafeteria together. (a date, floyd called it. ─ his brother was just so amusing, jade thinks.) the reason was a compliment to his cooking while you two were spending time together the day before, after floyd skipped out on his mostro lounge duties once more. you'd learned it was him often in charge of cooking, and you complimented him. leading to the giddy behavior the night before when he returned to the dorm.

(and perhaps he sent you a message about the affect you had on his brother when it came to compliments, in the guise of a complaint from azul ─ because it was all that more amusing to him.)

jade wonders how your friends might've reacted; if they haven't caught on, realized, when you'd told them you were going to have lunch with floyd instead.

he gets his answer come lunch time.

"[name]'s been acting weird, don't you think?" ace asks, chin in his hand and elbow on the table as he addresses the table of first years, minus the usual you, who often sits beside your dire beast other half. (jade wonders how grim took it, when you decided to leave him with your friends to have lunch with foyd. he's quite sure grim wasn't happy, if the pout on his fuzzy face is anything to go by.)

"no kiddin'!" grim whined, throwing his paws up and stomping his foot on the table before a grabbing a pawful of the food on his plate and stuffing it into his mouth. he spoke through the mouthful of food, much to the disgust of his peers sitting with him, "ditchin' me and leaving me with you losers."

deuce scolded grim for a moment about talking with food in his mouth, before turning to ace and scratching his cheek, "i guess he's been a little weird."

"a little?" epel scoffed.

"i don't think it's any of our business." jack said, "he seems happy."

"i agree!" sebek nodded, arms crossed over his chest. ─ a reasonable reaction from both; it would've been the most respectful opinion if you were actively trying to hide your relationship with floyd.

ace was visibly displeased with their words in reply to his, choosing to brush them off, "you think he's hiding something?"

silence.

and then deuce asked, "what would he have to hide?"

ace didn't have an answer.

(and who is jade if he didn't take this opportunity? ─ really, it's not his fault your friends have proved to be quite dense.)

"forgive me for being rude." jade said, standing behind ace as the party at the table flinched. neither of them heard or seen him approach. "i couldn't help but overhear."

"jade?" ace asked, or rather, gulped, as he looked over his shoulder and up at the leech.

jade didn't seem fazed as he continued, a hand to his chin with a faux look of concern, "floyd has been acting quite strange as well." ─ not a total lie, perhaps, ─ "i don't suppose you think his behavior and the prefect's are connected?"

his underclassmen went silent, glancing at each other with expressions better explained as shocked.

"prefect did ditch us to go have lunch with floyd." epel said, "do you think─"

"floyd's tryna steal my hench-human!" grim yelled, or rather, screeched.

"grim─" but whatever deuce intended to say to the dire beast was interrupted as grim had already hopped off the table and bolted towards the cafeteria doors on all four, likely in search of you.

with some complaints and a few groans from the group of first years, they had all stood from their chairs to chase after grim, their trays forgotten for the ghosts to clean up later. jade wondered if they chased because they too were curious, or simply to stop grim, or maybe even both; either way, jade made the decision to follow, deciding he simply couldn't not do so, after such an entertaining reaction.

how grim managed to find you both so quickly was anybody's guess ─ but it's not like you were actively trying to hide, sitting on one of the benches in the courtyard under the shade of a tree. the box of lunches floyd had made empty and sitting beside you forgotten. ─ before anyone could stop him (and not like anyone had tried), grim pounced at you, yelling your name. you jolted, but before he could land in your lap, the scruff of his neck was grabbed and now the dire beast was dangling in front of floyd, who didn't look too happy.

"hey there, baby seal." he said, perhaps a bit bland in greeting as he stared at grim with his lips threatening to form a frown. "what are you doing here?" grim struggled in floyd's grip, grunting at him, and trying to claw free, but floyd remained unbothered. eventually grim stilled with a huff and took to pouting and glaring at the leech.

with the dire beast no longer yelling, you decided to speak up, "grim?" ─ you glanced up as the rest of your friends and jade joined you in the courtyard, staring at you and floyd, and the eel's jacket in your lap, that you had been busy stitching up, a tear in the sleeve obvious to them. "what are you guys doing?"

ace placed his hands on his hips and sent you an accusatory look, "we should be asking you that."

"what?"

"you can't steal my hench-human!" grim interrupted, pointing a claw at floyd, who still held the dire beast, but floyd only continued to look at grim with a look of boredom. (perhaps a bit upset that his lunch date with you was interrupted.)

you sent grim and ace an odd look, "what are you guys talking about?"

"you've been acting weird and that obviously has something to do with floyd, and we want to know why!" ace explained.

you stared at him, your confusion apparent as you didn't say anything more, the thread and needle in your hand forgotten for a moment in favor of trying to understand what he was talking about.

floyd seemed to catch on before you as he turned to jade with a frown, "you know why they're here. you could've told them instead havin' them come all the way over here to bother us."

"why, i haven't a clue what you mean." jade grinned, his voiced lilted in a way that proved he was lying, and enjoying the scene, that he didn't bother to hide. "i only wanted to know why you've been acting so odd as well."

it was then that you understood, "hold on─" you shook your head and looked between your friends and grim, who still dangled in floyd's grip. "you guys are saying you had no idea we were dating?"

"what?" there was a chorus of surprise to which you flinched. grim was finally released by floyd as a barrage of questions were thrown your way.

"you're dating him? since when? why?" ace sputtered.

floyd frowned, narrowing his ace on the heart with a not-so-pleasant expression. (well, this isn't quite how you expected the rest of your lunch to go.) "you got a problem, crabby?" floyd grumbled, and you almost laughed at the way ace shrunk, and the rest of your friends quieted.

"nope, not at all," he managed to say, grinning in a way that didn't hide how much the leech intimidated him, "actually, you guys look great together."

it was then that any further conversation was put to a stop as the bell rang, and lunch was dismissed. ─ meaning you were likely going to find yourself at the end of more questions on your way to class once floyd wasn't at your side.

you glanced at the jacket in your lap and sighed, "i'll have to finish this later, just try not to rip it anymore, okay?"

floyd's frown was quickly replaced with a grin as he wrapped an arm around you and nuzzled against the side of your face almost aggressively, (but you knew it was all affection). he didn't seem to care as your friends watched on in shock.

"[name]'s the best!" he praised, to which you raised your hand to pet his hair, laughing at his actions as he continued to nuzzle his face against your cheek. (and your friends were, best explained, horrified.)

yeah, you were definitely going to have a lot of questions to answer.

do not repost, translate, copy, or run my writing through ai.