#this paper is making me miss the days when i would write this much and even more in a matter of a few hours

[ct-multifandom]

Big day for annoying people (me)

The two new eps of ML were good? Like wow it’s been great so far except ep 3 was comparatively a flop imo. Werepapas was so, idk, enticing lore-wise but I don’t have much to say that other people haven’t except that they’re clearly NOT neglecting past plot points, making the tone too silly goofy all the time, nor retconning important stuff like some people worried they would. We have been FED. I’m sure Felix is involved in that ring bs somehow, but idk if his intentions are pure or not.

Warning for the only salty thing I’m gonna say on this post: I’m so tired of going into the fandom tag and seeing people whining about “bad writing” problems that literally never happened based entirely on their own incorrect predictions they made up to make themselves mad. Ugh anyway. This post is gonna be about small details I latched onto in Daddycop!

We got to see glimpses of Sabrina and Max’s rooms this ep! Max’s room looks like a Star Trek spaceship but the books on his bookshelf are kinda giving those reference books at the library of like, archived government documents or research papers iykwim whereas the books in Alya’s room look like manga. An interesting thing I noticed in Sabrina’s room is that she has a line of framed certificates on the wall, maybe academic awards or something similar

Did they ever say if Markov can see Kaalki or not? I’m sure they will eventually but idk which option I like better. It’d be cute if they were friends but it’d be pretty funny if he had to watch Max talk to the secret floating ghost who lives with them now and not question it

List of things Sabrina dumps in the trash: yellow nail polish, the brooch Chloe gifted to her/bribed her with in season 1, the cat ear headband from her Chat Noir cosplay when she and Chloe were roleplaying as him and Ladybug in season 3, a beret, maybe the one Chloe tried to bribe her with in s1, Chloe-style sunglasses, a Queen Bee doll, a photo of them together in the old animation, and a mug/tumbler? Maybe a gift from her as well idk maybe they’re selling Queen Bee-themed Stanley cups over there.

:((((( Aw Sabrina nooo I hate seeing her so sad and the way she lied to her dad so he would think she’s happy and has friends

I think this might be the first time the show referred to Fire Captain Hessenpy by name?

Marinette’s scooter has the T+S logo on it and a sticker that says Boulangerie Paris

Between eps 2 and 4 I’m getting the sense that Sabrina uses Miss Hound as an escape kinda like CN where she feels like she can become instantly likeable, trustworthy, helpful, and useful through the inherent credibility of being a superhero. She has anonymity, can sort of start over on a blank slate, and is automatically implied to be a good person since Ladybug entrusted her. I’m guessing we’re gonna see more of that blank slate idea with other characters and what they’ll do with it, but it’s telling that Sabrina decides to transform to resolve people’s minor inconveniences, especially when she’s feeling bad about herself. It’s like she’s proving a point to herself but also giving herself something productive to do.

The GIRLS Ahhhhh let’s go lesbians

Noticing a clear absence of Alix. Ik the special implied she has to keep hiding in the burrow from Lila but she’s all normal-looking in the intro and they can’t shelve her forever. I feel like something is gonna change to make her be able to return.

^^^ ALSO she’s the only hero with zero design updates and my theory is that the purpose of that is so she can do contrived time nonsense like going back to earlier seasons and going forward without contradicting anything or revealing which time period she’s actually from

I gotta say the side character writing has progressively been better and better throughout the show. Atp they really feel like actual people with their own opinions and motivations. In the early days they felt more like lovable NPCs who talked occasionally but now they’re real characters? With free will? I feel like I just watched Pinocchio get turned into a real boy

The pro-healthy eating censorship/propaganda/whatever in this show is so funny omg. Juleka: I brought fruit tea Mylene: wow that’s so much better than the sugary soda we had last time LMAO. To balance out Rose holding a bag of popcorn they gave Zoe two burlap sacks full of oranges which tbf I’d rather snack on those during a movie than popcorn but still. I saw a vid recently about gravity falls adding random bowls of fruit next to characters eating junk food because they were getting flagged as promoting unhealthy habits. I keep thinking about that moment in Ikari Gozen when Mari asks Kagami out for “juice” when any normal teen would’ve said “coffee” like nope no caffeine in my good Christian miraculous

Love Kagami being a pretentious film nerd go hang out with Nino

RED ALERT YOU GUYS Mylene has an inclusive pride flag pin on her overall strap. Like the rainbow flag with the trans triangle and the black stripe. It’s not subtle or anything it’s just right there wow. Damn

The pin above it reminds me of Timebreaker’s logo. I wonder what some of these pins mean

Ok last season they seem to have established that Sabrina became friends with Marc and Nathaniel who were both explicit Sabrina Supporters since their akuma episodes, so it feels sort of convenient that they were written out of the narrative for this ep. I do see the whole Girl Squad thing and how she feels excluded when all the girls in the group hang out together without her, doing traditional girl things like movie night sleepovers, so I do think it’s totally valid. Her having absolutely zero friends is hyperbolized though.

On that note I have to wonder if the school might have several lunch periods because none of the male characters expect Adrien and Nino were there. Or maybe they just stage the scene with whoever is convenient. They might have flexible lunch schedules and all the other characters are off somewhere else.

Rose mentioned a girl whose name I didn’t recognize and after rewinding i can’t tell what she said. Aglie? New character? Maybe she’s that black girl with pink hair who was sitting with Adrien, Nino, and Sublime at lunch

KAGAMI AND ONDINE ARE CANONICALLY FRIENDS this is like the Superbowl for me. I’m so excited for Sleeping/Princess Syren I need to see her.

God the girls were so messy in that scene where they didn’t want to invite Sabrina lol I kinda love it I can’t even be mad

Zoe, your lab safety is atrocious. Not only are you taking your goggles off while still in the lab, but then you *leave the room* and *touch someone* with your gloves still on?! Diabolical. What are they even doing, soldering computer chips?

Marinette when I catch you Marinette

Roger’s relationship with Sabrina is actually so cute even though he’s kinda misguided as a person GOD when he’s on his way to console his crying daughter and Lila enters his mind space and he’s cradling his arms like he’s clearly seeing her as his baby 🥺 nobody talk to me

Alexa play I bet on losing dogs by mitski. Myyyy baby my baby…

We got a glimpse of the baddest bitch in Paris Xavier Ramier I’m so happy

Sabrina shapeshifted her necklace into a brooch. Huh. I guess you can just do that

The power of believing in herself allowed her to yassify her own character design into a cuter and more fashionable superhero! This is basically just like real life if you think about it

Her ball has a doggy nose on it awww

Lila telling Roger to turn around so she could back him up and fire the anti akuma was badass okay

I’m not sold on the loud ass makeup they have a lot of the characters wearing so I’m glad we got to see the girls with clean faces at the end there. Wow they look so normal! I’m also loving the pajama designs. I had to pause and look at all of them.

Zoe had to stop and hit Sabrina with that rizz stare to make sure Sabrina wouldn’t be coming up with any platonic explanations for her behavior

I never thought I’d say these words, but I think a love triangle between Sabrina, Zoe, and Max would be fun. Imagine Zoe is into Sabrina, Sabrina isn’t exactly catching the hint and sees Zoe as a really nice friend, Sabrina kinda likes Max, and Max is like damn these bitches gay. Good for them.

The end card is so baby omg

I TOLD YOU GUYS Sabrina was gonna get a makeover and people were like uH No iTs JUsT An aNimATioN eRroR oF a ScRApPEd DeSiGn girl why the hell would they leave a scrapped design in the intro, and there’s no way they would accidentally not notice that much less repeat it

Mark my words white haired Caprikid is not an error either he’s real and he’s gonna collect all the chaos emeralds to get that way

A new diabolical twink has hit the scene. Ray’s pompous ass immediately reminded me of Preminger from Barbie. He looks like he rides horses. Like he tells people he’s into sports but then you find out the sport is just horse riding. Immediately invested. Who is this diva. I want him to get hit by a bus.

Ooooo Zoe was up to some Delinquent Shit in America this is so juicy. I looove when suspiciously perfect characters get revealed to be secretly fucked up that’s the best. I’ve always loved those types of headcanons, that she was expelled from her last school and moved to a different country all of a sudden for her mom’s PR. If you think about it, that’s exactly what happened to Chloe damn. Daughter commits PR disaster, do zero parenting about it, relocate daughter far away to start over with little consequence! I wanna see some parallels. I feel like she made it sound like she moved because she was getting bullied at her old school, but what if that was a lie, or at least a partial lie? You know shit’s serious when the exposition is in the post-post-endcard scene

The pacing of these episodes has been satisfying compared to previous seasons, especially 5. They aren’t trying to shove too much in, but there’s still a lot happening and fiiiinally a nice mix of plot and fighting. I was getting irritated by how rushed a lot of the fights were last season like might as well just not have them at all

Late edit: back to the pajamas because I forgot to analyze them, I have noticed that Juleka’s pants have bats on them :) frickin bats. They also have like… a crescent moon with something sitting on it? idk what that is. It’s like a pattern of cute spooky Halloween imagery. But the pants and her black lace tank top versus Rose’s sparkly pink unicorn onesie is adorb.

Zoe has a yellow tank and seems to be wearing her usual leggings under running shorts um? Outside clothes in bed? And her pink slides give the whole thing a sans undertale vibe. Oh what the fuck why do the feet of her tights have individual toes lmao. The horror. I hate it.

I can’t tell what Mylene is wearing except a black t-shirt that might have something white on it. OMG EDIT 2 ITS IVAN’S T-SHIRT FROM HIS OLD DESIGN YOU GUYS SHES WEARING HER BF’S OLD BAND TEE AS PAJAMAS. This is headline news myvan nation. She has maybe pink shorts and her slippers look like Uggs.

Kagami’s silk pjs look luxurious. I love how her clothes this season went from just preppy to being very obviously EXPENSIVE like she’s blending in with the gang but she’s still clearly rich af.

Sabrina’s pjs are a classic set with her usual argyle pattern on them. 10/10 would give her a warm glass of milk and read her a bedtime story. I wonder what she needs eye drops for because she told Roger she needs to pack them.

Excited to see more yay! I love the little details. It’s kinda a bummer that Sabrina spent most of her hero focus ep sobbing but we ball (see what I did there) and the end was so cutesy. So excited to probably watch episode 11 before episode 6

[parvulous-writings]

Coud you please do a Vi SFW?

Warnings: None!

Notes: We're returning to our roots with this one gang   My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too! If you’d like to support me more, consider reblogging! I’d appreciate it loads!!

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Vi's affection is mainly shown through physical means. An arm around your shoulders, a hand grasping for yours - all the way to cuddling and tangling herself with you on a sofa or a bed. She loves having your near to her - particularly in private. When you're alone together, she finds a way or excuse to touch you 90% of the time. In public, she's a lot more respectful of your personal space, choosing to mostly just stand nearby rather than have her hands all over you. The only time this changes is if someone who isn't herself starts getting too close to you, whether it's being flirty or threatening you. If this is the case, she makes a show of putting an arm around your waist or shoulders, making it painfully clear that you are with her.

B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)

Vi is one of those friends that can quickly become a ride or die. She is willing to do a hell of a lot for those who are near and dear to her, be that helping with heavy lifting, spending quality time, or putting someone into their place. It's more than likely that your friendship started after bumping into Vi post-street brawl. Though bristly at first, she easily warms to you, once you've shown her you're worthy of trust.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Vi does love a cuddle; typically, when cuddling in bed she prefers being the big spoon, allowing her to encase you in her arms and give her absolute certainty that you're safe and away from harm. If you're on the sofa, though, she very much enjoys laying over you - like a big blanket of muscle.

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?)

Vi grew up with a rather close-knit family unit, and deep down a part of her does miss that, so she would want to settle down - even if it's not necessarily with kids or anything of that ilk. Just having a place to call home with you would be good enough for her. She can't cook particularly well; it's passable and edible, sure, but she's not usually proud of it. The same with her cleaning - sometimes she just doesn't think to do it. She was in prison through her teens - there wasn't really anything to clean, so trying to get that into her routine is.... Difficult.

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

She would be incredibly blunt with it. She'd try to somewhat save your feelings, but I don't think she'd beat around the bush. If it's not working out, what's the point in trying to force things to keep going, even if it's just a few extra minutes? She's also not great at verbally expressing her emotions, so this just adds to her bluntness.

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?)   

Vi is fine with commitment as a whole; but the idea of marriage carries a heavy sense of finality to her. She's not really likely to leave you as-is, why do you need to go through the fuss and stress of getting married? For a piece of paper? In her head, something like that is a privilege - something that mainly those from Piltover get to do. If you really insist on marriage she'll oblige you, but she doesn't need a marriage to feel or be committed to you.

G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?)

Vi doesn't have much trouble being gentle physically: a few careful touches here and there, cradling your face when you're having an intimate moment or holding you close when you're having a particularly stressful day. It's more the emotional side of things where she struggles a bit. Not all the time, but there are moments where she has trouble expressing herself in the way she wants to to you, or struggles in showing a more vulnerable side of herself.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?)

The most common time to get a hug from Vi is when she's saying goodbye - or that she'll see you in a little while. They're quite quick, and she makes sure to squeeze you tightly every time, as if she's trying to imprint the feel of you against her into her mind. Outside of those times you're more likely to get a cuddle than anything else.

I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?)

She's very reluctant to say it. It's not that she doesn't love you, it more that expressing that love in a verbal way makes her incredibly nervous. She does say it from time to time; birthdays, special holidays, in the dead of night where and when there's no one else that could possibly hear her. It takes her a good few years, and slow working, to start saying it when other people are around - even if they're out of earshot.

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?)

Vi trusts you. She knows that you wouldn't leave her without saying anything, and that if anything were to happen, you'd talk to her about it. However, this doesn't stop that stab of jealousy that she feels in her chest whenever she sees someone getting too close to you for her comfort. Her first port of call is to go to you, get close and establish her boundary - usually a hand snaking around your waist and tugging you to her. Then, if the situation continues, she gets verbal - usually snapping at whoever dare try to take you from her; even if it's nothing like that.

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Vi's kisses can go one of two ways; 1 - it's a brief peck on the lips or your cheek, so quick that you end up debating with yourself if it actually happened - Vi had gone right back to whatever she had been doing before, it was like she hadn't stopped her task. 2 - It's full of heat, passion, and you are not getting away from her any time soon - leaving that kind of kiss breathless is the bare minimum. She is grabbing whatever flesh of yours she can hold, pulling and keeping you close to her. That woman is not letting you go without some major resistance - she needs you too much.

L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

Vi is pretty good around kids. If you're leaving kids with her for an extended period of time, you need to set some firm boundaries. Like. Make it abundantly clear what can and cannot be done with the kids - otherwise there will be chaos. Vi is very much like that aunt you can get away with almost anything around. She won't actively take you to seek out activities to break set rules, but if the kids were to break said rules by themselves? Well they've done it now, there's not a whole lot she can do, right?

M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?)

By the time you wake up, Vi is usually awake already - sometimes by several hours. She's used to rising incredibly early, and although she doesn't always physically get out of bed that early anymore, she does still spend that time doing something she finds productive. Namely watching you sleep. The reason she doesn't immediately get up is because, if you're sharing a bed with her, she usually wakes up tangled with you in some way or another. Play your cards right, and she'll spend half the morning keeping you in bed just for an excuse to hold you close - she does love herself a cuddle in bed.

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Most nights you have to actively try and coax Vi into bed. The means can - and kind of have to - vary, but Vi normally tries to resist for a little while. She's one of those people who tries and stays up as late as she can physically manage, as a way to try and reclaim some of her own time. When you get past your mild frustration, though, and take a more tender approach, that's when she will usually come to bed, cuddling as close as physically possible, to try and soothe herself to sleep.

O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?)

From time to time. She'll often say if something reminds her of a family member who has passed, or share a memory that's sprung to mind that she thinks you may enjoy. When it comes to genuinely being vulnerable, and sharing her deeper, harder to process emotions, she does struggle. She doesn't know what to do with all those years of pent up hurt and pain. She tries her best, but she doesn't want to end up lashing out.

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

In day to day life? Not particularly quick to anger; mistakes in chores or delays in the daily schedule aren't much of a big deal to her. Sure, they can be a bit annoying sometimes, but they can be fixed or accommodated. Under pressure, though, is entirely different. When stressed and pressed for, well, anything, Vi becomes snappy, harsh, and her temper has one hell of a short fuse. She doesn't get physical, but she's usually 2 seconds away from saying something that she will probably regret once she calms down.

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?)

She easily remembers some of the basic things; your favourite colour, your favourite food, the things you like in general. She's... A little bit scattered when it comes to things like your birthday, though - she oftentimes confuses it with your anniversary. She means well, she just hasn't really got the head for dates. She'll get you a gift you like on both days, though! She rarely ever forgets completely.

R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?)

The first time she opened up properly to you. You'd been together a fair while, so she took you on a walk through the Lanes, eventually winding up where you could see the few remaining markers of her younger siblings. The splodges of red paint left behind by Mylo, the place where Claggor had gotten himself stuck when on the run from enforcers. She even told you of when she had brought Jinx - Powder, back then - to this very spot in an attempt to lift her spirits. She told you of her birth mother and father, of Vander, and how her family life had just gone progressively more and more downhill - and you listened. You didn't butt in, you didn't try and force her to see 'the bright side'. You sat, you held her hand, and you listened. There are no words that she can use to describe her gratitude to you for that moment.

S - Security (How protective are they?)

Quite - Vi often worries about how you might need to defend yourselves or escape a situation. It's not because she doesn't trust you to handle yourself - she does, she thinks you could talk down or weasel out of any situation, and she knows you'll bolt if you really need to - but it is something she worries about a lot, and something that does frequently come up if there's a disagreement.

T - Try (How much effort do they put in?)

Vi tries quite a bit. In her eyes, you deserve more, so she does try. She'll try and keep the place tidy-ish - tidy to her standards, anyway - and do some cooking every now and again. She tries much more in ways of gifts, though - though perhaps not always what you think they may be, she always makes an effort to point out how useful it could be to you, or if it's something more sentimental, how it made her think of you.

U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?)

She puts her shoes on furniture - whether she's still wearing them or has just taken them off. It gets mud and dirt everywhere. She also tends to forget to put dishes away once you've washed them up (she also forgets to wash them up fairly frequently).

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not a whole lot - she works out quite a lot, but that's more for her own health and strength. She keeps herself as clean as she can - washing her face, bating etcetera, but other than that, not a whole lot. She sometimes has the urge to change her hair, but that's more of an emotionally motivated decision. All in all, so long as you think that she looks good, she's more than happy with her appearance.

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You're ingrained into her routine now - she'd definitely feel your absence if you were gone for any length of time; she doesn't like when you're not there in the morning to hold or to greet when she wakes up. Even if it's not a full separation, and you're just out somewhere for the night, she feels it deep in her.

X - Xtra (Random HC)

She loves when you touch her - not necessarily in a sexual way, or even in hugs, but the feeling of your hands on her brings her much joy and comfort. You tracing the planes of her skin or the ink of her tattoos is one of her favourite ways to wind down, and having your fingers brush through her hair (especially when they brush against her undercut)? Pure. Heaven. Simple as. If she's having a really bad day, that is a surefire way to cheer her up.

Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?)

Someone who doesn't stick to their word, or to their morals. She loves seeing reliability and someone being steadfast; if she doesn't see that, she doesn't feel like she can wholly trust someone. And of course, without trust, there can be no real love. Other than that, if she can get a good connection with someone, everyone's fair game, really.

Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)  

Vi only sleeps the minimal amount that she needs to to keep her true self or be able to perform tasks. She finds it incredibly difficult to get to sleep without being thoroughly exhausted first; so part of the coaxing that you have to do involves working out - a good, reliable way to tire her out. She also doesn't need a lot in terms of possessions; so long as she has somewhere to lay, she's able to get some sleep. Though, on the odd occasion that she does try to sleep on the floor, you're eventually able to drag her groggy self into your shared bed, mostly with promises of affection and cuddles.

[ssweeterthanfiction]

💌 for high school boyfriend finnick

Locker Notes

Valentine’s Day Week/Isa’s Birthday Week!! 💌- send me a prompt and a character/character + reader pair and i’ll write a “love letter” that they would write!

highschool boyfriend finnick odair x reader summary: finnick leaves you a note in your locker

Students filed out into the halls as the bell rang.

Slinging your backpack over your shoulder, you sighed tiredly as you walked out of your class.

So far, you had been having a bad week. School and life was just so stressful. And it didn't help that you hadn't had time to be with your best friend and boyfriend, Finnick.

He had been having long practices every single day. Sure he'd call you once he got home, but it didn't feel the same. You wanted to spend time with him but he was just always busy. During lunch he would be in the weight room or the lacrosse field. During the two classes you had with him, he would either be actually doing his work or sleeping.

Normally he would always be sleeping in class. Since he got home at 8pm after a five hour practice, 10pm on game days (sometimes 11 if he had an away game), you never wanted to wake him up. So you'd take notes and keep track of the work for him, but that also added onto your own stress.

You finally reached your locker, ready to switch out your morning books for your afternoon books you opened it, but then a folded piece of paper falls at your feet.

You bend over, pick it up, and open it...

My beautiful girl,

I'm writing during a workout break so sorry for any sweat smudges :(

First, I want to say I'm sorry for not being able to spend much time with you. Coach has just been really hard on us lately and I'm so sorry for not being able to hang out with you. Trust me, I hate it. I hate being away from you. I miss you so much. I miss hanging out with you in your room. I miss watching you study. I just...miss being with you

Second, I want to say that you are so incredibly amazing. I mean—I see you taking notes for me in class and keeping track of assignments, making sure I don’t fall behind. You shouldn’t have to do that. You’re already so busy and stressed, and I’m just so sorry that I’ve just been adding onto that stress. I hate that I’m adding onto it.

You mean so much to me and I haven't been showing that. You deserve everything and more. I would say you deserve the world, but you deserve more than the world.

So that's why tonight, after school, I'm all yours. No distractions. Just you and me.

We can order pizza, eat junk food and rewatch Mamma Mia a million times, or we can go out somewhere, or we can take a drive, or we can just lay in bed for the whole night.

I don't care as long as I'm with you.

As long as I get to hold you in my arms, as long as I get to kiss you, I don't care, I just want to be with you.

So once the last bell rings, I want you to meet me by my locker and we'll figure out what we'll do for the night.

Until then, I'll be counting down the minutes and seconds til I see you.

- Your favorite person in the world, Finnick.

When you finish reading the letter, you notice a little doodle he drew, a stick-figure version of himself holding a ‘I love you’ sign with a lopsided heart above his head.

You smile and hold the letter close to your chest.

You can't wait til you finally get to see Finnick later.

And you know that he can't wait either.

[cwgl418]

My mother taught me English on her own until I was 6. We used an English learning program called: “World Family”. It was an interesting program. Filled with songs, videos, and colorful textbooks to learn from.

Each of them had different levels. And if I pass the test, I could move on to a different level and I’ll receive a cap as an reward.

My mother told me, “We were learning English very optimistically when you were a toddler.” But I don't have any memories about that. The only thing I remember, is that she would yell at me, constantly.

Why? Because I couldn't remember the meaning of a word.

She would yell at me for the smallest things, I feel like her yelling could be heard for all of the neighborhood. And when she gets extremely mad, she would lock herself up in her room. I would cry and write an apology letter to her.

She would never hit me, she never did. Because she thought it was cruel and wrong. But what made this abuse worse was when she told me “That's enough, I'm going to move to New York and leave you.”

I knew my mother loved New York. It was her obsession. But she would never actually leave me, right?

Until I couldn't find her.

I panicked. I thought to myself, “Did she actually leave me? Is she really gone?” I searched for my mother, but she was nowhere to be seen.

So I took my grandmother into the night, being piggybacked by her, and searched for my mother.

I did find her eventually, I suppose she was just in somewhere in the house and I just happened to missed her presence.

Nobody remembers this. Not my grandmother, not even my mother. They think I made it up. I'm the only one who remembers.

Do I like English? I used to think I do. Because that's what I excel at. I even majored in English. But the truth is, I don't. It’s just my way to communicate.

Then why did I continued to learn English, you say? Because I was a fighter. I didn't wanted to just quit. My mother used to yell at me, “Then why don't you just quit?!” when I said, “I don't like this!”. But then I’ would yell back at her and reply, “No! I WANT to continue!” and that's why I didn't quit.

I graduated this program when I was 6 years old.

My mother wrote on the graduation paper magazine, that “They had moments when they cried and tried to quit, but they managed.” or something alongside that.

It's gone now, but I vividly remember reading that. That was my only evidence for my child abuse.

The thing is that, I was so proud of my English level. I was constantly being praised by my classmates and my teachers. I thought no one, no one could beat me with my English. Even the students who lived abroad would ask me, “Have you ever lived abroad?”

And oh, I loved that moment so much. I felt like I was the superior one.

However, I was such an anxious, shy child. I was always alone. I tried and make friends and have a conversation through my art. But I was always so anxious. When my teachers told me to make a pair or a group, I always ended up being alone. And then I would feel so guilty and think, “Oh no, I've intruded them. I know they don't want me in their group…”

But the moment when someone praises me for my art and English, I felt so proud, it almost felt like my personality completely changes when it came to something I excel at. Looking back, I was being so narcissistic. Maybe not as extreme as Narcisstic Personality disorder, but my narcissism was definitely there.

I wonder, how could these two personalities co-exist? But they did for so so long.

One day, in my adulthood, my mother told me, “The reason why I wanted to teach you English was because I had an English complex. I pushed my dreams onto you, and I'm sorry.” I didn't accepted her apology.

Do I hate her? Yes. But do I love her? Also yes.

I don't understand why I feel this way. My love and hate relationship of her is so so complicated.

At one hand, I don't forgive her for what she made me face. But then, I don't even dream about it or have nightmares about it. I barely remember my childhood. So does it even count as trauma? Does it count as abuse? I would constantly think and wonder.

And then there's part of me, that I'm obsessed with her. I would kiss her on the cheeks and hug her every single day. I would even age regress when I'm around her. I wonder if it's some form of trauma response.

I did read a similar experience in “My Lesbian Experience in Loneliness” by Nagata Kabi though.

I'm disabled and mentally ill. I have autism, OCD, Social Anxiety, insomnia, and Bipolar II disorder. I do wonder time to time it is the result of my abuse.

My mother is so overprotective about me because of that. She always try and do stuff for me since she loves to be in charge, but I feel like she overdid a lot. And the lack of experience makes me feel anxious when I try something new and legal, because I don't know how to act and where to start.

But on the other hand, I do feel like I'm safe with her and I’d rather stay with her and make her do everything for me since I don't even know what to do on my own.

Part of me is saying, “Lilith, you should leave her and try and live on your own and prepare to live without a family.” but the other part is saying that “No, Lilith. You need to keep depending on her. You don't even know what to do on your own. And what about your precious stuff? There wouldn't be any space.” My mind is conflicted.

I feel like I'm obsessed with my mother too much. But I do hate her for what she's done. And I do hate her some times how she tries and brush off her past abuse to me. So why do I keep staying with her? Why am I so obsessed with her? Why can't I be independent?

So I ask myself again, “Why do I hate and love my mother?”

I will never not know.

[bellamoooon]

Childhood best friends to lovers, i love this concept a little too much and got carried away lol <33

She’d never know, at least that’s what he convinced himself of.

She’d never know that she was like a breath of fresh air after drowning for hours, that she was like the first bit of light rising up in the morning, that she was like the feeling of warmth when getting praised, that talking to her was like hearing his favorite song for the first time again, that her laugh was engraved in his brain and he could hear it even when she wasn’t around, that her presence radiated light that seeped right into his bones, that seeing her was like a shot of espresso immediately waking every nerve in his system, that her smile gleamed with such brightness it could light up the whole world in an eternal darkness, that her eyes said so much more than anything she had ever said, that she was a perfectly aligned harmony when everything else was out of tune.

She’d never know, but he did.

She lived within him; His whole life had been reduced to her.

“Wow Art, this is really good!” his literature teacher spoke as she read his paper, “y’know, if the whole tennis thing doesn’t work out, you could be the next big writer, I mean it.”

For his literature class, as a “creative exploration exercise”—his teacher calls it—they had been assigned to write a paper on someone of something which they could understand as unrequited love, of course he had chosen you, because what better example than you and Art.

You and Art have known each other since diapers due to your parents being best friends from their college days up to the present day, which sort of brought the two of you together one way or another, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would art.

Growing you with you might’ve been one of the best things he has ever been able to experience, he wishes people could actually get to feel what its like to be shined on by your light, for him, it truly is unearthly every time.

Sure, you two had distance shoved in your faces when he went to MRTA, but when he returned home for breaks, it was like nothing changed, it was just you and Art.

And of course as cliché as it may be, the inevitable happened, Art began to fall in love with you.

At first, he tried to convince himself that it was just the affection he had for his best friend, but he had no way to deny it. From the second he stopped just seeing you, but when he started seeing you.

He could try to blame it on his hormones and being a teenager, but everything else contradicted that.

In the summer, seeing you in your two-piece swimsuit didn’t seem the same, especially since you had started to grow into your big girl body, as his nana said.

At Christmas when he saw you walk into the living room dressed as Cindy Lou who from shoes to hair, with a goofy smile, but why did it make him blush? You seemed the same, you did this every year.

Patrick mocked him for having a small picture of the two of you in his wallet, but he didn’t care, whenever he was having a bad day, or missed home, he’d look at the picture, instantly erasing anything that disturbed his thoughts.

But you’d never know that. And he was okay with that. For the most part.

A couple of weeks he went back home for spring break, he was feeing at ease, he’d see his parents, his nana, and…you.

“Artie! My sweet boy!” his grandmother called out as he walked out of the car to the front porch with a suitcase in his hand, and a wide smile. His grandmother ran up to him wrapping her arms around him, her warmth immediately transferring to his skin, he was home.

“Nana, hey, how’ve you been?” he spoke with a sweet tone as he hugged her back. Sure, tennis was his whole life, but coming back home felt like a weight was lifted off his back, he doesn’t have to be THE Art Donaldson, he was just…Art.

“You look so tired baby boy, let me take your bags, go take a shower” his nana said as she shut the door behind her.

“Nana, seriously don’t worry—“

“Will you just let me take care of you while you’re here? You’ve gotta do all this yourself at school, but not here Artie” and well, there isn’t much arguing with nana Donaldson, it’s just how it’s been his whole life.

After his shower, Art walked in his room with a calm breath and loose muscles, how he needed that warm shower, as he walked over to his bag, which was placed next to the window he began to look for some clothes.

He wasn’t one to feel prying eyes on him but by reflex, Art lifted his head as he looked through the window, it was you.

You covered your mouth clearly giggling as he looked down at himself completely naked only covered by a towel wrapped around his waist, “fuck me” he muttered as he looked up once again but now face completely flushed and the tips of his ears burning red.

He waved awkwardly as he pulled the curtains closed feeling flustered, he wanted to get his mind off of her, so he said, how’s that going? Not great.

His nana looked up as he came downstairs with a puzzled expression, your name left his lips.

“What about her?” She asked as she left a plated grilled cheese in front of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was home for the break?” She laughed, why is she laughing?

“Sweetie, I thought it was obvious, she always come back home for breaks” she shook her head as she smiled playfully, “though, I think there’s something about her being here that bothers you”

“What— no, no, it doesn’t bother me, I just— would’ve expected something else, I don’t know”

“You sure?” She slid the paper across the counter with delicacy, “are you absolutely sure baby?”

“Nana! I told you to stop snooping, come on!” He said taking the paper as quickly as possible, could this day get any worse?

“One, I wasn’t snooping, it fell out of your backpack, and two, Artie, you know you can tell me anything, right?” He lowered his head ever so slightly as he grabbed the sandwich to then take a bite.

“I know.” He said once he swallowed, she leaned against the counter with curious eyes.

“She’s good, she’s smart, and really talented, did you hear she put out a song?” He lifted his brows in surprise, you really had picked music, over psychology, huh…

“Huh…well that’s great, I’m sure she’ll do great with all that” his nana scoffed as she muttered a small “art…” with a warning tone, “what? I mean it”

“You gotta give me more than that after that thing you wrote, Art, I taught you better than this.”

“I just—! I don’t know what to say, Nana, that’s the problem. Not to you, not to Patrick and most definitely not to her” he spilled, fiddling nervously with his hands, “I’d screw our friendship, one sided feelings aren’t worth risking years of trust.”

“Well you never know Artie, sometimes holding onto those feelings is painful, even if something is on the line, it isn’t worth it if you’re hurting” she was right, but Art would never say that out loud, this was all too much for him.

“It’s just…it’s not easy”

“Well my boy, no one said love was easy, and sometimes, just sometimes, the most complicated loves, are the most beautiful ones” he listened intently as he finished off the grilled cheese, she was right, maybe all he needed to do was tell her.

You had to know.

So there he was at 2:34 a.m throwing small pebbles at your window, just like he did years ago to then go the skate park at midnight and sit at the top of the ramps while you talked till sunrise.

“Stop throwing rocks Donaldson, you’ll wake the dog” you came out the door in pjs but wrapped in a jacket, he turned with a confused expression “I came running down when I felt the first two rocks” you laughed softly as you blushed slightly, God you missed this.

It’s like being kids all over again.

“So how’s tennis and all, Mr. Stanford?” You asked as you swung your hanging feet off the ramp.

“Y’know tennis is the same always, trust me, you don’t care” he laughed as he shook his head, “but Stanford is nice, just not the same without you and Patrick on my ass all the time”

“Ah, of course, because that’s the biggest change you’ve had since we were kids up to today” you rolled your eyes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah…” he chuckled dryly as he looked away, could he be more obvious, goddamn.

“What?”

“No— no, it’s nothing” he insisted.

“Art I know you, it’s not nothing, what’s up?” You pushed as he looked up at the sky biting his lip while humming, “Art?”

“Hm?” He turned to look at you again, you lifted a brow silently asking once again, “ah…I— I love you” he blurted out unable to stop himself.

You opened your mouth but nothing came out.

“I have since the summer you turned fifteen, you just— you kinda started to seem different to me, and I— I fell in love with you.” He sighed, “and I know timing sucks and it’s gonna make things weird, but if I didn’t tell you, it would eat me alive, y’know it’s been so long—“ his rambling got cut off as your lips crashed onto his almost immediately.

His body tensed up completely, the feeling of your lips foreign to his, but so familiar at the same time, the reality was better than any dream he had ever managed to build up in his mind, your plump lips tasting faintly like cherry lip gloss, he was most likely dreaming, he thought, cause there is no way he had told you how he felt, and even less probabilities of him kissing you.

As you pulled away, he found himself instinctively following you with parted lips and eyes shut, he was so high with your mere presence, a soft giggle from you snapped him back to reality as his eyes opened up slowly, pupils blown, he looked as if he had just seen God.

“…Did you just—“

“Kiss you?” You ask slightly tilting your head with a giddy smile, “seems like it”

You shrugged as you snorted softly.

“Oh.” Oh was the only thing his brain could process for him to say still stunned.

“Okay— so you tell me you love me, but I kiss you and all you say is ‘oh’, I mean—“ you said as you licked your lips as you thought.

“I just— I didn’t think you’d— like…you…like…” he fumbled as he tried to pull a thought out of the back of his brain.

“Art, you’re telling me you didn’t expect me to kiss you, when I’ve literally had this…I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, and I’ve been as subtle as a marching band” you tell him as a blush creeps up your face while you chuckle nervously.

“You’re kidding, right?” You shake your head with a small grin, he scoffs as he covers his face with his hands, “am I just that dense?”

“Not dense, more like…oblivious” you laugh as he glares back playfully.

Then there’s beat of silence, that moment where suddenly everything had fallen into place, he’s been pining over you for years, and you’ve waited for the right moment for as long as you can remember, but then the question settles in, what now?

“Uhm…art…?” You turn to him with hesitation, he hums in response “what now? I mean, you’re going back to cali after break and I’m going back to New York…”

“Hm…I hadn’t really thought that far into it” he said softly turning to look at you with gentle eyes, “what now?” He asks back softly.

“I— I like you, Art, I’m in it for the long game.” You spoke honestly as you fiddled with your fingers.

“I’ll play the long game. You’re out there, I’m out there too, we’ll see each other in summer, thanksgiving, and Christmas…I mean it, I— don’t just like you.” He confessed as he chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously.

“I can do that” you said softly, smiling back at him, letting out a small breath, “long game…?”

Your hand cupped his cheek making him face you, he smiled as he nodded, looking down at your lips and back at your eyes “long game.” He muttered as he leaned in kissing you once again, holding you gently in a fear of breaking you.

That right there. That was it, you were the living proof of unrequited love for him.

[aspeckof-stardust]

.

[onmyyan]

hi again i'm the Anon who asked if you take commisions only or requests as well. I love your writing style<3

Soo could you write about Batmom reader, where reader took care of bruce's children as her own. But then bruce gets a mistress, reader still stays becuz of the kids but when everyone started to become cold to her and insult her ' X (mistress) is better mom then you ever were' she leaves gonthem. Then everyone realises she (mistress) was just after their money. They go to batmom's room to apologize only to find it empty. They try to find her everywhere but couldn't. And finally when they do, reader rejects them since she was having the time of her life without responsibilty but gets kiddnapped by the batfam?

Honestly i wanted to commision but i'm flat broke and i'm too busy studying to work and on top of that i don't have my own phone (i use my dad's old laptop) soo yeah... I hope you consider this.

A/N: Loooove this request thank you for sending it in <3 fem reader yandere themes lmk if you want a part two

The (L/n)'s were a wealthy and prominent family in Gotham, right up there with the Wayne's when it came to power over the city, the two families were in business together which is why when Bruce Wayne personal attorney came to you with a marriage proposal, you weren't surprised.

A marriage of convenience. You thought you knew what this would entitle, you knew this wasn't out of love, that this was required of you, it had nothing to do with what you actually wanted, but you were dutiful and signed, inking your name on the paper felt like a deal with the devil.

Bruce hadn't bothered to officially meet you until the day of the wedding, it was beautiful and well done but lacking any form of love of affection, CEOs and other rich folk you didn't recognize filled the pews, the ring felt cold when he slipped it on, his vows perfectly rehearsed, and not an ounce of warmth in his eyes, you knew that night you should have annulled the marriage, but something made you hold on, something your mother had said to you as the makeup artist turned you into the visage of a bride.

"You'll learn to love each other, your father and I did after all." And she wasn't lying, your parents married for convenience as well but had grown to love one another, so maybe you could do the same?

A year after the nuptials Dick Grayson is thrust into your life. Haley's circus was famous in Gotham for its incredible death defying shows, but on this night death would walk the stage, taking with them Dick Grayson's parents in a horrible display, You and Bruce had consoled the boy for only a moment before Bruce was talking to the officers, he'd decided Dick was coming home with you, of course without asking your opinion, but it didn't matter, you felt such pity and grief for the boy, it made perfect sense to you, he was shut down for the first few months, he called you by your name and you had no problem with it, making it clear you never wanted to try and replace his mother, the ice between you two melted one day, one kind word at a time, he couldn't help but confide in you about school or his friends, because you were more emotionally there than Bruce was.

Like the night you caught him sneaking out, a packed bag in hand and the keys to one of Bruce's many cars in his hand. Instead of yelling for Bruce or Alfred you simply smiled at him, "you should take the audi, it's the safest car here."

"..You're not going to try and stop me?"

You shake your head no, still offering that kind smile.

"You know yourself best Dick, if you're unhappy here I won't stop you from finding your peace." He took a moment before tossing you the keys and reluctantly making his way back inside.

You find out about Batman because of Dick. He'd come home with some nasty bruises and it wouldn't take long to put two and two together. Them both being missing at the same time, Dick started to pull away from you, one night, after hours of trying to get to sleep in a bed much to big for one body, your legs decided a walk was necessary, the halls were dark and quiet, giving the manor an eerie air, quietly you walked the long hallways intending on stopping by the library, as you turned the corner you seen Dick in a hidden elevator, the doors just slamming shut as your eyes tried to register what was there. Seconds after the doors close a wall appears, as if nothing was ever there. It's not long after that you see a brief news clip of the caped crusader and his new sidekick, because the longer you stared at the screen, the more familiar they began to look, that dead tight lipped scowl on Batman's face, it was one you'd had the pleasure of looking at for the past few years.

That night you confronted Bruce, he seemed surprised you'd figured it out, but he didn't deny it. Simply saying, "It's late (Y/n), get some sleep."

You nearly divorced him then and there for endangering a child the way he was, but after a moment of thought, you realized Dick would need a real parent around so you stayed, making Bruce swear to be careful.

Jason comes next and he takes to you a lot faster than Dick. He craved the warmth you offered, you two had inside jokes and a closer relationship than him and Bruce, but that all changes the day he dies. You're broken, a ghost haunting the manor with your presence, and Bruce is no comfort throwing himself into the Batman role, you begin to hate him a little with this particular betrayal.

Tim was another hard egg to crack but you were desperate after Jason's death, so you took his verbal lashings with a smile, were always there to offer a helping hand with any of his projects despite the help never being accepted. Tims wound from losing his father is too raw, he takes a lot of his anger out on you. And you weathered the storm with a soft, warm smile.

Damian hated you, from the moment he arrives, which is bitter enough as is because it meant Bruce was unfaithful, he's spitting out insults and comparing you to his 'perfect' mother.

Things weren't great in your life, but one day they started getting noticably worse. Dick no longer responded to your check in texts, Jason (now reanimated which was a heart attack in and of itself) saw you as the enemy, you didn't leave Bruce after what happened to him, so in his eyes you betrayed him, Tim ignored your existence as best as he could, and Damian? He'd started staring at you with this smug look on his face, like he knew something you didn't.

Bruce had all but ran from you, he didn't sleep in your shared room anymore, he barely spoke to you at breakfast, if it wasn't for the cameras he wouldn't touch you.

And it's all because of a woman named Rachel.

Apparently Bruce had introduced this woman to the family, bringing her around when you weren't, slowly replacing you, it was no wonder they started to pull back.

Alfred is the only reason you find out, having enough of the blatant disrespect, he calls you to come home early one day saying it's a dire matter. Of course you comply, and walk in on a discomforting sight. The whole family was gathered at the dining room table, plus a woman you'd never seen before, she sat close to Bruce, toying with his hand intimately. Her green eyes lock with yours and the smile she gives you forms a pit in your stomach.

There's silence before Bruce stands up, he walks over calmly, "Can we take this in the other room." But it wasn't phrased as a question.

"No" you licked your lips, a nervous habit from your youth. Bruce seemed taken back by your sudden backbone. He nods silently.

"I want her gone Bruce. I am your wife. You will show me that semblance of respect."

"I- of course." You don't wait for the words to settle instead, you calmly walk to your room, face unreadable.

Locking the door behind you, your body slides against the frame, a silent sob wracks your frame, your hands covering your mouth, you wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing your cries.

The next morning you wake up to breakfast in bed, a generic yet elegant spread of food lay on a tray in the empty spot Bruce used to stay. The man himself sitting in the chair beside the bed, staring at you with that practiced smile he used to appease people.

"Good morning."

"What's this?" You sat up straight, sleep evaporating from your form as you took in the threat before you.

"An apology. I never meant for yesterday to happen."

"What a comfort that is." Your piercing (e/c) eyes stare at him blankly, unreadable. "How long."

"A year." You scoff pushing the breakfast away from you like it was poisonous. "But its not what you think, Rachel is a childhood friend, a year ago our relationship, evolved into what it is now, but I was never intending to go behind your back."

"Ah of course, your intentions were pure." The words dripped venom, grabbing your robe you quickly dress before standing and walking to the door, "Thank you for the wonderful talk Bruce, really your people skills are top notch." Your hands gesture to the door. He leaves without a word.

The rest of the day is as usual, Bruce avoids you like the plague, the rest of the family acted as if you weren't there. Which made leaving all too easy.

Your lawyers had the divorce papers ready and hour after you called them, signing them felt like the first act of self love you'd done in years. Slipping them into Bruce's study you took the time to analyze the room you never entered.

It matched Bruce that's for sure, pictures of every single person in the family. All except for you.

Walking out the door, wrapped in your ankle length black faux fur coat, the garment whipped in the wind, the designer sunglasses on your face hid your eyes from the world, hair in a slicked back bun, your heels echoed against the pavement, a sleek black car was waiting for you, you look back at the house that had caused you so much misery then got in the back of the car, never looking back.

Life goes on for about a week, your absence goes unnoticed, that is before Rachel is trying and failing to blackmail Bruce out of a billion dollars, she'd collected evidence he was cheating on you with her and presented it to Bruce with a grin, it was only as he went through the pictures of himself and Rachel, did he notice the yellow envelope with his name written on the front.

Hey puts the heartbreaking matter of Rachel's betrayal on the back burner, Bruce opened the envelope and felt his heart completely stop at the word divorce written in bold lettering across the top, your signature was already there, waiting for his to join it.

Ignoring Rachel completely now he turns in his chair, turning the paper over and over as if it would magically change. But it remained the same. Alfred knocking on the door of his study broke him from his trance. "Master Wayne, miss Rachel." He says the latter's name with no warmth. "Escort Rachel to her car Alfred."

"Bruce have you heard a word I've said? I'm serious I'll go to Gotham daily right now if you don't -"

"Now Alfred."

That was all it took for the screaming woman to be firmly escorted off the premises. Bruce all but ran to your room, he didn't bother knocking, and despite knowing in his heart you were already gone, he couldn't help but check anyway.

Your room was empty and cold, he couldn't believe the date he'd read on the divorce papers, it was dated a week ago, meaning you'd been gone for a week and he hadn't noticed. No one had.

That is until Bruce remembers there's someone in the house nothing gets by.

"How long have you known she was gone Alfred?" He asks leaning on his knuckles the divorce papers stared back at him taunting him. "Since the moment she left." The older man replied simply his hands behind his back. "Why didn't you tell me immediately?" Bruce felt himself tense, "Because you've hurt that woman enough Bruce. She deserves at least this." He gestures to the daunting divorce paperwork before turning to leave Bruce with his thoughts.

The news of Rachel's betrayal shook the manor each member feeling violated by their trust being broken. But it was nothing compared to their reaction once they finally realized you were gone.

"That was rough." Jason says after watching Rachel being dragged out of the manor, he blew air out of his cheeks arms crossed over his chest, he looked towards the hallway that lead to your room, you had to have heard that he thought to himself.

Dick sighs through his nose, "Someone should check on (y/n), Rachel was screaming so loud she definitely heard that." No one volunteers so Dick rolls his eyes and heads towards your room.

He lifts his hands to knock but noticed the door was open, pushing it further he's met with a baren room, his brow furrowed in confusion before he makes his way to Bruce's study. "Hey B, have you seen (y/n)? Her room is like weirdly empty."

Dick found his Father where Alfred left him, leaning over the divorce papers silently a storm in his eyes.

As he steps closer and reads the paperwork Bruce was staring so intently at, his heart stopped.

"Holy shit- are those real?"

"Yes." Bruce finally spoke his voice horse. There was a moment of silence before Dick left the room practically running down the stairs to alert the others.

"(Y/n) left Bruce." He said still processing the information, "No fuckin' way." Jason says pushing himself off the counter he leaned on. "Her room is empty and he has the papers, she's gone."

Each member of the family had different reactions to this information.

Dick tries calling you only to be met with a disconnected number, his heart hammering in his chest, he wasn't as close to you as when he was younger sure, but you were a constant in his life, always had been, a pillar of support, and suddenly you weren't. It felt like the floor had gotten pulled out from under him.

Jason curses under his breath, his mind working a mile a minute, he had barely spoken to you since his Resurrection, something he deeply regretted as the information of your leaving sinks in like a brick thrown into a river.

Tim, ever calculating is trying to figure out where you went, you were a figurehead in his life, someone that was literally never not there, sure he wasn't close to you in the slightest but that doesn't mean he wants anything to happen to you, someone as quiet and soft as you on your own in Gotham? It didn't sit well with him. Not one bit.

Damian didn't know what he was feeling at the news, he supposed he should feel nothing, after all you were nothing to him, but there was this nagging feeling in his chest that he couldn't quite place. And he hated it. How dare you leave and upset his fragile ecosystem?

Meanwhile in the Bahamas, far from Gotham and the neglectful family you'd left behind, you sat lounging on a private beach, a knitted hammock cradles your body, a designer baby pink bikini covers you, a matching sunhat protects your face from the hot sun, you can't wipe the smile from your face, humming a tune from your childhood you barely flinch when someone takes the seat besides your hammock.

"Do I want to know how you found me?" You ask, eyes still closed as you bask in the warmth. You knew only one person had the sources to find you on your own island, and despite how much you resent the man, even his presence can't ruin your shine in this moment.

"You're my wife (Y/n), I'll always know where you are." Bruce speaks softly as if trying not to startle you. "Former wife." You correct cracking an eye open, a small smirk curling on your lips.

"Not until I sign those papers- which I never will."

"huh, I thought you'd be thrilled." You muse to yourself before folding your tanning mirror and setting it aside, you take off your Louis Vuitton sunglasses, blinking your pretty (e/c) eyes up at him, "Figured you and your little Twinkie would have tied the knot by now." You laugh softly, the sound, unfamiliar to Bruce, sent warm shivers down his spine, it causes his lips to quirk up in a small grin.

"She's gone."

"Well, I don't care."

There's a beat of silence before he's offering you his hand. "Will you walk with me? I know I don't deserve it."

You sigh before getting up, ignoring his hand, you nod your head reluctantly, "Well? Hurry up I've got dinner at six."

His smile remains as he begins leading you along the shoreline. It's relatively quiet between you two as you walk side by side, a peace between you both you hadn't ever felt. "The manor isn't the same without you." He breaks the silence, "I sincerely doubt that." You laugh at the very notion. "It's true- it's colder, quieter, I want you to come home."

"That was never my home, you made that abundantly clear."

He winces as if your words cut him, "I know I haven't been a good man to you, I know I've failed you time and time again but I..I looked at those divorce papers and my heart stopped." He admits running a hand through his hair.

"You can't leave me."

"I can't?." You scoff, your movement halting, "I'm a grown woman- I'm taking responsibility for my own happiness, you can't stop me."

"I wasn't asking." He says softly, his hands in his pockets, he had this fond look on his face, like he was staring at you for the first time, in a whole new light. "You can't make me." You say, brows furrowed, "You belong back home, you're supposed to be with me, till death do us part, remember?" He steps forward making you step back, your eyes wide, hands shaking, you back into a wide chest, spinning to face Dick, who's grinning at you, he's in his Nightwing costume, he gives you a small wave of his hand, you scrunch your face in confusion, "What the hell-" your thought is cut off by a small pinch in your neck, the needle in Bruce's hand is empty in seconds, he's cradling your stumbling form, holding you tightly, "Don't worry - I'll fix this."

Your sleeping body is gently carried to the batplane, Bruce holding you close to his chest as Dick pilots the plane, he whispers promises into your hair, rocking you against him as he swears on his life to make things right, weather you liked it or not.

[luveline]

helloooo, how are you? i’ve been rewatching criminal minds and i finally got to the post-prison part, so i’m really missing shy!r and post prison spencer <33 if you’re felling up to writing something for them again, i would love to see it!! maybe when they kiss for the first time or something else (completely up to you, i would love anything that you write hahah) but if you’re not really feeling it at the moment, please don’t worry about it, it’s so understandable 🩷 have the best day!!

ty for your request I love first kisses <3

Spencer takes you for a walk and explains a couple of courting rituals. shy fem!reader, 1.5k

Profiling is still very hard, but seven months into your new job at the BAU, you’ve become proficient in Spencer Reid. You can tell when he’s eager to work, when he’s down about something, when he’s feeling good. He holds himself differently on his good days, he takes care to coil his hair and wears a clean pair of shoes. 

In the bullpen, he’s sitting at his desk beside yours, craned over a desk covered in loose papers, books, and files. You attempt to hide your approach, lest he startle. 

“Good morning,” he says. 

“Good morning.” Can’t hide anything. He’s been an agent for ninety percent of his adult life. “What are you doing?” 

“Just reading.” 

You sit at your desk, clearing a space for your bag among your own mess of files and books. Your monitor turns on with a nudge of the mouse. Your screen is filled swiftly by notifications and Outlook, then the FBI messaging system, and then the ‘filing cabinet’ Garcia built to help you understand the insanity that is the BAU online system. It submerges you every morning regardless. 

“What are you reading about?” you ask. Your emails can’t wait, but you don’t want to read them, so you won’t for another ten minutes. 

He stumbles over a breath. 

“Spencer?” 

“It’s courtship rituals.” 

You regret asking. Whenever you and Spencer talk about feelings, or love, or romance, you end up hot as a kettle on a stovetop, steam billowing from your ears. You choked on a mouthful of lukewarm tea a few days ago when he’d mentioned America's developing hook-up culture. 

He doesn’t tell you any more, which is unlike him. Spencer Reid loves to talk, or loves to share what he’s learned. You looked it up —it’s called info-dumping, and it’s usually because the person telling you is so deeply fascinated by the topic they’re investigating that they can’t contain it. It’s a common symptom of ADHD, or autism, or both. Spencer’s done it since the day you met, which is nice. You feel like he trusts you. 

And so you’re wondering now if you’ve done something to make him think he can’t do it today. Or maybe he’s not feeling well. 

You prop your face in his hand and watch him. 

He doesn’t look upset, only focused. 

You hate quiet. You love not talking, but gaps of silence have you overthinking things. Maybe he’s mad. Maybe you’ve finally pissed him off. 

It’s scary because he’s amazingly kind. Overwhelmingly nice. He’s lovely and good looking but it’s his heart that shocks you every time, how he’s looked after you, defended you.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you ask. 

He blinks to attention. “What?” 

“You’re not talking.” 

He grins. “I’m thinking.” 

His smile when he looks like he’s about to laugh is everything. 

“Don’t think too much,” you say as you play with a button on your coat. “Isn’t that what you always tell me?” 

“Don’t think too much because you think about things you don’t need to,” he amends. “You worry about everything.” 

“Well, so do you.” 

“Exactly. I’ll worry enough for you, too.” Spencer gives you a smile you don’t understand. “Will you come to the archive with me? I want to talk to you about something.” 

“Spencer…” He just acknowledged that you worry about everything. 

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Something with no pressure. I’ll explain it as we walk.” 

You shed your coat and walk together out of the BAU offices down a long hallway. You take the elevator down to the ground level, spring air in the hallways, early morning sunshine lapping at your shoes where it’s settled golden against the marble floor. Spencer professes that it’s nothing to worry about again, but he doesn’t elaborate, and your heart begins to pulse too quickly. 

You can’t look at him. 

“I’ve been reading about these courtship rituals and… looking at which ones are the best. There are thousands of them, but contemporary courting isn’t easy. It confuses me. With my last, my only girlfriend, we wrote each other letters. But I wanted this time to be different, because– because love is different?” He grimaces. 

“Love is different,” you agree. You’re not sure who he means, your chest panging in two different beats. Is he… talking about you? “It’s different every time.” 

“I was looking for the more subtle rituals. I kept thinking I’d find the right one, and that I’d know it when I saw it, but I can’t find anything suitable and I might need your help. Um, if you even want to help me.” 

“Of course I do.” 

Spencer slows just outside of the archive’s door. “Everything I read about feels like it would just embarrass you. I picture buying you flowers and I feel like you’d just– just explode.” He says it with affection and apology alike. “I wrote you a poem. Emily told me not to give it to you, though.” 

“You wrote me a poem?” 

“I made you a love spoon, too, but I can’t whittle, and it looks terrible. I even cut my hand, and if you rejected me you’d have to give the spoon back and I think that would make it worse.” 

You turn completely still. The last thing you expected that morning was for Spencer to confess. And he is confessing, a small smile on his face, patience, nervousness, close enough to feel the heat of him beside you. You short circuit in an attempt to compute the magnitude of it; Spencer wants to court you, and you can’t handle it. 

Your exhale shudders out of you. Goosebumps attack your arms. 

“Sorry,” he says quietly, “are you okay?” 

“Spencer, I don’t think you could ever find a way to tell me that wouldn’t make me feel like this.” 

“How do you feel?” 

“How am I supposed to feel?” 

Spencer’s smile fades a touch. “I don’t know. You can feel how you want to feel, it isn’t up to me. But I have feelings for you. I thought you knew.” 

It’s like knowing that the lottery numbers were chosen specifically to match your ticket. The thing he’s talking about doesn’t make sense. 

“Are you kidding around?” you ask. 

“What? No.” He holds your wrist gently. “Of course not.” 

You swallow a lump and try not to overreact, though you’re already doing that. This is a good thing, it is, but he’s him and you’re you and every time he touches you it’s like fireworks are bursting warm and tingly over your skin. You smile at his chest, cheeks dimpling from how wide it stretches. 

“You don’t have to court me, um. Not in any way like that. I’m just like every other girl, you know? I like flowers. I,” —your cheek lists down toward your shoulder bashfully— “probably would feel a little embarrassed, but I like flowers. I can get you flowers.” 

Spencer really laughs. “You want to get me flowers?” 

“Maybe?” 

He laughs again. His eyes lock onto you and his open hand closes on the opposite arm, putting you face to face. “It was my idea,” he says, playfully argumentative. 

“Okay.” 

“You want to hear the poem?” he asks, quietening again. 

You nod slowly. “N’I wanna see the spoon.” 

“Can I please kiss you?” He takes a breath, like he’s been running. “I know this isn’t the right place, but I didn’t expect to want it this badly.” 

“I don’t think there’s a wrong place…” 

“So I can?” he asks, lifting a hand to your cheek, to hold you with care. 

You nod into his approach, find yourself kissed and held tightly in a split-second of warmth and warm smells. His nose touches yours in a kiss of their own, his lips part lightly before pressing in again. Two kisses lend to a third, but then he pulls away to look at you. As quickly as it started, it’s over. 

“You're overheating already,” he says, thumb rubbing a sweet path under your cheek. 

You don’t know what to say. He ducks his head just that little bit to make sure you’re okay. Understanding flows between you both. His hand falls behind your back to pull you in for a hug. 

“I’ve never been the confident one in any of my relationships,” he admits. 

“I usually am.” 

Your deadpan lights him up. His hug turns strong armed, and he walks you back, giggling, arms a comforting vice around you. “You can be the shy one this time,” he says, seemingly unaware of how his using the word ‘relationship’ has thrown you for another loop. 

You’re hot as a furnace all morning. Spencer makes excuses for you, but Emily’s amazing at her job. 

“Jesus, Spence, you didn’t read her the poem? I told you it was too much.” 

[kazuhaiku]

love story

summary: kinich makes a surprise visit to fontaine and wants to spend the entire day with you, no excuses.

warnings: gender neutral reader, fluff, might be ooc kinich (it's just my interpretation on his personality as of now).

notes: silly little kinich fic as my first post >< reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

“kinich!” you exclaim from the hunters’ guild, a huge smile on your face as you see him walking towards you, a nonchalant look on his face as usual. “hey! i didn’t know you were visiting fontaine. you should have told me!”

“it wouldn’t be a surprise if i tell now would it?” kinich replies, ajaw beside him nodding in agreement. “what are you doing in the hunters’ guild? did you receive a new commission?”

“mhm,” you hum in reply. “lumine and paimon are taking a day off so i’m taking over their commissions for today!” you hand him the list of commissions that are currently available to do and you swear you can see a faint glint of disappointment in his eyes when he sees how many commissions there are to do. “i’m-”

“let me help.” kinich abruptly cuts you off. “you’ll get this finished faster when i’m helping. i’m allowed to help, right?” his eyes flicker over to katheryne who is smiling amusingly. 

“yes of course, if that’s okay with y/n?” katheryne eyes you knowingly. despite katheryne being a robot, she has a clear understanding of the tension between you and kinich (a little too well, if you must say).

you clear your throat. “oh um- yeah of course you can help!” kinich smiles at your answer. he keeps the piece of paper containing the commission details inside his pocket.

“come on, no time to waste. we have lots of things to do today.” kinich exclaims almost excitedly, and you can’t help but wonder what plans he’s got for you today (because why else would he come all the way from natlan to fontaine?).

kinich indeed wasted no time because as soon as there was a fight, he jumped straight into it, killing the enemies almost instantly. before you know it, the commissions are all done hours before your predicted finish time.

kinich wipes the sweat away from his forehead, acting as if he didn’t just do all the commission for you. he turns around and gives you a big smile. “we’re done now, yeah? you’re finished with work?”

“um, yeah…” you stare at kinich as if he just ate a spider.

kinich tilts his head to the side. “what? why are you staring at me like that?”

“no it’s just,” you let out a small laugh, suddenly finding kinich’s actions a bit funny. “aren’t you acting a bit too… desperate?”

“d-desperate?” kinich stutters, a red hue filling his cheeks. “i don’t- i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

you raise your eyebrows. “really? so you did all my commissions in under ten minutes, used every single teleport waypoint instead of exploring the land like you always do, and made me watch you do the commissions instead of letting me help?”

kinich’s cheeks turn darker as you speak, and he immediately covers his face, as if his plan has been busted. “okay, you’re right. i’m… desperate.” he removes his hand from his face, pulling you into a tight hug. “i missed you so much, okay? my work lasted much longer than i had expected, and there was no time for me to write a letter to you.”

you can practically hear the pout in his voice. you gently pat his back, consoling him. “i missed you even more, kinich. how long has it been since we last met?”

“four weeks.” kinich says almost instantly.

you hum. kinich lets go of you, however, one of his hands is still holding one of yours tightly. he doesn’t say anything, and only focuses on caressing your hands, as if you are going to disappear when he lets go.

“kinich,” you call out, and his head whips up. “i’m not going anywhere.”

“i know, i’m sorry,” kinich sighs. “i had so many plans for us today but now i can’t even think of what we should do first.”

“well, considering i- we finish the list of commissions earlier than i had expected… why don’t we start from the top of the list?” you suggest. kinich’s eyes lit up, however, there is a glint of confusion behind it. “of course i know about the list. we’ve been dating for, what, four months now? i know you keep a list whenever we go out.”

kinich makes a sound of surprise and he lowers his head, slowly grabbing the piece of paper from his pocket. he hands it to you silently. “you know me too well, y/n.”

you smile, opening the paper. there aren’t many things on the paper, considering that he listed only five things; explore the court of fontaine, stop by the cafe there and have a nice little coffee date with y/n :), ride the aquabus (seems like fun), visit the opera epiclese, visit the chioriya boutique and gift y/n an outfit!

“wow…” you gasp in awe. “chioriya boutique? how’d you know i like her outfits?”

“remember the letter we last sent out to each other?” kinich asks and you nod. “well, you briefly mentioned her. how you love the outfits she makes and you made a little note on the side saying how you really want an outfit from her but you don’t have enough mora to buy one.”

“that- kinich that letter was probably sent a month ago! how do you still remember that?” you ask, surprised that he remembers the small detail.

kinich only smiles in response. “well, no time to explain. come on, let’s ride the aquabus! i’ve been dying to ride them ever since i got here.”

he pulls you and starts running, almost making you tumble. well, since he’s really excited, you can’t really complain. a happy kinich is a sight to behold.

[gghostwriter]

How Three Became One

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Part 3 Summary: In the aftermath of your failed make-up anniversary dinner, the third person in the relationship reaches out to you Trope: Angst w.c: 1.6k a/n: There is JJ slander in this (doing it for the plot and to hurt you all, like how I hurt myself in writing this.) I’m mostly writing follow ups now of my one shots and this is part of a part three series, i swear once i get all these follow ups done I’m going to hibernate for a bit to focus on my crime series. Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The somber air inside the coffee shop threatens to stifle your already critical heart. Its’ clear window clouded from the cold. Dull shades of gray creeping from every corner of the room, draining life as it went, no matter the strain of each lighted lamp on the tables.

Your fingers pulled the sleeves lower, wanting to cover any sliver of skin, trying to fight off the chill, as if it doesn’t come from within. Why did you agree to this, you wondered for the nth time, what good would confronting your nemesis, the root of the problem—Spencer’s Achilles heel, bring?

Comfort? 

Not at all.

The truth? 

Maybe.

Closure?

Closure from what exactly?

The failed relationship still stuck in limbo, dreadfully waiting for its free fall or flight from the precipice it’s balancing on?

Spencer had given you space, an act you weren’t sure to be grateful for. Yes, it spoke about his gentleman sensibilities and respect to not hound you to talk but on the other hand, his presence in reminding you how much he cared was sorely missed. Couldn’t he have at least left you one voicemail, voice pleading and coated with sadness, to repeat over and over again? Or a singular flower tucked to your doorstep, wilting slowly each day for your eyes to lay on?

You wanted nothing but you wanted something.

It was a conundrum.

Late into the night, when the phone rang and when your steps hastened against the wooden floor, you almost wished it was him. Eyes unfocused, the name unregistered, you surely wished it was him, instead of Her. 

Her voice, blended with a slight static, was hesitant and soft as if she had encountered a wounded animal in need of her saving, tore through the paper-thin shield you’ve built around your bleeding, bruised heart. 

You wanted to lash out, to be quiet, and to agree to anything she asked for—anything to end the call immediately, but when she suggested to meet in this quaint hidden coffee shop, describing it’s freshly brewed coffee and tasteful pastries, a sob rose and lodged itself in your throat.

It was your spot.

A secret place in your neighborhood you discovered and happily shared with Spencer.

This once vibrant store, the backdrop of so many rose-tinted memories, turned ordinary—tainted with the truth that it was no longer just yours and his. It was also Hers. 

“Hi,” JJ softly greeted, occupying the seat in front of you. “Thank you for seeing me.”

Clearing your throat, the shred of what little courage you mustered leaving your body. “Yeah, uh, hi.”

Her blue eyes documented the lemon ginger tea in front of you, cooled and untouched. “I haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?”

“Fine, been doing good,” the darkness under your dull eyes painted a different picture, something that registered as her feminine shoulders drooped.

Lips pressed tightly together, she shifted in her leather worn bench, allowing the silence to further the divide between you both—the two female protagonists featured in Spencer Reid’s story.

“You don’t have to lie—”

“Right. A profiler, as if I could ever forget.”

“—Spence also isn’t doing well—”

You flinched, the sound of his name uttered out loud feeling like a thousand pounds dropping on your chest.

“—and just know that I’m here for the both of you, to clear up any misunderstandings. Let me help, ask me anything.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s why we’re here after all.”

Your eyes examined how her golden hair fell perfectly around her, creating a halo of perfection you have never felt once before. You were always the kid who worked hard to seem put together—a stack of paper stick achievements built to hide how ordinary you turned out to be. A woman made of dismantled almosts. 

“Can you tell me—” clearing your throat “—about you and him. Anything, as team members, friends, your first date—just anything I need to know. He’d always quickly summarize the context of you as his best friend, defender, confidant. Never letting anything beyond that.”

She nodded with a slight smile on her lips. “He’s always been a little brother. I, like everyone else in the team, wanted to protect and guide him. Joining the BAU at such a young age and enduring hardships that come with it—the kidnapping, the Dilaudid, his parent’s involvement in a cold case, losing Maeve, and prison—is too much for anybody to bear all on their own. We’ve always been close, being exposed to the darkness that comes with our job will do that for you but I’ve never seen him like that with you. He was so light and happy, almost as if the younger version of Spence came back to life—” she laughed before the brightness wiped away from her face. “—and now, like this with you, he looks afraid, like he might lose it all, lose you. I’ve seen him sad when we weren’t able to save Maeve but this time, this sadness that comes from the thought of you leaving, seems too deep to come out from. I’m afraid that he won’t make it and for that, I feel responsible.” 

The deep red nail polish on your fingers were leaving chipped specks all over the white table, like blood on a pure white snow. The cage around your devotion and love threatens to topple down, releasing you from indecision. It seemed unfair to persecute a man of Spencer’s caliber for his past and for your fear of never being enough. 

A shadow of a smile peeked from behind your curtain of self-preservation. Maybe all could be salvaged with a deep talk between one another and a schedule to a therapist—solo and couple. You loved him strongly enough to tackle those doubts and reverently wish to see the relationship through, forever if time allowed it to.

But the small voice in the back of your head echoed above the chimes of change and courage, it’s deep tone trying to pull you back to stagnancy and reality. What did she mean by that? Why would she feel that way?

“Responsible?” you whispered, heart beating loudly against your chest. Its’ sound parroting on your ear. “Why would you feel responsible?” 

“During the last case, being held at gun point—” the bewilderment in your eyes causing her to gasp. “—he never told you, did he?” 

The anticipation, anger, and dread enveloped you, as if you were about to combust at the drop off a hat. If you looked down to any piece of you, you’d think you were doused with gasoline and a small flicker of fire started at the tips of your shoes. “Tell me what? JJ, tell me what?”

She took a deep breath, trying to delay the inevitable truth. “During that time, the unsub wanted us to admit, confess a secret no one knew and wanted nobody to know and I—”

You raised your hands, trembling from realization, to unsuccessfully block the truth from spilling into the world. You didn’t want to hear it—needed to never hear it. “Stop. Please, stop.” 

Droplets of sadness mixed with the specs of chipped nail polish on the table, your tears creating tracks on your ashen cheeks. This was enough to break you—the shaky mirage of your strong self was nowhere to be found as sobs freely escaped from the depths of your ribs. 

You came here, filled with indecision which turned into hope before rapidly decaying to death.

The final nail in the coffin.

“You’re married, JJ. You have kids, how could—” you pressed your fingers tightly to your lips, nails digging into the soft flesh. “—I guess I always knew, huh. I may not be a profiler but my woman intuition has never steered me wrong. Not even once.”

She hung her head, the locks of halo you once considered pure and perfect shrouded around her like a thick veil of shame.

“So what now? What about Will and I? Does he even know?”

Her watery blue eyes, pleading with yours. “No, nothing changes. I love Will and my kids and it’s just a secret I want to take to my grave.”

A vicious hollow laugh bled out of you. “Are you even inlove with him? Your husband?” 

The lack of response was very telling. Her love for her chosen partner was shallow compared to the other. You briefly wondered if there was no kids in the picture, would she have even stayed? 

The thought was dashed repeatedly in your head. It wasn’t your problem to speculate. Mind made up, you refuse to be part of this convoluted love story any longer.

“That’s cruel of you. I wouldn’t even wish that on my worst enemy,” you slowly gathered your things and any strength that could take you home. The only place you’d allow yourself to unravel. “I think, I should go.”

“But—”

You mustered a small smile. “Thank you for being honest, JJ. I wish you the best with all of this. Tell Spencer, I’m sorry and please take care of him for me, will you?”

Quickly turning away from the mess that shredded your love life into bits no longer salvageable, the dull shades of gray once crawling from every corner of the store followed your trail. 

Another dismantled almost to add to your ever growing collection.

The colorful world you and Spencer built with the thought of forever turned to ash. 

Burnt from the truth.

The remains charred to multitudes of gray that signified the end. 

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[ghostfacd]

THIN LINE

based on this thought

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

genre: fluff, a bit of angst, descriptions of killing, they’re like in love ig, ooc!snow (he’s still crazy LMAO), SPOILERS for the ballad of the songbirds & snakes, Snow and reader being disgustingly touchy 💀

summary: in which there is a thin line in between yours and coriolanus’ friendship and something more, leading to a sudden shift in your dynamic

“Coryo! I passed! Coryo!” You shriek in excitement as Casca Highbottom passes one of your papers back. It had taken quite your strength when you were given the task to make new proposals and implements for the new Hunger Games, crying to your best friend Coriolanus about how you’ll never get it done on time.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, looking over at your paper. There was a bright red A+ along with the sloppy cursive writing of Good Job Miss. L/N!

“Good job,” Coriolanus says, snaking his arms over to pull you back into his chest, placing a sloppy but soft kiss on your cheek. “Knew you had it in you.”

The scene makes Arachne Crane let out a moan of disgust, rolling her eyes as she turned to another corner.

“What’s wrong Arachne?” One of her friends asked, and she only points to the two of you, who were too engrossed in each other to notice.

“Snow and L/N, are we even surprised?” Livia let out a huff of irritation.

When Casca Highbottom announced that you all will be meeting in the largest room of the Academy, you thought it was to finally announce the winner of the Plinth prize. The only rightful ones were you and Coriolanus, anyway. And maybe Sejanus, the boy whom you’ve gotten soft for these past few days.

You and Coriolanus entered arm in arm, avoxes had wove through the crowd of students with trays of posca, a concoction of watery wine laced with herbs and honey.

Coriolanus quickly grabbed two goblets, handing one to you and then chugging it quickly down his throat. For a minute, it burned.

“Oh there you two are,” Arachne waves you over, her face gloomy. “Obviously, no amount of bribing would make Sejanus tell me who won the prize. Not like it matters, we all know I deserve it most.”

There was an eye roll from Felix Ravinstill. “Sure Arachne, and I’m the richest man on the planet.”

That earned him a scowl from the girl, who then turned her attention to Sejanus. “He can have as much money as he wants, but he’ll always be district, you know.”

A few of your classmates laugh, nodding in bitter agreement as they watched Sejanus conversing with one of the professors.

“Right.” Coriolanus mumbles, surprising you. He hadn’t ever agreed with Arachne before—calling her a psychopath even—so why was he now?

“Oh please,” the girl snaps back. “You and Y/N are friends with him.”

“We tolerate him,” Coriolanus says, his hand that was holding yours became tighter. “He’s district.”

When Sejanus comes, the murmur of your classmates grows silent, and from the looks of it, he could already tell they weren’t saying much good about him.

“It’s time to assign the tributes.” Is all he says, motioning to Dean Highbottom.

“As you all know, the Plinth prize and money would usually go to the student with the highest mark,” Highbottom begins, clearing his throat. “But this year, we’d like to do something different.”

You can tell Coriolanus has stiffened in his seat. Even though you want to hold his hand and caress it, you know you can’t, so you keep your desire inside.

“Whoever is the best mentor among all of you will be able to win the Plinth prize.”

“Oh that is not fair!” Livia complains. “What if I get some poor weak district girl and she dies 2 minutes in the games?”

“It’s not just about your tribute winning,” Highbottom says, “you will be assessed.”

You and Coriolanus sit through the announcement of which mentor gets which tribute. You had gotten Coral, a girl from District 4 while Coriolanus had gotten the girl from 12. Lucy Gray Baird, apparently.

“Hey, you okay?” You say as you two stepped out from the Academy. “Look at me Coryo.”

He looks up from the ground, his eyebrows furrowed and his face upset.

“He hates me.” He says, referring to Dean Highbottom. “Always has, always will. Gave me the worst district of them all.”

“Hey,” you say, cradling his face as your eyes quickly scanned his. “Don’t say that. We saw Lucy Gray on stage, she can sing and she sure as hell can put on a charismatic personality for the crowd. You’ll be okay, Coryo.”

“I don’t know,”

This was the first time you saw Coriolanus so upset, so lost in his thought. Without a second thought, you pulled his head towards you, giving him a long kiss on his jawline.

“Sleepover tonight?” You ask as you pull away.

“Sure, I just have to tell Tigris first.”

That night, you and Coriolanus talk about your futures under your warm white covers, limbs tangling one another.

“Do you ever want kids, Coryo?” You ask, saying anything that came to your mind.

“Maybe.” He replies. “Only if I find a girl as worthy as you.”

His words make you smile, pulling him closer to your body. “As worthy as me?”

“Mhm. Or else I’d marry out of convenience. For profit. To ensure no one takes advantage of me.”

You shake your head, placing a small kiss on his forehead. “I hope that never happens, Coryo.”

“I hope it never does either.”

You turn over to turn off your nightlight, snuggling yourself under the covers as Coriolanus throws an arm around your frame.

“Goodnight Coryo.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

- - -

After Coriolanus’ little involvement in the tribute cage, Highbottom, to say the least, was unimpressed. He claimed Coriolanus was breaking many of the Academy rules, including endangering an Academy student. However, he agreed to let the mentors visit their tributes and offer them water or food.

You were talking to Coral, handling her a glass bottle filled with water. If you couldn’t get her out of here, the least you could do is hydrate and feed her.

You turn to look at Arachne, who was busy swinging water in front of her tribute. Her tribute almost looked pitiful as the bottle always seemed to swing out of her reach.

Coriolanus was talking to Lucy Gray, a little too close for your liking, but you knew it was just to discuss strategies.

“You think you’re gonna make it in the arena?” You ask Coral, who only glared at you, taking small sips of water at a time.

“Hey.” Coriolanus suddenly comes up from behind you, once again wrapping his arms around your shoulders before bringing your face in for a long kiss on the cheek.

“Hi,” you giggle, continuing to hold on him as you turned your entire body to face him.

Coral let out a scowl of disgust, eyeing you and Coriolanus up and down.

“Coral, meet my friend, Coriolanus Snow. He’s Lucy Gray’s mentor.” You say, pointing at the girl who was currently talking to another tribute; Jessup, you think his name is.

Coral doesn’t respond, only continuing to snarl at the two of you.

“They’re like wild animals,” Coriolanus whispers in your ear.

“Hey pretty boy,” she finally speaks, smirking from ear to ear. “You were on the truck earlier.”

“I was,” he replied curtly.

“Maybe I can’t kill you—but I’ll definitely kill your tribute.”

Before you could hold Coriolanus back from jumping at Coral, you all hear a scream.

Arachne’s tribute had somehow managed to grab the bottle of water, smashing it against the metal cage and stabbing Arachne directly in the throat with it.

“Oh my god!” You scream, running over to the girl. Although you and Coriolanus disliked her, she was still your classmate, and someone who you spoke to on a regular basis.

“You two, off.” The peacekeepers say, grabbing ahold of you and Coriolanus; dragging you away from the scene.

- - -

The walk to Coriolanus’s home was quiet, aside from occasional twig snapping and leaves falling.

“I’m scared,” you finally say, staring up at Coriolanus. His icy blue eyes bore into yours before they softened.

“I know,” he says, cupping your head in his hands. “I know you’re scared, that should’ve never happened.”

“But it did,” you say, placing your hands into Coriolanus’s coat to keep them warm. “What if it happens to us next, Coryo?”

“Hey.” Coriolanus’s face is only a meter away from yours, lips almost touching. “I’ll never let that happen to you, do you understand? As long as I’m alive, no one will hurt you.”

You nod, a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Coriolanus wipes away your tears with his thumb, one of his fingers caressed your cheek lightly. “They’ll have to shoot me dead before anything can happen to you.”

And before you could let out another one of your worries, Coriolanus leans in, placing a much awaited kiss on your lips. He pulls away for air after a minute, forehead against yours.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ll never let anyone hurt you, ever.”

[gh0stsp1d3r]

hiii! i was wondering if you could do the salesman / gong yoo but make him a professor at a prestigious university, and his student is struggling. but there’s plenty of tension between them, so he invites her over hehe. i’d love to see your take!

key words: older man/younger woman, praise kink, some bdsm, hair pulling, dom! gong yoo, sub! reader, sexual tension, body worship, creampie (maybe), aftercare

professor

MDNI | MDNI | MDNI | MDNI | MDNI | MDNI | MDNI | MDNI

A /N: ADORE THIS. Sorry it took a while ):

WARNINGS: age gap, p in v, professor x student (ALL OF ARE AGE), Sir kink, praise kink, professor kink, bondage (tying up hands w/ rope), unprotected sex, creampies

MASTERLIST

Every day, like clockwork, you sat in the same exact front seat, directly in front of him. You batted your eyelashes at him innocently, biting on the tip of your pencil and creasing your eyebrows in that adorable way when you were confused.

You’ve always been one of his favorite students. You were smart, you were kind, respectful, but fuck, you were hot, too. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Not when you stared at him at like that. Not when you looked so perfect to ruin.

And when you came up to him after class, pleading for help and tutoring from him, well, he felt like it was all falling into his lap.

“Miss Y/N.” He spoke when you stood in front of his desk, small smile making its way onto his face. He ran a hand through his hair, subtly looking you up and down before leaning back in his chair. “What can I do for you?”

“Sir,” you nodded your head, giving him a polite smile as well. “I was wondering if you would help me with something… I’m not sure I quite understood what we were talking about today,” you spoke, pausing and looking at him.

“Go on.” He nodded, interest piquing by the second.

“Well, I was thinking, could you perhaps better explain the subject to me after school, or something like that? It would be very beneficial, I think, to hear it from you rather than a student.”

“You’re asking for tutoring?” He asked you with raised eyebrows.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, and he thought for a moment. What better opportunity would he have?

“Alright. Sure.” He agreed, and you found yourself smirking to yourself as he began to write down his address on a piece of paper, before handing it to you. His next class of students began to fill in, and you took that as a cue to leave.

“Thank you very much, professor!” You spoke as you left, giving him a wave. He gave you a smile and small wave back, turning to his new class, clearing his throat. He couldn’t contain the smile on his face as he began to teach his next class.

Later, you pulled up to the address on the note. Your nerves were jumping every step you took closer to his house.

He could have invited you into his office, he could have invited you anywhere on campus, but, no. He invited you to his house. He knew what you wanted, and you knew what he wanted.

You bundled your hand up into a fist, raising it and rapping at the door quietly. It wasn’t long before he opened it, peeking out before opening it fully, inviting you in with a warm smile, cup of coffee in hand.

“Miss y/n.”

You gave him a smile back, taking off your shoes as you entered. He sat in his sofa, motioning for you to follow and do the same. You sat next to him, sitting up straight with your hands in your lap.

“So,” he leaned down to the table in front of him, putting his cup down and flipping the pages of a textbook. “Where would you like to start?” He asked you, turning to you.

You began to ramble on, about some subjects you could start with, about subjects you didn’t understand completely.

He listened, nodding as he flipped to the proper pages, and opened it to what you were talking about.

“You wanna go ahead and read that for me, sweetheart?”

The nickname caused your cheeks to warm up and your eyes to widen slightly. You blinked rapidly, before stammering out.

“U-uhm, yeah, yeah- sure.” You nodded dumbly, and he couldn’t help the small smirk that made its way onto his face.

“Just read the page.” He told you, you nodding and moving, grabbing the pages and reading them in your head before he let out a ‘tsk.’

You paused, looking at him with a quirked eyebrow.

“Out loud.”

You stared at him for a moment, before turning around, squirming where you sat when you felt the denim of his jeans rub against your bare thighs. The couch was small, so you thought nothing of it, at least, not until he slowly moved his hand to your leg, placing it on your knee as you spoke out loud.

You began to stutter through the words, feeling your cheeks heating up. It felt as if though every single touch you felt from him was electric.

“Uhm- this leads to the- to the…” you trailed off, breath hitching when you felt his hand trail further up, testing the waters until they reached the underneath of your skirt.

He looked back at you, watching your reaction as his hand paused at your panties, a small smile on his face.

Fuck it.

You leaned in closer to the man, book now completely forgotten as his lips were against yours. Everything that told you this was wrong, screaming at you that this wasn’t allowed, was completely erased from your brain.

You put your hands across his chest, his hands going to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. Your tongues danced together, the soft moans falling from his mouth sounding heavenly to you.

You both parted for a moment, catching your breath, both of you staring at each other.

He wordlessly stood up, and you followed him to his bedroom. The door was barely shut behind you before he threw you down onto the bed, you letting out a soft giggle when he crawled on top of you. He leaned down again, his lips hovering against yours as he murmured softly to you.

“You have no clue how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He told you, soft pants falling from his mouth.

You stared up at him, wide eyed, with a look that made him want to destroy you.

He was the one to take your shorts off, a small grin forming on his face at the sight of your cute lace pink panties. You could feel the heat going to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding you.

“These are cute.” He mumbled, tinge of amusement in his voice.

“Stop!” You whined out, him letting out a chuckle. He could see the way you subtly clenched your thighs, trying to get some sort of friction.

“So impatient, hmm?” He teased.

“Please, professor.” You spoke with a pout on your face.

His eyes widened now, swallowing thickly at the name. He darted his tongue out, licking his lips and another grin appearing on his face. He liked that.

He lowered himself down so that he was face to face with your glistening pussy, smile on his face as he ran his fingers through your folds.

His thick finger found your hole, looking up at you before pushing two of them in, causing you to throw your head back against the pillow, which caused him to grin to himself as he pushed his fingers further into your walls.

He curled them up, grin remaining on his face as he scissored them, and thrusted them in and out of you, feeling you clench down on his digits.

His thumb moved to press on your clit, pressing down on the delicate button, causing you to let out a whine. He swirled his thumb in a circle, all while still thrusting his fingers in and out of you.

“Professor-“

“Mhm…cum for me, sweetheart.” He told you, knowing what you were going to say before you could. He coaxed the first orgasm out of you, still circling his thumb on your clit as you rid out your high, your legs spasming as you came around his fingers.

He slowly removed his hands from your walls, smile on his face as he looked up at you, sticking his fingers in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits, sucking off the wetness that came from you.

You watched in awe, jaw slightly dropping at the sight in front of you.

He cracked a smile at your reaction, moving up to give you one more quick kiss on your lips before moving back.

He moved to unbutton and take off his pants, you watching him curiously. Fuck, he was built, you thought as your eyes shamelessly scanned his abs.

He now was only in his boxers, before eventually, he threw both of those off as well, discarding them in the room while you took your shirt off as well, arching your back to reach for the back of your bra and unclipping it.

While you were doing that, he moved to the side of his bed and began to rummage through his drawer, pulling out a bundle of rope.

“Sir-“ you began, but were cut off when he grabbed your wrists, putting them to the headboard, and began tying them together to his headboard expertly. He was quick and precise, tightening it around you. You looked up at him, confused, but he just smiled down at you.

He wasted no more time to slap the tip of his cock onto your folds, a gasp escaping your mouth as he began to slowly inch his length into your hole.

You wanted to touch him, to wrap your arms around his neck, but you couldn’t. He stared down at you, watching you struggle against the restraints with an amused expression on his face. He was enjoying this.

“Fuck, such a good girl.” He rasped out, his voice making your head spin.

The voices in your head, the ones that told you that this was wrong, suddenly disappeared as soon as you felt him bottom out into your cunt. His hand went to the headboard, holding it for stability as he dragged his cock out of you, before harshly thrusting back in.

Your mouth opened to form an ‘o’ shape as he snapped his hips against yours, a moan falling from your lips.

The groans that came from him and the cries coming from you reverberated in the room. With every snap of his hips, you grew needier. His hand that wasn’t on the headboard moved to your pussy, and began to rub on your clit, rubbing circles fastly.

“C’mon, cum for me, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

That was all you needed, you letting out a louder cry as you came around his cock, this triggering his own orgasm. He let out a raspy groan, mumbling “shit,” to himself as he painted your walls.

He watched as his seed mixed with yours and it fell down to your legs, an idea popping into his head as he pulled out for a moment, before stuffing his cock back into your entrance, pushing the leaky cum back into you, smearing it all over your pussy with a proud smile on his face.

“What?” He asked as if he was innocent when you let out another whine at the feeling. He pulled out once more, looking down at you.

Your body was completely spent, your wrists aching and your clit puffy from the stimulation. He may have been older, but fuck, he knew what he was doing.

He looked back at the restraints on your wrist, moving over towards them, undoing them easily. You let out a sigh of relief, going to massage your wrists.

“You alright?” He asked you, posture straightening as he stood up, beginning to put his boxers on.

“Mhm.” You spoke with a dazed look in your eyes, and a soft smile on your face.

He let out a chuckle, and looked around for a moment, deciding whether or not he should even be doing this. He decided that he’d already crossed that line, and that at this point, it didn’t matter:

“I’m gonna go run a bath for you.” He told you, before leaving you in the room, you hearing the faucet in the bathroom run.

Your mind was racing with thoughts. You just fucked your professor. Your very hot professor who you’ve had a crush on for months. Holy shit. Was this even real? He just came in you. Maybe you should-

Your thoughts were interrupted when he picked you up bridal style up off of the bed, his touch surprisingly gentle as a contrast to his movements before.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lowered you down into the tub, the warm water underneath causing your body to calm down. You nestled deeper into the water, glancing at him.

He sat at the side of the tub, a bottle of body wash in his hands, and he looked at you, tilting his head slightly, silently asking if it was okay.

This was different. It felt so much more intimate. But you didn’t mind.

You gave him a small nod, and he stood up, moving to wash your shoulders, massaging them gently. before moving down to the rest of your body. His caresses were gentle and soft, as if you would break like glass if he did it any harder.

None of it was sexual, none of it had any lustful intentions. You found yourself smiling at him again, him giving you a soft smile back.

You had a thing for your teacher, and sure, maybe it was wrong, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

[hivemuthur]

Okay okay okay,

Viktor x Reader emotional smut/hurt comfort

Viktor spends all night in his lab and he forgets you guys planned a dinner because you had a fight because he missed dinner for working in his lab just a week prior. So you’re all dressed up waiting for him to walk through the door to go to dinner and he just… never shows. You wait as long as you can until you give up and go to bed, leaving your shoes and outfit you were wearing crumpled on the floor. He comes home and he sees the outfit and he’s like ah… shit.

Then it’s angry fight over not feeling like he cares enough, feeling second to his work, not feeling enough for him etc all the insecurities coming out.

And then smut eventually when he comforts reader

Pls 🧎🏽‍♀️

Hi Anon! I have to say, this scene gave me a lot more trouble than I thought it would, but I hope the fight is believable.

Once more, we have been blessed with my smut fairy's benediction (who has already helped me flesh out the scenes in What was that? that are yet to come) - @rennethen has written a beautiful skeleton for a sex scene in this fic, that we edited together AND she also did a thorough research around position that we used here AND recommends for you to put on Start a Fire by Ryan Star. So everyone say thank you! I love writing with you, thank you so much! ♡ Here we go:

Lover, You Should've Come Over

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! angst/comfort/smut

word count: 3,7K

—

His eyelids felt gritty, like there was painful sand beneath them, while the clock announced another passing hour. Viktor sighed and felt that his frown would not loosen on its own, so he pressed a hand to his forehead in an attempt to iron it out. The relief was brief, fleeting, and another sigh followed.

He glanced at the notes scattered across his desk—unfinished sketches and equations scrawled hastily in chalk, bits of which flaked off the blackboard like flour. Blinking a few times, he turned his gaze to the window. Dawn was approaching. For a moment, he considered collapsing onto the tiny, worn-out couch in the corner of the lab, a relic from late nights and lost time shared with Jayce. It had been set up precisely for moments like this, when the concept of time slipped through their fingers.

But the thought of crawling into a warm bed next to you tugged at him, finally winning the battle against exhaustion.

Slowly, he rose, his joints cracking audibly in protest. The sound echoed around the empty lab, a dry reminder of how long he’d been hunched over the desk. He considered tidying up but quickly abandoned the idea, his fatigue winning over perfectionism. Instead, he stacked the notes into a precarious tower on his desk and shoved a handful of loose papers into his bag haphazardly.

He was used to this feeling— an odd drunkenness of the body that didn’t see a drop of alcohol, fuel running out after more than twenty hours without sleep. His limbs felt stiff, his muscles sluggish and uncooperative, resulting in a wobbly trot and a certain alienation from one’s own hands. Dry throat, dry eyes, sensation of faint nausea lingering somewhere below his larynx, everything easily meltable in a cup of tea and the embrace of a properly soft mattress.

In some strange way, this was his favourite part of the day. The academy was silent, the streets of Piltover almost deserted, save for a few early risers starting their work at dawn. He stopped by the bakery to pick up fresh bread and pastries for breakfast, savouring the slow, solitary stroll home. Soon enough, he would wrap himself around you, breathing in the comforting scent of your hair as he drifted into a few blissful hours of sleep.

Quietly, he slipped his key into the lock and turned it, careful not to make a sound. He hesitated before setting the keys in the bowl by the door, opting instead to hold onto them to avoid clatter.

He stepped further into the apartment, orange morning sun already breaching the curtains, as motes of dust danced around, suspended in the still air. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the lingering warmth. He slipped off his shoes, careful not to make noise, and padded towards the bedroom with a soft groan.

It was then he saw them—your clothes and shoes discarded on the floor, right in the hallway. The sight made him pause. The shoes were still upright, as if you’d stepped out of them, resigned. The dress, crumpled, was draped across the chair near the door. Slowly, his tired mind pulled the pieces from the deep well of memory.

Dinner. He’d forgotten. Zatraceně.

His face crunched itself painfully at the thought of what awaited him. Fully deserved, yet, far away from pleasant. He swallowed it down and pushed the bedroom door open with a soft creak.

“Lásko,” he murmured, his voice low and hesitant, guilt clinging to the edges of the pet name. “Are you asleep?”

A long, unhappy sigh came from the bed. “No.” Silence, for a moment. “Now that I know you’re alive—” you croaked quietly, your voice muffled by the pillow. “Where have you been?”

If it hadn’t been clear until then, the sound of your voice betrayed just how much crying you had done in the last few hours. It was raw and hoarse, thick with exhaustion, a sniffle caught at the back of your throat.

“I—” Viktor started, faltering before quickly trying to correct himself. “I forgot. I am so, so sorry.”

Nothing, just a stare, as you lifted yourself up from the pillows and crossed your arms on your chest. Eyebrows pinched together in a fake pity.

“Work. I swear, it completely slipped my mind, and I am so, so sorry,” Viktor pleaded, making a few wobbly steps toward the bed, only to stop at your scoff.

“That’s… good to know. Well, if you ever decide I am worthy of your time, you know where to find me,” you retorted and slumped back into the pillow, stubborn tears already pushing themselves past your eyelids.

“Please don’t be like that, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Few more steps, unsure, as Viktor leaned heavily on his cane. His voice exasperated, as he had absolutely no energy to fight now. He would do anything for forgiveness and a place in bed, his muscles screaming for rest.

“Viktor I frankly don’t care what you’ve meant or didn’t mean to do, it is what it is,” you said sharply, narrowing the space for discussion. “For someone who fights so fiercely to not be forgotten, you sure forget about others easily.”

“Was that necessary?” A hot feeling washed over him, not yet anger, but irritation that glued his feet to the floor and made him adjust his stance. “Do you really want to fight at 4 a.am.?”

“Yes, that is my deepest desire to have a fight with you at dawn. What do you think? Is it my fault that we are having this conversation?” You rose again, facing him from the stronghold of your shared bed, Viktor dangerously close to losing his residence rights.

“No, it’s my fault, as you’ve made it very clear. And I am sorry, and it will never happen again. I don’t know what else I can say, really.” Seeing your deadly glare, he added, “And I don’t forget you. I just forgot about dinner. I’m sorry.” The last apology weaker than the others, as he run out of options.

“I somehow fail to see the difference between forgetting me and forgetting dinner—twice— as the result of both is identical,” you huffed dangerously, kicking the duvet off yourself. Anger surging through you, mixing with disbelief at his complete lack of willingness to own his sins.

“Lásko, please. I am so infinitely tired, please let’s not do this now,” Viktor pleaded again, his voice straining, the undercurrent of upset making your skin crawl. He spread his hands apart, making another step toward the bed to find himself stood at the edge of it. And it was too close.

You swung your legs over the mattress, tears of anger burning your cheeks. “As you wish. Bed’s all yours.” Another spit and you stood up, ready to run away and press yourself into the couch to muffle your sobs, when Viktor’s hand stopped you.

“Please don’t go. Please. This is the last thing I want.” This time his voice more sincere. Sadness in his eyes. A real lingering guilt. But if you were to give in, nothing would change.

“No, Viktor. Should’ve thought about this before you decided to marry yourself to work.”

“And what do you mean by this?” he asked in a confused tone, his hand leaving your arm. 

“I mean… I don’t know what I mean, I’m tired. And what I also mean, maybe you should reconsider if there is truly a space for someone else in your life. Or maybe you need someone more memorable, I really don’t know,” you mumbled, all your insecurities gnawing at you simultaneously. All the times when Viktor forgot about something you had asked for, all the times he was late or didn’t show up at all, all the times when you had to ignore young assistants giggling around him, when you would finally decide to pick him up from work.

“Please, you cannot be serious right now.” Viktor felt his ribs clenching around his heart, a very unpleasant kind of tightness settling in his chest. Or maybe just his heart swelled up in his chest, pumped with anger and disbelief. Either way, it ached. “How dare you throw such an accusation at me.”

“How dare I? Have you, I don’t know, tried to take a walk in my shoes? You can take a stroll, they are in the corridor, ready for the dinner.” This very finite, very spiteful remark made you momentarily proud of yourself, until you saw the shift in Viktor’s eyes.

“I haven’t. I didn’t think I should. Because I trust you, when you say you love me, and I was hoping you trusted me as well, despite the slip ups,” he said quietly, his gaze low. “You knew who I was before we stepped into this, I’ve told you that I am not good at this kind of maintenance.”

“Maintenance?” You were fuming. Absolutely, completely furious. Courtship and basic human decency to not leave someone hanging for hours reduced to such a soulless, technical term. “You cannot wipe your face with the excuse of being broken every time you fuck something up, Viktor.”

And that was it. It was enough. Enough to rip through Viktor’s chest with a cold blade. He took a sharp inhale, but before anything could fall out from his mouth you realised what you had just said. Stumbling over your own words, you retreated quickly, “Viktor, I’m so sorry, I—”

“No. No,” he whispered, his tone icy as he shrugged your hand off his arm. “It is you who doesn’t get the right to wipe your face with something I have bared in front of you in trust.” And you saw his eyes welling up and you felt your own heart swelling in fear. Your hand shot back where it was rejected, again, and Viktor pushed it off, again.

“Please, Viktor, I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Yes, you did. And what is worse—I haven’t ignored you on purpose. I forgot. Which is in its definition an unintentional act. Whereas, you have gone for the kill. Intentionally.” His tone measured, calculated, walls raising up as he turned his face away from you.

You stood there, struck. Looking blankly into space, regretting not taking Viktor up on that ‘let’s not fight now’ option from a few moments ago. After a few very loud, very echoey breaths your resolve finally broke and a long suppressed sob pushed itself out of you with full force. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, falling back into the mattress. “I just… miss you—” An undignified hick escaped you. “I miss you so much Viktor, I really didn’t mean to say it, I’m so sorry…” After that, an incomprehensive wave of words mixed with gasps and cries followed.

Viktor stood there for a minute, chewing at the inside of his cheek, clearly still wounded, he just didn’t know what wounded him more. The fact that his love called him broken in a spiteful retort, or the fact that she was now crying at the crack of dawn, because of him.

Tentatively, he shifted closer to you, a featherlight touch of his hands to your shoulder startling you. You felt the mattress dip next to you and your head being pulled to his chest, which made you fall apart completely.

Viktor hugged you tightly, your tears dampening his jumper, his own throat working very hard to suppress emotion bubbling to the surface. “Please forgive me,” he whispered softly between soothing sounds he was humming to you. “Please, I can’t bear it.”

“I don’t work myself to the bone, lose sleep, lose time, because I want to be far from you. I am doing this for something greater, for a chance to fix what I can. To… to matter. And I… miss you as well,” he said calmly, holding you close to his chest.

“Do you?” you quipped sheepishly, trying to muster whatever composure was left within you. Cradled in Viktor’s arms, you found yourself at a loss of other words. The argument suddenly dissolved into something softer as you began tracing your fingers idly along the beauty marks on his neck.

Viktor nodded a few times too many and placed his hand on your neck. “I will be more mindful,” he said simply. “And you can visit me at work more often and pull me out of there by the ear. How does that sound?”

It was your turn to nod, spreading dampness across your face. You swung your legs over his lap and nuzzled your face into his hair. Viktor shifted slightly, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek.

“Will you let me make it all up to you?” he asked softly, his voice low and reverent. His thumb lingered on your skin, tracing the faintest curve of your cheekbone.

You swallowed, your skin getting warmer under a blush. “Well, what do you have in mind?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Something you might like,” Viktor replied, leaning closer, his forehead resting against yours. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”

You didn’t respond right away, your breath catching as his fingers grazed your jaw, sliding down to cradle your chin. His touch was featherlight, almost hesitant, but his gaze never wavered, holding you captive.

“Okay,” you breathed, the word escaping before you could stop it.

His lips quivered into the faintest smile—playful, yet soft. He shifted again, his hands trailing down your arms until he caught your hands in his, threading his fingers through yours. He brought them to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, slow and deliberate.

“Děkuji,” he murmured, the gratitude in his voice making your heart ache.

His movements were careful as he guided you to lay down and took a moment to unclip his leg brace. He then scrambled up beside you, your knees touching, each move soft and lazy, giving away how tired his body was after another sleepless night. You let him pull you closer, his arms wrapping securely around you, his touch steady and grounding.

You took a long, audible inhale, as your fingertips traced the lines of his face. The faint circles beneath his eyes, the curve of his jaw, the slight harshness of stubble that rasped under your touch. Viktor closed his eyes briefly, a soft sigh escaping him as if your touch alone was enough to undo him.

“You’re so tired,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over the shadow on his cheek.

“We can take this slow,” he murmured, his lips quivering into a smile. His hand found your waist, his touch firm yet gentle. “I like taking my time with you.”

He dipped his head, his lips grazing the side of your neck. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine as he whispered, “I am really sorry, lásko. I hope you believe me.”

Your breath hitched as his words bounced off your skin. “I do. And I am sorry too,” you whispered back, trying to will the blush away from your cheeks.

He gave you a tentative kiss, barely a press of his lips to yours. For a moment, lips were just touching, mouths slightly open as you both breathed each other in. He smelled of ink and chalk, a powdery scent lingering in your nose. His hands pressed firmer on your sides as he pulled you closer, your stomachs pressed together. 

One of his legs snaked in between yours and he pressed his knee to your core, warmth already pooling in your lower belly. Your kissing deepened, tongues got involved and you could feel your teeth clacking against each other. Noses pressed together, as your hands travelled under the layers of his clothing to ghost over his stomach and his hips bucked into yours, making you gasp. 

“Tickles,” he chuckled into your mouth, his breath growing heavier and quiet moans escaped him with each kiss. You let your hands wander, finding an easy rhythm as you glided your touch onto his hips and thighs.

Feeling him grow harder beneath you, you palmed his length through the trousers and ground your hand on it. Viktor gasped at the sudden attention to his cock, the fabric adding a delicious friction to the movement.

He reciprocated easily with the knee between your legs. Lazily, he moved it back and forth, testing the pressure to see where it made you squirm. One of his hands traversed the plane of your back downwards to your ass to fondle it gently, his fingers dancing on it, tracing words before allowing himself a leisurely squeeze.

Your kissing grew hungrier and you added some pressure to your hand to finally grip his now fully hard cock through the cloth. Viktor’s body wordlessly asked for more, bucking needily into your touch, his brows pinched together, his panting breaths fanning your face.

He retreated his knee from between yours and before you could whine, his cock and your cunt met in a long, sloppy drag of your bodies against each other. He ground himself against you with a desperate want, as if his brain suddenly remembered what was missing when spent long hours at work.

The material of his pants became unbearably tight against the almost nonexistent layer of your knickers. His hand abandoned your ass in favour of snaking under your soft, frilly nightdress to cup your bare breast, while the other cradled your cheek. He tilted your head to nip at your neck and you whined at the sudden attention to all the sensitive spots on your body—his hand groping your chest, thumb brushing against your nipple, his cock against you, the feeling of his teeth on your neck, followed by soothing kisses, love marks already blooming on your skin.

“You are doing so well, lásko,” he murmured into your neck, the honeyed sound melting something inside you. “You have no idea how you make me feel.” A low whisper followed by the feeling of his hands shifting you onto your stomach, as he pulled himself up to sit. He grabbed a pillow to stabilize his knee and pulled your skirts up to your shoulder blades.

He took a moment to take in the view, tracing your skin with his fingertips, to finally press his face to your ass cheek, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up your spine, his hands gently beckoning your hips up. He guided your left knee to bend, mirroring his own, when he caged himself on top of you, his chest splayed flat against your back. 

His left arm cradled around your chest, palm cupping your cheek as you intertwined your fingers with his. You could feel his length ghosting between your legs, but even the sharp press of your hips against him wasn’t enough. “Viktor, please,” you let out an undignified huff and Viktor chuckled into the nape of your neck, snaking his free hand between your front and the mattress.

He cupped your cunt, material sticky against his fingers and you could feel his mouth blooming into a smug smile as he teased, “Missed me so much, have you?”

His clothed cock poked at the wet membrane of your knickers as his fingers began their precise work on your clit, the friction of the fabric becoming unbearable and you couldn’t help another mewl, “Viktor, please, I can’t—”

You got cut off by your own sob, when Viktor murmured into your ear, “Oh, but I like you so much like this.” He placed an infuriatingly sloppy kiss on your pulse point, your hips bucking against your will. You didn’t know which was worse, the teasing or the absence of his fingers, because the whine that escaped you when he retreated his hand made your breath catch in your throat.

He freed his cock from the confinement of the fly, not bothering with the rest. Then, he slid the gusset of your underwear to the side and dragged his fingers along your seam, coating them with your slick, before inserting one inside. Gently adding another, he hummed appreciatively, your clit mercilessly teased with his thumb.

When you were ready, he wrapped himself back around you, took his cock to wet it at your entrance and sunk into you slowly, drawing a long, breathy moan from your lips. Once fully sheathed, he pulled his hips back to give you a snappy thrust, before finding a rhythm. His free hand wandered back to your clit, his attention unwavering, as he worked you in small, steady circles.

Your breathing grew heavier, and Viktor slid the fingers of his other hand from your cheek into your mouth, teasing your tongue. Completely trapped underneath him, you were at the mercy of his hips and his fingers, as he murmured sweet nothings into your ear.

Sinking deeper and deeper into you he hit a spot that drew a wail from the bottom of your throat, your hips bucked in the tight space between him and the bed, his fingers unwavering between your legs and you could feel yourself tightening, your core tied into a knot close to a release.

His movements grew more sloppy and needy, his mouth close to your ear, murmuring, “You are doing so well, I love you so much,” in a hushed tone between kisses pressed to your temple and the back of your neck. With your walls tightening around him, he came with a loud groan, flexing on top of you, bringing you with him with a couple precise flicks of his fingers. You came as he was spilling inside you, the feeling of damp warmth spreading around your underbelly.

He drew a couple of hot breaths, still splayed on your back, before rolling to the side and dragging you close with your back to his chest. He combed your hair away from your neck and placed a lingering kiss on the spot where it met your shoulders.

You took his hand into yours and brought it to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. He chuckled warmly and asked, “Am I forgiven?”

“The judge and the jury agree the atonement was sufficient,” you teased, though your voice was barely there. You shifted around to face him and nuzzled your face into his neck. “I now would like to prove a theory that this would be equally enjoyable if provided upon a shorter hiatus.”

“Oh you know me,” he murmured into your hair. “I would do anything for science.”

[dear-aubade]

Oh my good God your writing is absolutely fabulousssss 🤤 The way you write about Joel and his baby girl is sending me into orbit!!! Genuinely I cannot wait to read more of your work 😍 Do you think that you would ever do one where Joel comforts his baby if she got jealous? There’s a few different ways this could go but the idea of him comforting his sweet girl when she’s upset over something like seeing another woman in Jackson hit on him or something makes me think terrible, nsfw thoughts 😆🩷🎀

This was so fun to write, thank you for the ask anon! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: When you see a woman making a move on Joel and storm out in a flurry of tears, Joel realizes exactly how much he’s been neglecting his baby. He’s determined to make it up to you.

Notes: Smut, oral (f receiving), dom!joel, sub!reader, praise, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, babygirl, little girl, honey, darling, any fanfic-typical nickname Joel has for reader), jealous!reader, oblivious!joel (sorta), semi-public, implied age gap

You were fuming.

It was Tommy’s birthday and Maria had decided to invite the entire town of Jackson to the Tipsy Bison that night to celebrate. The bar was lively with the hum of chatter and small talk, the smell of whiskey and beer curling in the air, paper lanterns hung in a zig-zag pattern across the ceiling.

Normally you would have loved to go out like this. It gave you an excuse to dress up all pretty and do your makeup, maybe even get Joel to abandon his stone-faced stoic facade and go dancing with you after he’d had a couple drinks.

Except for the fact that the night had gotten off to a horrible start.

The past few weeks Joel had been busy. Very busy. Which you didn’t blame him for, of course—he was one of the town’s strongest working men and the people needed him to help with patrol. But recently a worker at the Bison had sprained his ankle and Seth had asked Joel to help cover him while he healed, which meant that now Joel was gone during the day for patrol and several nights during the week while he fixed barstools or whatever it was Seth had him working on.

The nights he actually was home, he usually went straight to bed with you after placing a kiss to your lips and gave a murmured, “Goodnight.” You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d touched you, really touched you.

And you knew that Joel was a good man, that the reason he was so exhausted all the time now was because he was doing work for the community.

It didn’t stop his girl from getting a little needy and missing him.

Tonight you had taken advantage of the outing. You’d made sure to do your makeup immaculately, with your lips glossed and eyes lined to make them look all doe-like and pretty, how Joel liked them. You’d curled your hair and pinned the top part of it back in a half-updo with a white satin bow. You’d even worn a new dress that you’d traded for a couple days before. It was baby pink, hugging your bust and waist before flaring out the smallest bit around your hips. The short hem paired with your white heels showed off your legs very nicely.

You’d thought that maybe if you put enough effort into your appearance tonight, Joel would want to touch you no matter how tired he was.

Unfortunately, so much self-grooming had caused you and Joel to be a little late, which meant rushing out the door and speed-walking over to the Bison so you two weren’t more tardy than you already were, which meant there wasn’t time for Joel to appreciate his princess in her pretty dress.

Now that you guys were here at the bar, he was hardly looking at you. His large hand was still holding yours so you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd, but he hadn’t even said anything about how you looked tonight. Did he even care? It made you want to whine and cry or stamp your little heeled foot against the floor until he paid attention to you.

But you didn’t. You wanted to be his good girl…and you didn’t want to ruin Tommy’s birthday, either, by making a scene.

Joel kept craning his neck around to look for his brother, and when he found Tommy and Maria standing at the bar, he guided you over with him with a hand on the small of your back.

“Joel!” Tommy exclaimed, expression bright as he embraced his brother—overly bright. It was clear he’d already had a few glasses.

Joel slapped Tommy on the back. “Happy Birthday.”

“Happy Birthday, Tommy,” you said softly right as Maria was thanking the both of you for coming.

“What did you get me?” Tommy asked his brother.

Joel grunted as he put his hand back on your waist. “Right to the point, aren’t you?”

“A book? A shirt? A razor? I’ve been needin’ a new one of those, mine broke just yesterday—“

“Boots,” Joel said. “Traded for ‘em last week. They’re back at the house.”

Tommy grinned. “Awe, now you’ve just ruined the surprise.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Tommy—“

“Oh, that reminds me! There’s somethin’ I need to show you real quick.” Tommy turned to you. “Mind if I borrow him for a few?”

You frowned. “Well—“

Without waiting for a response Tommy dragged Joel away, heading for some unseen destination across the bar. You couldn’t tell where they were going from your position in the crowd. You tried not to wilt.

A moment later Maria handed you a drink. “You look nice,” she commented.

“At least someone noticed,” you grumbled, taking a sip. The alcohol burned your throat.

“Joel giving you trouble?”

You shrugged.

Maria waited for you to elaborate. When you didn’t, she pressed. “I was going to go sit with some friends over there.” She gestured to her right somewhere. “Want to join?”

You sighed, then shook your head. “I don’t think so. Thank you Maria, but I don’t want my mood to infect your guys’.”

“Well…alright. If you’re sure.” And with that, she left you to your own devices.

It had been hours. Or…maybe a half hour. Forty five minutes? You weren’t sure. Enough time for you to have made a home for yourself on one of the barstools with several now-empty liquor glasses in front of you.

And Joel still wasn’t back.

Your toes were starting to go numb in your tight shoes even just sitting there, so you huffed and got to your feet—you only swayed a little. You were determined to find Joel and make him dance with you.

You weaved in and out of the crowd as you searched. Where had Tommy taken Joel? Was it….this way? That way? You couldn’t think very clearly right now. How many glasses had you….?

You finally spotted the back of Joel’s head through the throng of partygoers. Your eyes lit up and you started to move in that direction, ready to tug on Joel’s hand and stand on your tiptoes for a kiss. Why had you even been upset again?

You squirmed between two people to move closer and—

There was a woman beside Joel. She had honey brown hair and keen, wise eyes. She was older than you—much older. Closer to Joel’s age. Her name was Sharon…Shannon…something?

You froze as she laughed at something someone said and put a hand on Joel’s arm.

Your eyes went wide and you didn’t know whether you wanted to scream or start crying. Joel suddenly turned his head and met your gaze.

Your body decided for you. Tears pooled on your lashes and you turned to duck out of the bar before you made even more of a fool of yourself.

The crisp, cool night air greeted you as you escaped the Tipsy Bison’s warmth. You sniffled and kept walking, not even really sure where you were going.

“Darlin’?” Joel’s voice reached you and you heard footsteps from behind.

You sped up.

But Joel was Joel, and so he quickly caught up to you with his long legs. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Not now, Joel.”

“Hey.” He grabbed you and turned you around, his grip gentle but firm. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“Get offa me,” you protested, trying to push away.

“What’re you…” He paused. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” you whined. You broke out of his grip and kept walking, turning around the corner of the Bison and walking around the back of the building. “Leave me alone.”

“Baby.”

At his tone you stopped. Even though you were embarrassed and upset and didn’t want to see his face, a small part of you still wanted to be obedient.

He came around your front and lifted your chin so you were looking up at him. His stern gaze melted away and his eyes softened. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Your bottom lip quivered. “What’s wrong?” You sniffled and took a step back. His hand fell away.

“What’s wrong is that you don’t pay attention to me anymore. You work all day and all night and it feels like you hardly have time for me now. I even got all dressed up tonight for you, wore a new dress and everything, a-and you didn’t say anything, didn’t even look—“

You blinked and more tears ran down your face. “And now I jus’ saw Sharon or Shannon or whoever that woman was flirting with you, and you didn’t do anything—”

You cut off as your face crumpled. You looked down, shivering from the cold.

“I know she’s older and…and probably smarter, and she—”

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart.” Joel tenderly gripped your upper arms, ducking his head to try and get you to meet your gaze. “What…what are you thinkin’? You think she could ever compare to my babygirl?”

You opened your mouth to respond but he prattled on before you had the chance. “The moment she touched me I pulled away. I don’t know if you didn’t see or what, but…” He shook his head. “Baby, I only have eyes for you. You know that.”

He wiped your tears with his thumbs. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more often. It’s just until Seth’s friend heals up that I’ll be gone. I should be out of bar duty by next week.”

“And what about tonight?” you whined.

At that, Joel smiled. “You really think I didn’t notice how pretty you looked, sweet girl? I was trying not to get a hard on in the middle of Tommy’s party.”

You almost smiled. Almost. But you were still mad about Shannon, and you still felt needy and lonely and you were pretty sure you were way more than tipsy and you still kind of felt like punching Joel in his handsome face a little bit.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry that I made my baby feel alone….and needy…and neglected…” He punctuated each word with a kiss to a different part of your face—your cheek, your nose, your lips.

Now that you were alone, Joel’s eyes roved over your body shamelessly. “Look at you….” he cooed. “So beautiful.” His hands fell to your waist. “And this pretty new dress.” His eyes looked lower, down to your feet, and he grinned. “Your shoes match your bow. You said you dressed up just for me?”

You sniffed and nodded. “M’still a little mad at you.”

“I know, pretty girl.” He kissed your jaw. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you?”

That sobered you up real quick. “Wh….here?”

“Why not?” Joel pressed your back to the wall of the building. “No one’s around.”

“But someone could—”

“Shhh.” He kissed lower this time, at the skin beneath your jaw. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” He pressed a kiss lower. “I’m going to make my little girl feel good right here and now so she doesn’t have to wait another minute.” Another kiss. “After that I’m gonna carry her back to our bed….” Another. “And there I’m gonna make love to her until she gets absolutely sick of it.”

You squirmed as his beard dragged along your skin the lower and lower he kissed, lips now at your collarbone. “I-I don’t know if I’d ever get sick of it….”

He nipped at your skin and you gasped. “Then you had better have enough energy to be up all night, sweetheart.”

Joel kissed down the center of your clavicle, the middle of your breasts, down your tummy over your dress….soon he was kneeling before you, looking up to meet your gaze with those dark brown eyes of his.

“Joel—” you said, still a bit uncertain.

“Lean back against the wall, babygirl.”

You hesitated, but obeyed. Any complaints or protests you had against the situation dissolved as soon as Joel lifted one of your legs and pressed a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

His lips traveled upward. He kissed along your calf….the inside of your knee…your thigh….soon he pressed the skirt of your dress up to your waist.

He paused.

Then:

“Oh, sweetheart.” It was nearly a groan. His eyes flicked up to yours. “No panties?”

You smiled shyly. The truth was you’d forgotten almost entirely about that—it had been a quick last minute decision to forego wearing anything beneath your dress, but seeing his eyes dark with lust now….you definitely did not regret it.

“I’m a little glad I didn’t have time to look you over properly before coming here,” he murmured, lips skimming your hip bone. “If I knew you weren’t wearin’ anything under this we would have never left the house.”

You could feel his breath on your inner thigh now as he moved his head and you whimpered. “Joel.”

“Shhh, no whining honey, ‘less it’s about how good it feels.” He placed a kiss right above the patch of skin above your bud. “Just let that pretty head of yours empty—I’ll take care of you.”

Whatever you were about to say in response left your head as Joel hiked your leg over his shoulder and started to lick at your clit.

You gasped and one of your hands threaded through his salt and pepper curls to steady yourself. His tongue flicked against your swollen, needy button teasingly. Your lower belly simmered with the heat of crackling coals.

Joel’s large hand found purchase on your hip and he squeezed in response to each noise that escaped you. He was soon embracing you with his full mouth, tongue licking between your folds, at your bud, into you. It was as if he was everywhere, helping himself to your taste and enjoying every bit of it.

“Oh,” you sighed, pushing your hips into his mouth involuntarily and his head bobbed in time with his motions.

Each flick, each twist of his tongue had you nearly writhing, and you were pretty sure it was only Joel’s hand on your hip keeping you from collapsing.

“Joel, I—it’s—oh please, I can’t—” You were babbling mindlessly, head empty, unsure of what you were even really saying.

Joel just chuckled against you, the vibrations running through your core making you gasp.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured as he sucked and licked at your wetness. “‘S like you were made for me—just keep rockin’ your hips—oh, good girl.”

He lapped at you as you let out a high-pitched whine. You were there, right there, with his nose nudging at your clit and his warm wet tongue pushing into you and he was shaking his head and oh—

You bit your knuckle to muffle your moan as you came, your folds drenched, your lower belly warm, your legs shaking, your clit tingling.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Joel kept murmuring praises as you came down from your high, hips squirming from oversensitivity.

He placed soft and slow kisses on your right hip before rising and gripping your waist. Your legs nearly buckled.

Joel chuckled and caught you as you stumbled a bit, sweeping you up in his arms, the ease in which he lifted you making your belly swoop.

He pressed his lips to your hairline in an achingly sweet kiss. “How’s my girl feeling now?”

You let out a happy hum and rested your head on his shoulder. “Better.”

“Good.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he started to walk, carrying you like you were a princess. You supposed that you were, in a sort of way. You were his.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep yet, babygirl.”

You hadn’t even realized that you’d been drifting off until he had said something. It wasn’t your fault. The gentle sway of him walking with you had rocked you to sleep…

“Sorry.” You yawned.

“I’m the one who’s sorry, honey,” he said. He held you closer. “And you gotta stay awake with me. I got a lot more I wanna do to apologize to my princess.”

The low voice he used made your heart flutter.

You were in for a very long night.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

By Your Side

The Arcane brainrot remains strong, and is apparently strong enough to make me write a fic twice as long as usual. Dammit Silco

Summary: Silco receives reports of an enforcer in Zaun beating the chem-barons at their own game and goes to investigate. He doesn't expect to see a ghost of his past.

It's always on the bridge that his life-changing moments happen. First it was Felicia's death, then Vander's betrayal. Now…now it was you, trading your life for his, pushing him away as enforcers moved towards the both of you.

Go, your lips mouth as your dagger sinks into the throat of the enforcer closest to him. You rip the blade out, causing blood to spurt from the wound and whirl around to face the others, shouting a challenge to draw their attention away.

His feet remain rooted to the ground, throat dry as he watches enforcers crowd around you, hears your war cries as you turn into a deadly whirlwind of steel and suddenly Sevika is dragging him away, eyes hard. Your cries get softer as Sevika hauls him further and further away from you, until he can no longer hear you anymore, nor see you.

No, he can't lose you too. Not after everything, not after what he's promised you. Not when the reality of Zaun is so close at hand —

"—co! Silco!" He blinks slowly, raising his head. Sevika stands before him, her flesh hand on the table supporting her as she leans forward, staring right at him.

"What is it, Sevika?" He groans, noticing the fallen pieces of paper that he will have to reorganise later.

"There have been reports of an enforcer single-handedly cutting their way through Zaun. All the chaos has been affecting business and the chem-barons have been complaining."

"Are they all that useless? One enforcer is giving them so much trouble?" Silco rubs his temple. As if the chem-barons themselves aren't enough of a problem already, now they're handing him more problems to deal with.

"The enforcer apparently knows all the ins and outs of Zaun or something," Jinx chimes in from her perch atop the rafters. She lazily rolls over to look at Silco, playing around with her latest grenade, grinning down at him. "Disappearing into the alleys only to pop out again when everyone least expects it and kills everyone."

Silco frowns, how would an enforcer know Zaun's streets well enough to trick chem-barons? The only plausible explanation he can think of is that someone had given the enforcer a map, and a traitor in their midst was an thorn he had to remove with haste.

"I suppose I will have to clean up after them once again," he sighs. "Sevika, track this enforcer down. Follow their movements, take note of anyone they meet and report back."

"Understood." With that, his ever-loyal right-hand exits his office, leaving him alone with Jinx.

"You know," she hops onto his desk, "that enforcer looked rather familiar."

Silco raises an eyebrow at her, and she smirks, knowing she has stolen back his attention. "They looked a lot like…someone…what was their name again?"

Silco turns back to his stack of paperwork when she falls silent once more and Jinx rummages through a drawer, only to slam it shut with a loud bang that echoes all around the room. She lunges forward, deft fingers quickly finding the thin chain around his neck and pulls on it, hard.

"They had this hanging around their neck too." She whispers. "Sounds familiar?"

No. No, it couldn't be. You — you were gone, dead, lost to the enforcers that day on the bridge. It couldn't be you, it had to be an imposter, there was no way — he had to see it for himself. He had to know, had to confirm it with his own eye.

"Are you sure?" He asks calmly, careful not to break his facade. He had to remain rational, control his emotions for this could be a trap laid by Piltover, but how would they know about you? Too many questions, not enough answers. He could wait for Sevika's report, he had patience.

Jinx lets go of the chain, sliding off his desk. "I saw it myself. You can't miss it, dangles from their neck like an obnoxious piece of jewellery."

Silco's eye widens slightly. There is no doubt about it, it really is you, but how? How had you survived the fight, the riots, and why didn't you come back to Zaun? To him? His fingers curl around his cup as he searches for the answer in his past. You'd promised to be by his side, and he thought that promise lost when he was separated from you that day, but you were very much alive. Had you lied? Yet another question to ask when he got his hands on you.

Jinx notices the twitching and frowns. Silco was clearly hiding something from her, and she didn't like it when he did that. She leans forward, "who are they to you?"

"Someone I may know," he answers, pushing Jinx away. "Don't you have better things to do than bother me?"

"Hmph," Jinx pouts, annoyed that she isn't getting a proper answer. "They're clearly someone you were close to, otherwise they wouldn't have that ugly ring."

Silco sighs, picking up the topmost paper from the pile, "Not anymore. Now go and tinker with something else or make yourself useful and help Sevika track the enforcer down."

Jinx groans but exits the office, leaving Silco alone with his thoughts. Was the enforcer really you? How were you still alive? He plays with the ring hanging around his neck, remembering the day you had presented him with the ring. It hadn't been anything special, fancy or big. Just a simple gesture of shoving a box into his hand and telling him to open it.

"What's this?"

"A surprise gift! Open it!" You grin at him, clearly rather excited about his reaction to whatever that gift is. He frowns, mind cycling through possible pranks you could pull with this 'surprise gift' of yours and stares at it suspiciously.

"I told you it'd backfire," Vander chuckles, cleaning a glass. "You can't escape that reputation of yours."

"Oh come on! I'm not that bad…am I?" You blink owlishly as the two men stare at you incredulously. "…I see. Thank you both for the votes of confidence."

"You're welcome," Silco drawls, suppressing a chuckle of amusement as he pulls the box closer. "You're going to clean up whatever mess comes of me opening this box, understand?"

"I swear there will be no mess!" You pout, slumping onto the table. Vander laughs, ruffling your hair, "I can vouch for her this time, Silco."

"Fine," Silco sighs, but still braces himself as he opens the box — to reveal a simple metal band resting on a cushion.

"So, gonna marry me or —"

"How did you get this?" Silco lifts the ring into the light, studying it. There are carvings set in the metal, your initials and his, bringing a smile to his face as he reads it. "And yes, I am 'going to marry you', don't fret."

"Yes!" You whisper-yell giddily, excitedly bouncing around the bar. Vander pours three drinks, pushing two towards Silco and you while drinking the last one, chuckling. Silco rolls his eyes, taking the cup offered by Vander and throws his pen at you. You yelp as the pen hits you squarely in the forehead and then chuck the pen right back at him.

Silco calmly dodges your terrible aim, taking another sip from his cup, "are you going to answer my question or not?"

"I stole it!"

"I don't believe you."

"What?!" You flop onto the floor dramatically. "The man I love doesn't believe me, it's over."

"Who did you steal this from?" Silco slips the ring onto his finger, then takes it off again. It's far too loose. "I'll need to hang this around my neck."

"Uh…a jewellery merchant I happened across a couple days ago."

"And you didn't even check the ring size."

"I'm supposed to know your ring size?" You snort, moving over to the counter top.

"I don't know, are you?" Silco leans in close, swiping your drink.

"Hey! That's mine!"

Silco simply smirks at you as he drinks half before handing it back, "too slow."

"Give that ring back! I'm reverting my decision, you drinks thief!"

"It's mine already, I'm afraid I'm not keen on parting with it." Silco quickly glances around, ensuring no one is looking before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "Although I could make it up to you with a return gift."

"Oh? Better not disappoint me then, Sil~" You grin, capturing his lips into a full kiss, which he returns.

"Have I ever, love?"

He tucks the ring away upon hearing his office door open, revealing a scowling Sevika who has a couple of scratches.

"They got away, sorry," she grunts, "but I did find out who they are. It's Y/N. They really are alive."

"How?" Silco growls.

"Don't know, but they don't remember me. Don't know if they'll remember you." She frowns. "Going in alone is stupid, don't you dare think about it."

"I wasn't." Silco sits back down, pinching the bridge of his nose. There's a weird ache in his chest, a pull that tries to drag him out of his office but he forces it back down. He can't let his emotions take a hold of him, there is much he doesn't know about your situation, going after you right now is far too risky.

Still, he takes a different turn during his usual nightly routine, entering an alleyway and takes out a cigar, lighting it. He lets the ring around his neck dangle outside his clothes, the silver reflecting what little light exists at this time of day. A ring of smoke floats into the air, disappearing into the cold night sky as footsteps sound from his left.

"About time you showed up, you've always been late whenever I wasn't around to haul you out of bed." Silence greets him, save for the click of a gun and Silco turns to face you. "Silence really doesn't suit you."

The gun lifts, pointing right at him and he simply stares back. A finger curls around the trigger, pressing it down slightly but he remains unfazed.

"Y/N." He can see the ring that hangs around your neck now, a simple gold coloured band hanging from a thin silver chain. He remembers the day he gave it to you, the way you took great care of it every day, but now it hangs tarnished from your neck, stained and rusted. "It's dirty."

He reaches over, pressing his chest against the barrel of the gun and inspects the ring. He can easily get rid of the rust that has set in, scrub away the dirt but returning it to its former shine will be quite impossible. He clicks his tongue, annoyed and lets go of the ring lifting his gaze to meet your empty eyes. "Let's go home."

The gun doesn't go off, your finger falling from the trigger when you see the ring hanging around his neck, images flashing through your mind. Memories that feel familiar and alien at the same time roar in your head, confusion eating away at you and you drop your gun, clutching at your head. Your chest tightens, lungs refusing to inhale the oxygen you need and your heart thunders in your ears.

No no no no no.

"Breathe." A deep voice cuts through the haze. "In and out. Focus on my voice, follow my instructions. I will not lose you again."

You force your lungs to cooperate, following the instructions step by step, encouraged by the gentle deep voice until your vision refocuses.

"Silco," you whisper shakily. "Silco."

"I'm right here," he murmurs, arms wrapping around you.

"I —"

"Hush now, love. Everything's alright."

"No, it's not. I nearly — I — Sevika —" Panic bubbles to the surface but Silco quickly steps in before the situation can spiral.

"Sevika is alright. You held back enough for her to escape with a few scratches." He presses a kiss to the top of your head. You're back, with him, in his arms. Silco tightens his grip, hugging you closer. It can't be a dream, such a dream would be far too cruel.

"They took me, suppressed my memories, Silco I —" You choke out a sob, tears silently flowing down your cheeks. His heart aches at the sight, it always has whenever he saw you cry.

"But they could never take away our love." He presses his forehead against yours, breathing in your new scent. You smell like Piltover, a weird freshness, a hint of lavender that doesn't suit you in the slightest, and that disgusting blue clashes with the colour of your eyes. Your hair is no longer as rugged, it's combed neatly and Silco ruffles it, running his fingers through the strands like he used to.

He kisses you until your breath smells like cigars, throws his jacket over your shoulders and bundles you in it until he's satisfied he can't smell the Piltover stink anymore then presses one more chaste kiss to your lips. You smell like ash now, like the smoke that fills Zaun's air and he allows himself a small smile. The only trace of Piltover left now is the blue uniform but that has to wait until the both of you are home.

You're back now, with him, safely in his arms, and that's all that really matters. You, by his side once more, keeping the promise you had made to him years ago.

Don't worry, I'll be by your side, always.

[0omillo0]

sooo saying this with as much love and respect as i possibly can but you are really totally utterly amazing at writing and your angst is part of the top tier community 🖤

if you’re up to writing this then 😍 and if not then it’s completely okay! but i was thinking of an angsty but hopeful? comfort ending of where chan/hyunjin/han/felix (i couldn’t decide 😫) forgets y/n bday completely, despite having plans. y/n is sad yes but expects it, so she hangs with her friends & visits her fam etc. the chosen member will either see an ig post where it’s said oh happy birthday or smth or someone asks him about it, he will try to get to y/n but she’s out and about. when she finally gets back to her apartment then you know grovelling, apologising, flowers and so on.

what do you think?🖤☺️

Hyunjin x Reader 황현진 angst/comfort

He forgets your birthday

a/n: first of all, your kind words almost made me cry, made my day fr 🥹 thank you so much for appreciating my work <3 it means the world to me. i hope this is what you wanted! lmk what you think <3

Today was your birthday.

You were never one to make a big deal out of your birthday, but everything changed when Hyunjin came into your life. From the moment he became your boyfriend, he made it his mission to ensure your special day was as cherished and unforgettable as the love he had for you.

He succeded…

until today.

The day began quietly. You woke up, the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains of your shared bedroom. You stretched your arms and turned to find the other side of the bed empty—Hyunjin’s warmth long gone. Confused, you rubbed your eyes and noticed a small piece of paper resting on the pillow beside you. It read:

“Sorry baby, Chan called me. I had to run. Love you.”

You stared at the note, your heart sinking. No “Happy Birthday,” no reminder of the day that was supposed to be special. A lump formed in your throat as you folded the note and placed it on the nightstand.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t anticipated this. Hyunjin had been so busy lately, barely having time for himself, let alone anything else. But deep down, you had held onto the hope that today would be different, that he would remember.

Unable to hold back the wave of disappointment, you reached for your phone. You opened the messages between you and Hyunjin, scrolling through previous conversations where his affection and thoughtfulness had always shone. But today, there was nothing—no text, no missed call. It hit you like a punch to the gut.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you dialed your best friend. The moment she picked up, her cheery tone only made the pain worse.

“Hey, birthday girl!” she greeted. “What’s up? Are you and Hyunjin doing something special today?”

That was it. The dam broke. A sob escaped your lips, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“Hyunjin forgot,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face. “He forgot my birthday.”

“What?!” your friend exclaimed, the shock evident in her voice. “Y/N, no way. Are you serious?”

You sniffled, your voice trembling. “I woke up, and he was gone. He left a note saying Chan called him, but… but nothing about my birthday. Not even a text, nothing. I feel so stupid for expecting anything.”

Another voice chimed in—it was one of your other close friends, who had been with her. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. That’s awful. Are you sure he didn’t plan something later?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice breaking again. “I don’t think so. He’s been so busy lately. I just—” You stopped, unable to form the words as another sob wracked your chest. “It hurts. It feels like… like I don’t matter enough to be remembered lately.”

“Don’t say that,” your first friend said gently, her tone laced with sympathy. “You matter so much, Y/N. I know Hyunjin loves you like crazy. Maybe he’s just overwhelmed, but I can’t believe he’d forget on purpose.”

“Even if it’s not on purpose, it still hurts,” you whispered, wiping at your cheeks. “I don’t even want to talk to him right now. I just need to turn my phone off and forget about it.”

There was a pause before your friend spoke again. “Okay. You can spend the day with us, alright? Forget about him for now. We’ll celebrate you because you deserve it.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Thank you. I’ll be there soon.”

Later that morning, you met your friends at a cozy café. They greeted you with hugs and warm smiles, trying their best to lift your spirits. You forced yourself to smile back, but the weight of Hyunjin’s absence lingered.

As you sipped your coffee, one of your friends leaned closer. “How are you feeling now?”

“Still hurt,” you admitted quietly. “I keep telling myself not to care, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s like… how could he forget something like this? We’ve been together for years. He knows how much birthdays mean to me.”

Your other friend reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “You’re allowed to feel hurt, Y/N. Don’t bottle it up. But knowing Hyunjin, he’ll realize sooner or later and feel awful about it.”

You nodded but stayed silent, the sadness still gnawing at you. After a while, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, and though you appreciated their efforts, you couldn’t fully shake the disappointment.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin was at the studio, oblivious to the emotional turmoil he had caused. It wasn’t until he took a break and opened Instagram that everything clicked.

His heart dropped when he saw a post from your friend—a picture of you laughing at the café, the caption reading:

“Happy Birthday to the sweetest soul! Love you, @Y/N 💕🎉”

Hyunjin froze. “Birthday? No… it can’t be today.” But as he checked the date on his phone, reality hit him like a freight train.

He scrambled to open your messages, his fingers trembling as he typed.

“Y/N, baby, I’m so sorry. I just realized. Please call me.”

“Y/N, where are you? Please, I need to talk to you.”

“Baby, I messed up. I’m so sorry. Please answer me.”

But none of the messages went through. They were marked undelivered, a clear sign that you had turned your phone off. Panic surged through him.

“How could I forget?!” he muttered to himself, pacing the studio. Without wasting another second, he called his manager to clear his schedule and rushed home to make things right.

Back at the apartment, Hyunjin worked tirelessly to create a heartfelt surprise. He decorated the living room with string lights, candles and his paintings, filled a vase with your favorite flowers, and placed a small velvet box containing a delicate necklace on the coffee table.

He also booked a table at an upscale restaurant and bought you a gorgeous Versace dress, imagining how radiant you would look in it. Every detail was perfect—except for the sinking guilt in his chest.

When you finally returned home that evening, your face was streaked with dried tears, and your eyes were red and puffy. As you unlocked the door and stepped inside, you froze. The warm glow of fairy lights illuminated the room, and Hyunjin stood in the center, his face etched with guilt and love.

“Y/N…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You stood there, too emotionally drained to respond. Your gaze shifted to the flowers, the candles, and the neatly wrapped dress on the couch.

“What is all this?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

Hyunjin took a hesitant step closer. “It’s my way of saying I’m sorry. I forgot your birthday, and I can’t tell you how much I regret it. I have no excuse, Y/N. I was so caught up in everything else that I forgot the one person who matters most to me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they were fueled by the sincerity in his voice. “Do you know how hurt I was, Hyunjin? I woke up thinking today would be special, but you weren’t even here. I felt so… forgotten.”

You took a small break and sighed. “You… you were the only one who didn’t make me feel this way—“

Hyunjin’s eyes filled with tears as he listened. “Please don’t use the past. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I swear, it wasn’t because I don’t care. You’re everything to me, Y/N. Please, let me make it up to you.”

He gestured to the dress and added, “I planned a special dinner for us tonight. And this…” He picked up the necklace from the table. “This is for you. I know it doesn’t erase the pain I caused, but I hope it shows how much you mean to me.”

Your heart softened as his words sank in. Despite the hurt, you could see how deeply he regretted his mistake. Slowly, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, letting his warmth melt the lingering sadness.

“I forgive you,” you whispered against his chest. “Just… don’t let it happen again.”

“Never,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Happy Birthday, my love.”