#though it takes time for him to be so well-presented

[imaroyalmess]

An Apprentice’s (Unofficial) Guide to House Garments

based on @energ00n 's apprentice AU! (i'm obsessed with the concept of apprentices making up garment rules)

Wc: 2.1k

The datapad—an older model with discolored spots, showing where servos touched its framing—is the first thing Orion Pax’s optics land on as he walks into his new room. Orion snatches the datapad and tilts his helm as he reads the title over again. A peek at the contents shows that it begins with Hey newbie followed by three exclamation glyphs (an overabundance of any glyph, if you asked Orion).

Orion glances up and catches his own gaze in a mirror hanging in front of him. It’s strange, seeing two sheer fabric pieces delicately flowing over the hard metal of his arms—he’s hesitant to move his arm joints in fear of tearing it. That, as well as the jewelry occupying the space where his cog would be creates a vision that’ll take some getting used to.

He pries his optics away and down to the datapad again, dermas pinching as his processor whirrs. Prima explained to him how to care for his garment personally and what if, since the datapad looks old, the data was outdated? No, safer to follow Prima’s instructions and not confuse himself.

Orion places the datapad to the side and sets off to explore his new home.

~

Hello newbie!!!

Congratulations to you and your new position! There’s so much you need to know before you get started. If you wanna make friends, then you’ll wanna keep reading, little mech!

It’s most important that you know about your House garment. No, no, not how to wash oil stains out of it (though that’s good to know!), I’m talking about the meaning behind what you do with it.

Lucky for you, I’ve compiled a list for your easy reference! Learn them well, little mech!!

DO: Wear your House garment at all times! I’ve been told it’s respectful to the Primes. Also helpful so we can tell each other apart. Usually only an apprentice’s special somebot sees them without it! Even then, maybe not.

~

D-16 has always been a stickler for the rules. It’s structure—it’s security. He can’t afford to slip up and never lets that resolve waver. So how exactly did he let pretty blue optics lure him into a cargo hold that supposedly has a passage leading into the (highly forbidden) archives? D-16 isn’t sure.

“Orion Pax,” D-16 hisses, “you idiot, there’s no way—”

Orion hushes him with a digit to his dermas and a wink. D-16 lowers his voice. “Why did you drag me into this?”

Orion pries the cover away from the passage and lowers it to the ground, a soft clank echoing. “I need you to keep watch for me, ‘kay? It’s a tight squeeze for me so you definitely wouldn’t fit.”

D-16 frowns, a retort fully prepped in his processor, but then Orion unclips his garment and D-16’s vocalizer short circuits. For a horrifying and long nanoklik, only static emits from his voice box. “Wh–Pax, what are you doing?!”

“I told you.” Orion rolls his optics. “Barely enough room in there and I can’t risk ripping my clothes up. Prima would offline me.”

He slips the sheer fabric over his helm and presents it to D-16 with splayed servos. Primus, help him. It takes D-16 exactly 1.46 kliks to reboot and shake his helm vehemently. “No? I…you want me to—”

“It’s just my garment,” Orion states, playful but also firm in a way that says I don’t have time to argue. “I’m not asking you to do anything else. Keep it safe?”

Just my garment. If Orion’s antics don’t get him expelled, his cluelessness would. However, he’s correct about one thing, and it’s that their time is running out.

D-16 half-snatches half-cradles the garment, careful not to let the ends touch the ground. With a deep intake D-16 says, “Go. Before they spot us.”

Orion grins, scrambling his way through the crawl space, leaving D-16 to listen for passing mechs. The fabric feels smooth between his digits.

~

DON’T: touch another apprentice’s attire, especially(!) without their permission. A passing touch may be an accident but deliberately grabbing is almost like a kiss!!! Don’t kiss or put your dermas on their clothing either. That has…intimate implications I won’t discuss here.

~

Orion loves watching Megatronus Prime spar with D-16. The size difference between the two could be laughable, if it weren’t for the ferocity that overtakes D-16’s faceplate and the corrections Megatronus throws out to him. Multiple times, Orion’s systems remind him to function as he watches—his friend is a vision under his Prime’s tutelage, all gritted denta, radiating optics, and arcing gauntlets.

Once satisfied, the looming Prime kneels before his apprentice and speaks lowly to him. Orion’s audials are unable to pick up what’s said but the open and hungry way D-16 receives his feedback sates him. Megatronus returns to his full height, nods to release D-16 from his training for the day and Orion perks up at the gesture.

“D!” Orion calls. His friend pads over to what’s becoming Orion’s usual spot, a barely-there smile on his dermas.

“You been waiting long?” D-16 asks, setting his practice spear against the wall.

Orion shakes his helm. A white lie—he’s been there longer than he should’ve but it’s not his fault that watching D-16 fight is so fascinating. “What were you learning today?”

D-16 dutifully launches into the intricacies of battle strategy and close-ranged combat. Orion props his helm up with his loose fist as he listens—mostly listens, at least. That task becomes difficult as the jargon grows thick and D-16’s broad servos capture Orion’s attention as they move in small motions.

An idea pops into his processor. “Why don’t you show me?”

A pause, then D-16 scoops up his practice spear, muttering, “It’ll look stupid without an opponent.”

Orion hops over the half-wall that’s been separating them and bounces over to stand in front of his friend. “I’m right here though.”

“No,” D-16 said immediately. “It’s not safe.”

“C’mon, D,” Orion teases. “I trust you.”

D-16 cycles his optics and Orion’s lopsided grin grows. “It’s not about that. You don’t know what you’re doing and even if it’s not real, I could hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Orion states, full of confidence.

“I could,” D-16 argues. “Then Prima would offline me for harming his one and only apprentice—”

Orion begins to circle D-16, close enough to reach but far enough that he could evade it. “I know what you’re doing, Pax. It’s not going to work.”

“Is it not?” Orion teases as he keeps in D-16’s blindspot, his friend calmly trying to catch sight of him again. He takes a chance while behind him, dashing out and giving the purple fabric of D-16’s House garment a good tug.

“Pax,” D-16 chastises. Yes, it’s a sparkling-like move, Orion knows and does not quite care. He does it again, giggles erupting from his vocalizer as D-16’s calmness dissipates.

Orion manages to tug at D-16’s garment twice more before D-16’s arm snaps out, captures the joint above Orion’s servos, and crowds him against the nearby wall. The yellow of D-16’s optics blaze. Orion notices how close they are, how his friend’s weight is the only thing that keeps him upright, and he grins.

D-16 growls, “Orion.” And honestly? Orion isn’t sure what’s going through his processor when his reaction to hearing D-16 say his name is to bite down on the gathered cloth by one of the gauntlets he’d been admiring earlier.

D-16 drops him. His aft hits the ground with a rough clank and Orion cries out, “hey!”

But D-16 isn’t listening. His optics are focused on the spot where Orion’s intake fluid darkened cloth’s already deep purple. D-16’s expression is horrified.

“Oh scrap, D.” Orion scrambles to his pedes. “It should go away, right? I’ve never—D! Where are you going? Wait!”

Before Orion can say another word, D-16 runs—no, sprints—out of the practice arena, leaving Orion there alone wondering what he’d done wrong.

~

DO: keep your garment clean! It’s polite and respectful, blah blah blah, you should know this. But! What you don’t know is that leaving a mark on another apprentice’s garment, accidental or not, is a serious offense! You tear it, that’s a show of disrespect to the apprentice and their House and you might have to fight them. On the other servo, if you, say, put a small decal on the cloth, you’re effectively marking that mech as your own. Same goes for intake fluid, though that just tells everyone that you and that bot are...together in a different sense. Catch my drift? 

~

“I’m sorry, D.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know but I made you upset, didn’t I?”

“...no. You didn’t.”

~

DON’T: wear another House’s garment!!! Unless you’re ready to be conjunxes. And I’m serious! It’s saying your devotion to that mech is equivalent to your devotion to your Prime. Ask yourself, little mech. Would you swear undying fealty to them? Would you choose that mech over your Prime? No? Then don’t do this.

(Okay, I might be a little overdramatic, but seriously, don’t.)

~

What fascinates Orion is how different the textiles feel from one another. He’s read about the arts and asked on multiple occasions to speak with the bot who made his House clothes because he must know more. Orion shifts the material of D-16’s garment between his digits, reveling in the weight and watching the fabric fold as he moves.

He drapes a length of it over his arm and turns to D-16, who’s dozing in and out of a light rest cycle. “Do you think purple would suit me?”

“Hm?”

Orion nudges his friend with the bend of his arm still wrapped in material. This time, D-16 rouses, even if only a little. “Your House garment, silly. How does it look?”

“Fine,” D-16 says.

“Just fine?” Orion complains. “You’re the meanest friend ever. You won’t even let me try?”

D-16 resettles his helm. “Not mean. ‘M honest.”

Orion shoves his shoulder plate, only serving to further tangle himself. “Your honesty is mean.”

“Would you prefer a more elaborate answer?”

“Not anymore,” Orion mutters. This time, he lets D-16 rest as he lays the garment over his lap and smoothes out the wrinkles he’s made. 

~

Congrats!!! Now you’re fully equipped to take on the social terrain in the House of Primes!!

In case you didn’t read all that, basically, keep to your own business and every other bot will keep to theirs. You’re lucky you have me to help you out with this because I didn't have anyone explain it to me and I broke about every rule before an apprentice told me. I was so embarrassed!!! No need to thank me though, little mech, whoever you may be. Just have fun! Be responsible! Follow these rules!!! I promise, you’ll have a better time if you do. Byeeee ;)

~

D-16 might cease to function—if he hasn’t already. On this particular solar cycle, Orion had dragged D-16 into another one of his schemes and deemed his quarters the meeting point. The door slid open, Orion welcomed him inside, and D-16’s optics landed on a datapad that made his spark drop.

That thing isn’t supposed to exist—not physically, anyway. How did it get here? How in Primus’ glory does Orion have it?!

“D?” Orion cuts through his panic.

“Have you…” D-16 can barely force his vocaliser to say the words. “Have you read it?”

Orion raises an optical ridge. Confused but fond. “Read what?”

A digit points at the datapad, though D-16 didn’t consciously give the command for it to do so. “That.”

“Oh that?” Orion ambles over to the offending object. “It was here when I moved in. Weird right? Maybe Prima put it here in case I forgot what he told me?”

D-16’s joints creak with the effort it takes to stride over and pick up the datapad. “You don’t need it though, do you?”

Please say no, D-16’s processor screams.

Orion laughs, though his confusion melds into concern as well. “No, I guess not…did you need it? You can take it, if you do.”

And D-16 then and there wishes Orion Pax had chosen a better friend, one who he deserves. Except, D-16 is also selfish and cold in ways where Orion is warm—he doesn’t wish that, in actuality. (It feels kinder to say that he does. Orion deserves kind.)

“Thanks,” D-16 says for lack of any explanation that wouldn’t be a flat-out lie.

Then Orion smiles at him, as he always does, and pats him on the chest plate, right next to his empty cog slot, right on his garment. D-16 musters a quirk of his dermas and tucks the datapad away from Orion’s prying optics. It’s hard to feel guilty about it, when Orion seems so content and his servos make his garment so warm.

~~~

A/N: tysm for reading! i'm sorry if i got any details wrong, i read all the comics over again to make sure i got it all correct but just in case i missed something! please check out the main comic if you haven't already. the worldbuilding, writing, and art style are all stunning!

[liahaslosthermind]

𝑬𝒍𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒂𝒏

Summary: The 4 times the Night Court’s Shadowsinger mentioned… someone, and the first time his family got the promise of an answer. 

Content: Angst, with the promise of future fluff

Warnings: Angst, I like making Azriel sad sorry, I also take the ‘mate talk’ in the Azriel/Nesta/Bryce bonus chapter and rewrite it to fit this story. I also haven’t read CC yet so apologies if Bryce is OOC Azriel x OC [not introduced in this part]

*Slight spoilers for the Azriel/Nesta/Bryce bonus chapter

Bryce turned to the fae female next to her, “You have a mate, don’t you?” Nesta simply nodded in response, a slight smile forming on her face, followed by a deep blush. “Do you?” The red head directed at Azriel.

Nesta’s stomach dropped. She knew it was a sore subject for the Shadowsinger. What with everyone else in his family being mated except for him-

“I do.” He said, a trace of apprehension in his voice. Nesta’s head snapped to face him so quickly that her vision spun for a moment, causing her to stumble.

Regaining her footing, she barked out, “Azriel? What the fuck do you mean?”

The trio stopped walking for a moment, tension settling over the once calm night air. She gave him a demanding, and slightly betrayed, look. Even though his eyes met hers, Azriel kept quiet. Bryce simply looked between the two, face wrinkling in the awkwardness of the moment.

“Ah. A sore subject, I guess?” Bryce laughed, or tried to, it only came out forced and uncomfortable. 

“Who, Az? How come I had no idea? Does anyone know?” There wasn’t anger in her voice, just hurt. 

He had to bite back his usual replies, the ones he gave to his family when they tried to ask questions or bring up the topic without him bringing it up first. Not that he ever did. 

“She’s-” he swallowed. Cauldron, when would he finally be able to talk about her without wishing the world would swallow him whole? “It’s not something I want to discuss right now, especially with present company.” He sent a pointed look at Bryce. He couldn’t hide the misery in his tone this time though as he took a deep breath and continued, “I will tell you about her, Nes. One day. I’d just rather do it on my own terms. On my own time.” Nesta opened her mouth, seconds away from arguing, when he put a hand on her shoulder, “Please.” he begged, softly. 

The glimmer of silver in his eyes caught her off guard, gave her such a knee jerk reaction of protectiveness that she gave him a crushing hug. It was strange, this feeling. Azriel, the broody, closed off, terrifying, annoyingly perceptive, kind, and unbelievably loving friend she never knew she needed had just revealed a part of himself she could tell he kept locked away for good reason. The thought that even the mention of his mate could bring him to tears made her heart break in a way she thought impossible after all she had been through. 

She took a deep breath as she pulled away, “When you’re ready,” she agreed.

He smiled back at her, while it was genuine, one of the few he reserved for his family, there was still insurmountable pain in his eyes. 

Nesta turned back to Bryce, “Can you play more of your music? Just none of that screaming one.” She asked, shaking her head at the memory of the Death Metal genre she hadn’t liked when the redhead had played it for them. 

She smiled softly as she felt Azriel squeeze her hand in a silent Thank you before he let go. 

The High Lord sat, feet propped up on his desk. “When do you head out for Rosehall?” He asked.

Azriel, standing by the window to the right of his brother, answered, “The morning after Solstice.” Rhysand grimaced when he heard the mask of indifference his Spy Master had in his voice. “I still need to pick up a gift before I go.”

Rhys took it for the invitation it was. “Would you buy her something from me? On my account this time.” He tried to put on his commanding-High-Lord voice as he said it, but he knew very well that Azriel wouldn’t listen to the last part of his request even as his brother smiled in agreement as he walked out of the room, sending an inclination of goodbye to his High Lady in the chair across from her mate. 

“Rosehall? What female is he visiting the day after Solstice?” Feyre spoke into her mate’s mind. 

Despite Rhys’ usual inability to keep anything from his mate, he couldn't bring himself to explain, couldn’t bring himself to cross the very clear lines his brother had set all those years ago. 

“It's not my story to tell. And don’t ask someone else, if any of them know, they also won’t talk.” 

Certainly not the answer she had expected, as was evident by the look on Feyre’s face.

“And if I ask Azriel?” she inquired.

“It will just bring up things he isn't ready to share. He will come to you- come to us- some day.” ‘One day’ Azriel had promised his family long ago, long before their family had been as big as it was now. “I just pray it's under better circumstances.” 

Feyre froze, feeling the weight of mixed negative emotions flowing down from her mate’s side of the bond. For once, she was even more confused after asking Rhysand for more information. 

“Well, I believe we’ve reached the threshold of faked amiability before one of us attacks the other. We should quit while we’re ahead.” Eris said as he stood up from his chair, starting to grab his papers without so much as a glance to his reluctant hosts. Even years after their alliance was set in stone with the agreement from the Night Court to back Eris’ claim to his father’s throne, even after fighting beside them in war, these faked niceties could only go on for so long before the claws came out. 

No one in the Night Court’s Inner circle could say there was anything but relief to see the Autumn Court’s High Lord walk away. But before they could let out a breath of relief, Eris stopped and turned to the Shadowsinger. 

“I have received word that your… gift has been finished. I will send someone to get it to you within the week.” 

Azriel’s head quickly snapped to Eris, “And they were able to meet all my requests?” He asked, not caring that everyone else in the room watched the interaction with fierce intrigue. 

The eldest living Vanserra boy scoffed, “I assured you they’d be able to.” Azriel let out a relieved breath at that. While he’d known Eris’ court capable of such a thing, it wasn’t much more difficult than lesser magics, but hearing it confirmed ignited hope he didn’t know he still carried.

“Thank you. She’ll love it.” The Spy Master replied earnestly, much to Eris’, as well as the rest of the Inner Circle’s, shock. 

The red haired fae simply schooled his features and nodded in response before winnowing away. 

Despite the heaviness all the secrets and questions caused, everyone remained silent as they watched Azriel slip out of the room. 

The dining room had been filled with loud chatter for the weekly family dinner. Love filled teasing and relentless jokes put everyone in a good mood. Nothing felt better to the Night Court’s Inner Circle than being all together. Unfortunately, it had to come to an end. 

“I’ll be leaving for a few days.” Azriel told Rhysand, who was sitting to his left at the head of the table. “I’ll be back for Solstice.” He quickly added. 

“I thought you were leaving the day after?” 

“I was, but the package I had been waiting on came, and I’d like to deliver it as soon as possible. I’ll drop your gift off too.” With that, Azriel got up, nodding a quick goodbye to his family, before disappearing into his shadows.

It wasn’t a request to have a few days off. He hadn’t asked if his High Lord could spare not having his Spymaster for a little. He didn’t even wait for any sort of goodbye from the rest of his family. He just left, the house sending his place setting away to be cleaned, as if he had never been there in the first place. 

Once again, everyone had questions, concerns, for their friend. But no one spoke up, as per usual. 

Until the one fae in the room with truly no information in the matter grew concerned enough with everyone’s immediate change in attitudes. 

“Where is he going?” Elain asked, looking between her friends and family. 

She saw on everyone's faces, in their eyes that refused to meet hers, that no one would tell her. Till she sent a look, full of concerned innocence, to Cassian. 

“Rosehall” He blurted out. “Or at least, I assume that's where he is going.” The last part was directed towards his older brother. 

“Where is this Rosehall?” Feyre asked, feeling he invitation Elain’s question had opened into the untouchable subject. 

The High Lady, like her second oldest sister, sent a look to Rhys, knowing he'd break for her under an embarrassingly small amount of pressure. 

“None of us know,” he gave in, “He goes at seemingly random intervals. Sometimes he’s there, often, for months. Then he will go quite a while without any visits.”

“Is it his mate? Is that who he is seeing?” Nesta inquires. 

The word seems to suck all the air out of the room. His mate. Azriel’s mate. Their brother’s mate.

Nesta’s stomach drops at the looks she receives from Cassian and Rhysand. 

They didn’t know. 

As she opens her mouth to speak, she’s cut off by a palm smacking the table.

“Enough! You all know damn well this isn’t what he would want. The only reason you all seem so comfortable talking about it is because he's gone, too preoccupied to leave a shadow behind.” Mor argues. “He has asked one thing of us in the 500 years he has been by our side, to let him- let them- be.”

With that, she winnowed out of the room, leaving a suffocating mix of guilt, confusion, and concern behind. 

Everyone could feel his presence the second he got back to the house. The light and happy Solstice air seemed to vanish in an instant. The shadows suddenly alive and wreathing. 

Rhys and Cassian had gotten up to check on their brother. While he had said he’d be gone till Solstice, they had assumed he would be there the full day to celebrate with everyone. But he had missed celebrations, for both Solstice and Feyre’s birthday, had missed dinner, and had sent no indication that he was even alive. His mental walls had been as fortified as ever, not letting Rhysand nor Feyre in the numerous times they had tried to check in. 

Their walk over to their brother’s room became a run, followed by the rest of the family, as they heard a loud crash. 

The room was dark, but they could make out the faint outline of the broken mirror and Shadowsinger standing in front of it, holding his hand as blood seemed to drip from a wound. In the dark, the sight was unsettling, but in the light, it was far worse. 

Cassian moved quickly, leaving Rhysand and the rest of the Inner Circle by the door in stunned silence. 

“Woah-” Cassian said as he lifted Azriel’s hand, causing his brother to pull back in startled shock. He hadn’t known they were coming. Hadn’t sensed their presence even then they were right in front of him.

“It’s okay, Az. But we need to clean out the wound. Make sure there aren't any shards in-” The general stopped as he looked at the Spymaster, seeing the tears streaming down his usually stone cold face. 

All he could do was help him sit down as Mor, seemingly better equipped to handle the situation, came over to kneel in front of her long time friend. 

“Az?” She took his uninjured hand in hers, her other hand going to his face to wipe away the tears. “Come on, maybe you shoul-”

“She’s gotten worse.” He admitted, his voice noticeably wobbling, “So much worse, Mor.” 

Mor quickly looked at everyone else, seeing the shock, the empathy, and worse of all, the pity. She knew more than the others, not the full story, not even close, but enough to know that their reactions were part of why he kept all of it a secret. He couldn’t handle their emotions on top of his.

By the time she looked back, she saw that Azriel had noticed it too. She could see him shrinking back into himself, trying to hide everything. 

She couldn’t let it happen again. 

“Let me in, Azriel. Don’t pretend, don’t go through 200 more years of this.” She pleaded. Luckily, this seemed to pull him back out. “Let us all in, please?”

“I can’t- I don’t want pity.” He admitted.

Rhysand spoke up this time. “Is that what you think this is? Just pity? Az, come on. We all love you, we want you to be happy. But we don’t want fake happiness. Seeing you like this makes us all upset, because we love you. Please, let us prove it. Let us in.” Rhysand begged. 

Azriel gave them all a onceover, emotion showing so clearly in his face, in his eyes, that no one seemed to be able to breathe. 

He took a deep breath before speaking up, “Tomorrow. I’ll explain- show you all, tomorrow. For now, I’d just like to celebrate Solstice, and your birthday, Feyre, with my family.” 

The air lightened up a little bit at the promise. Tomorrow, they’d all face what Azriel had been dealing with alone for 200 years. But tonight, they would all celebrate Solstice, the return of light and promise of a brighter future, as a family. 

[improbable-outset]

📂 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭.𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞

7k+ words….my God. I still don’t have a Masterlist for my Jayce fics. Soon though 🙌🏼

📄 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

If I had the write an essay on how Jayce’s affection manifests throughout Arcane, using case studies and evidence from the series to back up my points, I’d absolutely ace the task

Matter of fact, that paper alone would probably be enough to pass the whole course because it’ll be exquisite— mind-blowing even. The professors wouldn’t just give me an A*. They would invent a new grade entirely

The point is, Jayce’s affection is heavily presented in this show, and it’s clear that this man is dedicated to the people he cares about

We’ve all seen it most prominently with Viktor. I won’t go into too much detail (or we’ll be here all day), but Jayce’s loyalty and care for him are on full display

His physical presence is grounding to him, and he often uses touch to comfort or connect with the people he’s close to

With his romantic partner, I can definitely see him being naturally physically affectionate— holding hands whenever he can, resting his hands on your shoulder, or even lightly brushing your fingers. If he’s feeling anxious, he might just hold onto your fingertips, seeking reassurance from you

Whenever he feels overwhelmed by his responsibilities as a councillor, he wouldn’t hesitate to rest his head on your lap (sound familiar?) even wrap his arms around you to recharge

He doesn’t shy away from showing his emotions and vulnerable side, which creates a space of trust and intimacy between the two of you. If something was to bother him, he’d talk it out rather than bottling everything up and leaving you in the dark

As mentioned above, he’s unflinchingly faithful and loyal. We’ve seen the way he covers for Caitlyn, and I feel like he would extend that loyalty to his partner. Always ready to stand by your side and protect you, no matter what

📄 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Have you ever had a friend who yaps a lot? Not in an overbearing way that talks your ear off or doesn’t give you room to speak. But someone who’s just eager to share their thoughts and experiences with you. Probably oversharing occasionally

That’s what being friends with Jayce is like— especially if you were friends back in his Academy days. He was already a bright, intelligent student back then, driven by a passion of his studies and research, and always eager to learn more

When you’d study together, you’d hear him ramble about some experiment or project he’s working on. Even if half of it went over your head, you’d still listen because his excitement was contagious (blah blah blah proper name, place name, backstory stuff)

And you’d know that he would do the same for you. Whenever you spoke about something you were passionate about, Jayce would listen intently— always with solid eye contact and offering his thoughts and encouragement

If you need advice, Jayce would be there to talk things through with you. He’s rational, but also leads with his heart, so his advice would always come with empathy.

And let’s not forget his humour. Jayce might take his work seriously, but he knows how to lighten the mood when the moment calls for it. Remember the way he snuck up behind Caitlyn and tipped her hat? That same mischievous streak would show up in your friendship too

Whether it’s pulling an all-nighter for a project or grabbing a coffee together, Jayce would make sure you feel valued and appreciated. His loyalty runs deep, and once you’ve earned his trust, you can count on him to be a lifelong friend

📄 𝐂𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I’m not exaggerating when I say that physical touch is like fuel to Jayce— it gives him the extra drive, especially if it’s from you. And cuddles is no exception

When it’s the two of you in privacy, he closes the gap in bed immediately. His go-to is being the little spoon, though he wouldn’t mind switching things up and holding you from time to time as well

He loves lying on top of you, listening to your heartbeat and the soft rhythm of your breathing. It’s these little things— your natural scent, the way you chest rises and falls, or just the fact that you exists— fulfils him

God forbid if you were to shift in your sleep, unintentionally pulling yourself away from him. He wouldn’t be too dramatic about it but he will grumble softly from the lack of your touch and instinctively tighten his grip and pull you close (unless you really do want your space, of course)

Being in your arms feels like home, and he’ll savour every moment, preserving those quiet times together.

📄 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I don’t know what it is, and I can’t fully explain myself here, but I just can’t see Jayce being great with the cooking. And it’s not like the show gives us much to work with, maybe it was the sandwich he made for himself that appeared in the first episode— it didn’t scream “master chef”

I know that doesn’t really speak much. Though, that’s not to say he couldn’t handle himself if needed. He might manage some basic dishes (scrambled eggs or simple pasta), but that’s just me being generous here

Cleaning, on the other hand, would be Jayce’s strong suit in a domestic setting. He seems like the type who works best in an organised, less chaotic space, and that preference would carry over to his living space

I’m basing most of this on his lab that looked pretty tidy, while being spacious (it helps that Viktor was there to share the space). Plus, from the small glimpse of his bedroom, everything looked pretty neat and thoughtfully placed

Speaking of the bedroom, we do see him keep trinkets— like the photo of his father and himself as a boy and other nicknacks— and I think that speaks a lot about him. Those small items hold a sentimental value, and I feel like if the two of you were to live together, he’s carry that habit into your shared home

You’d find pictures of the two of you together (maybe even wedding photos, if it gets to that point), ornaments or objects that remind him of special memories or an event, and collections of meaningful things. He’s definitely not a hoarder, but he has a way of decorating that feels personal and homely without making the space look cluttered

📄 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I always disliked getting to this part of the headcanon alphabet because my heart can’t imagine breaking up with my favourite person. Breaking up is something Jayce would avoid as much as possible

He’s not the type to walk away lightly. If there was an issue, he would always try to fix things— sometime to the point where he might be blinded by his own feelings. In such a pivotal moment like this, he might fail to see the bigger picture, not realising that letting go could actually be the healthiest option for both of you

Jayce values commitment deeply, so it would take something monumental— likely a circumstance outside of his control— for him to really reach the point of ending a relationship

If he was the one to break things off, it would be rooted in his self doubts. We’ve seen blame himself heavily when things go wrong, like after his decision to arm the Enforcers with Hextech weapons led to disastrous fallout. If he started to believe that his actions were causing you pain or holding you back, those insecure thoughts could push him to make the heartbreaking choice to let you go.

Another major reason might be to protect you. As a public figure, tied to the Hextech legacy and Piltover’s council, there’s always a risk of danger surrounding him. The idea of his enemies harming you because of your connection with him would be unbearable. He’d rather live the ache of losing you than risk you getting hurt because of him

We’ve seen how much he struggled with his emotions— like when he broke down after seeing the destruction on the bridge blockade (and threw up over the bridge, yikes) or when Viktor revealed his illness. And don’t get me started on his face when he saw one of the smugglers helping with the Shimmer was a child.

Before actually saying the words, he’d spend sleepless nights agonising over the decision, rehearsing his explanation until his head starts pounding. When the moment comes, Jayce would be nothing but straightforward and compassionate though (even though he’s dying inside and would break into a sob if you keep looking at him like that)

I can see him blame himself more than necessary. His emotional driven nature means he could take on too much guilt. He would reassure you repeatedly that he still cares about you and you deserve better or that he didn’t want to hold you back. It’s not that he doesn’t love you— it’s that he loves you too much to put you in harms way or causing you unhappiness

If the breakup wasn’t his choice, it would devastate him. His idealism and compassion runs deep, and losing someone he loves deeply would make him feel like a failure.

While Jayce isn’t naive in the traditional sense, his trusting and tendency to act impulsive sometimes might make you feel like he’s putting others’ agendas above your own values or your relationship. If you feel like his choices are constantly being driven by outside influences, or his passion for progress leaves little room for the two of you, it could push you to make the decision to leave.

Other reasons could be an imbalance of ambition. You might reach to a point where you feel emotionally drained, unable to keep up with the pace or the expectations of someone so involved in shaping the future of Piltover— and staying longer could be daunting

Jayce would respect your decisions, even though it hollowed him out. This brings me back to the sadness in Jayce’s eyes when Viktor left him, ending his partnership with him.

He might try to make amends, but he wouldn’t force you to stay. You might catch a glimpse of his heartbreak the way he buries himself in work, pushing himself harder than ever to keep his mind occupied

📄 𝐅𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Jayce is incredibly ambitious, and even before his rise to the Council, he was locked in with his studies at Piltover Academy. Marriage wouldn’t necessarily be at the forefront of his mind— at least, not until he feels like he’s reaching a point where it makes sense for him to settle down

That being said, Jayce is also emotional and very passionate. If you were in a committed relationship, he might consider the idea of marriage. Though he would make sure his other goals, like completing his work or studies, were handled first. It’s the practical and plausible choice in his eyes

When it comes to cultural norms in Piltover, particularly among the elite, there’s a focus on status, achievements, and societal contributions over personal milestones such as marriages. And if marriage was considered, it’s often seen as a catalyst for strengthening alliances or enhancing social standings

This might influence Jayce, especially after becoming a Council Member. While navigating the political implications of marriage, he refuses to prioritise it for political reasons. He wouldn’t let it dictate something as important as his love life. For Jayce, marriage would only be on the table if it was based on genuine love and commitment— not ulterior motives

In the end, it might just work in his favour. A marriage built on love could serve as a stabilising force for him, painting him as a family man who values commitment and balance— a sentiment that even the Piltover’s elites would admire and trust

📄 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Jayce has always shown his gentler side throughout the show, especially more so with his interactions with Viktor. One stand out moment is when Jayce gave up his seat during a council meeting so Viktor can sit comfortably— a simple gesture that speaks volume. It shows his attentiveness to the needs of those he cares about.

And when Viktor confides in him about his illness, Jayce doesn’t brush it aside. We see more of his reassurance in the last scene, telling Viktor that he was ‘never broken’. Anyways, I’m not just here to talk about him and Viktor.

Jayce approaches delicate situations with care, and as his romantic partner, you’d see that same emotional depth and consideration

His gentleness isn’t just emotional though, it’s physical too. His relationship with Mel is a perfect example. Even if their relationship had a political undertone, you can see Jayce being tender with her during their private moments, as if he’s always mindful of his touch and presence

As his partner, you would expect him to be just as tender with you. Whether it’s stroking your hand during a tough conversation or holding your chin while tilting your head up to look at him. Jayce doesn’t rush— he takes his time to show his care, both his actions and words

Part of this stems from his upbringing. His warm and respectful relationship with his mother is something he carries into how he treats others, and it’s evident that he values meaningful connections (his mother taught him well)

📄 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

My God….where do I even start. To say this man isn’t a hugger is like saying the earth is flat. You know you’re lying to yourself

I cannot get over the scene where Jayce hugged Viktor before Viktor left him. You could see the yearning in his eyes when he pulled away

He’d definitely be the first to initiate a hug with his romantic partner. He’d take every opportunity to do so, especially if you’re in need of comfort or reassurance

Jayce’s hugs are unmatched. With his height and broad frame, you feel completely enveloped— like nothing in the world could hurt you. Bonus point for those biceps— when he wraps his arms around you, it’s a whole experience. It’ll leave you feeling protected, and completely loved

📄 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮.𝐝𝐨𝐜

The first time Jayce confessed his love to you (and he definitely confessed first— have you seen the yearning in his eyes in the series?), he probably said something along the lines of ‘I’m in love with you.’ Words are powerful to him, and he needed to say something that truly expressed the depth of his feelings

A half-assed ‘I really like you’ wouldn’t have been enough for him— it wouldn’t even scratch the surface of what he felt. He wanted you to know, without any shadow of a doubt, how much you meant to him

And okay, technically, that might have not been a straight forward ‘I love you’ but it was the first time he used the word love. That counts for something, right?

It didn’t take him long to say those three words, though. I can picture it happening in one of his happiest moments with you— maybe after you surprised him with a gift, or did something meaningful that hit him right in the heart. Riding that high of happiness, he’d look at you with the biggest grin on his face and just let the words slip “I love you”

He’d probably laugh softly right after, a little sheepish but not at all regretful before sealing it with a kiss. A passionate, heartfelt one

Jayce is the type to say it more often in private, when it’s just the two of you. He doesn’t throw it around casually— every time he says it, you can tell he means it. The words don’t lose their weight, only growing stronger with every moment he spends with you

📄 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Awhh Jayce. Whenever it comes to your relationship and how he handles things, he runs on a lot of passionate emotions, which can be both a good and bad thing. He doesn’t get irrationally jealous and starts throwing hands, but he definitely has a sense of pride and protectiveness

That being said, Jayce’s jealousy doesn’t come from possessiveness but rather from a deep-rooted fear of inadequacy or not being good enough for you. It’s not about him doubting you— it’s about him doubting himself

When jealousy creeps in, he doesn’t lash out or make a scene. Instead you might notice subtle changes— he becomes quieter, more distracted and overall a little less cheerful. He struggles to hide how much it’s bothering him, but it’s obvious in the way his usual enthusiasm and affection falters

When it’s really eating at him, he might let out a passive-aggressive remark. Though he doesn’t mean to, and it usually comes out more awkwardly than anything. If you ask him directly what’s wrong, he’ll brush it off with a humour-laced excuse, cracking a joke to deflect the situation (which lands awkwardly) all while feeling uneasy inside

It’s not until the weight of his overthinking gets too much to bear that he finally gives in and tells you “I don’t know I just…do you think I’m good enough for you?” It’s not just the jealousy, but the fear behind that’s talking

He didn’t expect you to laugh softly— not at him, but at how adorable he looked, all flustered and overthinking everything. You cupped his face and reassured him that he has absolutely no reason to doubt himself or your love. You kissed him softly, reminding him that you chose him, and no one else.

Jayce melted under your reassurance, his shoulders finally relaxed. He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck and muttered about how silly he’s being. You could tell from the way his hands lingered on yours that your words meant everything to him

📄 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

This is always my favourite headcanon to write up. Smooches. I've definitely rewatch the scene of Jayce and Mel’s first kiss more times than I’d care to admit, just so I could see how Jayce kisses his partner

The first time he confessed his love to you, and you returned the feeling, he was ecstatic. But he also didn’t want to be too forward (even though he’d dreamed about kissing you so many times). Instead, he softly kissed your knuckles. It was such a sweet, chivalrous gesture, and quickly became one of his go-to ways of showing affection. He even lowers his head every time to meet your hand, like a knight bowing before their queen

Forehead kisses are also his signature, especially if you’re shorter than him. He find them warm and protective, a way of silently showing his presence

Now, kisses from you turn him into an absolute puddle. Surprise kisses are his ultimate weakness. The first time you caught him off guard, he just stood there, startled. Blinking like you’d short-circuited his brain. You pulled back with an innocent look, and he ended up rubbing the back of his neck, trying (and failing) to hide how flustered he was

There’s one moment where you hugged him from behind and kissed the back of his neck. He didn’t even know he was into neck kisses like that until you did it. He’s too shy to bring it up, but secretly hopes you’ll do it again (you absolutely should). Cheek kisses and forehead kisses from you are also high on the list, but the neck kiss is a core memory now

First time you shared a kiss, it felt like his whole world was muted. I can imagine him tilting your head up from your chin, and his eyes flicked between yours and your lips. while his heart is jackhammering inside his chest like crazy (how were you even more beautiful up close?). He almost hesitated, but when your eyes softened in anticipation, he leaned in.

The first kiss was gentle, almost weary, like he was testing the waters. But when you kissed him back, he couldn’t help but deepen it slightly, tilting his head to fit against you perfectly. That moment would be burned into his psych forever— how your soft lips felt against his, the way you made his chest tighten and stomach flutter.

📄 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

We haven’t really seen many paternal characteristics from Jayce in the series, so it’s a bit hard to pinpoint exactly how he would be as a father

However, based on the traits that shows throughout the series— his care for others, and his passion— I feel confident that he would be a good father (I can definitely see him asking his child to hold a flashlight while he’s working on a project in the lab, giving them the “mini assistant” title)

That said, fatherhood might not come naturally to him right away. The idea of having his own children wouldn’t initially cross his mind, especially how busy he is in the lab, and his additional duties as a councillor

Even if you do introduce the idea of having children, he would feel a little skeptical. Losing his father at a young age would play a role in his doubts— he didn’t grow up with an official father figure and might question if he's equipped for that role himself.

It would take time and some extra convincing for him to warm up to having children. But the moment you conceive, or once you finalise the adoption, everything changes.

When your belly starts to show, he would be all over you and the baby. He’d drop to his knees just to feel the baby kicking, resting his palms gently on your bump while murmuring sweet words to you and the little one

Once the baby is born— or if you do end up adopting— a switch flips inside him. He takes doting on the child to a whole new level. Sometimes, it might come off as overbearing (like when he creates an ultra-organised schedule for feeding, nap times, changing the diaper, and even tummy time)

Of course, he’s a man of science, Jayce comes prepared. Expect him to research everything about childcare— I’m talking crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s. Even applying scientific precision to parenthood.

But he’s also adjusting to the new lifestyle as much as you, so there will definitely be hiccups. At first he’s a bit of a nervous wreck— fumbling through diaper changes and fretting over the baby crying. But over time, he grows into the role, becoming a loving father.

📄 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Naturally, Jayce would be an early riser— first as a dedicated student, then as a councillor with more duties. However, ever since you started living together, waking up to your warmth has made getting out of bed a lot harder

If he had the choice, he would sleep in just to stay wrapped up in you, basking in your presence. But the world doesn’t stop spinning, and the duties won’t take care of themselves

He showers first thing in the morning to wake himself up— probably preferring warm showers over cold ones. At this time, he prefers to be alone while freshening up, needing the quiet moment to fully wake up

On his mornings, he tends to rush through breakfast— even skip it entirely. But with you around, you always remind him to eat properly. While dressing, he multitasks, skimming through his reports with one hand while fastening his cuffs with the other

If he had to give a speech that day, you help him rehearse one last time in your room. He always steals a quick kiss on the cheek or on the lips before heading out. A quick thank you before the chaos of the day begins

On his days off however, he would definitely use the opportunity to stay in bed with you. Morning cuddles are non-negotiable. You’ll see a softer, almost puppy-like side of him— nuzzling into you, sneaking extra kisses, even draping himself over you just to keep you in bed longer

📄 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.𝐝𝐨𝐜

It’s no surprise that Jayce often comes home late, exhausted from council meetings and Hextech work. Some nights, he doesn’t make it home at all, caught up in duties or attending evening events

If he’s working late in the lab, he tends to lose track of time, completely immersed in his research. He’s a workaholic when it comes to science, and sometimes, it takes you reminding him to step away and actually come to bed

On particularly long days, he’s so drained that he flops onto the bed fully clothed and immediately falls asleep. It’s happened more times than once— until you stepped in and stopped him

You help him out of his jacket and boots, and in return, he presses a tired but grateful kiss against your lips or forehead. Even when he’s dead tired, he still checks in on you, asking about your day— though don’t be surprised if he drifts off mid-conversation, lulled by exhaustion

On rare nights when he comes home early, the atmosphere is more relaxed. He enjoys having tea with you, unwinding as you both share stories about your day.

In bed, he pulls you close, whether you’re talking or just enjoying the quiet together. Physical touch is comfort to him, and even in his sleep, his arms always finds its way around you

If he comes home to find you already sleeping, he slips into bed carefully, wraps an arms round you from behind, plants a kiss to your shoulder before drifting off to sleep

He definitely sleeps better with you besides him— it’s probably something scientific, oxytocin level or whatever— but he knows with you there, he’s at peace

📄 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Whenever I think of Jayce being open and vulnerable, I think of his relationship with Mel— especially more so when he rests his head on her lap. One of his lines that stood out to me was “nothing feels impossible when I’m with you”

So I think I can confidently say that with Jayce, it won’t take long for him to reveal things about himself, after he fully trusts you. He’s not the type of person that has a tough shell exterior (Thank God), even if front of the council, where we’ve seen how easily his emotions can show when he’s under pressure

Though he wouldn’t reveal everything at once, when you are alone together there might be some moments of silence and others where he opens up about his past: the House Talis, his family’s business, and how he was expected to join— but instead, he pursued his passion for science and became a scholar in the Academy

Sometimes it might take a little longer to talk about things he sees as personal failures or flaws, like the unintended consequences of his decisions or the guilt he carries for not always living up to his ideals. He might hesitate, afraid to burden you, but you always listen attentively and the way you reassure him makes it easier for him to talk

He would open up more with time, especially about his ambitions and fears. Most of these heartfelt, vulnerable conversations would happen when you’re alone in bed together, with the stillness of the night and the soft glow of your light where he feels safe

📄 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

This is a bit of a two-sided coin. And let me explain why.

On one hand, we could see Jayce tirelessly working on Hextech during his early Academy days. Back when he didn’t have a lot on his plate and was just still a student— he always pushed forward with determination. His persistence show he doesn’t let setbacks anger him, even when the Council doubted his research

Based on this, I imagine Jayce as someone who would patiently listen attentively to his partner, hearing you out on your problems, trying to find a solution without immediately jumping into anger. If arguments do happen, he’d avoid raising his voice, though he’d still stand firm on his beliefs. I feel like he’d process his emotions first, calming down before returning to the conversation

However, after becoming a Councillor, we see his patience start to wear thinner under the weight of his new responsibilities. His duties have multiplied, and the stakes have gotten much higher. We see his argument with Viktor over the bridge blockade.

By this point, he’s juggling political pressure, the Hextech weaponisation, and his own guilt over the chaos unfolding in Piltover and the Undercity. His frustration boils over because he and Viktor are no longer fully aligned, and Viktor questions his decisions

This is a rare moment of Jayce misdirecting his anger— his frustration at the whole situation, but Viktor ends up on the receiving end because Jayce is overwhelmed (not that I’m saying this is excusable)

I’m not saying that Jayce would snap at his partner easily— he’s still incredibly caring— but under extreme stress, his patience might fray, especially if he feels unsupported in difficult situations. That said, Jayce would immediately regret it. He doesn’t like being at odds with the people he loves, and he works quickly to apologise and make things right

📄 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

One of the first things that comes to mind from the series is how Jayce never forgets the people who’ve helped him. After returning from the Arcane, he made it his mission to fulfil his promise to Viktor. Also, even as a councillor, despite his growing responsibilities, he still tries to check in on him, showing how much he values those close to him

That being said, Jayce would absolutely make an effort to remember details about his partner— especially if it’s something important to you. If you casually mention wanting something but never getting around to buying it, don’t be surprised if he gifts it to you later, acting like it’s no big deal

Another thing that proves how sentimental Jayce can be is his relationship with his mother. He still carries the medallion she gave him, a reminder of where he came from and the people who support him

Speaking of sentimentality— one year, on his birthday, you’ve gifted him a custom brooch, something small yet meaningful. Ever since then, he wears it on his jacket during council meetings, a quiet reminder of you no matter where he goes (that’s canon now)

📄 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫.𝐝𝐨𝐜

One of Jayce’s favourite memories in your relationship is the time you surprised him with a telescope for his lab. You’d remember him casually mentioning how he was interested in astronomy and how owning a telescope would be pretty amazing. He never expected you to actually act on that passing comment

The morning he walked into your lab and saw it there, he was completely floored. From that day on, it became a tradition to spend every other night together in his lab, stargazing through the telescope and poring over his astronomy books

Those nights under the stars, where you both connected over something so simple yet meaningful, became a core memory for him. It wasn’t just the telescope, but the thoughtfulness behind the gift and how it brought you closer

📄 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

A lover boy like Jayce Talis is bound to have a protective streak to match. Argue with the wall. If he would sacrifice himself to save humanity, then what makes you think he wouldn’t move mountains for his partner?

One of the scenes that has highlighted this to me was when Jayce saw that the Hexcore had saved Viktor’s life. When Heimerdinger instructed for him to destroy it, Jayce gets defensive— for Viktor. (I don’t know, I just love seeing Jayce get mad when it comes to protecting his loved ones. What a man!)

With that scene, I can totally see Jayce standing up for you, even in your absence. The last thing we wants is hearing people talking bad about his beloved. He doesn’t get aggressive, but he would be firm and commanding when defending you— especially to anybody who dares to overstep

That being said, he absolutely values a partner who truly believes in his work and isn’t afraid to stand up by him when the rest of the world is against him. Even though he doesn’t necessarily need someone to fight his battles, knowing that you’ve got his back just as much as he has yours will always give him the confidence he needs

Additionally, this man is physically strong. We’ve seen his physique in the forge scene, as well as his ability to wield the Mercury Hammer. I can only imagine how heavy that is, and he handles it like it’s a toy. So, of course, he would use his strength to physically protect you from danger (even if he doesn’t know how to fight)

As protective as Jayce is of you, he craves to feel secure and supported by his partner. You being his steady source of encouragement and emotional protection means the world to him. He might not outright ask for it, but small gestures— like gently reminding him to take a break and drink water— would make him feel loved and safe. Security in a relationship goes both ways and nothing feels insurmountable with you

📄 𝐓𝐫𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

With everything that I’ve described about Jayce so far, it wouldn’t make sense to say he wouldn’t put effort into your relationship. He isn’t the one to half-heartedly approach anything

We see a snippet of this in the series, all the way back to Season 1. After Caitlyn is suspended from the Enforcers by her mother, Jayce visits her and offers her a position as his personal bodyguard. While she does ultimately declines, this highlights how he tries to support and protect the people he cares about, even when they’re at a low point

Now imagine the level of care and attention he’ll bring to his romantic partner. Jayce would be the type to take anniversaries and birthdays seriously, plan them well in advance. Whether it’s an extravagant dinners at one of Piltover finest restaurants or a quiet night home in front of the fire, he’d make sure every detail is thoughtful and personal to you

Speaking of personal, Jayce would definitely be the type to make handmade gifts in his forge. One year, he surprised you with a metal rose for your birthday, each petal crafted with care

And let’s not forget the big one— your engagement ring. I saw a headcanon that Jayce would craft the ring himself, and I’m fully on board with the idea. That’s my our man right there!

Every moment of his labour, every drop of sweat from his pores, would be worth it to see the look on your face when he gets down on one knee and asks you the ultimate question. (And yes, he absolutely daydreams about that moment more often than he’d admit)

📄 𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

My brain was a little all over the place when I came this this letter, so let’s break it down

One of Jayce’s common flaws— something that’s pretty evident early in the first season— is his naïveté. He has moments where he lets other people’s influence guide his decision, like the councils agenda or Mel’s early manipulation

This habit could be deep into your relationship, too. He might unintentionally hurt you by prioritising the wrong thing or listening to other people’s opinion over yours, even when he means well. He’s not malicious, but it can still sting

Another habit of his (that’s tied to how much responsibility he carries) is his tendency to overwork himself. He takes on more than he can handle— working late in the lab, balancing council duties, or trying to fix every problem by himself

Because of this, he might struggle to make time for you. It’s not intentional, but you could feel neglected at times. And if he doesn’t pace himself, it could lead to burnout or moments where he’s short-tempered from stress— and you’d end up being on the receiving end

None of this means he doesn’t care about you, though. If anything, Jayce’s flaws come from how much he cares about everyone else. It’s just that sometimes, in trying to take care of the world, he forgets to care for himself. And you

📄 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

After being appointed to the Council, Jayce definitely started putting more effort into his appearance. As the voice of progress and the co-founder of Hextech, all eyes are on him, so looking presentable is part of the job (not that it take much effort with Jayce)

The white jacket with the gold accents on the maroon shoulder pads show that he’s polished and takes pride in his status. The Talis family crest on his outfit is a reminder that he hasn’t forgotten his roots (plus the hammer doubling as the letter T is a chef’s kiss design choice)

Later in Season 2, we see him clean up after being stuck in the chaos of the Arcane. He ditches his council robe for a sharp black dress shirt with a white jacket (though I prefer it without the jacket, and definitely not because we get a better view of his biceps)

Honestly, I’m still vexed that we only got to see him in that outfit for a few scenes. It was easily his coldest look, and I think dark colours suit him more— it might be the scruff and the longer hair that really ties it all together

📄 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Whenever I think of Jayce, I’ve always seen him as independent. From his early Academy days, he was immersed in his research, working in the lab to chase his vision for Hextech. Even before that, it was just him and his mother growing up— he learned earlier on to rely on himself to push through life’s challenges.

But even Jayce knows the importance of connections. After all, it was the Kirammans patronage that gave him the foundation he needed to bring his dream to life. He’s never truly been alone, even if he feels like the world was on his shoulders

With that in mind, it’s hard to imagine Jayce feeling entirely ‘incomplete’ without you. He has his work, his allies, and his sense of purpose to keep him moving forward. But that’s not to say you haven’t profoundly changed his life for the better. Being your partner has opened new doors for him, feelings he didn’t fully understand before— love, partnership, and the comfort of knowing someone sees him for who he truly is.

You’ve given him something deeper than any political alliance or patronage could— a sense of belonging and a safe space.

If, God forbid, the two of you were to ever separate, he'll keep going because that’s who he is. But there’d be a deep-rooted sadness, a yearning in the quiet moments where he’d normally share his thoughts and vulnerabilities with you. He’d still have work, the Kirammans, and the weight of Piltover's progress— but none of it will fill the space you left behind

📄 𝐗𝐭𝐫𝐚.𝐝𝐨𝐜

This headcanon has nothing to do with your relationship, but rather, Jayce’s signature scent. As a Councilman, an inventor, and former Academy scholar, his fragrance reflects his polished, ambitious image— but without overshadowing the warm, approachable demeanor that makes him so charming

You can always tell when he’s in the room— his cologne lingers just enough to leave a lasting impression, but it’s never overpowering

Here’s what I think his scent would be like:

Base note— I imagine sandalwood or cedarwood, which gives the fragrance a rich, slightly smoky essence that feels masculine

Heart note— maybe amber or vanilla. Adding a touch of sweetness that mirrors his good-natured personality

Top note— cardamon for a bright, sophisticated opening that reflects his confidence and intellect

A luxurious scent that speaks to his taste— polished, yet warm and undeniably Jayce

📄 𝐘𝐮𝐜𝐤.𝐝𝐨𝐜

For someone who genuinely does have a good heart— someone driven by passion and ideals— it’s not surprising that Jayce has a few deal breakers in a partner. Whiles he’s not one to judge so hastily, certain behaviours and mindsets could clash with his values and make the relationship unsustainable

Jayce is a man with vision. He dreams to unite magic and technology has defined his life, and we’ve seen how deeply he pours into his work. Do you know how hard it is to build new technology, as well as harnessing magic? Back in his Academy days, when everyone doubted him (including his mother) he hit his lowest point. He knows how it feels to have your efforts dismissed, so he thrives on encouragement (we’ve seen it from Caitlyn).

A partner who undermines his ambition or brushes off his ideas would cut deep. He could handle skepticism from strangers, but the love of his life— that would wound him

He’s also a man who strives for progress— not just for himself, but for the world. His vision for innovation isn’t just for selfish reasons— he wants to help improve lives. So, if his partner was indifferent to larger issues or uninterested in changing the world, that disconnection could create a rift between the two of you. Jayce is someone who wants to share his dreams, not feel like he’s dragging someone along

Jayce is vulnerable when it comes to his personal life. He thrives off of constructive criticism when it’s beneficial. But constants belittling from his partner who only points out his flaws while ignoring his effort, would chip away at his confidence. He already struggles with his self-doubt at time, but harsh words from you would only amplify the dark voice of his doubts

And going back to his emotional nature. I’ve mentioned earlier that Jayce isn’t the type to call quits immediately, even when the red flag starts to appear. He would try to make it work, holding onto hope and trying to see the best in you. But if the relationship is starting to drain his energy rather than uplifting him, even his optimistic heart would have to let go

📄 𝐙𝐳𝐳.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Have you ever seen a koala hugging a tree? Now, imagine Jayce as the koala and you as the tree. Are you getting the vision?

When you sleep together, he’s quick to have his arms clutching around you. His face is either buried in the crook of your neck or resting on your chest— all while being the small spoon (how greedy)

However, Jayce tends to forget that his body runs hot naturally, especially when he’s already half-asleep. So you’ll often wake up feeling like you’re trapped in a furnace of his body heat

On warmer nights, he would sleep shirtless, of course. He also loves the skin-to-skin contact when he’s cuddling you. It’s his favourite way to fall asleep

It’s hard to predict when the nsfw version will be posted. But if already liked the wholesome HC and want early access to the explicit stuff (I know you do 👁️👁️), I will be posting it on ao3 first. They will be posted here

[dearestval]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 — ayato

notes: no specific gender but implied female reader (you get called lovely like once), reader has a dad who’s a high ranking official in inazuma, this is literally my first time writing in like a year i hope you enjoy it don’t mind my rusty skills i’ll get better i promise (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

The head maid found it unusually quiet in the halls of Tenshukaku. Normally she would hear the footsteps of the other maids walking about as they carried out their chores.

But as she walked past the west hallway, her questions were answered. At the end of the hall, all of the maids were crowded around the large doors that were open just a crack. The head maid knew there was a meeting between the Tri-Commision and other esteemed officials– but it’s not like these meetings were something the average person would find inherently interesting.

She walked towards the end of the hallway to reprimand the others for being off-duty, but before she could say anything, loud shouting came pouring from the meeting room, echoing in the halls.

“–so aggravating! You are a sorry excuse for a living being that not even nature wants to take credit for your very existence!”

You take a gasp of air after your long berating remarks. The room is silent, and every pair of eyes are looking in your direction. Not that you would know of course, your gaze only rests upon the blue-haired person sitting across from the table.

“Well,” Ayato rolls his eyes at you, not even bothering to meet your gaze, “it’s no wonder as to why your father cannot find you a suitable marriage candidate. Who else could stand to be around such a boisterous–”

“I swear, Ayato–”

“That’s Lord Kamisato for you. Or have you forgotten your manners again?” Ayato’s eyes shift towards you, an indifferent expression worn on his face.

“Manners don’t apply when I’m talking to a–” your colorful insults were interrupted by a loud slam on the table. Your eyes follow the source of the sound, only to meet Kujou Sara’s strong gaze. You feel yourself growing smaller in your seat, any feistiness you had quickly dwindled as you remember the environment you’re currently in.

“Alright, that’s enough. Both of you. Might I remind you two that you are in the presence of the Electro Archon herself?” Sara says, clearly fed up with the bickering. Though she didn’t yell at the two of you, the firm tone of her voice still carried weight to it. You sheepishly look around the room. On one end of the table, other government officials awkwardly avert their gaze from you. Seated at the other end you see an amused looking Guuji Yae, next to her the Raiden Shogun, her own expression aloof.

“Aww, what a shame– this was entertaining to watch,” Guuji Yae chuckles, before turning to the Raiden Shogun, “do let them continue, Ei. I’m having too much fun.”

The Raiden Shogun stands, her gaze unwavering as she looks between both you and Ayato. She looks towards him first.

“Lord Kamisato, please keep your provocations at a minimum. All of us are on the same side, doing our best for Inazuma. There is no need to chastise others.” She turns to you next, “And may I remind you that you are here simply to stand in for your father’s absence. Please do not do anything that would discredit his honor.”

Both you and Ayato murmur out small apologies before the meeting proceeds. You’re a bit embarrassed for your outburst in front of others, including Electro Archon herself. But you couldn’t help it. Ayato always found a way to get under your skin no matter the situation– whether it was at a festival or a fancy dinner party with other distinguished families, he never failed to seek you out and rile you up.

You tried your best to focus on the rest of the meeting, taking thorough notes to present to your father later. However, as the meeting went on, you felt as if there were a pair of eyes on you. Maybe you were being paranoid, but you couldn’t shake the thought that Ayato was staring at you. Yet every time you glanced in his direction, his eyes were always elsewhere.

Naturally, your thoughts kept drifting towards him and you found yourself having to refocus many times and pay attention to others. Even when you weren’t bickering with him, Ayato found a way to disturb you in silence– how typical of him.

You couldn’t thank the heavens more when the meeting finally concluded. Eager to get out of here, you quickly pack your things before thanking Raiden Shogun for her grace towards you today. Your footsteps felt almost lighter as you made your way out of the main building, but just like that, they felt weighed down as the voice you most dreaded to hear calls out your name.

Ayato appears by your side, paired with his smirk that you wanted to desperately wipe off his face.  “Someone sure got worked up today.”

“Do you ever take a day off?” you mumble, walking past him and down the stairs.

“And where do you think you’re going?” he asks, catching up to you to walk alongside you. You don’t know why he keeps trying to bother you, and frankly you’re not sure if you have enough patience to keep your composure, even out in public like this. You barely had enough to do so inside, and you were in the presence of the Electro Archon herself.

“Home, where else?” you respond, walking just a bit faster. But Ayato is relentless and matches his pace with yours. If anything, he’s having an easier time keeping up this pace than you are– a realization that only further infuriates you.

“Alone?” he lets out a small scoff, “Does your father not have guards escort you back?”

“It’s not a far walk back.” Yes, it was unusual for someone from a family as distinguished as yours to be walking alone without any form of protection, but truly your family’s estate was not that far. If anything, most of the journey home would be taken up by walking down all of the stairs in the courtyard just outside Tenshukaku.

“I’ll escort you back. And don’t even think about refusing.”

You sigh, slowing down to walk at a pace that’s far less exhausting. He was right, even if you did refuse him, your words couldn’t stop him from doing as he pleased.

“Whatever,” you murmur, giving up on the idea of a peaceful walk home.

“Besides, I’d be remiss if I allowed someone as lovely as yourself to be unaccompanied on their journey home.”

His words make you freeze. Ayato has commented many things about you, but lovely was never one of them. And for whatever reason, it causes your brain to go blank. You can’t help the way your stomach seems to be doing backflips at this simple compliment– and try as you might, you’re unable to hide it on your face.

Ayato sees your expression, a smug grin plastered on his face.

“Cute,” he chuckles, becoming more amused when he sees the way you grow more flustered.

Like you had mentioned earlier, the walk back to your family’s estate took no time at all. For whatever reason, a small part of you felt disappointed at how brief this walk was. You’re not sure why you would want to spend anymore time with Ayato, but you couldn’t deny it either. But here you are.

He stood before you, just in front of the main gates, smiling down at you. Though this time, it wasn’t the usual smirk that would always annoy you. No, this time it looks almost softer, something you’ve surely never seen from him before. The more you looked at Ayato, the less he looked like the arrogant bastard you were so accustomed to. Maybe it was a lighting trick, but in your eyes, Ayato appeared to be charming, handsome even. You could feel your heart beat faster, your mind in a frenzy as more and more thoughts about Ayato swirl in your head. And though you do your best to put on a poker face, to act cool and casual, you swear you could see it in his eyes that he can read right through you.

But he makes no comment about it. Instead he leans down slightly, bringing his face closer to yours.

“I hope you can take your father’s place again at our next meeting,” his voice is soft this time, and only full of sincerity. 

You can only nod in response, your words escaping you. As Ayato leaves, you can’t help but watch his figure up until it leaves your line of sight. And when you’re left alone, you press your hand to your cheeks. They’re incredibly warm. Perhaps you’re coming down with something, though deep in your heart you know it’s not that. But for now, you choose to push those thoughts aside.

As you make your way into the estate, you aim to find your father, wanting to propose a certain someone’s idea about the next meeting.

[arbitrarykiwi]

It's Just Business, Baby: Workplace Conflict 1/4

The Recruiter/The salesman x Recruiter!fem reader Smut series

Summary: he saw no reason why they would want to hire you. He did just fine at the job! The higher-ups were stupid for even bringing you onboard, you had to be a liability. You were a walking enigma, a witch! He hated every little thing you did. So when he tells himself he’s following you so he could always be a step ahead of you, he doesn’t understand why after each meeting he’s left wanting to see you more.

Warnings: eventual smut (18+), stalking, the recruiter’s a warning in himself, kidnapping (reader is insane and kidnaps some people for fun who did her wrong), blood mention, violence, slapping ((list will change based on chapter))

Other Chapters: Overtime 2/4 , After Hours 3/4 , Professional Provocation 4/4

(Additional chapters will be linked when they release)

He’d like to think of himself as a level headed guy (he’s not) who can take orders from his boss well and can adapt in the workplace without issue (he can’t).

But when the big guy in charge hired you to join him in this odd recruiting job- he fucking hated it. He hated you.

He was the only one recruiting those low lives into the games and he did a fantastic job, there’s never been an issue! So why did they have to hire you?! Surely you were a threat to the organization. You hardly looked like you could hurt a fly let alone do the things that the job requires.

You were much smaller than him, always wearing a suit similar to his- though he noticed pretty soon upon meeting you that your jacked you wore was much more cinched than his, accentuating your waist. And that made him dislike you even more- is that why they hired you? They figured sex appeal would bring more to the games?!

And then you always had this sick and twisted smile on your face. It’s sickly sweet, like you can tell the future and plan ahead knowing what he’d say before he said it. You were always one step ahead of him. The worst part? You didn’t even seem to notice, or if you did you didn’t care. You paid him little to no attention. Only speaking to him to belittle him or to say some snarky remark in response to him belittling you.

Your eyes always seemed to be narrowed, like you were trying to solve everyone like a puzzle that was presented to you. You seemed to be observant, more so than the average person. He’s tried multiple times to sneak up on you, to try and stalk you from the shadows- yet you always spot him. He’s convinced you’ve adapted some ability of echolocation or something, there was no way you should be able to notice him half the time you do.

You were too complex, too aware of your surroundings, too quick on your feet. He was in competition. And he did not like competition.

Although you knew he greatly disliked you, you really had no idea of this inner battle he had. You didn’t think you were in a race or a competition at all, it didn’t matter to you. What did matter to you were his reactions. That’s the whole reason you continued to mess with him.

The first year you worked with him and the people behind the annual games, you were a complete enigma. He literally couldn’t figure you out. He was good at tracking people and digging up information, but you? Nothing. He was sure you’d be dumb enough to let your name slip in passing or even get a glimpse into your personal life. But nothing.

He tried to follow you home once, sticking to the shadows and moving silently. He knew you didn’t see him, he was sure of it. He managed to follow you from behind for nearly 45 minutes. He figured that’s why you were able to be so secretive- you lived so far away from where you two were normally stationed.

But as you begin to make random twists and turns, he begins to feel like you’re playing him- but you can’t be, he’s sure you never saw him. But when you rounded a corner and head into an alley way, him following after you only a few feet behind, he rounds the corner- and you’re gone. It was then he gets it, you probably didn’t live anywhere near where he followed you out to, you were simply just trailing him along in a god awful game of cat and mouse.

He screams, he’s agitated. He throws his briefcase against the metal trash can, kicking the bags of trash erratically in the alley way. He’s so enraged he doesn’t even realize you’re peeking out of a window of the building you snuck into. Giggling silently to yourself as you watch him throw a temper tantrum.

The next two years you worked for the games- it was the same fucking thing. He knew nothing. The only extra bit of information he had as the years passed was that you were bringing in more recruits to the game than he was.

He never had to worry about a ‘quota’ or worry about how many people join the game because of him; because they all joined when he offered them the brown card and promised them a chance for more money. All 456 players were recruited by him.

Now? With you in the picture? He had to compete. He had to work harder- something he hated having to do- to make sure he got more people to call and secure their spots in the game than you did.

But somehow. Some-fucking-how in the three years you’ve worked for the games- you’ve gotten more people to call in.

The first year, he had 227 people enter and you had 229. He called it beginners luck, only two more people- nothing he wanted to bother himself over. He already had to put all his attention on hating you- he couldn’t focus on losing to you by such a small difference.

The second year? He had 205, you had 251. Yeah, he was getting pissed. There was no way you were better than him. Who would even trust a girl like you to offer them a chance of a life time? Maybe it was because they thought you were a hooker. It was a surprise they called the number and when a sex-hotline didn’t pick up they didn’t just hang the phone up.

You did not care about numbers- you never kept track. You only found out that a log is kept detailing which recruiter got how many players to join when he made a snide comment the past year about how you ‘somehow’ got more players to join the game than he did. Sure, you knew you were quick- working down the list of names given to you by the anonymous higher-ups in rapid succession, but that’s just how you worked.

When you found out about his little competition, the one he seemingly made up by himself, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. It was somewhat endearing to seem him so worked up over some internal issue he had with being second best. He would put more effort into his recruitments- working over time to try and get to more people than you.

So of course you do work a bit faster than normal for the next time you’re given a list of names of the people you two were to scout out.

The third year, he came to the full realization that he hated you completely. With his entire being he loathed you. Your effort to annoy him paid off, you had gotten a whopping 306 people to join. To say he was enraged was an understatement- he could swear he would kill you only…. if it wouldn’t put his job on the line.

And to top it all off, he sill knew nothing about you aside from the fact you irked him to his very core. He wanted to find your weakness, use them against you. As much as he tried to find one, to hunt you down when you left work in hopes of catching you doing something he could use against you.

But he didn’t, you were more closed off than he was. And he despised you for it. He was supposed to know everything. And now that the head people decided to add another recruiter, that he adamantly swore they didn’t even need, he knew significantly less than he wanted, no, needed to.

You were a walking enigma. You seemed to just vanish into thin air as soon as your shift is over, you didn’t look like you could hold your own but he figured you had to be able to if you were hired, and you always had that dumb fucking smirk on your face.

He remembered when the first time when he actually saw you working. He was carrying a bag full of bread, making his way to a little side quest he decided to give himself. He figured maybe the break from constantly working to have the one up on you, he’d do something he enjoyed doing. And if that just so happened to be offering bread or lottery tickets to homeless people in some crude choice game, then that’s what he’d do. Anything to get his mind off you.

But no, you just had to be a pesky little parasite and show up everywhere he went.

Admittedly, you didn’t know he’d be passing through the park you’d be in- you were directed to go here by your boss to begin the recruitment process so the park is where you dutifully found yourself. You genuinely didn’t try to run into him- hell you enjoy keeping far from him, you couldn’t stand his attitude.

But when he steps through the gates of the park, leisurely strolling excited to begin his daily itinerary, he hears someone gasp and begin to shout. That’s not the normal sounds you’d hear in this park, he thinks. He stops in his track tilting his head as he listens harder.

It’s a almost rhythmic beat of a few sounds, a couple ‘thwaps’- like something light and sturdy hitting the cobblestone trail of the park , then the same shouting as before, and finally a resounding ‘smack’, all before the rhythm repeats.

There’s no fucking way, he thinks. His normal seething anger that he’s had since you joined the job returning full throttle. He knew the sounds he was hearing could be none other than you playing ddakji with some down on their luck civilian. His head is whipping around the park. He needs to find you.

He tells himself that he needs to see you work so he knows you’re not making a fool out of the games and their integrity. He needs to know you’re actually doing what you’re supposed to be doing- you’re a new employee, of course he needs to shadow you and scrutinize every movement you make, it’s what a good senior employee would do.

He’s following the sounds with a fury, quickly coming upon you and the lowlife gambling with you down a hill at the edge of the park. He calmly walks behind a tree, shielding himself from view. His eyes are trained on you like a hawk about to kill its prey.

He wants to say you’re weak, that you’re an excuse of a recruiter but when he sees the civilian lose, failing to flip your paper square, you don’t hold back. The corner or your lip curls up ever so slightly, the movement unnoticeable to anyone else but him. It was simply because he was so observant to the world around him as a whole.

Not because he would spend every moment he got to stare at you, memorizing every feature of your face and how it naturally rests.

Then your arm winds back, your palm connecting in an open handed slap that echos throughout the part. It was hard enough to knock the baseball cap off of the poor mans head, his face forced sideways with the intensity of the slap.

And then you settle back into a resting position. Almost like you never slapped the man at all. You just stood there, the same grin on your face that he despises and nod towards the man. “Would you like to play again.” To be honest, this was the most he has heard you speak, the job didn’t require you two to interact much- in fact there was rules in place to make sure you and him didn’t get close.

He was strangely fascinated by your voice. It was light, had a specific cadence to particular syllables that made your voice a temptation in itself. No wonder the man you were playing with was quick to agree to go again- like the man was under some sort of trance. And that pissed him off more.

He watched on from behind the tree, eyes narrowing visualizing the idea of you struggling under his grasp, hands holding your throat. He quickly shook his head from the idea- finding that it made heat rush to his cock.

He turns quickly on his heels, not wanting to look at you further. He was mad that you made him feel this way. It made him hate you more. You were a twisted little witch who was casting spells to make his dick hard- at least that’s what he told himself.

He also remembers a time when you had gotten off a train at his stop, catching him right as he handed the signature brown paper card to another unsuspecting victim. You’re walking tall, your eyes rimmed by smokey eyeshadow, and when you notice him- your brow quirked up.

He keeps his composure, the same smile he always has when interacting with ‘clients’ on his face though you can see the corner of his lip twitching, like he’s fighting himself not to scowl.

You hold up one of your hands in a move of mock defense, “No need for theatrics, just passing by to go to my station.” You hum with a grin that makes him want to choke you. Again, it’s the most he’s heard out of you in three years. You and your witch tactics. And then suddenly, all he can think about is fucking you until the cocky lilt to your voice is replaced by broken sobs.

To suppress these thoughts, he just becomes enraged. You can see the way his eye twitches, the way his smile that’s always plastered on his face falters into a scowl. And before he can even speak, you’re walking past him and down the subway-practically disappearing into the crowd.

The whole interaction pisses him off more when he manages to get a hold of your work itinerary, finding that your station for that day was no where near the stop you got off at. In fact, it was on the total opposite side of town. You genuinely just wanted to piss him off.

And it was working.

Every day he woke up his thoughts were plauged by his hatred of you. The way you smiled, the way you’d tilt your head when someone would talk to you- he knew you only did it to make people think like you cared to listen to their troubles. He knew you didn’t, you didn’t care at all- you just wanted to slip that card into their hands and have them call. Securing you another point in the imaginary game he was playing against you.

What made it even worse- the job you both had didn’t ride on how many people you called in. The people above you two simply kept track to make sure you were doing a decent enough job to stay working for them, there was no prize for getting more people and there was no punishment.

Yet he felt like he was being punished. Every day he would have to pass by you somehow. It was like the higher ups wanted to fuck with him. He would see you walking through the park on your way to the next subway station, catching you just as you board a subway car, you pass by him even when he wasn’t working somehow.

One day when you were both at an abandoned warehouse waiting for the days orders, he figured he’d finally say something. “I find you annoying.” He’d grumble out, fingers tapping against the handle of his brief case. “I’m aware.” You responded, it was such a simple answer yet the corner of your lip curled up ever so slightly.

In a second he’s dropping his briefcase and lunging forward. His hand is on your neck, squeezing relentlessly as he shoves you back against the concrete wall. Your hands instinctively reach up to grasp at his wrist, he’s surprised that your grip hurts him. Maybe you weren’t as weak as he first thought.

He expects you to be scared, to be begging for your life-but you’re not. Despite your face begging to turn red and your lips beginning to turn a light hue of blue- you just look at him with that same shit-eating smirk you always wore. “I could kill you right fucking now.” He growls, shoving you harder into the wall for emphasis.

You laugh, the sound only fueling his anger, his fingers tightening. “You won’t.” You answer, your eyebrow raised mockingly, “You kill me. They kill you.” You choke out, your grin still wide as ever even as the breath is beginning to be squeezed out of you. “‘N you’re too much of a good lap dog to go against the wishes of your owner.”

You spit the words out with a weak and breathless laugh. He’s seething, his jaw clenching as he grinds his teeth. But you’re right- he kills you, he’s dead. One of the first things he was told when you were hired was under no circumstances was he to harm his co-worker, or as they labeled it ‘partner’.

However, he would rather shove the barrel of a gun into the back of his mouth before he referred to you as his partner. He is also a model employee so just when you think you’re about to pass out, he releases his grip from your throat.

You gasp for air a couple times before you settle again, simply looking back over to him with your normal wicked grin. Your neck is already beginning to turn red, and in places purple- the outline of his fingers now bruised into your skin.

He would never admit it but the image does things to him that he can’t describe. “A little over kill don’t you think?” You ask in a monotone voice. And the feeling is gone, you ruined it. That fucking smart mouth of yours.

“Far from it.” He growls out, leaning down to grab his briefcase from the dusty floor. And then both your watches are buzzing. You check them in an eerily similar manner, looking down to check the orders received at the exact same time.

And you’re both departing, going to the assigned location that was sent to you. Your steps echo on the gravel of the abandoned warehouse his eyes twitching as he can tell your skipping. You never cease to add to his deep loathing of you.

Yet he can’t stop trying to investigate you. Somehow he managed to intercept your itinerary. It was a tedious task that he’s sure he could never do again unless he wanted to risk getting fired (executed). One of the big rules that was put in place when you were hired was the two of you were to never share schedules or orders you were given.

But he managed to snatch a paper that looked to be your schedule for the day. He kept it tucked into his suit pocket until he was finished with business for the day. His eyes dart to the time block of the time it was. Between the normal locations for recruiting, you had a large ‘meeting’ blocked out.

He quirks his eyebrow up, this wasn’t normal. He looks closer at the paper and scoffs, you must be getting sloppy. You’re not hiding from his as well. He can make out the indentations of writing that was on written on a piece of paper that previously laid atop the paper he stole.

In the shadow of your handwriting- even your handwriting was perfect, fuck he hated you- was a the time it was now and an address. He knew the place, an apartment building that was currently being constructed.

He’s making his way down there quickly, hoping he would be able to catch you doing whatever you were doing. And when he makes it to the address and begins to hear humming he’s ducking into the construction site, beginning to weave between concrete following the sound.

He comes to a large opening, it’s lit by candles and lanterns, there’s a round table with three chairs set up. In one chair was you, the other two were occupied by two men, tied up and gagged. You’re giggling to yourself, waving a revolver around as you speak.

“You two really are something, cryin’ and acting all scared.” You hiss, leaning over the table and pressing the gun to one of the males head, only laughing louder when the male flinches and cries harder. “I haven’t even done anything to you two! If anything I should be the one crying!” You say pointing to yourself with the gun. “You two were the ones who spiked my drink the other week. You guys were much more fun then- talked back more, acted all big and bad, made me think I might have a challenge.” You pout, quickly sitting up from the chair and beginning to circle the table.

Now your black haired co-worker that hates you but can’t stay away from you is watching on from the shadows. He’s captivated by what he sees, you were fucking insane it seemed- much like him. You had a crazed look in your eyes, a drastic difference from the usual stoic smirk you wore.

“You guys ever play Russian roulette?” You chirp out, circling the table and dragging the end of the revolver on the wood. He watches from behind a pillar as you load a bullet into the chamber.

He tells himself he has to leave, not because he can’t watch- no he wants nothing more than to watch, but all he can think about is how delicious you looked in your crazed murderous frenzy. The twisted smile, the oddly innocent voice despite having two grown men bound and gagged, the evil game he could hear going on in the room- it all made him want you.

And he can’t have that. He’s supposed to hate you. He closes his eyes and runs both his hands through his hair, trying to collect himself. He guesses he spaced out because two loud gun shots sound off. His eyes are snapping open. He’s moving to turn around but he’s caught off guard by you walking past him.

“You missed the best part.” You hum out as you continue to walk, briefcase in one hand and the other straightening out your blazer. “Thought you may have joined, what a shame.” You say, turning around and looking at him over your shoulder.

His eyes widen ever so slightly as you turn and begin to walk off- you knew he would follow you, you knew he’d find the indentations of your writing and you allowed him to get a hold of your schedule.

You were always one step ahead of you and he needed to change that. He needed to be the one in charge. Not you.

Heyyyy pookies !! Ty for reading 🫶 I took a break from requests to finish this up because I’m literally vibrating thinking about this man. This is going to be a 4 part series that will eventually have full length smut at the last chapter.

These chapters will come slowly between requests. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you’d want to be added to the tag list for future parts of the fic- all love <3 kiwi

[angelinthefire]

Ekko, Viktor, and dialectics

Ekko is a really fascinating character because he has comparatively so little screen time, but is so important to the story of Arcane.

I started to get into my thoughts on him in this post, and I wanted to expand on those ideas some more. And to especially focus on the question of why Ekko is the one who's able to stop Viktor (and give Jayce the opportunity to do his thing), and the significance of Viktor's line, "that device can't be."

To start, let's talk about what Ekko represents.

(As before, I'm going to recommend watching these two videos about Ekko, they're really good)

Ekko occupies a unique place in the narrative. In a story about duality, he exists at the point where dualities meet.

For example with time. Arcane is full of characters who are either very focused on the future, or very focused on the past. You have Vander who can't get over the failed rebellion, and Silco who invests everything in his vision for Zaun. You have Jayce and Viktor who are all about progress, and Vi and Jinx who struggle to escape their past. etc.

Ekko is the one character who fully embraces the present. He honours the past (as we see with the mural), but as he tells Vi, brooding on the past will just make you go crazy. Nor does he have great dreams for the future, his focus is giving people a good life now. He doesn't think that far ahead because he sees the potential in the present moment.

I would also argue that Ekko exists at the intersection of order and chaos, which is probably the greatest duality that exists in Arcane. Partially by virtue of being in the present: Entropy states that systems move from order to chaos over time -- in the past there's order, in the future there's chaos, the present is where they meet. But also because of what he's actually doing in the story.

One of the manifestations of Order vs. Chaos in Arcane is the conflict between Piltover and Zaun (obviously Piltover representing order, Zaun representing chaos). There's an interview with Silco's voice actor where he says something along the lines that he didn't really give up his dream of Zaun for Jinx, because to him, Jinx embodies all chaos that he sees as Zaun's strength, that makes Zaun what it is. Ekko and the Firelights are definitely Zaunite, but they reject Silco's chaotic vision of Zaun; and they reject the oppressive order of Piltover as well. They aren't entirely removed from the situation though, they live on the edges.

I'd also argue that Ekko represents life. In his fight with Jinx, the show really plays up the animal imagery that's associated with them, with Jinx's crow as a harbinger of death, and Ekko's firelight bug, that brings light. Of course there's his whole thing of "It's not enough to give people what they need to survive, you need to give them what they need to live." And then there's the tree. Ekko's commune is probably the most organic-looking location in the show. (I think Caitlyn is the only other one we see in natural surroundings - there's the shooting grounds in her flashback [which takes place in fall when evereything's dying] and then there's the very manicured garden that she goes to. Both of which contrast with Ekko's tree).

And then of course there's Ekko's season 2 story arc. He gets what he thought he wanted with Silco dying, but then the chem barons fighting to take his place makes things worse (which Ekko seems to have never thought ahead to the future enough to consider). He's losing hope, and the tree starts to die. His trip to the alternate universe shows him what kind of potential exists in the things he gave up on (in Zaun, and in Jinx), so that he can go back and fight, not just for his isolated anarchist commune, but for his whole city. He learns that "It's never too late to build something new" - the potential exists now to do that.

That's also when he gets his special power, the Z-drive, that lets him fully make use of the present moment.

Now that that's established, let's talk about dialectics.

Stick with me, I promise this is relevant.

So dialectics is basically the philosophy of change.

It started with the Greeks. Think Heraclitus, "the only constant is change", “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man” etc. Everything is flowing, interconnected, transforming into each other. But dialectics as a form of thought was formalized in Socratic argument. "Dialectic" comes from "dialogue". You have a thesis, and an antithesis, and they come together to produce a synthesis. Two opposites coming together to form something new.

Fast forward to the late 1700s/early 1800s, and we get Hegel. Who's into dialectics, but sees the Socratic form of it as a "lifeless schema" - it's too formulaic. For Hegel, dialectics is a way of explaining an ongoing process of change through contradiction. All motion is created by contradiction, and motion is inherent in all things.

So for example, there's the unity and interpentration of opposites. Two things that mutually oppose and condition each other. Like two poles of a magnet, prey and predator species that evolve in response to each other, or the working class and capitalist class. They are opposing forces, but neither would exist as such without the other. This also often involves things turning into their opposite, like the polarity of the earth reversing every so often, or someone's greatest strength also being their greatest weakness.

There's the process of the negation of the negation - that is, progress takes place, but not in a straight line. It's more like a spiral, that moves upward while also circling back on itself. Things repeat, but never the same way. Cycles of life and death are a classic example of this, one generation has to die for a new one to take it's place, but the new generation is not a repetition of the one that came before, it has new mutations, or takes on new lessons, or there's more individuals.

And there's the process of quantitative changes building into qualitative changes. This is the idea that change happens slowly, and then all at once (often caused by a shock to the system). Like supercooled water that freezes when it's shocked. Or tension building up in continental plates until there's an earthquake. Or mutations building up in a species until it becomes a new one. Or evolution more generally takes place through punctuated equilibrium, stages of stability, large extinctions, and rapid diversification.

Now, Hegel would not have used any of the examples that I just used, because he was a philosophical idealist - that is, he thought ideas were the driving force of history, not material forces. He also thought that he had developed the Absolute Idea, which capped off the long historic process of development. And that the German state was the realization of the Absolute Idea.

Karl Marx was the one who took Hegel and said, the stuff about change through contradiction is very useful, but the Absolute Idea stuff is ridiculous, let's apply the logic of dialectics to the real world. And then he wrote Capital.

And that's dialectics! Change happens through contradiction, contradiction and change are inherent to life. Contradiction is inherent to life, which means the potential for change is inherent to life. (seriously though, it's really useful analytical tool, if you want to learn more about dialectics, start here)

Back to Arcane!

So, I'm sure you can see how dialectics is incredibly relevant to the themes of duality in Arcane. Like how Zaun and Piltover mutually oppose and condition each other. How there's so much repetition, but each instance has a new layer of meaning. How characters develop along a path and then there's a shock that accelerates things, and how a lot of them became their opposites in season 2.

And this brings us to Viktor.

There's a few characters who make very explicit statements on the theme of the show. Viktor is the one who monologues the most extensively about it though.

His little speech about evolution having an end point is interesting, because it shows even before the attack on the commune, he didn't really get it. The "glorious evolution" is very "Absolute Idea" of him, imagining history has an end point.

But of course the more important part is his monologue at the end of the episode.

To quote directly: "I understand now. The message hidden within the pattern. The reason for our failures in the commune. The doctor was right. It's inescapable. Humanity. Our very essence. Our emotions. Rage, compassion, hate, two sides of the same coin, inextricably bound. That which inspires us to our greatest good, is also the cause of our greatest evil."

Very dialectical, right? He's talking about the unity of opposites. But what's interesting is where he goes from there.

Viktor sees that contradiction, and thinks the solution is to resolve the contradiction, to end it, to solve it like a puzzle.

But what's essential about the unity of opposites is that they don't resolve. They don't cancel each other out, they don't form some lukewarm whole, they co-exist as opposites. A magnet isn't a homogenous mix of positive and negative charges, it has two poles, that's what makes a magnet what it is. The contradictions of a thing are what give it it's characteristics, what give it its movement, and its life. Life itself is a contradiction, an ongoing process of decay and rebirth.

Viktor talks about "The sublime intersection of order and chaos," but he doesn't get what's important about it, that the contradiction is the source of life.

But that's something Ekko does understand.

Ekko's experience is not entirely dissimilar from Viktor's. They both saw the problems in society, and for both of them their response was to try to build these idylic little communes. But they couldn't wall themselves off from broader society, the conflicts of the world made their way in.

But while Viktor concluded that the thing to do was to eliminate contradiction, Ekko learned that the inherent contradiction of life means that there is inherent potential in everything, potential for change, for good alongside bad, and that you can fight to make the potential good into reality.

An end to contradiction means an end to change, which means an end to life. Imperfection is life, perfection is static and dead. This is something that Viktor learns eventually, with future Viktor saying, "I thought I could bring an end to the world's suffering. But when every equation was solved, all that remained were fields of dreamless solitude. There is no prize to perfection, only an end to pursuit."

Ekko represents the true, living intersection of order and chaos, the potential that exists in the contradiction. He represents life. And it's because of that that he's able to stop Viktor.

Viktor is insanely over-powered by the end of the show. It's not sheer power that stops him. It's Ekko using the potential of the moment with his time power who's able to get in a hit against Viktor. And to hit him with the thing that Ekko has mastered, the Z-drive, the physical embodiment of the present, of the meeting of past and future, of potential, of contradiction.

For all of Viktor's efforts, he can't erase contradiction. He thinks he's fixing humanity, but then all of a sudden he's hit with this thing that shouldn't exist. "That device can't be." But it is. It exists because of the potential within humanity, it exists because of Ekko.

[vettelsvee]

COME WHAT MAY | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PROLOGUE: A PHONE CALL AND A NEW BEGINNING [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

come what may masterlist | formula 1 masterlist

Red Bull Sebastian Vettel x Red Bull intern & Webber girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Sebastian breaks up with Hanna and Y/N, his best friend, offers him to go to her hometown to try disconnect from everything. However, things take a turn for the worst when Mark Webber, Seb's teammate and Y/N's boyfriend, calls her and starts thinking she's cheating on him with Vettel.

WORD COUNT: 7337

WARNINGS: Angst, curse words and bad language, such a toxic Mark Webber, mentions of death, cancer and suicide

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @residentdemonhunter @astronomyandfrogs @herdetectivetheorist @prttylight @i-love-sirius-black7 @dreamauri @03071987 [feel free to join the taglist!]

VEE'S NOTES: I absolutely adored writing this, so I hope you like it reading too! If so, feel free to comment me your thoughts, as well as rebloging it since I'd appreciate that a lot! Thank you so much for reading in advance <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Linz, Austria January 15th, 2010

"Sometimes I wonder if, besides whether I deserve everything I've achieved, I'm actually doing good enough to keep it. I mean... do I deserve my position at Red Bull, or are they just keeping me because Seb was the one who got me in, and now I'm also Mark's girlfriend? And about that last part... am I really what my boyfriend deserves, or, like dad says, is it just a passing fling of a few months where I only want to sleep with him as some sort of stress relief? Seb says that, as long as Mark makes me happy, that's what matters, but... does Mark really make me happy? Or is it..."

"I'll open the door, Dad!"

Louisa's voice snapped you back to reality.

Carefully, you put away the journal he had given you for your twenty-first birthday, which had served as your therapy ever since, in the nightstand drawer. Then, you jumped out of bed with an energy you hadn’t felt in a long time and cheerfully walked over to your desk. You carefully moved aside the scattered notes you still hadn’t put away despite the semester ending two weeks ago and made sure everything looked as presentable as possible. Your straightened hair fell over your shoulders, though your bangs needed a little fixing, nothing you couldn’t adjust with your fingers. You also applied some lip balm, more to add a bit of shine than to keep your lips hydrated. Lastly, you adjusted your clothes as best as you could, trying to relax as much as possible and, most importantly, remind yourself that he would be more than happy to see you, no matter how you looked.  

You knew that Sebastian Vettel was just your best friend, but in some way, you always tried to appear as perfect as possible before him to show you were worthy of his friendship.  

You knew that, no matter how much Sebastian had cherished you since you both met in 2008, when you joined Toro Rosso as an intern while he was already a driver, he was better than you in every way.  

The door suddenly opened, pulling you out of your thoughts and revealing your two younger sisters peeking through the gap.  

“Why are you taking so long?” Amelie, 15, inquired. “It’s not like your boyfriend just arrived…”

“Yeah, yeah! Why are you getting all pretty?” The youngest, Louisa, 8, chimed in. “Seb is already downstairs waiting for you. He’s talking to dad and uncle Hans about football, and I’m so bored…”

“Shut up you idiot,” Amelie responded, giving her a light shoulder tap. “Don’t listen to her,” she turned to you. “What they’re actually doing is grilling Sebastian about why he’s here today and, more importantly, why he’s staying with us for a few days.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. As far as you could remember, Seb hadn’t mentioned anything about staying over.  

“What do you mean, staying with us? Seb said that?”

“Uncle Hans thinks he’s just a friend, but dad believes you’re sleeping with him while also sleeping with Mark,” Amelie retorted.  

“How the hell would I be sleeping with Seb?!” you shouted, making your sisters step inside the room and slamming the door shut. “That’s… ridiculous, that’s what it is,” you added, trying your best not to curse.  

“But if dad says it, it must be true, Didi,” Louisa replied, a bit annoyed. “You know dad never lies to us.”

“Listen to me, both of you,” you cut them off. “I need you to behave and promise me something.”

Amelie and Louisa exchanged curious glances before looking back at you.  

“I don’t want you to mention Mark in front of Seb. No jokes, no side comments about how much you dislike him… nothing. Got it?”  

“Why can’t I tell Seb I don’t like Mark if it’s the truth? Do I have to lie to him?” Louisa asked with her characteristic innocence. “I like Seb a lot, and I don’t want to lie to him…”

“Because…”

“If you’re hesitating that much it must be because you really are sleeping with Seb.”

“Amelie, shut it! Lou’s here!” you scolded, glancing at Louisa.  

“What does sleeping with mean? Does it mean you’re dating?” Louisa asked, looking at you one again with a mix of curiosity and doubt.

“Seb doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore, okay?”

Your statement left your younger sisters stunned. Louisa had liked Hanna quite a bit, and she had always been nice to her whenever they met. Amelie, on the other hand, even though she had liked the German woman, started wondering why that same German, who had seemed so in love with his girlfriend, had suddenly broken up with her.  

“Seb isn’t with Hanna anymore?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself and give them a convincing answer, even though you didn’t have one herself.  

“Yeah, Seb isn’t with Hanna anymore,” you replied as calmly as possible. “Don’t ask why because he didn’t give me many details other than, well… that he needed a break.”

“Does Mark know about this not-so-surprise visit?” Amelie asked, crossing her arms.  

Your heart skipped a beat. If there was one thing you hated about your middle sister, it was how nosy she was for a 15-year-old. If she was like this now, you didn’t even want to imagine what she’d be like in a few years.  

“Not everything revolves around Mark, Ame,” you brushed off the question because you didn’t know how to answer that no, your boyfriend had no idea about this visit, which you were more than thrilled about. “Seb is my best friend, and he’s going through a lot. And do you know what good friends do in bad times? They’re there for each other.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say…” Amelie replied, unconvinced.  

Louisa, who was about to say how happy she was that Vettel was there with them and how much she preferred him over Webber as your boyfriend, was interrupted by their father’s deep voice calling from downstairs:  

“Y/N Y/L/N, get down here! Your guest is tired of waiting!”

You quickly checked your reflection one last time, grabbed your phone, and, before opening the door, turned to your sisters with a stern look:  

“You two,” you pointed at them, “no jokes today. Not a word about Mark or anything related to him.”

The youngest nodded enthusiastically, bouncing slightly as she headed for the stairs. Amelie, however, simply shrugged and smirked mischievously.  

“I’ll think about it,” she said before following Lou down the stairs.  

“Amelie!” you hissed under your breath.  

“Fine, fine. I promise…”

Rolling your eyes, you made one final check to ensure you looked perfect before stepping out. Your heart pounded uncontrollably as you descended the stairs. You tried to push aside any thoughts that could make your reunion with Sebastian awkward, or let your nerves get the best of you.

However, everything seemed to go to hell the moment your eyes landed on the German.  

Sebastian was there, chatting animatedly with your aunt, Johanna, who was chopping vegetables. You were taken aback to see him with his sweater sleeves rolled up, still wearing his Red Bull beanie, as he carefully cut something.  

Afraid your friend might catch your staring, you quickly glanced at the dining table, where your father and uncle were still engrossed in the football discussion Lou had mentioned. Your sisters were at the other end of the living room, turning on the Wii console, likely to start a game of Mario Kart and try to get Seb to join them.  

You looked back at the driver the moment you heard him laugh, probably at something your aunt had said. He looked so natural, so comfortable, as if he truly belonged in your family. He hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw him, nearly three months ago, but you suddenly felt a strange sensation in your stomach, similar to the anxiety you got during exams, but for an entirely different reason.  

The more you observed him, the more you noticed how tired he looked. How… sad he seemed. And somehow, in a way you couldn’t quite explain, that made you feel absolutely awful.

Or perhaps you were beginning to admit what you had never acknowledged to yourself in order not to ruin the friendship you had always needed but never truly had.

“Ah, Y/N! Look who I put to work. He’s better than me at cutting onions. You should tell Seb to come visit us more often, so he can help me when your sisters don’t want to.”

Seb turned at the mention of his name. The smile he had missed so much appeared on his face the moment he saw you. Before you could say anything, he closed the small distance between you at an incredible speed and, without a word, embraced you.  

You remained still for a few seconds, surprised and unsure of what to do. The contact completely unsettled you, but as soon as he started stroking your hair, you relaxed and returned the hug, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and pulling him closer.  

“You don’t even have an idea of how much I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your head.  

“I missed you too.” 

And you have no idea how much, you thought, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.  

Why did your entire being seem to change, becoming something so complicated and inexplicable, whenever he was near?  

If only he knew what that farewell at the last Grand Prix of the season had meant to you…  

When you pulled apart, the driver studied your face carefully. There was something about you that felt a bit unfamiliar… different. He couldn’t tell if it was your hair, a little shorter since the last time he saw you; the dark circles under your eyes, more pronounced than they should have been after three weeks of vacation before starting your final university semester; or the evident weight loss.  

“I really wanted to see you again,” he forced himself to say instead of asking what had happened to you to make you look so… different.  

You forced a small smile and lowered your gaze, embarrassed by not knowing what else to say. You had thought of telling him that he looked great, because, in your eyes, he always did, but decided against it, considering the reason he had come to visit.  

“So they put you to work, huh?” you finally said, gesturing toward your aunt, who was watching them while continuing to prepare dinner.  

“Not really. I volunteered,” Seb replied with a smile. Johanna was about to say something, but the young man interrupted her. “It’s the least I could do after you let me stay here for a few days.” 

You swallowed hard. You were more than happy to have your friend stay with your family for a few days, but… why couldn’t you remember anything about that conversation?  

“And let me tell you, he’s an excellent volunteer. If only Mark were more like…” 

“You don’t have to treat him like royalty, Johanna,” you cut off your aunt before she could say more. Seb blushed and started nervously playing with his hands. “He’s just…”

“Yes, I know, your friend,” the woman replied, apologizing to you with a glance. “But, as your friend, he is also our guest, and he deserves the best. Besides, he doesn’t complain about my excellent taste in music, unlike someone I know…” She added, glancing sideways at her husband.  

Seb chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter without breaking eye contact with you.  

“At least it’s better than those weird songs Ricciardo used to play when we were at Toro Rosso. Do you remember when he got obsessed with playing Nessun Dorma before every race?”  

“Oh God, don’t remind me. I love classical music, but I still have nightmares about that.”

You both laughed at the memory of the year you met, when you had become each other’s biggest support. Everything had changed, perhaps too much, in those short two years, but what mattered most was that you still had each other, no matter what.  

At least, for now.

You tried to step a little closer to Sebastian, but the sound of your father dragging his chair and moving toward you made you step back shyly.  

“Well then… what’s the plan, Vettel? Are you staying here for a few days?”

Seb nodded nervously at Bernhard’s question. Even though he knew your father well and had met him countless times, he always felt nervous whenever they shared the same space, especially when they had a conversation.  

“Well… yes. If that’s okay with you, of course,” he quickly added, stepping closer to the older man. “I needed to get away from Switzerland for a bit, and even more from Heppenheim… to clear my head. And, to be honest, there’s no one else I’d rather spend this time with.”

His gaze shifted to you, who were trying to process his words. You kept glancing nervously between Bernhard and Sebastian, afraid one of them might say something inappropriate.  

“Of course, kid,” your father finally answered, giving Seb a pat on the back. “You know you’re more than welcome here. Hell, I should pay you extra for taking such good care of my little girl when you’re away!”

“Dad…”  

“I do it gladly, Bernhard. I’ve already told her, but in case she’s forgotten, let me say it again: I love spending time with Y/N.”

You lowered her gaze, embarrassed by all the attention you were receiving, and especially by the scene unfolding before you. You didn’t need to look up to know that Seb had his eyes on her, just like your father. You also knew that your aunt was probably muttering some comparison between your best friend and your boyfriend, and that your uncle would soon join in.  

Sebastian took a chance and, while continuing to talk with Bernhard who, due to his worsening health, had quickly taken a seat on one of the dining island stools, wrapped an arm around your shoulder.  

To their surprise, no one objected.  

“Uh… Dad?” you spoke up, your voice small and hesitant as you carefully removed Seb’s arm and leaned over the kitchen island.  

“Something wrong?”

“Would you mind if… if Seb and I went for a walk?” You asked timidly. “And would it be okay if we had dinner out?” You added, this time addressing your aunt.  

Johanna set down what she was doing and turned to you. She narrowed her eyes slightly, inspecting the pair of friends. Then, she placed the knife on the cutting board and turned to you with a smile.  

“Why are you asking me? You’re twenty-one, almost twenty-two, sweetheart,” she answered, now turning to Bernhard, who agreed with his sister-in-law. “You don’t need our permission to go out, Y/N.”

You opened her mouth to respond but immediately closed it again. Your cheeks turned a deep shade of red, standing out even more against your now pale skin. You stared straight ahead, absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sweater to avoid saying anything inappropriate again.  

To hide the fact that your insecurity and discomfort had, in some way, worsened since certain events with a certain person.  

“I think Y/N just wanted to check in case you were making extra food for dinner, Johanna,” Seb intervened. You met his gaze, silently thanking him for stepping in. “But if you’re worried about anything,” or Y/N, he thought to himself, “I promise to bring her back at a reasonable hour, safe and happy.”

Johanna raised an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Hans and Bernhard exchanged knowing looks, probably misinterpreting the German’s words, as they suddenly started chuckling.  

“Don’t even think about setting a curfew for my girl, Vettel. You’re a Formula 1 driver, and my daughter is six months away from graduating university. You’re both adults, for God’s sake!” Bernhard laughed, trying to keep a straight face.  

“We just don’t want you getting into trouble,” your uncle added. “I’m a lawyer, but I wouldn’t want you two as clients, especially not for free.”

Sebastian widened his eyes, unsure how to take the comment. You, on the other hand, just tried not to die of embarrassment, silently praying that the German was taking everything in stride.  

“Not to doubt you two, but, you know… trust is a dangerous thing.”

You can say that again, you thought, remembering the man twelve years older than you who, during your entire winter break, had barely reached out more than twice with phone calls that didn’t even last five minutes.

"Well, I think it's best if we start heading out," Seb commented as he grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair. "Come on, Y/N," he said, taking your hand while waving goodbye to your family with the other. "We won't be late, I swear!"

Your sisters said their reluctant goodbyes, thinking the German was going to play with them. Meanwhile, Hans and Bernhard started making bets about what would really happen between the two of you that night.

Johanna was the only one who walked you to the door, carefully adjusting your coats, scarves, and hats as if she was your mother.

"Have fun, you two, you deserve it. And you, Seb, don't think you’re getting out of helping me tomorrow. You still have to teach me that lemon cake recipe you always say your mother makes."

"Don’t worry, Johanna," Seb replied while holding the door open for you. "I’m saving my morning for you and your cooking sessions."

The woman smiled, delighted to have the German around, and said goodbye to you once more.

As soon as you stepped outside, the cool night air hit your faces. You took a moment to inhale and exhale, relaxing and feeling, for the first time in a long while, free. More than anything, you felt like yourself. Seb walked beside you, unable to stop smiling, grateful to be in his best friend’s hometown, with you by his side, helping him get through the rough patch caused by his breakup with Hanna.

"Do you always blush that much around your family, or is it just when you have company?" Seb asked after a while, nudging you playfully with his shoulder while keeping his hands in his pockets.

"Don't start with that, Seb! You know I can be a little shy sometimes..."

"It's okay, I already knew that," he interrupted. "I think it's really cute when you blush."

"Sometimes you're unbearable, you know that?" you shot back, playfully.

"I know, but you love me anyway."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. One you couldn’t argue with because she completely agreed.

And that, more than comforting you, made you worry more and more about your relationship.

Despite the recent snowfall, the streets of Linz were busier than you had expected. The ice-skating rinks were packed, and to your surprise, the winter market stalls, forming a kind of fair that attracted people of all ages almost daily and which you loved visiting, were overflowing with people.

Although taking Seb there had been your original plan for his first day, you had decided to do something more intimate with him instead, something you hadn’t done in a long time, not even with Mark. However, you knew your relationship with the German was special enough to share something so personal with him without regretting it afterward.

"Since this is the first time you’ve come to visit me, I’ve put together a little tour so you can really get to know my city," you explained, looking at him. "That way, when you leave, you’ll know Linz as well as I do. And maybe, if one day you bring someone here..."

"You’re going to show me what tourists don’t usually get to see, aren’t you?" he interrupted. "I mean… promise me you’ll show me every last little corner, even the ones way out on the city outskirts. That could really come in handy someday."

"No problem. I’ll show you everything you want," you replied, flashing him a proud smile.

He laughed at your comment. Taking his hands out of his pockets, he awkwardly brushed his right hand against your left one. You blushed and tried to move it away, but Seb didn’t let you, he ended up taking your hand, not caring that you were just friends and that you had a boyfriend.

Because you were just that, friends. No matter how much he wanted it, he could never, in his life, date someone like you. Because while Mark was already a man with a clear path and a well-established career, he was just a twenty-something still learning from every mistake he made.

With your hands still intertwined, Sebastian’s gaze roamed the streets, the people, and the buildings surrounding them.

"This place is beautiful, and peaceful in its own way despite the bustle. I can see why you love it so much..."

You nodded, feeling your heartbeat speed up. Linz wasn’t the best city in the world, nor did it hold many good memories for you since your mother’s suicide and your sudden move to Spain. But, at the end of the day, it was your home, and hearing him appreciate it meant more to you than you could ever admit.

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, stopping every so often so you could point out your old school, your university, and even your favorite café, the one you used to go to when studying at your aunt and uncle’s house became too chaotic.

However, just as you were nearing the place you wanted to take Seb, he broke the silence with a question that, while not entirely unexpected, was the last thing she thought he would ask.

"How are things with Mark?"

The casual question made you slow your pace slightly before quickly recovering and catching up with Sebastian.

"They’re… fine," you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know, the usual. He’s in London, I’m here, we call each other..."

Don’t lie to him, Y/N.

"And does that make you happy?"

"Yes, of course."

You wanted to tell Seb the truth, but you couldn’t.

This time, he was the one who needed support, not to listen to complaints and tears about a relationship with a questionable age gap and an even more questionable dynamic.

"And how are you doing after everything with Hanna?" you asked, changing the subject and hoping you hadn’t overstepped. "Ever since you called to tell me what happened, I’ve been worried, but I didn’t want to push..."

Seb’s expression darkened slightly. He let out a sigh that you were sure he had been holding in longer than he would’ve liked, staring straight ahead as you walked.

"We’re okay. I’m okay," he corrected himself. "Nothing weird happened or anything, it’s just that…" he trailed off, possibly choosing his words carefully before continuing. "We ended things amicably, you know? No hard feelings, no fights, nothing like that."

"Well, I’m glad to hear that," you replied, choosing your words carefully as well. "It caught me completely off guard because… I don’t know, it seemed like everything was fine. You two were together for three years…"

"Yeah, three pretty good years, but I think we realized we were only staying together because we were comfortable, because it was our routine, not because we actually loved each other." He paused, looking at you. "She never said it, and neither did I, but I get the feeling we wanted completely different things in life, and that was hurting us, even if we didn’t mean to."

"And that makes it even harder..."

"Exactly," he admitted, giving you a bittersweet smile. "But I feel like it was the right decision for both of us. It’s just that… making such a risky choice after thinking about it for so long, and wanting to do the right thing, is tough. Honestly, right now, being alone again is really difficult, but I guess it’s just a matter of time before I get used to it."

You didn’t know what to say, and you had no clue what deeper meaning lay behind Sebastian’s words.

"You won’t be alone, Seb," you managed to say, trying not to get nervous. "You have me."

He looked at you, his body relaxing slightly as your steps fell back into rhythm.

"I know. And, even if you don’t believe it, that means much more to me than you can imagine."

For a moment, nothing and no one else existed, just you. You stared at each other, lost in each other’s eyes, as thoughts raced through your minds. Thoughts that, if spoken aloud, would haunt them for the rest of your lives, shattering everything you knew and had between you.

It wasn’t until you cleared your throat and quickened your pace that the moment broke.

"Come on, we’re almost there. I have a reservation at seven, and I don’t want us to be late."

"Wherever you say, my dear tour guide," Seb replied.

After walking for a few more minutes, you stopped in front of a restaurant tucked away in a small alley. Sonnengarten, garden of the sun in German, was written at the top of the façade, painted in a warm yellow color. Along with the soft lights illuminating it directly and the hanging flower baskets, it invited people to step inside. The instrumental music playing, what seemed to be rock from the '60s and '70s, was the cherry on top.  

“Well, here we are,” you said, visibly excited as she entered the restaurant.  

Seb watched you, noticing the special sparkle in your eyes.  

“Thanks for bringing me here. It’s obvious this place means a lot to you.”  

“It does,” you nodded, a small smile on your lips. “My mother used to bring us here every weekend. We always switched up our orders because, well, we loved, and still love, trying new things, but my dad always ordered a schnitzel,” you explained with excitement. That only made Seb feel even more grateful that you had brought him to such a special place. “My sisters and I would always try to convince him to try something different and share some of our food, but he always refused and made up some silly excuse.”  

“So, this is like… a sacred place for you, right?”  

“Yes, very much so. But since my mom passed away, we haven’t come back. Actually, this is the first time in years that I’ve come here to eat…”  

Your statement made Seb’s chest tighten. He knew how Rosalie, your mother, had died nearly eight years ago. He was fully aware of the impact it had on your life, which was precisely why he was more than grateful that you were sharing this detail, this part of your life, this seemingly important family tradition, with him.  

His friend. His best friend.  

“Really, Y/N, thank you for bringing me here,” the driver said sincerely.  

Before you could respond, a middle-aged man appeared in front of you. He quickly approached you and hugged you, a gesture you gladly accepted.  

“My dear Miss Y/L/N! It’s been so long, little one! You finally decided to come eat here again… it was about time!”  

“I’m really happy to be back as a customer, Matthias,” you replied kindly.  

The man’s eyes shifted to Sebastian, whom he openly scanned from head to toe. Once he recognized him, his eyes widened. After all, it was widely known in the city that Y/N Y/L/N was not only an intern for one of the most successful Formula 1 teams of the past year but also lucky enough to be working with one of the sport’s rising stars.  

“Well, well, Sebastian Vettel!” the man exclaimed excitedly, offering his hand to the German, who shook it with a smile. “Are you two dating?” he asked curiously.  

“No, no! He’s just a good friend of mine,” you said quickly, avoiding Seb’s gaze. “My… boyfriend,” you managed to say, barely containing youR embarrassment, “is the other Red Bull driver, Mark Webber.”  

“Oh, well, no problem!” Matthias laughed heartily, giving Seb a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Any friend of our Y/N is a friend of ours. Now, come on, I’ll take you to the Y/L/N family table. I’ve been reserving it since Y/N told me she was coming.”  

Sebastian observed you as the waiter led you to a table in a corner by a large window. You simply shrugged and smiled, feeling proud to see how happy and, most importantly, how at ease the boy seemed.  

You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous and special at the same time when, before you could sit down, Seb pulled out the chair for you and pushed it in gently once you were seated.  

“Well, Miss Y/L/N, I’ll be back in a bit with the dishes I know are your favorites. Enjoy your evening.”  

The waiter winked at you and, once he was far enough away, you buried your face in your hands, utterly embarrassed by the scene you had just lived through.  

“Oh god… I can’t believe he thought we were together,” you murmured. “Everyone here knows I’m with Mark…”  

“Well, maybe they think we’d make a good couple.”  

Seb laughed at his own comment, and you shot him a death glare, though it didn’t last long as the corner of your lips curved into a smile.  

“Don’t start with that too.”  

“I’m just joking, Y/N,” Vettel said with a satisfied grin. “Besides, if people think we’re together and we get, I don’t know, good tables like this one,” he pointed at their spot, “and free pastries like the ones the bakery lady gave me near your house today, I wouldn’t mind pretending we’re a couple.”  

You rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the flicker of warmth that bloomed inside you as you imagined a hypothetical situation where you and Seb were together, where you shared more than just friendship.  

“Well, I think it’s time we have a slightly more serious conversation, so no boyfriends, exes, or fake relationships,” you said as you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. “What’s the plan for this year? Do you think you can win the championship?”  

“That’s the goal, my dear," he chuckled, pouring himself a glass of water and taking a sip. “For now, I think the car is good, and we have a strong team, but you know how things can go…”  

“The important thing is that you have what it takes, Seb: talent and ambition.”  

He smiled, a little shy at your compliment, and adjusted himself in his seat.  

“So, you better be ready to put up with me every time you win,” you continued playfully.  

“Only if you ditch Mark so we can celebrate properly.”  

Sebastian immediately realized he might have messed up with that comment.  

You, instead of responding, did your best to force a smile and act like you hadn’t heard what the German had just said.  

“By the way…” the driver spoke carefully, knowing he might be treading on dangerous ground. “When are we going to plan something? I came here, but you know… plans like we used to make when we were at Toro Rosso and before you started dating Mark…”  

You didn’t know what to say. You hesitated before answering, thinking about how things had changed since you were single and he was in a relationship with Hanna, who had always been wonderful to you and never minded Sebastian and you hanging out together. She had even tagged along on some of their outings, something that made you feel terribly guilty but, at the same time, too bad to refuse given how kind both of them were to you.  

“I don’t know, Seb. Things are… complicated, different… It’s nothing you don’t already know.”  

It’s obvious there are things Seb doesn’t know. Don’t fool yourself.  

“Well, we’ll come up with something,” he replied, trying to believe his own words. “We could go out after a race, grab something to eat… Or, I don’t know, during the summer break I could take you to the karting track where I used to go as a kid and see Michael…”  

You couldn’t keep listening because it hurt. The idea of doing such personal and meaningful things with Sebastian was difficult to process, especially considering you were dating Mark, and no matter how much you tried to talk to him about it, he wouldn’t take it well. You didn’t deserve that kind of attention, even though it was the only way someone had ever shown her… affection, love, or any of its variations. Mark had barely paid you any attention since you started dating, something you had noticed in other couples but had never experienced yourself.  

Seb kept talking, but the sound of your phone ringing, a childish melody set by his sister Louisa, snapped you back to reality.  

Your heart clenched when you saw Mark’s name on the screen.  

Your stomach twisted, anxiety creeping in, the weight of everything you hadn’t told anyone, not even Seb, suddenly pressing down on you again, returning in full force as if it had never left, not even when Webber seemed to have forgotten about you.  

“Are you going to answer?” Seb asked, tilting his head slightly as he noticed how doubtful you were.

You didn't move. You couldn't. You weren't ready to face a call from your boyfriend after weeks of not hearing from him, especially not in the situation you were in.

And even less so considering who you were spending time with at that moment, and how stubborn Mark had been about your relationship with Sebastian ever since you started dating, even knowing that you were, in reality, just very good friends.

“It’s just… It’s Mark,” was all you could whisper.

“And are you just going to let it ring? Come on, Y/N, he’s your boyfriend. It’s not like he’s going to kill you if you answer.”

“I’ll call him when we get home,” you swallowed hard, feeling your hands starting to sweat.

“Y/N,” Seb said, sounding more authoritative than he would have liked. “It’s just a call. What’s the worst that could happen?”

If only you knew...

“Come on, Y/N, pick it up. If he's calling, it must be important.”

Your fingers trembled slightly until you finally decided to press the answer button.

You forced a smile, even though the only thing you wanted to do at that moment was cry and tell Sebastian the whole truth. Instead, you put the phone to your ear and answered, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

“Hello, Mark…”

“Damn, it’s about time you answered. Do you mind telling me where you are? I’ve been trying to reach you for days and days, and you’ve just ignored me.”

It’s a lie, Y/N. He hasn’t called. He’s manipulating you because, once again, he’s forgotten about you...

“I’m out,” you replied, controlling everything you said while looking at Seb, who had started talking with Matthias. “I’m having dinner.”

“And who exactly are you with?” Mark asked disparagingly, totally suspicious of you.

You gripped the phone tightly and opened your mouth to respond with the first excuse that came to your mind. But before you could, Matthias started talking too loudly with your companion:

“You’re such a gentleman with our Y/N, Sebastian! Are you sure you’re just friends?”

“Just friends, Matthias, really,” Seb replied cheerfully, although alert to you, who seemed terrified.

“Sebastian? What exact Sebastian, Y/N?”

Your blood ran cold when you heard the aggressive tone Mark was using on the other end of the phone.

“Mark, it’s not what you think…”

“Who the fuck are you with, Y/N?” Mark exploded. Even Sebastian and Matthias, who were still talking, seemed to hear the yelling coming from the phone. “Are you with Sebastian Vettel? Is it the Sebastian Vettel I’m imagining?”

“Mark, please, let me explain…”

“Explain what?” the Australian's voice started getting louder and angrier. “That you went out to dinner with him as if that was the most normal thing in the world?”

Seb, noticing the sudden change in you, both in your mood and body language, became alert. He turned his attention back to the waiter, this time giving an excuse after he placed all the plates on their table so that he could leave and give you some privacy.

Your tense posture and the fact that you became so silent, just listening to what his teammate was saying on the other side of the line, didn’t go unnoticed by him, and he knew there was more between them than what his friend wanted him to know.

“Take good care of her, Sebastian. Y/N deserves the best.”

Seb smiled kindly at Matthias’s words, and his eyes followed him until he was far enough away. His eyes then returned to you.

Something wasn’t right, and it was creating a feeling of internal rage in Seb that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Mark, I’ll call you when I get home, okay? I don’t want…”

“So you’re with him, right?” the Australian spat, not letting her finish. “Sebastian Vettel... Out of all the damn people you could be with, you’re with him…”

“Mark, please… Let me explain…” You started, your words already bordering on pleading.

“Think about the kind of girlfriend you are, Y/N,” his voice, though calm now, you knew he was about to start throwing poisoned darts that would torment you in the weeks to come. “While I’m busting my ass working, training, doing everything I can to move the damn team forward, you’re out there with the guy you claim is your best friend, going on dates. How would you feel if it were the other way around, Y/N?”

“It’s not what you think,” you whispered, unable to control the tremor in your voice.

“Oh really? Then what is it? Because to me, it looks like you're acting with another man the way you should be acting with your boyfriend. How do you think that makes me feel, huh?”

Don’t believe his words, Y/N... He’s trying to convince himself that it’s your fault just because he’s ignored you for almost a month...

“Mark, he’s my best friend, and you’ve known that since before we started dating. I haven’t hidden it from you, just like I’m not hiding anything from you now.”

Sebastian, paying close attention to every word from you, felt his heart drop at what you had said, especially the tone you used.

You mattered to Sebastian, just as he mattered to you.

“I wouldn’t take a girl to the city I grew up in if she was just my best friend, leaving my girlfriend feeling like second best, but hey, to each their own…”

You sighed, unable to stop looking at Seb, hurt by the words Mark had just said, even though you convinced yourself, despite knowing you were lying to yourself, that the Australian cared about you enough to consider you a girlfriend.

Oh my God, Y/N, you haven’t even met his parents yet…

“You’re being unfair,” was all you could say.

“No, if anyone’s being unfair here, it’s you, Y/N,” replied Mark. “You’re selfish, and you think of no one but yourself.”

“I don’t want to keep talking about this, Mark…”

“Of course you don’t. Because you don’t want Seb to know what you’re really like,” Webber said harshly. “Maybe I should tell him myself. Do you think he’d believe me? Would he still want a bitch like you if he knew the real you?”

Your stomach dropped at what Mark had just said. You didn’t know what to say; you didn’t know how to contradict him because you knew it was impossible to make him think otherwise.

The worst part? Sebastian’s face went completely pale, which made you worry even more about what your friend might now think of you.

Without saying anything else, and while you still faintly heard the Australian’s reproaches, you ended the call, throwing the phone harshly on the table and unable to control your hands, which were shaking more and more.

“Y/N…” Seb spoke, unsure of how to approach the conversation he wanted to have with you about what had just happened.

“It’s... It doesn’t matter,” you corrected yourself. The last thing you wanted was for that heated conversation you had had with Mark to ruin your time with Seb, especially your stay with the German. “Let’s eat and let everything else rest, okay? I’ve been planning this for weeks, and I don’t want to ruin it because of a conversation that never should have happened.”

Seb didn’t seem entirely convinced by your words, and even less by your attitude. He knew you were broken inside at that moment, and nothing hurt him more than knowing he didn’t know how to help you.

“Y/N, if something’s wrong... you can tell me. You know that, right?”

You tried to force a smile again, but it was impossible. Instead, tears began to fall from your eyes, and no matter how hard you tried to control them, you couldn’t.

“It’s okay, Seb, it’s nothing. I swear.”

Lie to yourself if you want, but don’t lie to him.

“Really, Y/N... No matter what you need or when you need it, I’ll be here... You’re not alone, Y/N, okay? Come what may.”

You looked at your hands, now in Seb’s. His thumb was calmly rubbing over them, something Seb knew perfectly well relaxed you when you had anxiety, like now, when you felt on the edge of a panic attack; or at least, that’s what the constant feeling of suffocation you couldn’t shake off told you, no matter how hard you tried to control your breathing and especially promise yourself that everything would be fine.

Don’t be so dramatic, Y/N, Mark’s voice echoed in your head in such a scene, making you pull your hands from the table and hide them beneath it, embarrassed.

Sebastian sighed, knowing he wouldn’t stop trying to help you, no matter how reluctant you were. If you wanted to end the contact, so be it, but that didn’t mean he’d stop trying to make sure you were okay.

“I mean it, Y/N,” the guy insisted. “Whatever it is you’re going through, you don’t have to do it alone. You’re my best friend, and best friends are there to support each other. Just like you’re doing now, with me, with Hanna,” he added.

You looked up at him again, and your chest tightened. How could he be so noble with you? How was he able to say the words you needed to hear at every moment? With Mark, you felt small, as if you didn’t matter at all, but Seb... he made you feel like a princess straight out of a fairy tale, whose ending was still to be written.

“Thank you, Seb,” you murmured, unable to take your eyes off those blue eyes that so relaxed you. “For… everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. That’s what friends are for.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that, unlike your boyfriend, if you even were, or ever had been, someone could care about you. You didn’t want to give your best friend false hopes, but the way he treated you, how it seemed like he cared...

Why did Seb make you feel like the most special person in the world when the person who was supposed to care about you the most didn’t even bother to try?

Sebastian Vettel knew you like the back of his hand, and that was exactly what scared you the most.

[beomiracles]

SQUEE I died reading this. I love love the first paragraph too, something about repeating the opening line and closing line will always do it for me !!

ahhh and beomgyu being attractive is like the whole point eheh, he's meant to be perceived as something esoteric almost, because that's how the reader comes to view him in time. but there also needs to be a sense of attractiveness for us to forgive him for all the shit he's about to pull us through lol

yeonjun as her senior just fits so well, I was debating on who to pick (even back in April last year) and he was the one that came to mind first.

AND YES THE LIPSTICK, it's like the star of the show for half of next tape-

anyway.

Beomgyu’s gaze soon flickers back to you, the smirk on his lips returning within seconds. “But you would know all about that wouldn’t you?” His eyes flash with underlying desire, “I went easy on you the first time.”

this paragraph is, too, one of my favourites !! it's almost the same as it was in the original version too because I could not part from it no matter how hard I tried.

and UGH don't even get me started on their first meeting. that shit is lethal territory good heavens. I like how she's cautious even though she ends up going with him due to her lack of better judgement.

squeee mixing past and present was like, the first thought I ever had for this fic, even without no plot last spring I knew that I wanted it to be switched around like this. I've tried to make the transitions as seamless as possible so you'll have to lay your verdict for tape 02, which is almost 10k...

anyway hehe thank you so so much for taking the time to not only read but send me such a detailed reblog sjjsjs it means the literal world to me !!

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 TAPE 01

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder. ⸝⸝

𝓹airings criminal!beomgyu x detective!reader 𝔀arnings blood, character death, descriptions of violence/slight gore, implied sexual encounters, womanizer!beomgyu, making out, penetrative sex, public sex, alcohol consumption.

📼 THE TAPE RECORDINGS

𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓢𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 contains dark themes portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships and substance abuse. reader discretion is advised ! — this story is partly told in flashbacks, beware of timestamps as past/present are mixed throughout the story.

#serene adds ✎.. heh, realised after I hit post that I forgot to add a little note for myself on here. hmm... criminal conscience yes, I missed this series, a lot :3 super happy for it to be back, and better than ever !

[ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။| TAPE 01 ] — Stay Away From Choi Beomgyu — recording length; 5.9k

📼 —  April 5th 2023

It was cold. Your cheeks were wet, and whether that was from the rain pouring down on you, or the endless tears streaming down your face you didn’t know. But it was cold. It was dark too, awfully so. Yet you could clearly make out the image of him, his hunched over figure, his bloody hands moving without even the slightest tremble as they clenched and unclenched into fists. For a moment it looked like he wanted to reach out, to touch you. 

The way you flinched, taking a quick step backward made him frown. “Dollface..” He tries, his voice uncharacteristically soft, the tension on his face easing up, if just for a moment. But you won’t hear it. Fuck, you could take the drugs, the lying and the cheating…Suppose you never were together in the end, not officially at least. — And you could take it. All of it. 

This was different. This was… You glance between the blood on his shirt, down to his bruised knuckles. You knew what he’d done. Something truly unforgiving, something evil, inhumane. Beomgyu was a terrible person. For months you’d let yourself be blindsighted, too caught up on trying to fit him into the life you’d imagined, into a life that would never be his. Because that was not who he was. 

You thought things would be different with you. That you somehow stood out from the rest, that maybe… Maybe he wasn’t as bad as people made him out to be. But you should’ve known. You should’ve known to stay away from Choi Beomgyu. 

“You’re a monster.” 

It happens before you can even stop it, the way the words fall from your quivering lips. Your voice is strained with the effort of keeping down another sob, and your breath comes out shaky with each exhale. — He doesn’t look surprised, in fact his expression remains perfectly unreadable, just like it always did. That hurts the most you think. 

He takes a step forward, his shoes making a wet noise against the muddy ground. The rain makes his clothes cling to his body, his dark hair matted against his face, shielding his dark eyes from view until he pushes the strands back. — “C’mon dollface, we can work this out.” The once sweet nickname now made you feel sick. Butterflies no longer surged within your stomach, though, you’re not so sure that they ever had. 

You shake your head, adamant in your decision as you swallow. “Stay away from me.” Even though your voice is close to cracking it seems to break his trance, and Beomgyu looks confused for the first time. It would��ve been an almost satisfactory sight, had it not been for your current situation. But one quick glance toward the blood smeared all over him makes you want to vomit. 

“I never want to see you again.” 

And you hoped you never would. With all of your heart and being you wished to never see Choi Beomgyu ever again. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 19th 2024

“Hello?” 

Your words are followed by a thick silence and after almost twenty seconds you sigh. “Are you calling from downstairs again? You know the connection there is terrible.” Another minute passes, and you listen to the bruising noise of nothing for what feels like forever until Yeonjun’s voice finally breaks through on the device. 

“Hello? Oh, there you are!” He sounds almost surprised over the fact that the line seemed to actually be working. “Yes, yes I know I shouldn’t be calling from down here, but the elevator’s broken..” — He clears his throat before rapidly continuing. “Alright, I’ve got someone for you, can you make it down to room 31 in ten?” 

The groan passing your lips rings out into your office, bouncing off the walls and surely picking up on the phone despite the shitty connection. “Do you know what time it is? I’ve just barely made it here..” You grumble, yet you’re already rising from your chair, eager to be assigned a case from your senior. 

Yeonjun hums and you hear the clicking sound of what you assumed to be a pen. “We’ve kept him detained all night, best to get going quickly so we can move him over this afternoon.” He sounds absentminded when he speaks, as if his attention was elsewhere, likely reading off of the file in his hands. Still, you frown at his words. 

“Move him? To where, custody? How do you know we’ll have to do that?” Yeonjun doesn’t answer right away, which was unusual for him, and you pause with your hand on the door handle. — “I think it’s best you just come down here”, he then says, the finalisation in his tone evident. You bite the inside of your cheek, your mind suddenly swimming with questions you longed to ask. But you shrug them off, twisting the handle as you step outside. 

“Alright, I’ll be there.” 

The walk to the basement where the interrogations took place was an even longer one today. With no elevator you’re forced to stumble down four sets of stairs, silently vowing to yourself never to wear heels to work ever again. 

Fishing through your pockets, you grab onto the first thing you come across. A small tube of red lipstick, the engravings on its container made your heart skip a beat as you recognized its origin. Oh. You thought you’d gotten rid of that.. But the small cosmetic seemed to have made it during your move not long ago. How odd. 

The sound of your heels come to an abrupt halt as you stop to apply the red tint to your lips, using the camera on your far too old phone as a mirror. Despite its long history, the color remained just as bold as it had been when it was brand new. For some reason the revelation made your chest contract. — Screw it, you thought as you pushed the container back into the depths of your pocket. You would make sure to get rid of it on your way home. The past should remain the past, and for good reasons too. 

Interrogation room 31 is by the very end of the hall. The lights here had yet to be switched out and some of them flickered in a most uncanny way, setting the scene for something akin to a horror movie. However your worries come to ease when you spot your senior outside the door. Leaning against the wall, Yeonjun pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as his eyes remain glued to the files in front of him. 

“Took you long enough”, he huffs without taking his eyes off the clipboard. You raise a threatening fist his way but lower it again with a small grin, “whatever.” Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow your way but doesn’t make an attempt to comment as he instead sighs. — “23 year old male, brought in yesterday around 1am..” He begins, his expression quickly schooling into a more professional one, and you’re instantly reminded of how he used to be when you trained under him. 

He flips the paper, eyes dropping as he scans the written documents. “He’s in for first degree murder and attempted arson.” Shit, that’s serious. — “Are there any witnesses?” You ask, interrupting him when your curiosity gets the better of you. Though it would likely be far too soon to determine that. Yeonjun shakes his head, “None have come forward, besides it’s still too early to say.” You nod, heat rising on your cheeks at the small misstep. 

“Then, how is he linked to the crime?” 

Yeonjun’s eyes snap toward you upon hearing your words, his jaw twitching ever so slightly. “Victim’s DNA on him”, he says as he hands you the file belonging to the victim. Your gaze immediately falls on the number of pictures already gathered from the scene. From the blood covered floorboards to the discarded knife, the bloody bathtub and the victim himself. 

“Park Baekhyun”, Yeonjun says as he points to the picture snapped of a man in his mid thirties. He was bruised from head to toe, his limp body awkwardly laid in the full tub. “34, male, cause of death was asphyxiation due to his head being held underwater for an extended period of time.” 

Once he’s reached the end of his small debrief, your jaw hangs slack. Whoever did this had no intentions of sparing the poor man. And judging by the way the scene looked, they didn’t seem to ever have.

“Will you be alright with this one?” Your senior’s question pulls your attention from the files in your hand, and you quickly nod. “Of course!” This was your first big case, and there was no way you would back down now, not when an opportunity had presented itself like this. 

Yeonjun leans over to unlock the door, his hand on the handle when he turns to you. “Remember I’m always-” — “On the other side of the glass, I know.” You finish with a small smile, and Yeonjun scoffs as he shakes his head. 

Interrogation rooms are small, their walls stripped bare and sterile. With no windows and not even a clock to tell the time, the space feels nearly suffocating. A metal table is placed by the center of the room, adorned with scratches and uneven sections from its years of mistreatment. Above it hangs a single fluorescent light, casting the room in an almost clinical glow. 

The man before you sits on one of the uncomfortable chairs, his head bowed and his cuffed hands resting on the table. His long dark hair shields his face from view, and you find your own gaze dropping to the files in your hands once more as you slide into the seat opposite him. 

You clear your throat, the quietness of the room only amplifying the sound of you swallowing again. “You’re being investigated on the grounds of first degree murder of Park Baekhyun and attempted arson against his property. You have the right to remain silent and or request for an attorney. Keep in mind that anything you say here can be used against you in court.” 

Exhale. 

With a quick glance toward the thick glass window to your left, you allow yourself a momentary break. No matter how hard you squint, it was impossible to make out anything on the other side. But you knew that Yeonjun was watching, and it made everything ten times more surreal. — When you notice that the suspect has yet to speak, you turn your attention back to him. 

He remains in front of you, with his head bowed as his fingers absentmindedly tap against the cool metal table. Your breath catches in your throat when you survey the dark rings adorning almost each and every one of his fingers, they looked oddly familiar. But before you have time to ponder the matter further, he lifts his gaze. 

His dark hair falls from his face, making his equally dark eyes meet yours, instantly they seize you with a look you knew all too well. The persistent tapping of his fingers come to an abrupt halt as his lips curl into a menacing smirk, the one that used to make your stomach twist. In that moment, you knew that he knew. Still, you deny it, hands fervently flipping the files as you replace the victim’s with his. 

Your heart plummets through the floor when your eyes land on the name, and suddenly it all makes sense. He was bound to end up in this room one day, you knew that, you had known that for a long time. You just… Had never imagined to be the one on the other side. 

His smirk only widens, exposing the sharp and shiny teeth that had grazed your skin so many times before. A breathy laugh rumbles within his chest, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not once. He exhales with a short breath: 

“Dollface. It’s been a while hasn’t it?” 

The pet name makes an ice cold shiver crawl up your spine. You push down the insults waiting on your tongue, the months of resentment and the anger. Inhaling slowly, you remain perfectly still. He studies you close, dark eyes narrowing as he tilts his head to the side. It was as if he was trying to calculate your next move, you knew that he could. 

“Beomgyu.” The name tastes foul in your mouth, making you want to spit it out. You thought you’d left him behind, left him for good. For ten months you had tried to recover from him, from everything he’d put you through. All of it for nothing. Now he was closer than ever, within an arm's reach, if you so wished to touch him. 

His smirk only widened, he was enjoying this, you could tell it thrilled him. “In the flesh”, he says, his voice a low drawl as he drinks in your slightly bewildered expression. There were so many things you wanted to tell him, so many things you wished to get off your chest. But before you can even get a word out, the door to the interrogation room is slammed open. 

You don’t have to look to know who it is. Yeonjun’s presence could be felt from miles away as he looms over you. “A word outside”, is all he says, before promptly turning on his heel and walking out again. — You don’t take your eyes off of Beomgyu when you rise to your feet, and the smirk on his face persists even when you exit the room. 

“Alright, what’s going on?”

Your senior’s voice echoes down the vacant hallway and you wince at the accusation of his tone. How did you tell him, how did you come clean about the fact that you had history with the man currently detained and cuffed on the other side of the door. — Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you hesitantly chew on it as your eyes dart between the floor and the walls, anywhere but him. 

“Well I… Sort of knew him..” The words come out awkward, and you grimace at the way you presented the situation. Yeonjun’s frown only deepens, the crease on his forehead becoming even more prominent. “Knew?” He presses, and you suddenly feel as if you were the one being interrogated. This was not how your first case was supposed to go. 

“Well.. I haven’t seen him in a long time.” You press your lips into a thin line, forcing yourself into a more upright stance as you try your best at holding his gaze. — “How long?” Yeonjun counters, to which your heart sinks. How long has it been? You hardly kept track, for Choi Beomgyu was someone you longed to forget. “Ten months”, you finally say. 

Your senior sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers as he bites the inside of his cheek. He remains quiet for a good minute and you anxiously fiddle with the hem of your sleeves, glancing over your shoulder to make sure that no one was witnessing the most embarrassing conversation taking place. 

“I’ll take you off the case.” 

No. He can’t do that, can he? Well he technically could. Still, it was an option you refused to consider. “No.” You promptly say, rolling your shoulders back once as you prepare to face his rejection. You didn’t know why your first thought was to refuse, why a pang shot through your chest at the idea of having the case go to someone else, but it did. 

Selfish as you were, you thought you needed this case for your own gain. Whether it was to find some sort of closure for the way things ended, or perhaps even to satisfy your own curiosity. Either way, you knew that this case belonged to you. — “I’m confident that I can do this.” Your voice doesn’t waver, and your gaze is firm as you peer up at Yeonjun. 

Your senior sighs, carding his fingers through his hair as he mutters something under his breath. “It’s against policy and I shouldn’t-” — “Please, Yeonjun.” You take a step forward, hopeful eyes silently pleading with him. 

“I could be of great help, I’m certain of it, please just give me a chance.” — Yeonjun doesn’t look convinced, his dark brows furrowed as he glances between you and the shut door. Patiently you wait as he thinks to himself, your heart thrumming in your ears as you refuse the urge to beg him further. 

Finally, he huffs, shaking his head once, as if in disbelief of himself. “Alright, but if I notice that things are getting out of hand you’re off, are we clear?” 

Eagerly you nod, “Of course. Thank you, sir!” You catch the way he rolls his eyes, coughing slightly as he dismisses you with the wave of his hands. “Don’t act formal with me now”, he tsks, shooting you a small sideway glance. He reaches for the handle once more, holding the door open for you as you enter the suffocating interrogation room a second time that day. 

The silence is deafening as you step back inside, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you echoing off the four confined walls. Beomgyu remains seated, mindlessly fiddling with the rings on his fingers, the cuffs around his wrists scraping against the metal table. — You force yourself to remain stoic as you approach once more, carefully taking your seat opposite him as you place your files down in front of you. 

You clear your throat, ready to begin the initial interview when he suddenly speaks. “You look different.” He presents the statement causally as he leans back in his chair, it makes a squeaking noise at the action. Your heart pounds against your ribcage and you swallow as you hold his gaze. — “People change”, you say, your throat suddenly feeling dry. 

Beomgyu shakes his head, his dark and piercing gaze trailing along your figure. “But you act the same.” His lips stretch into a menacing smirk and you have to force the memories of those very lips against your own and all over your body, out of your head. Focus. You couldn’t afford to be taken off the case. 

“Last night”, you start off strong, your voice firm as you finally divert your attention from the files you’d been clinging onto, “You were present at Park Baekhyun’s property around 1am. What were you doing there?” 

The smirk has yet to fall from his face and Beomgyu cocks an eyebrow your way as he lets go of the rings he’d been fiddling with. “Cleanin’ up a mess”, the nonchalant tone he used masks any hint of unease he might be experiencing. 

“What kind of mess?” 

A glimmer of mischief flashes across his almost black eyes, it was one you recognized. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheeks, his hands flat against the metal table. “Well certainly not the ones we used to make.” The mockery made your skin crawl and you fought back the insults surfacing as you clenched your jaw. 

“Please refrain from straying off topic”, you say, your voice eerily calm. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, but doesn’t attempt to argue as he regards you with a bored expression. “One of my employee’s messed up”, he shrugs, “Fairly new to the job so I can’t really hold him accountable.” — You watch as his eyes flicker over to the window on his right, his gaze narrowing on the thick glass. 

“You gotta go easy on the newbies”, he then adds without tearing his attention from the window. And even though he couldn’t see Yeonjun, he without a doubt knew that he was there. For a moment, it felt almost as if he was addressing your senior and not you. 

Beomgyu’s gaze soon flickers back to you, the smirk on his lips returning within seconds. “But you would know all about that wouldn’t you?” His eyes flash with underlying desire, “I went easy on you the first time.” 

He didn’t. Perhaps that was why you remembered your first encounter with Choi Beomgyu to this day. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — March 28th 2022 

The floor thumps in rhythm to the loud bass that echoes from the DJ booth. Sweaty bodies are pressed against one another as people tear their way through the dancefloor. The fluorescent lights blind you as they flash from purple to blue to green and back to purple again. — Perched awkwardly on a high stool by the bar, you watch as the night unravels before you. 

Clubs had never been your forte. Especially not during the weekends where they seemed to host a home for the whole city as everyone drank their day to day problems away. Your eyes scan for Kayla, she was the one who’d brought you here in the first place. After listening to her persistent whining for almost an hour you had finally caved, but at what cost? 

As soon as your coats had been left, she’d darted for the dancefloor, not as much as a second thought about you as she searched for her next victim. You shouldn’t even be surprised anymore, it was in her nature honestly. 

You’ve already emptied two glasses, and now you’re tapping the cool rim against your lips as you aimlessly peer out over the crowd. The idea of another drink enticed you, but your wallet strongly disagreed with that idea, thus you were left far too sober for your own liking as you avoided any attempts at socialising. You weren’t here to make friends, much less fuck around. 

It was then, in the midst of a heavy sigh, that your eyes fell on him. Back then you hadn’t known his name, you hadn’t known anything of what was to come. Your first thought was that he wasn’t your type. And you wanted to leave it at that, to let your eyes continue their endless roam and forget about him, but you couldn’t. 

Your gaze clung to him as it trailed along his dark and long hair, perfectly framing his sharp features. Then to the half-hearted smirk he wore, to his dark clothes and the black rings around almost each and every one of his fingers. And then finally to his eyes, darker and all the more menacing than the rest of him, they seemed to glow under the neon lights. 

For some reason, he was looking at you too. Despite the two half-naked girls draped over him, their hands insistently clawing at every part of him they could access, undoubtedly whispering beyond filthy shit in his ears with sickeningly sweet giggles. — Why was he looking at you?

He wasn't alone, far from it. The small booth he occupied held, not only him and the two girls, but at least three other guys as well, all wearing the same brooding expressions. You should look away, pretend like you’d never seen him in the first place, but the longer you stared at him, and the longer he stared back, it became increasingly more difficult. 

His smirk widens when he brings his glass to his lips, and over the rim you catch the sly wink he sends you. Your heart stumbles over its next beat, your own glass stuttering against your chin as you grip it tighter. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to getting hit on, or even subtly flirted with. But there was something undeniably different about this man. Despite your earlier complaints on your sobriety, you suddenly felt intoxicated in a way you never had before. 

And so you did the only reasonable thing left to do. You winked back. 

He chuckles, even though you’re unable to hear it, you can see it in the way his chest rises and falls. His ring clad hand slides along the thigh of one of the girls, who giggled as she leaned in to kiss his neck. He seemed to pay her little mind, those same dark eyes still fixed on you.. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Kayla’s voice is sharp, and it snaps your attention from the stranger and over to your friend as she takes the seat next to yours. Slouched over the bar, she orders herself a glass of water which she begins gulping down. — “What?” You question as you watch her wipe her lips. 

“That guy, the one you were eyeing”, she points in the direction of the man you’d just been gawking at, “He’s no good.” She gives a firm nod, glass gripped tightly in her hand as she peers down at the liquid floating around. — “How’d you know?” You scoff as you, too, turn back to the bar. Perhaps she was jealous of you succeeding in finding someone when she wasn’t, it wouldn’t be a first. 

But Kayla only huffs, her nails tapping against the glass as she purses her lips. “Only uses women for his own personal gain and pleasure, you’ll get hurt.” 

“What if I only seek pleasure?” That was a lie, because you didn’t, far from it. You were nothing like Kayla, at least you liked to think you weren’t. —- “Then I suggest you seek it elsewhere, I meant what I said, he’s bad news.” 

“How do you know that?”

Her knowledge about this stranger intrigued you. Had she hooked up with him before and got jealous by the possibility of you doing the same? Had he rejected her? 

Kayla sighs, her expression taking on an almost melancholic form as she sets her glass down. “Do you remember Shay?” She suddenly asks and you frown, confused by the mention of her old friend. “Yeah? You haven’t mentioned her in a while, did something happen?” 

Your friend snorts, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she nods toward the man by the booth. “Yeah, he did. – One night she’s off with him, next time I see her is two weeks later, drugged out of her fucking mind and unable to stand on her own goddamn legs.” A visible shiver runs down Kayla's spine as she recalls the events in her head. 

Turning back to the counter, she picks up her glass, “Besides, I’ve never seen him with the same woman twice.” With that, she downs the remaining water before pushing the now empty glass away. — “Better to try your luck on the dancefloor, hm?” She suggests as she attempts to pull you along. 

“I’m fine here.” You give her a small smile, watching as she nods before turning to disappear through the thick crowd. 

As much as you tried to keep your gaze from wandering, it somehow ended up by that godforsaken booth yet again. Except this time, the man seemed far too busy to spare your hopeless stares as much as a second glance. One of the girls had crawled onto his lap, shielding most of his face from view as she pressed her lips to his. 

His fingers squeezed around her hips before his hands traveled down the curve of her ass, barely covered by the ridiculously short skirt she wore. — They only broke apart for him to mutter something to one of the others present, their following laughter almost overpowering the loud music. 

With a small grimace you finally tear your gaze from the sight, slumping back against the bar with a tired sigh. This night seemed to drag on forever. Perhaps you could call a cab home, Kayla would probably want to stay at least another two hours, something that you weren’t quite feeling. 

You brace your hands on the countertop with the intention of heaving yourself from your chair and search for your friend when the bartender suddenly catches your attention. Wordlessly he places a drink in front of you, making your head jerk up as you give him a confused look. “I didn’t order–” 

“Booth 12”, he nodded to somewhere behind you but you hardly needed to turn around to know where this drink had come from. With your heart in your throat, you take the cool glass, eyeing the pinkish hue of the contents that swirled around the ice cubes. Why had he bought you this? Hesitantly you bring the glass to your lips, taking a small sip as you let the liquid slip down your throat. 

It tasted sweet, and you quickly found yourself going back for more. But hadn’t he been busy just a few moments ago.. Perhaps you’d read him wrong. — Suppose you could finish this drink and then head home. But you can barely get as much as another sip in before the seat next to yours becomes occupied. 

Through the corner of your eye you can easily make out his long dark hair, the faint smirk on his lips as he clasps his hands on the counter in front of him. For a moment, there’s an awkward silence hanging over the two of you. He doesn’t say anything as he gazes ahead, part of you wondered if he’d even come here with the intention of talking to you at all. 

You take another sip of your drink, desperate for the liquor to take effect. The man shifts in his seat, and you feel as though you were on fire when his head turns in your direction. Even with no words he managed to make your heart beat in a frenzy as you clutched your glass tightly. 

His dark and piercing gaze is unforgiving as it roams your figure, undoubtedly lingering where it shouldn’t. It was like he knew no shame. You should’ve told him off, you should’ve gotten up and left. For some reason you find yourself staring at him with equally invading eyes. 

“I haven’t seen you here before.” 

It’s the first time he speaks, his head falling to the side as he studies you. “You new around town?” His voice is smooth, clean of any stuttering or awkwardness. A small part of you envied how easily he seemed to be carrying himself. — You shake your head, “No.” 

The man raises an eyebrow, and you don’t stop him when he reaches for your drink. The rings around his fingers make a clanking sound against the glass as he takes it and brings it to his lips. “Then what? Not your crowd?” He asks before taking a sip, his eyes never leaving you. 

“No, I suppose not..” You gingerly admit, not wanting to highlight the fact that you were completely out of your element. But judging by the way he looked at you, his silent demeanor practically eating you alive, he probably knew that already. — He places your glass back down, gently pushing it back your way as he wordlessly encourages you to drink more. You don’t know why you oblige. 

He takes the opportunity of you sipping on your drink to introduce himself. “Choi Beomgyu”, he says, the smirk on his lips widening as he does. The name fit him, oddly enough. Perhaps it was a bad idea to give out your own name. He was a stranger, not to mention one that Kayla had specifically warned you about not long ago. Still, this man intrigued you beyond limits.. 

Beomgyu, as his name was, suddenly leaned closer and you could almost smell the liquor on his breath. “Come on dollface, you must have a name?” The nickname he so casually dropped made your stomach flip. — You tell yourself that this was just a game of his. Taking Kayla’s words into consideration, not to mention the fact that he had girls draped over him minutes ago, this wasn’t the first time he chatted someone up. You would not make a fool of yourself and fall for such cheap tricks. 

He’s silent as he waits for you to answer, but when you merely avoid his gaze and sip on your drink, he chuckles. The laugh is pulled from deep within his chest and it sounds raspy when it rolls off his tongue. Beomgyu leans back, running a hand leisurely through his long hair. “Hard to charm I see.” 

You don’t answer, but you can’t help but watch as he rests his elbows against the bartop, his finger dragging just below his bottom lip as he regards you with intrigue. — “Not your type?” You retort, your response coming out somewhat short. It was hard to fathom any reasoning behind his strange interest in you. 

“Far from it”, Beomgyu hums, though his glimmering eyes betray the words coming out of his mouth. The lower half of his face pulls into a lopsided grin, “But I’m not opposed to trying new things.” 

Your first instinct was to scoff, to tell him to fuck off back to wherever he’d emerged from. It’s strange. You find yourself completely unable to. Instead you push your nearly finished drink toward him once more, and Beomgyu takes it as he brings it to his lips. — If he wasn’t opposed to trying new things, then who says you weren’t either?” 

“Tell me your name.” 

His breath is hot on your neck, coming in short pants as he slams his hips against yours. The alleway is dark and vacant, shielding the two of you from prying eyes. Shoved against the brick wall, you’re pliant in his grasp as Beomgyu’s hands roam your body. With your skirt pushed high above your hips, the metal of his rings feel cool against your thighs as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. 

Was this a good idea? — It didn’t matter. Your nails rake along his shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. Beomgyu chuckles against the crock of your neck, his lips leaving sloppy kisses over your skin, pulling it between his teeth. 

This was so unlike anything you’d ever done before. Not that you were a prude, or anything of the sort. But something like this, in a place like this, where anyone could walk by and with a mere stranger no less.. Whatever. You figured he was just another promiscuous man with no other intentions than the last. You would use it to your advantage tonight, or at least so you thought. 

But for every kiss he placed against your body, for every quiet whisper of praise that slipped from his tongue, you found yourself slowly losing your last semblance of control. Beomgyu was not like any of your previous partners, he was new, exciting, exotic even. Something you’d never had before, and now that you’d gotten a small taste, you felt far from satisfied. 

Why did he want to know your name? Why did it matter if you were to never see one another after tonight? Still, his silent request is made clear when he presses your lips together in a feverish kiss. You gasp out at the feeling of his hard cock as it buries inside of your aching cunt, your thighs trembling as they remain wrapped around his waist. 

“Dollface”, he exhales into the kiss, his mouth warm and wet against yours. And when he pulls back for air, your dazed eyes meet his as you brace your hands on his chest. Licking your lips, you inhale slowly before finally giving out your name, your most vulnerable piece of information. 

He smirks, clearly thrilled by the admission. For a split second you wondered if you’d done the right thing. Perhaps it had all been one grave mistake. If it was, you weren’t given time to ponder it as he reconnets your lips, this time with a passion unlike anything you’d ever felt before. 

And that was exactly how you became infatuated with Choi Beomgyu.

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[vacz]

"Who are you looking at?" Bad End Friends (Comic)

I've spent all day trying to finish this comic! AHHHHH

So I present you an idea of a ship... Hunter x Ice Finn

"Why?" Well, if we think in the fact that in Adventure time's multiverse all the versions of Finn always ends up having a romantic relationship with a version of Huntress Wizard, and we take Bad End Friends as a canon alternative timeline where Finn didn't destroy Ice Finn's crown and so he later joined Bipper, how would Farmworld!Finn ends up with his version of Huntress Wizard as Ice Finn? Well the answer is simple: He doesn't end up with directly another version of her but someone who is similar to her... And guess who is more similar to Huntress Wizard?

That's right! Hun- Beast Wirt. I personally think Beast Wirt has actually more similarities with her since they both are like spirits of the forest who almost have the same personality, HOWEVER, I think Hunter and Ice Finn would have more CHEMISTRY and let me explain why:

They both are insane, they MATCH THEIR FREAK.

Ice Finn wouldn't be weird out for Hunter's appearance at all, like he did with the Lich, so Ice Finn would judge him according to his action and god- he gets it, At first he would hate him because Hunter is literally chopping people! But after getting an explanation of why he does this, Ice Finn would sympathize with the feeling of "wanting to protect your family" and want to help Hunter with his brother. Ice Finn proposed to Wirt the chance to save lives without having to change that much, and Hunter couldn't resist it, he could finally do something good for humanity! Maybe he could even redeem himself!

IT'S A KING AND KNIGHT DYNAMIC WITH SOME TONES OF PANTHERS IN CRIME

Hunter would watch around for people, and if he finds them then he should bring them to Ice Finn so he could freeze them. However, most of the time he spent it around Ice Finn himself, sometimes helping him with spells or other stuff like cooking, and other times just hanging around together. Their relationship is more equal than it seems, Hunter is just as enthusiastic as Ice Finn in saving lifes the way they do, Ice Finn constant joy and quick reactions are like fresh air for Hunter, who misses some real emotion in life, while Ice Finn has someone who actually cares about his safety and it's not manipulating him for his own selfish desires. Hunter loves Ice Finn's madness because it is a constant of movement, life and joy! While Finn isn't weird out at all by Hunter's more creepier madness, and actually finds him pretty cool and charming. They both don't judge each other and they are openly crazy together

Hunter is normally submissive, and has a craving for love to the point that he could fall really HARD for someone who shows him affection, of course Hunter would be protective and very jealous if someone tries something with Ice Finn, he thinks Finn as one of his more precious properties so Hunter would not let go this guy. Ice Finn is not innocent either, he was the one who kidnapped Hunter in the first place, Ice Finn makes him sleep on a cage even, you can say he also sees Hunter as a pet, one he loves so much but a thing at least...

However, even if they have these things that for normal people would be very toxic, for them is living a romance, a strange and delusional romance, where both souls lost deep in madness find each other to be their own guide though the black ocean of insanity

So tell me your opinion, I hope you guys like it! ^^

[lsunstreakerl]

yup, you guessed it, more darkbull. 1.5k words, Max, Daniel, and Carlos. Max POV pre-kidnapping, where nothing is weird and everything is fine! (again: darkbull)

"I thought the FIA had a jewelry rule?"

Max tilts his head at Christian as the Cartier associate carefully screws the bracelet together. Christian is watching from where he's standing next to Max, eyes laser focused on each rotation of the screw.

"Christian?"

Christian startles before looking at Max with a reassuring smile, gently bumping his shoulder.

"They're lax on it, and the car is fast enough that a few pieces of jewelry aren't going to hurt."

Max nods as the associate lets go of the first bangle, carefully securing the second around his wrist.

There's two of them, so they'll clink together whenever Max moves his hand. They're gold, embedded with diamond and sapphire and rubies. The way they glint in the light is addictive, and Max keeps letting his eyes drift back down. "Redbull" is engraved on the inside, which is nice of them, giving him a gift like this.

They've given him gifts before, but this one settles warm in Max's chest. He's not temporary to them like some other drivers- they're proving it right now, name pressed against his pulse point.

He's pretty sure Danny and Carlos don't have these, but they'd recently given him a gift as well- he has a necklace resting between his collarbones, linked rings at the hollow of his throat. It's got some kind of weird clasp that Max can't figure out, so it's a good thing it's waterproof.

The associate sets the tool back down, passing Christian two boxes to hold the bracelets if Max ever needs them somewhere for safekeeping. Christian takes them, but he pockets the dust bag with the tool in it. Max should probably ask him for that later, just in case he needs to remove them for something, but Christian is already nudging him to stand, so he shelves the thought for some other time.

Max stands, lets the weight of the bracelets settle on his wrist, cool metal against his skin. It's nice, a physical reminder that the team cares about him.

Not that he's doubted it, necessarily. He's so grateful to them for everything they've done- if GP hadn't been there for him when Jos disappeared, Max isn't sure what he would've done. Fallen to pieces, probably.

But Redbull had been there. They'd supported him, helped take so many things off of his hands so that he had room to breathe.

The Lambiase's had moved him into their home, and Alice had swooped in to help him handle his finances- he's got savings accounts and investment accounts that he doesn't even know the names of, trusts her to handle it.

Everyone at the factory is so kind, and they're so present, always right where Max needs them. It's incredible, really.

Carlos and Danny have been amazing as well. Max isn't sure how he managed to swing both of them, but it certainly makes life easier- he doesn't need to worry about a partner that gets frustrated with the race schedule, or having to leave someone behind whenever he travels.

It had been Max and Carlos first, and Max remembers how easy it had been. There had been a time, right at the beginning before Jos disappeared, where he and Carlos had been somewhat at each other's throats, just because it was what their fathers did.

Afterwards, though.

The first time Max had run into him in the hallway after Jos was gone and tried to muster up the anger, tried to piss off Carlos in the way that had once been so easy-

He'd gotten choked up halfway through, the weight of everything pressing down on him, and Carlos had softened, pulled Max into hug.

After that, Carlos had been everywhere. It was like he'd appointed himself as Max's emotional support, sticking by his side. They compared data and did sim runs together, they grabbed lunch at the same time, Carlos sat on his left side during meetings. (Never his right- that was GP's spot.)

It had been a natural progression from there. It had been one of their sim days, Carlos casually watching over Max's shoulder as he set purple sectors around Spa. He'd been kind to Max all day- little things, like bringing him coffee, brushing his fingers across the small of his back, telling him after every lap what a good job he was doing.

It had started to sink into Max's brain, making him wait for whatever Carlos decided to tell him next, warm breath ghosting across the back of his neck.

Sure enough, his best lap time yet- Carlos had leaned over and kissed him, achingly gentle. Max hadn't even thought about the fact that some of the engineering team could see them, didn't even realize until later that night while he was trying to fall asleep.

The only indication the team had given was a brief talk from Christian- that if Carlos did anything Max wasn't okay with, to immediately go to him or GP.

Otherwise, there's never been any kind of conversation about PDA, even when Max was expecting it. Carlos certainly isn't subtle- he gives kisses all the time, likes to come up and just have his arms around Max. It's never even phased the team, which Max is a bit impressed by. They simply continue as normal.

Max has never had to worry about Carlos making him uncomfortable either. Carlos is steady and reassuring, broad chest and broader shoulders, likes to wrap his arms around Max and sway them to whatever music is playing. He's tactile, which is good, because Max has found he likes to always be touching people. He hadn't known that about himself when he was with Jos- all touch had been bad.

Now, he knows he can lean against team members, can wrap himself around Carlos or Danny like some kind of octopus and trust them to hold his weight.

(Mostly. He'd done it to Danny by the pool once and the fucker had just lifted him and cannonballed them both into the water, laughing the entire time.)

Max pauses, steps stuttering briefly, and Christian immediately turns to check on him.

"Max?"

One of Max's hands comes up to fiddle with the rings at his throat.

"Christian, the fourth driver- what if they don't get along with any of us?"

Christian furrows his brows, frowning slightly.

"Max, we wouldn't take on a driver that doesn't like you."

Max wraps the chain around his index finger, coiling it up before letting it fall again.

"Not just me- what if they don't like Danny or Carlos?"

Christian's face smooths out in understanding.

"I see. Max, I don't care if we have to go through the entire development program, or if we have to snatch from another team- we'll find someone. Driver compatibility is important to me. You, Daniel, and Carlos have something really good going. We'll find someone that enhances it."

He steps forward, curling his palm around the back of Max's neck, warm and heavy.

"If you ever don't like someone on the crew- just tell me. We'll get it worked out."

Max feels his shoulders relax, both at Christian's words and the reassuring gesture. It's nice that the team takes his comfort so seriously. It helps him be the best possible driver for them.

Still- he's learning to be a little bit more careful with his grievances. He'd half-heartedly complained about someone to Danny the other day after the race, and the next time they'd had a meeting-

The man was gone. Nobody mentioned it, and the new girl was very nice, introduced herself to Max and everything. He's sure there's more to it than just his complaint, but he doesn't want to be the straw breaking the camels back for some poor employee.

Unless they're really rude.

------

Triple headers are rough, and Max doesn't always want to go all the way back home between races, so he's dropping his stuff off in his room at the factory. His keycard beeps against the door, but he can smell food when he steps in, and the lights are on already.

Max sets his duffel down at the entryway, poking his head around the corner. Daniel is leaning against his fridge, scrolling his phone while Carlos messes with something on top of the stove.

He feels himself relax. He hasn't said anything, but triple headers stress him out a bit, make him feel more on edge than normal.

For both Danny and Carlos to be here, soft and domestic-

It makes him less nervous about the upcoming weeks.

Daniel spots him in the doorway, tucking his phone into his pocket as he grins, opening his arms.

Max drops into them, smells Danny's coconut shampoo from where his hair is wet and curled by his ears.

There's a warm weight against his back a moment later, Carlos bracketing them both in.

Max lets them both support him for a few minutes, decompressing.

"I did not think you both would be here yet."

Daniel tilts Max's head up to kiss him, soft and sweet. Carlos has his hands on his waist, heat burning over his hips like a brand.

"We wanted to come in a little bit sooner."

His voice is low against Max's back, and he can feel the vibrations of it through his chest.

Max is fine with that.

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄! | itoshi rin x fem reader

part twelve: childhood || BAND AU, A BIT AGED UP

plot: after your band's last concert, a few days after Rin's, an online competition arises about who is the best bassist. A whole new challenge is created by the new fandom who loves you, but people don't know that you and the bassist of Blue Lock haven't spoken in about 3 years since you broke up, when you were sixteen

characters presentation || last part || next part ; words: 1k

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

"When did you decide to play the guitar? I've never seen you here" you say to the child, putting your bass in the case "I started a few weeks ago. How about you?" he asks, and you think about it "I've been playing my bass for a long time now, I was 5 when I started!" You say, smiling at him, and he nods before walking back with his group

That Sae Itoshi was weird, but really good with his guitar. His guitar teacher always talked to your bass teacher about how he was a phenomenon, that's why you decided to talk to him for the first time, but he didn't seem particularly interested in you. Maybe he's shy, but you don't know

"Wait, Itoshi!" you say running towards him, the bass weighing on your shoulders "I'm convinced I can handle the speed with which you play your guitar, I can be your bassist!" you say, and he seems to think about it “Are you good?” he asks raising an eyebrow, and you nod "Many say that I am the best bassist of my age, in our music school" you say a little embarrassed. You see him a little perplexed as he takes the case over his shoulder "Do you have anything to do this afternoon?" he asks, and you shake your head to say no, following him with a smile on your face

As you walk towards Sae's house, you think about how you ended up in this situation: you don't even know why you care so much about being his bassist, but you think that he is capable of giving you notes that can make you electrify. You've been playing bass for 5 years now, and when you heard that the new guitarist at the music school you go was looking for some good bass players, you took the opportunity. Sae is 12 years old, a little older than you, but he already seems to be great at what he does; you have fairly high expectations, both on his part and on your part

"Come, we can go to the garage" says the child entering a small garden, taking a path that surrounds the road, which leads to the back. You follow him, looking around curiously, noticing how the outside of the house is very nice. When you arrive at the back Sae takes you into the already open garage, which overlooks a very well-kept garden, probably from her mother "You can connect your bass to that speaker. Shall we try some songs?" he asks, plugging in his guitar, and you nod, following the order that he gave you “You start, I'll join you and give you the right rhythm. After all, that's what the bass does"

Sae begins, and after a few seconds you join him: you both start playing a strong melody from a song you studied in music school, one you particularly like. Even though you've never played together you seem to have been doing it for a long time, as if a chemical reaction had taken place between your bass and his guitar. Play for minutes on end, until you reach the end

“That was so cool!” you say happy, but he doesn't seem to share the same happiness, despite being calm "It was nice. Let's try again with something else" he says, and you nod getting into position, yours fingers on the bass keys. For the second time you start playing without any problems, and you feel so happy to finally have someone who can give you emotions when he plays: you've been playing for a while, you know how it works to be paired with someone for a duet, you've always gotten along well with everyone because you're talented, but you've never had fun. But now you're doing it, you're not the only one with so much talent. It's satisfying, magical, beautiful

But as you play, you notice how someone is peeking from the last step of the garage stairs, the ones that probably lead to the first floor

Finished playing, Sae puts down the guitar, climbing onto the first step "Rin!" he says, and you are confused "If you are interested, you can come down. Observing is rude" says Itoshi, and a child comes out from behind the door, that is, from where he was hiding while he was looking at you "Sorry, Nii San" says the child coming down the stairs, looking down and apologetic

Seeing him like this, he is probably his younger brother; he could be your age, since you should be more or less the same height. He is quite different from Sae, except for the marked undereyelashes, perhaps a symbol of the Itoshi family: he has dark green hair, teal eyes and chubby cheeks. He is quite a bit shorter than Sae, that's why you're convinced he's his younger brother

When he reaches the garage floor, after going down the stairs, his gaze shifts to you: you observe each other for a few seconds, you curious about him and him for who knows what reason, which however doesn't make him look away

"Rin, I told you it's rude to stare. Introduce yourself to her" Sae says, walking over, placing a hand on his shoulder. Rin becomes serious again, standing up straight "I'm Rin Itoshi. I'm Sae's younger brother" the boy says, and Sae nods "He's 10, you should be the same age, right?" he asks, and you nod "I have 10 too, yeah"

Rin's gaze continually shifts between you and your bass as he stands a few feet away from you. You look at him curiously "Do you like my bass?" you ask, moving closer, and he takes a few steps back "Oh, yes" he says uncertainly, but you don't seem bothered by his uncertainty "Do you play an instrument too?" you ask, and Sae walks away, returning to his guitar, which he puts back on

“He said he wants to start sing-” Sae says, but is cut off from the ringing voice of his brother

"I want to play bass"

TAGLIST: @x3nafix ; @kittenish0 ; @littlejapanesesightseeingtrip ; @pan-kojiwa ; @pookalicious-hq ; @kaz-0e ; @sof888a ; @chugging-bleach ; @matchablossomsss ; @lovelymeguru ; @thebestsetter ; @yamsverse ; @princesssae ; @yuukigyatgyat ; @azharyy ; @rwbie ; @bubybubsters ; @swagkittybear ; @syarc0re ; @rink1sser ; @frogsrules ; @hwaassaa ; @chuuyalvover

[literaturewit65]

An Analysis of Dazai's Reactions to Death

Disclaimer: I haven't actually finished reading the manga yet so all information in this post is taken solely from the light novel and anime.

Spoiler alert: This post contains spoilers from 15, Storm Bringer, Dark Era and the anime of BSD

Warning: This post is about Dazai so naturally it contains mentions of su*cide and death.

This is my first analysis of BSD, so please be kind. That said, any constructive feedback is welcome. If you have any further questions about my perspective, please feel free to ask!

Then without further ado...

Bungo Stray Dogs written by Kafka Asagiri and illustrated by Sango Harukawa is a multimedia series which explores the complex nature of the human mind through its characters. One such character, Dazai Osamu, inspired by the 20th century Japanese novelist of the same name and his well-known work No Longer Human, is a character known for his eccentric behaviour and fascination with suicide. Often times his behaviour may come off as bizarre on first sight and one might think it is purely for comic relief. This essay aims to explain the reason behind his strange reaction to the sight of the murdered woman in episode five season one of the anime, or this scene.

This screenshot was taken from timestamp 6:27 of Season one episode 5 of Bungo Stray Dogs.

This will be done by exploring first Dazai’s reaction to death between the ages of 15 and 18 or during Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen and Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era, second by exploring the fact that Dazai is aware that he is different to other people, and finally by exploring the way he deals with this difference and with strong emotions during the present of Bungo Stray Dogs or at the age of 22.

Dazai’s reaction to death was unusual to say the least when he was the age of 15 and it continue to be so at the age of 18. There are three main instances where the audience watches Dazai react to death at these ages. In consecutive order from Dazai’s perspective—rather than the order they were published—is first, during the seventh light novel, Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen just after the fight before Dazai and Chuuya go to meet Randou. This scene takes place from page 53 to 54 of the English version of the light novel. There are several unusual points during this scene. But first it should be made clear that the audience has no real way of knowing what kind of experiences Dazai had been exposed to in his early life which could have a bearing on why he behaves this way at this age. There are plenty of theories but at the time of writing this Asagiri had not revealed what Dazai’s early life was like. Now, back to the point at hand. First it is unusual that a boy of 15 when faced with a dying man would ask him if he would like him to ‘end your suffering with this gun,’ (p. 53) however this may be disregarded considering that Dazai although not a part of the mafia seems to have been with Mori for some time at this point. What is more strange however is what Dazai says next ‘…But you’re showing me something extremely valuable—your death—so I want to pay you back,’ (p. 53). He then proceeds to repeatedly shoot the dead body while laughing. This could be chalked back to some sort of love for seeing others in pain if it wasn’t for what Dazai said before. He states that he sees the man’s death as valuable. There is no way of knowing how often Dazai had been exposed to death before but the fact that he views it as valuable suggests that at this point perhaps he had not been desensitized to it. Viewing death as valuable though is, decidedly, an unusual perspective for a 15-year-old boy to take.

The second time Dazai experiences death is also in the same light novel when Randou passes away. Those who have read Storm Bringer will know that’s not precisely what happens but at this point there is no evidence to show that Dazai has any idea Randou isn’t really dead and so it will be treated as another experience of death. There is a marked difference in Dazai’s behaviour in this instance compared to the one highlighted above. This scene takes place in Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen on pages 118 and 119 of the English version. Whether this difference in behaviour is to be attributed to the fact that Dazai probably knew Randou to some degree or to the fact that Chuuya had earlier highlighted to him the fact that his behaviour in the earlier scene was abnormal is up to interpretation. However, while his behaviour is more normal than before it is still rather unusual. During this scene Dazai seems more aware of the sensitive nature of what is happening because he asks Randou if he has any last words and continues by saying, ‘…If you have any final wishes, we’ll see what we can do to—’ (p. 118). This shows that he is sensitive to what’s happening and that it requires a certain type of behaviour, but it is still rather unusual given that this man is dying because of Dazai’s doing and the fact that Randou was trying to kill the former and Chuuya a few moments ago. Additionally, after Randou explains about what happened between himself and Verlaine before Verlaine betrayed him Dazai goes off on a tangent about the ‘inevitable destruction’ caused by ‘a fight between two skilled spies’ (p. 118). While Asagiri may have chosen to have Dazai say this in order to make it more clear to the reader why Randou tried to absorb Arahabaki, it is still a strange thing to do at somebody’s death bed. This being said, it is clear that Dazai is a lot more respectful at Randou’s death than he was at the G.S.S. officer’s death in the scene highlighted before as Asagiri states, ‘Both Chuuya and Dazai quietly listened as if there was something in what Randou was saying that they couldn’t allow themselves to miss,’ (p. 119). While it is possible Dazai is simply imitating Chuuya’s behaviour here in order to seem more normal it seems more likely that Dazai knows how to react better to the death of a person he knows and this idea is reinforced by his reaction to Odasaku’s death in Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era, which will be explored shortly. It is clear, however that Dazai is affected by Randou’s death in some way when the novel states ‘Some things, however, would not return to normal: the body of a man who no longer felt cold, and the hearts of the two boys who stood rooted to the spot, staring at him,’ (p. 119). This shows that Dazai is affected by death, but he seems to interpret it and deal with it in unusual ways.

The final example of when Dazai experiences death takes place three years later during the second light novel, Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era, when Dazai is 18 years old. At this point he has been in the mafia for three years, so he has probably experienced death quite a bit between now and when he was 15, however this is the death of the person who is probably the only one who ever understood Dazai—with the exception perhaps of Chuuya—and who cared for him in a way which was arguably like a father. This scene takes place from page 159 to 161 of the English version of the light novel. This scene is arguably the most interesting in terms of Dazai experiencing death for several reasons. One of those reasons is that while the scene deals with Dazai’s emotions, it does not deal with his reaction to Odasaku’s death but rather with his reaction to what Odasaku says, which causes a dramatic shift in his world view and which, as any reader will know, ultimately causes Dazai to leave the mafia and strive to become a better person. While the scene does start by dealing with Dazai’s reaction to Odasaku’s death the majority of the middle of the scene is spent on Dazai’s reaction to what Odasaku says to him before returning to his reaction to his death. The scene begins with Dazai rushing into the room, calling Odasaku’s name. This is pretty normal behaviour for anime and manga characters on seeing someone close to them dying. But Dazai then proceeds to say, ‘You’re such an idiot, Odasaku. The biggest idiot I know,’ (p. 160). That is arguably an unusual thing to tell your friend on his death bed, but compared to other things Dazai has done it’s not that abnormal. The scene continues with Dazai saying that Odasaku didn’t have to die. Which is standard behaviour. Then Odasaku says he wants to tell Dazai something. He proceeds with his statement about Dazai stating that he’s looking for his reason to live in the mafia and telling him that he won’t find it. The scene then proceeds to explore the idea that Dazai has finally realised how well Odasaku knows him. The rest of this scene is spent exploring this idea as well as Odasaku’s advice to Dazai. It only actually returns to Dazai’s reaction to Odasaku’s death at the end. By stating ‘Dropping to his knees by Odasaku’s side, Dazai looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes. His tightly shut lips faintly trembled. The smoke from the cigarette rose straight up to the top. Nobody said a word,’ (p. 161).  The strangest thing about this scene is arguably, that Dazai doesn’t cry. It’s possible that he was holding back tears, based on this description but the fact that it is only implied and left up to the readers interpretation suggests that Asagiri didn’t want to explicitly state that Dazai was crying. In the anime version of this scene as can below there is no hint of Dazai’s eyes being shinier than they usually are when he has lights in his eyes.

This screen shot was taken from time stamp 21:33 of episode 4 of season 2 of Bungo Stray Dogs.

After that the scene zooms out so that Dazai doesn’t have a face as can be seen here.

This screen shot was taken from time stamp 21:38 of episode four of season two of the anime.

This suggests that the decision to not show if Dazai was crying was deliberate. Given how much Odasaku means to Dazai, and that he had just realised how well Odasaku understood him it seems unusual that he would not cry.

The combined evidence of these three scenes suggests that Dazai behaves rather unusually in regard to death but that he seems to process it more normally when the person is closer to him than when it’s a stranger, where his behaviour is decidedly strange. Regardless of his closeness to the person however, evidence would suggest that the way Dazai deals with death is different to other people to a greater or lesser degree.

Now, how does all this have a baring on Dazai’s behaviour many years later in episode 5 season 1 of Bungo Stray Dogs? It has a baring on it if one accepts the fact that Dazai is aware that his behaviour towards death is rather strange to other people. It is never explicitly stated that Dazai is aware of this, however based on his behaviour it is clear that Dazai knows he is different to other people. This is highlighted in a particular instance in the seventh light novel. This scene takes place in Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen on pages 53 to 54 of the English version. In this scene Chuuya stops Dazai from repeatedly shooting the dead body of the G.S.S. soldier. The scene commences with, “‘Quit that, you idiot […]  He’s already dead,’ said Chuuya, ‘Quit shooting his corpse,’” (pp. 53-54). However, it is Dazai’s response to Chuuya’s statement which shows that he knows his reaction is unusual. Dazai responds with ‘You’re right. When you’re right, you’re right. That’s the most normal reaction to have,’ (p. 54). Then as he walks away from the body after dropping the pistol he laughs. This is the scene as it’s written, “‘Ha-ha. ‘Normal.’ Ha-ha-ha.’ Dazai’s hollow laughter filled the cluster of trees, vanishing into thin air,” (p. 54). The fact that Dazai reacts by stating that what Chuuya says is normal and the way he laughs about it shows that he knows that he is not normal. If the idea that Dazai knows he is not normal is extrapolated, then it is implied that he also knows that his behaviour towards death is abnormal. If it is taken into account that Dazai realises his behaviour, particularly around death is odd it makes sense that as an adult he would want to hide that.

All of the above scenes took place when Dazai was still a teenager. However, it seems that even as a young adult he doesn’t know how to behave around emotionally charged situations. This is shown in episode one of Bungo Stray Dogs where Atsushi and Dazai are in the warehouse waiting for the tiger to show up. During this scene Atsushi is amazed by Dazai’s confidence and he states ‘You’re really confident, I’m kind of jealous. They called me a good-for-nothing at the orphanage. And now I don’t know where I’ll sleep tonight or whether I’ll be able to earn my keep tomorrow. […] No one’d care if someone like me were to die in a ditch somewhere. Yeah, I may be better off eaten by a tiger…’ this happens at 13:30-13:57 of episode 1 of season 1 of Bungo Stray Dogs. To Atsushi’s statement Dazai does not reply. He is silent for a beat with a neutral expression as shown here.

This screenshot is taken from timestamp 13:58 of episode 1 season 1 of Bungo Stray Dogs.

He then proceeds to state that he thinks the tiger will come soon. This is an unusual reaction given what Atsushi just said, and it would make more sense for him to comfort the boy. But he doesn’t. This is arguably because Dazai doesn’t know how to react in what would be considered a normal way in an emotional situation like this. If he doesn’t know how to react normally here it is unlikely he knows how to react normally to death. Now, it has been made clear above that he recognises his behaviour as abnormal, and it is likely that since his instinctive reaction is abnormal, he is unable to fake a normal reaction as he doesn’t know what this would be. Hence his unusual reaction in episode five season one. He reacts with such melodrama because he knows that his instinctive reaction isn’t normal, but he doesn’t know what a normal reaction would be, and he can’t just not react either thus he opts for this melodramatic reaction which, although isn’t normal still shows a rather dramatised version of sadness at the woman’s death which is perhaps more normal than what his instinctive reaction would be. And although the others at the scene who don’t know him are rather confused at his reaction it attracts less attention than if he were to react in a similar vein to his reaction to the G.S.S. officer’s death.

To conclude Dazai’s melodramatic reaction to the murdered woman in episode 5 season 1 of Bungo Stray Dogs it not just comic relief, there is a deeper meaning behind his eccentricities. He reacts this way because he is self-aware enough to know that his instinctive reaction to death is unusual and in order to not shock other people at his behaviour, he opts for the melodramatic response he gives since while still unusual it is more similar to the way a normal person might react being a rather melodramatic version of it.

[memorabxlia]

Wrapping Disaster ━ 기호

genre: fluff summary: “If that’s your best job at wrapping, I’d say Santa needs to hire some new elves.” warnings: est. relationship, mild teasing/banter, defintely holiday themed, slight reference to traditions pairing: nonidol!keeho x fem!reader wc: 1.1k a/n: DAY 9!!! nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

You’ve always prided yourself on being prepared for special occasions, but somehow, this year, time slipped through your fingers. The gathering with your friends is only a few hours away, and the floor of your living room is already a war zone of wrapping paper, tape, and half-finished presents. You sit cross-legged in the middle of it all, a half-empty roll of candy cane-striped paper in your hands, and a deep sense of inadequacy growing in your chest as you stare at the unevenly folded box in front of you.

Wrapping isn’t your forte, and it shows.

You’re mid-struggle, holding down a stubborn piece of tape with one hand while trying to keep the paper from crinkling too much with the other, when you hear the front door open.

“Hey, babe, I’m home!” Keeho’s familiar voice calls out from the entryway.

A small surge of relief courses through you—at least you’re not alone in this chaos anymore. You glance toward the door as he steps into the room, his black hoodie slightly dusted with snowflakes from outside, his face lighting up when he sees you. That smile of his never fails to make your heart do a little flip.

But the smile quickly turns into something else, something closer to barely-contained amusement as he takes in the scene in front of him. His dark eyes widen as he slowly sets his bag down.

“Uh…” Keeho clears his throat and gestures broadly to the mess around you. “What exactly am I walking into?”

You groan, tossing the useless piece of tape to the side. “It’s supposed to be a gift-wrapping session. It’s turned into a disaster zone.”

Keeho steps further into the room, hands on his hips, and surveys your handiwork—or lack thereof. There’s a lumpy attempt at a bow on one box, a tear down the side of another, and one particularly tragic-looking present that seems to have more tape than paper holding it together.

He snorts. “If that’s your best job at wrapping, I’d say Santa needs to hire some new elves.”

You glare at him, though there’s no real heat behind it. “Don’t mock me. I’m trying my best.”

Keeho plops down on the floor across from you, grabbing the nearest box and turning it over in his hands like it’s some sort of scientific specimen. “Trying your best? Babe, this looks like it got into a fight with a raccoon. And lost.”

“Okay, rude.” You snatch the box back, your cheeks heating. “If you’re so great at wrapping, why don’t you help?”

“I will,” he says, smirking. “But only because I can’t bear to watch you butcher any more of these poor, innocent gifts.”

“Wow, thanks for the support,” you say dryly.

Keeho grins, leaning forward to grab a fresh roll of wrapping paper. “Step aside. Watch and learn, amateur.”

You scoff but sit back, crossing your arms as he gets to work. Keeho moves with the kind of confidence that makes you both impressed and mildly annoyed. Within minutes, he’s folded the paper neatly around the gift, taped it in place, and added a ribbon for good measure.

“Ta-da,” he says, holding up the perfectly wrapped box like it’s a trophy.

“Okay, show-off,” you mutter, though you can’t help but smile. “Where did you learn to wrap like that, anyway?”

Keeho shrugs, grabbing another box. “Years of practice. My mom made me help her every Christmas when I was a kid. She said if I was going to be Santa’s helper, I had to do it right.”

You laugh, picturing a tiny Keeho diligently wrapping presents under his mom’s watchful eye. “Well, aren’t you the holiday prodigy?”

“Someone has to be,” he teases. “Clearly, it’s not you.”

You reach over and playfully smack his arm. “Keep talking, and I’ll make you wrap all of them by yourself.”

“Honestly, that might be for the best,” he says, winking at you. “But don’t worry, I’ll teach you. Consider it a bonding activity.”

“Oh, lucky me,” you say, rolling your eyes. But secretly, you’re grateful.

The two of you settle into a rhythm after that. Keeho demonstrates his wrapping technique—measuring the paper before cutting it, folding the edges just so—and you do your best to replicate it. It’s slow going at first, but with his guidance (and a lot of teasing), you start to get the hang of it.

“This isn’t so bad,” you admit after successfully wrapping your first present without any glaring mistakes.

“See?” Keeho says, flashing you a proud smile. “You’re a natural—well, sort of.”

“Don’t push it,” you warn, but you’re smiling too.

The hours pass in a blur of wrapping, chatting, and bursts of laughter. Keeho keeps up a steady stream of commentary, from critiquing your technique to sharing stories about his family’s holiday traditions. You tell him about your own memories of chaotic gift exchanges with friends and family, and he listens with genuine interest, occasionally chiming in with his own thoughts.

By the time you’re down to the last few gifts, the initial stress you felt has completely melted away. The floor is still a mess, but the pile of beautifully wrapped presents is proof of your joint effort.

“See? We make a good team,” Keeho says, leaning back on his hands and surveying your work with satisfaction.

“We do,” you agree, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Thanks for saving the day.”

“Anytime,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. “But seriously, next year, let’s start earlier. My wrapping skills are great, but even I have my limits.”

You laugh, snuggling closer to him. “Deal. But you’re still doing the ribbons. I’m officially delegating that to you.”

“Fair enough,” he says with a chuckle.

The two of you sit there for a moment, surrounded by the remnants of your wrapping marathon, and you can’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. It’s not just about the gifts or the party—it’s about moments like this, where everything feels right simply because Keeho is by your side.

“By the way,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence, “you owe me a reward for all my hard work.”

“Oh, do I?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”

Keeho grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Cookies. Lots of cookies. And maybe a kiss, if you’re feeling generous.”

You laugh, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Deal. But only because you’re the best gift-wrapper I know.”

“I’ll take it,” he says, wrapping an arm around you. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

“Merry Christmas, Keeho.”

❥﹒ p1harmony taglist: @minkilicious @amarecerasus

[boytumms]

A prince is married in a match meant to seal the peace between two previously warring realms, and he feels very anxious about it! On one hand, it would be better to have children soon after the marriage; his fertility will be seen as a good omen for the prosperity of the realm, and the heirs will bring stability and increase people's confidence in the future of the kingdom. But on the other hand, he's terrified of pregnancy, he's not ready, he worries about whether he can do it, about what it will do to him...

His sense of duty wins over, though. He wants to do his part in ensuring peace for his land and people, and he doesn't want to disappoint his parents or his husband. So in the weeks leading up to the wedding night, he takes fertility potions daily to ensure he'll get pregnant soon. In the last few days before the wedding, he has several each day. He's still terrified of pregnancy, yes, but he's more worried about failing in his duty, he wants to ensure that he doesn't fail. Pregnancy is terrifying, yes, but people manage it just fine all the time and he will have the best doctors in the realm, so he just needs to get pregnant and it'll be fine, right?

And it works out! It doesn't take long before it's clear he's pregnant, in fact it happens so quickly that he probably must've succeeded on the first try, during the wedding night. For a while he's happy, and his new husband is pleased with him, and everything is well, he has done his duty, the potions worked, it's going to be fine

only... it seems the potions worked a little too well. he continues to swell very rapidly, and soon enough it becomes evident that he's pregnant with multiples! And all his fears and worries about pregnancy come right back. He was prepared for one child, and even then a little nervous about it. How he'll manage a pregnancy and birth with many children at once, he has no clue

He's going to make his king very happy with all those heirs (maybe too many hairs lol). He swells so quickly he looks nearly full term in only his first trimester. There's so many babies inside him, the doctors can't get an accurate count, but they're sure it's at least a dozen from the rate of his rapid growth.

While he fears if his body will be able to survive this pregnancy, his husband seems overjoyed. He's made to dress in his robes and present next to his king wherever they go for the rest of his pregnancy, always being shown off as the picture of fertility despite how much he struggles to even walk with such a huge and heavy belly. In his second trimester, he needs several servants to help bare the weight in order to walk, and by the time he reaches his third trimester, he's completely bed bound.

His belly is so big it stretches almost a whole meter from his body, crushing him beneath the mountain of babies that kick and squirm inside him. The fertility potions ensured each one grew big and strong, and now their powerful movements are beating the poor prince from the inside out. He lays in bed, dreading the day his labor begins as he watches his towering belly sway and swell above him, knowing he'll have to push out a dozen or more massive babies in front of the royal court. He can only hope the court sorcerers have spells strong enough to ensure his survival

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 9

Sgt Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC

Someone break out the confetti and the party poppers cause IT'S FINALE DAY BABYYYYY 🎉🎉🎉🎊🎊🎊🥳🥳🥳

(if you need to catch up, the masterlist with all the previous parts is here)

We got typical 40kness and some real nsfw-ness under the cut, as well as inevitable spelling and grammar mistakes, which I apologise for.

I got a longer A/N at the very end, so for now, thank you for reading, and if you'd like, please consider liking, reblogging or commenting :)

Enjoy!

Despite Titus’ offers, Gadriel does not stay in the lieutenant’s quarters nor return to his own. Instead, he heads straight for the training hall. He needs to exorcise this anxiety. Flush it out with sweat and rage. It’s the only thing he can think of that might help. 

It doesn’t.

He lifts weights, punches bags and swings training blades. But no matter how much he exerts himself, his mind will not rest. Soon, his still-healing wounds start to twinge. But Gadriel welcomes it; pursues it, even. Pushes his body to the point of pain in the hope that it might smother his thoughts and distract him from his feelings. 

But that doesn't work either. Even when it pushes him to tears. Even when he's forced to take a knee and lean on his training blade because it feels like his stomach might just tear open. The fear won't fade. The frustration won't fade. The guilt, the worry, the helplessness… 

Gadriel drops his chin to his chest. He's breathing hard. Sweat pours down his bare chest and runs down his face. Soon, though, it is joined by tears. And his breathing becomes interrupted by choking sobs.

I can't lose her. Like some sort of twisted carousel, those same four words spin around and around in his head. I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her. 

With a grunt, Gadriel forces himself to his feet. He returns his blade to its rack before collecting his shirt and stalking out of the training hall. He’s bound for his quarters, but it isn’t to rest or cool off. He needs his undersuit, his armour. He’s not going to let her spend one more minute locked in another cell, waiting for death. Damn what Titus had told him. Damn what the Codex or his duty demands of him. Those things had taken her from him; wiped her from his mind, made him break his promise without him even realising it. But no longer. Never again.

Because I can’t lose her. Not again. I can’t. 

He reaches his quarters in no time. Once again, his serfs have left the door unlocked and Gadriel curses them for it under his breath. Usually, he would only reserve a modicum of irritation for such a thing, but with how dark his mood is at present, it feels like a personal slight. 

The door slides open as he approaches. Eyes low, Gadriel thunders inside like a storm. 

“Not a bad place you’ve got here.”

Gadriel staggers to a halt. Both of his hearts stop dead in his chest. 

“Smaller than what I expected,” Ellie says thoughtfully. “What with how big you are and how much space you take up. But still, it’s nice. Almost… quaint.”

She’s perched on his bunk, one leg drawn up towards her chest, the other hanging off the bed’s edge. Her tattered tunic and leggings have been replaced by a grey jumpsuit that Gadriel recognises as a repurposed engineering uniform. Still short of a prosthetic arm, Ellie has tied the sleeve on its left side into a knot at the shoulder. And that’s not the only modification she’s made. She has cinched the suit’s waist with a leather belt so as to show off her figure and left the front unzipped to reveal the low v-neck of the tank top she’s wearing underneath. She grins as Gadriel takes in the sight of her; the fact that she’s here, right now. Alive and free and smiling. 

Ellie opens her mouth to say something, probably some other quip or humorous remark. But before she can, Gadriel has her in his arms. Dropping to his knees in front of where she sits, dragging her into his body, holding her as if she might turn to ash in his grip at any moment. 

Tears well within his eyes. He buries his face into Ellie’s neck before letting them fall.

Despite how tightly he’s holding her, Ellie manages to free her arm and wrap it around his neck. Gadriel feels her cheek press against his, hears her chuckling softly. 

“It’s good to see you, too,” she says. 

“What are you doing here?” Gadriel asks. His voice is muffled by her hair and the crook of her neck. “How are you here? Did you escape?”

“Escape? No! No, nothing like that.” Gently, Ellie starts to draw away, presumably to meet his eye. Gadriel, however, refuses to let her go.

“Gadriel,” she says softly. She brings her hand to the back of his head, runs her fingers up and down his scalp soothingly. “It’s alright. I’m okay. I’m not in any danger, I promise.” 

Gadriel waits one cycle of deep, ragged breath before finally relaxing his grip. His arms, however, remain firmly wrapped around her. Ellie pulls away, cupping his cheek and guiding his gaze up to meet her own. 

“What’s going on?” he asks. 

“Sit down. This is… this might take a bit to explain.” 

Gadriel does as she says, getting to his feet before joining her on the bunk. He sits on her right side, taking her hand in both of his enormous ones. Ellie smiles lightly, but she must see the worry still lingering in Gadriel’s face, because immediately after, her expression turns reassuring.

“Titus and I have worked something out,” she says. “A way for me to stay here with you without putting either of us at risk.”

“How?” Gadriel’s tone is sharper than he’d intended. Already, he’s wary of this “way”. As much as he trusts Titus, any compromise made with the laws of the Imperium is a dangerous thing. Dangerous, and rarely without sacrifice. 

Ellie continues. “Did Titus tell you that he had Magos Galeo examine my cybernetics?”

“Yes. He said the results were dire.”

“That’s… certainly a word for it,” Ellie says ruefully. “But it wasn’t the one the Magos used. See, he called it “extraordinary.””

Gadriel narrows his eyes. Without thinking, his grip around Ellie’s hand tightens. Ellie picks up on it right away. “I know what you’re thinking, and at first, I was thinking it, too. But Galeo doesn’t wanna dissect me- he wants to recruit me. As a sort of… unofficial apprentice-slash-assistant.”

“And you agreed to this?” 

“I mean… yeah,” Ellie says. “It was either that or I try to become a chapter serf. But that never would’ve worked; not when I’m eighty-percent alien metal. If my life was placed under the jurisdiction of the Ultramarines, I’d have been executed on the spot.”

“I would also never ask you to indent yourself to anyone,” Gadriel adds. “Not even to me.”

That makes Ellie smile. “Oh, you sweetheart you.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.” Leaning into him, she rests her head on his shoulder. “And I’d have never put you in that position.” 

“So… a Magos’ assistant, huh?” 

“Far as ad-mech go, Galeo seems pretty chilled-out. He wants to still study me, of course- that’s really the only reason he wants to keep me close. But his rank will mean I’m well-protected, and my status as an unofficial member of The Machine Cult will keep pretty much everyone else off my back, for the most part.” He feels her shrug. “It’s the best I can hope for. Titus thinks so too. Besides, could be fun. As creepy as the ad-mech can be, they’re fascinating in their own way.” 

Gadriel is quiet for a moment. He looks down at his lap, where he’s holding Ellie’s hand. It’s entirely dwarfed by his own, enormous ones, as if she were a porcelain doll. 

“Gadriel? Are you okay?”

Unable to look at her, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry you have to do this,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry you can’t just… stay.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ellie replies. 

“I know, but… it feels like it is.”

“Why’s that?”

Gadriel sighs. In the pit of his stomach, something hot and heavy is pulling at him. The same thing that’d driven him to his knees back at the training hall. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I… I just wish there was something I could do. But the only thing I can think of is leaving the Ultramarines, and I can’t even do that.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m useless to you, Ellie,” he murmurs. “I can’t protect you. I’ve never been able to protect you. Not from the Underhive. Not from Severus. Not even now.” 

Ellie sits up, leaving his skin cold as she lifts her head from his shoulder. She withdraws her hand as well, and in his state of emotion, Gadriel fears she is about to leave. But instead, she brings her hand to his face. There’s pain in her eyes, but it isn’t hers. It’s his. 

“Gadriel, listen to me,” she says. “This arrangement with the Magos… it’s not your fault. It’s my choice. If I wanted, I could have chosen exile. I could’ve fled to some backwater sector, put down a few roots and live the rest of my life in relative peace. But I don’t want that, Gadriel. Not as much as I want to be with you.” 

Gadriel goes to shake his head, but Ellie stops him by tightening her grasp. Gently, she caresses his cheek with her thumb.

“And everything else that has happened to me,” she continues. “It isn’t your fault, either. You didn’t abandon me; you were taken away. And when they had you, you had as much of a choice in what you did as I did when Severus took me. I understand that now. I didn’t at first, and I’m so sorry for the things I said to you then. But now I do. And I don’t blame you for any of it.”

The affection in her gaze is almost too much for Gadriel to withstand. When was the last time someone had looked at him like that? With so much love; not for his service or his position or his duty, but simple, genuine love for him? 

Of course… It had been her.

“And, you know,” Ellie continues. “Now that I think about it, in the end, you didn’t even break your promise, either. You did come back. It may have been by coincidence, and it may have been fifty years late, but you did it. You came back to me. Just like you-”

Gadriel leans across and kisses her hard on the lips, smothering her last words. Cradling her cheeks with hands too gentle for their size and design. If the kiss takes Ellie by surprise, she doesn't show it at all. Sliding her hand up the back of his head, she tangles her fingers in his hair; her favourite thing to do when they kiss, ever since they were teenagers. With that thought, a surge of memories overcomes him; the first time she'd kissed him, during one of the many night they'd spend gazing up at the stars from the roof of his mother's slum; all the kisses of good luck, goodnight and goodbye that had followed; the kiss that had led to their first night shared together. Like a river finally freed from a concrete dam, all these memories come flooding back to him. With every one that returns, his love for her swells more and more. 

Ellie is sitting in his lap now. Knees either side of his waist, her breath growing short as she works her mouth against his. Gadriel can feel her breasts pressing against his chest, the squeeze of her thighs as she straddles him, his hips almost too broad for her legs. Tension coils in his belly. A wave of heat flushes his entire body before pooling between his legs. He lets himself fall backward, pulling Ellie with him so she's flush against his front. The bunk creaks with the impact. The weight of her body on top of his floods Gadriel's nerves with a concoction of comfort and pleasure so potent it almost makes him gasp. It also twinges the wounds in his right side, and the gasp that pulls from him, Gadriel can't manage to stifle. 

Ellie breaks the kiss, pulling away and looking at him in concern. “What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Sheepishly, Gadriel shakes his head. “I'm fine. It's only my side.”

“Oh, Throne!” Despite her dark complexion, Gadriel sees Ellie's cheeks suddenly redden. “I completely forgot, I'm sorry!”

Gadriel laughs. “You're fine. Don't worry.”

She runs her hand through his hair. The sensation sends goosebumps prickling across his skin. “If you say so,” she whispers. “Though, maybe it'd be better if you were on top; less chance of me accidently bumping you, then.”

For a handful of moments, Gadriel doesn't understand her full meaning. When he finally does, his eyes blow wide. “Do…Do  you mean-”

“Throne, Gadriel, you're giving me deja vu here.” Ellie grins from ear to ear. “Yes. That's exactly what I mean.”

The coil in Gadriel’s stomach tightens. It's joined, however, but a pang of anxiety. “Are you certain?” he asks. 

“Darling, what did I just say about deja vu-”

“No, no. It isn't like that. It's…”

Her expression turns serious again. “What?”

“Well… It’s…” Gadriel pauses to take a breath. Gather his words. “I'm not… the same as I was before.”

As sharp as always, Ellie understands his meaning right away. “Oh Gadriel…”

“I don't want to hurt you,” he whispers. “I don't want to– to frighten you.”

“You could never do either of those things,” Ellie says. She emphasises the point with a kiss. “Besides, you're not the only one,” she adds. “Eighty percent necron, remember? I'd say that makes us about even, don't you think?”

The quip makes him smile, but his anxiety is not so easily dissipated. “Ellie-”

He's cut off by warm skin touching his bare chest. Lifting up his shirt, Ellie slides her hand up and over his right pec. Her fingers trace his scars; both those sustained in battle and those left by the surgeries that'd turned him into what he is now. When she reaches the top of the muscle, she finds its neural port; one of dozens of black cybernetic nodes riveted into Gadriel’s body. Her thumb brushes over its surface. It sends stimulated shivers running through his entire being. “You could never hurt or frighten me, Gadriel,” Ellie says again. “Never.”

Then, ducking her head, she presses her lips to the same neural port from before. A soft, involuntary moan tumbles from Gadriel. He claws his fingers into the linen sheets beneath him. 

“Now,” Ellie whispers into his chest. “Flip me over. Take me. I'm yours, Gadriel. I've always been yours, and I always will be.” She kisses the port again. Again, shivers grip his entire body. “So, take me.”

That is all Gadriel needs to hear. 

*********************************************

Clasping his hands around her waist, Gadriel reverses their positions. Throwing Ellicent onto his bunk, he looms above her, framing her head with his enormous, thickly-built arms. A giggle escapes her lips. Throne, he’s enormous now. And strong. She can see it in his bulging forearms, the vice-like grip he has on the sheets beside her head. The strength to crush a skull in his fist, to turn bones to dust with a single punch. She’d always known that, of course; but it was one thing to see a space marine’s size and strength and another entirely to be pinned underneath it. But Ellicent isn’t afraid; she’s enthralled. And she knows underneath all of those scars, enhanced muscles and reinforced bone is her Gadriel. And as she had promised just moments before, he could never frighten her. He could never hurt her. 

Ellicent grabs a handful of his shirt, starts dragging it towards his head. Gadriel rears up to pull it off the rest of the way, then tosses it to the floor. Even years ago, when they’d been underhive street-rats, his body had always been impressive. But now, it’s like a work of sculpture; his chest and shoulders almost burst with the size of their muscles, and his abdomen is a terrain of shapely rises and valleys. Neural ports and surgery scars form symmetrical patterns all the way down his front, while battle scars- gashes, stab wounds and energy burns- are slashed more haphazardly. The pair of wounds from the Drukhari impaler have also scarred over, but instead of the dull pink or white of his other scars, these are still a bright, tender red.

Carefully, Ellicent runs her hand across his torso, then his chest, before finally cupping his cheek in her palm. Gadriel leans into her touch. Closing his eyes, covering her hand with his own. But it is only for a moment. Just like her, desire is tugging at him. And when he reopens his eyes, it burns as a hunger that’s almost animalistic. He grabs the shoulders of her jumpsuit, working her arm free from its sleeve before sliding it underneath her hips. Ellicent kicks it the rest of the way off, leaving her in just her panties and a thin white tank top. The latter, Gadriel practically tears off her. But when his eyes land on her naked torso, he pauses. Ellicent knows why. She’d been anticipating this moment. Dreading it. 

Carved into her skin, zig-zagging over her right hip, spilling across her breast and reaching up towards her shoulder, are lines of metal. Necronian metal. Pitch black and glowing green. They’re artifacts from her augmentations; each one marking a spot where the alien technology had been imperfectly woven into her flesh and grafted to her bones. Ellicent watches Gadriel’s expression anxiously. In her heart, she knows he won’t judge her. But even so, her fear remains. Finally tearing his eyes away from her shame, Gadriel meets her gaze. She smiles weakly. “I know. Horrifying, right?” 

Gadriel’s face softens. He touches her face, his hand so gentle despite its size. She waits for him to say something, but he does not. Instead, he lowers his head, cups her mutilated right breast and takes its nipple in his mouth. 

Ellicent lets out a gasp. Goosebumps ripple across her skin and her fingers claw into Gadriels’ scalp. Arousal throbs between her legs, made so much sweeter by the unspoken things he's telling her with his actions. That he doesn’t care what’s happened to her. He doesn’t care what she’s become. He loves her all the same. The same way he did when they were young. 

“Gadriel…” his name falls from her lips as a whimper. Her voice is weak with need. “Gadriel…”

With a final kiss, Gadriel releases her breast. His hands find the hem of her panties. He only manages to get them halfway down her thighs before his own desire overwhelms him and he buries his head between her legs. 

Ellicent’s whimpers turn to cries. Her hand forms a fist in his hair, dragging him closer, pressing him harder. Throne, how she has dreamed of this. How she has prayed to have him back, to have him take her like this all over again. In the decades since their separation, Ellicent had shared her bed with other men; but it was only to turn out the lights, close her eyes and pretend it was Gadriel. But now, she never has to pretend again. Because he’s here. He’s right here. And Emperor knows she is never letting him go again. 

She can feel her sex growing slick. Like a fire on the horizon, she can see orgasm approaching fast. But Ellicent doesn’t want it. Not yet. Not until he’s there with her. 

“Gadriel,” she says, sharper this time, so he knows it is not merely a whimper. 

“My love,” he murmurs into the skin of her left inner thigh. The feel of his breath makes her body shiver. 

“I’m- I’m ready for you.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Ellicent breathes.

Gadriel looks uncertain, but he obliges. Rearing up once more, he unties his breeches, pulling them down to the knees. His cock springs free. Purple, aching and larger than even she had been anticipating. He sees the surprise on her face, and his already flushed cheeks turn a shade redder. “Ellie, I’m-”

Ellicent sits up, silencing him with a kiss. “Not a word,” she says through a smile. “It’s perfect.”

He pauses for a moment. “If I’m hurting you,” he eventually says. “You’re to tell me, alright?"

Ellicent strokes his cheek. “I promise.”

That seems to be enough to set him at ease. Laying her back down, he adjusts himself so his hips are aligned with hers. Then, sliding an arm under her waist to support her, he enters her as slow and gentle as he can. 

Sounds of stimulation tumble from both of them; Gadriel’s low rumbling moans, Ellicent’s sharp, high-pitched gasps. Ellicent grips the massive muscles of his shoulder blades, as her body stretches and throbs around his enormous length. She can feel his back moving with his breath, which is quickly growing shallow and rapid. But he doesn’t move. Not yet. 

“Are you okay?” he rasps into her ear. 

Ellicent gives herself a moment to catch her breath. “Oh, Throne,” she whispers. “This feels like my first time again.”

“Is… is that a good thing?”

Ellicent gazes up at him through half-lidded eyes. Her lips part in a gentle smile. “What do you think?” 

Gadriel returns her smile. Still holding her around the small of her back, his other arm cradles the back of her head. Then, finally, he begins to move. 

Immediately, stars burst in Ellicent’s vision. Her hips buck against his, grinding against his pelvis. Gadriel grunts with every long, deep thrust, the sound loud, primal and utterly lusting. Ellicent throws her head back. Her exhales devolve into breathy, whimpering pants. The tension in her belly winds tighter, tighter. Kicking her panties all the way off, she locks her legs around Gadriel’s waist. Pulling him closer. Thrusting him deeper. Winding the coil tighter, tighter. 

“Ellie…” he moans into her ear. “Ellie, I-”

“I know, darling,” Ellicent gasps. Throne, she can barely even form words. 

“I… I-”

A tremendous growl cuts him off. He buries his face into the crook of her neck and his thrusts suddenly double in pace. Ellicent cries out in ecstasy. Her legs fall from his waist as they tremble uncontrollably. The tension between her legs finally snaps and orgasm seizes her every nerve. Gadriel isn’t far behind. As her body squeezes him, his growl becomes a roar, and with one final, penetrating thrust he spills his seed within her. Ellicent breathes hard through her mouth. Slickness, both Gadriel’s and her own, trickles down the inside of her thigh. Her fingers find Gadriel’s hair. Gadriel lifts his head before pressing his forehead to hers. His eyes slip closed, followed by Ellicent’s. For several moments, they remain like this. Bodies interlaced, hearts pounding in a shared, slowing rhythm. Coming back to one another from their shared high. Ellicent is the first to break the silence. “What were you about to say just now?” she whispers. “Before… you know…”

Gadriel’s voice is low and gravelly from his laboured breath. “I was about to say I love you.”

Ellicent opens her eyes. Wrapping her arm around his neck, she kisses him fiercely on the lips. “I love you too,” she murmurs. “More than anything in the world.” 

Eventually, Gadriel rolls onto his side, taking her with him. Ellicent curls up against his body, resting her cheek against his chest. She can hear his heart beat; slower and louder than the last time she’d listened to it like this, but no less familiar. She smiles lightly to herself. 

“I had something else I wanted to ask you." 

“Anything,” Gadriel replies. 

“All the humans aboard this ship- from serfs to the mechanicus staff- they all call you “My Lord.”"

“That’s right. What of it?”

“Well,” Ellicent says. “If I’m going to be the assistant to the Magos-”

“Oh, Throne-dammit,” Gadriel mutters. 

“Does that mean I have to call you that, too?” 

Gadriel scowls. “I swear on the life of the Primarch-”

“What’s the matter, my lord? Is thy Lord Astartes ailed by something?”

“Keep that up,” Gadriel grumbles. “And so help me, I will hand you over to the Inquisition right now.”

Ellicent laughs. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He pretends to think about it for a moment. Then, draping his arm around her shoulders, he plants a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re right,” he says finally. “I wouldn’t. Not even with a bolter to my head.” 

Ellicent waits for the punchline, but it never comes. Instead, he says it with complete earnestness. It makes her smile. “You’re the absolute sweetest thing, you know that?”

Gadriel kisses her crown again. “Just to you,” he whispers. 

Ellicent’s smile broadens. Soon, it is joined by the sweet sting of joyful tears. It's really him, she thinks; things she already knows, but still finds so unbelievable. He never abandoned me. And after all this time after being taken away, he found his way back to me. 

**********************************************

We did it! Hooray! We made it to the end- and it was a happy ending!!!

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has read, liked, commented on and/or reblogged any part of this fic series. It took a long of time and energy to make, so seeing all your feedback and responses just motivated and inspired me to no end.

This isn't the last of Ellie and Gadriel, either. I plan to do some more, cool things with their characters and their stories, so stay tuned for that!

Thank you again, I hope you enjoyed, and stay safe out there xoxo

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @lylakoi @passionofthesith @finchly-tintinnabulation @justfreakynothingelse

[welldonekhushi]

Shatrujeet Unit & Shadow Company

What if I told you, that the Shatrujeet Unit and Shadow Company.. have worked before?

The Shatrujeet Unit has a long and complicated history with General Shepherd, the U.S. Army Officer who commands his own private mercenary force, Shadow Company. The Shatrujeet Unit, which is an elite division created by the PARA SF, has been involved in numerous joint operations, including Shadow Company, conducting high-risk missions across various conflict zones. However, despite their shared battlefield experience, tensions have always existed between the two groups.

BACKSTORY / PAST:

A top-secret joint operation was conducted by the Indian Army and the U.S. Army, involving the Shatrujeet Unit, led by Captain Arjun K. Dhingra, and Shadow Company, commanded by Phillip Graves. Their mission was to extract a high-value target (HVT) who was linked to an international smuggling cartel.

The unit was focused on capturing the HVT and gathering as much intelligence as possible. However, they were unaware that Shadow Company had different plans, different orders. General Shepherd had instructed them to eliminate the HVT on the spot, leaving no space for a trial or gathering intelligence, creating confusion and clash of ideals together.

It was even worse when they were killing every single witness in cold-blood, using ruthless tactics to even take down civilians, who had no role in this mission. The Captain was truly enraged by this, but for the safety of his unit, he decided to keep the mission following suit, but imprinted an everlasting impression of the team in his head.

Arjun, angrily: You just killed someone that we needed alive, Graves. That intel could’ve saved lives, not just names on a report!

Graves, calmly: In our world, Captain, we end the threat. No time for feelings.

Arjun, glares at him: What about morals, huh?

Graves: Morals? Nice theory, but it doesn’t win wars, Captain.

Due to their conflicting mindsets, the Captain and the Commander never got together with each other.

The mission's conclusion was then covered up as that the team neutralized the HVT as "self-defense", and mentioned that the civilian casualties were caused by the local insurgents in the area — thus, covering up the actions caused by the Shadow Company, in reality. This truth enraged Arjun, but Major Kulshrestha persuaded him not to interfere, knowing the consequences. Though he shared Arjun's anger, he understood the cost of acting on it.

PRESENT (MODERN DAY, 2022)

Arjun's doubts about Shadow Company grew from their past joint-missions. It shocked him when he joined Task Force 141 and found out that both they and Los Vaqueros had teamed up with Shadow Company. He wondered what would happen if they started making their own rules after the mission. Overall, Price and the rest were surprised to learn that Arjun and Graves had met before Arjun's arrival in the 141 — unaware that the two had never gotten along for a long time.

Graves, smiles as he shakes hands with him: I think we have met before, Captain Dhingra.

Arjun, tightly holding his hand, with a sharp expression: .. I feel so the same.

But after all of this, why would the Shatrujeet Unit continue to work for the Shadow Company together as a group, even after knowing they're people with no morals? They say, you even shake hands with the enemies to get your job done quicker. This is the scenario. Knowing the Shadow Company had never related to their ethics, they'd rather work with them strategically and diplomatically, knowing the potential they have as well.

Furthermore, knowing General Shepherd's power and influence, Arjun couldn’t afford to risk his unit or his country’s security over one ideological conflict, so he chose to stay silent, observing how things would unfold. Similarly, Task Force 141 never fully trusted Shadow Company or Shepherd, and after the betrayal in Las Almas, their suspicions aligned with Arjun’s.

Hope the conflict between Arjun and Graves now makes sense, as they both refuse to follow each other's orders, due to their differing morals, ethics, and ways of functioning.

Let me know what y'all think about it.. I'm very nervous, guys *sniff*