#you are noticing this. after quite some while.

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNMATCHED

A/N: it's been like 6 months since i last posted something and honestly, i haven't even written anything, things are very shitty these days but i felt the motivation to write this quickly after watching 'tell me lies' and 'rivals' these past weeks so here we go! if student-prof type of fics are not your thing then don't read it

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

WARNING: age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry is very strict about staying away from students as a young and handsome professor, but there is one person he can't get out of his head and a Christmas party brings an unexpected turn.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry hates these type of parties, mostly because he can’t imagine inviting dozens of students into his home, his private space, have the roam around and spend an entire evening with them, talking and pretending like they aren’t just trying to get a better grade at the end of the semester with their too friendly behavior. Or, in his case, some girls try to push the boundaries and flirt with him, hoping to hook up with him. 

He is not stupid. He has heard students whisper about him several times, he notices the heart eyes when he is talking in class and he has gotten several phone numbers on papers since he started his PHD studies and started teaching last year. His friends teased him about being the heartthrob of the faculty, but he didn’t think it would actually happen and to this extent. To avoid any possible scandals, not that he planned to make any, he has put on quite a rigid mask towards the students to scare them off from even trying, though that hasn’t stopped some of them from wanting to shoot their shot. 

He wouldn’t have come to this party, he would rather be home and continue his research that’s still not even close to being done, but Professor Bradford, or Stella as she requests Harry to call her, is the only person he gets along with in the faculty. She is 18 years older than Harry, but still younger than the rest of the old men who have been teaching here since probably before the declaration of independence was signed. Those men are the reason younger people don’t like classic literature anymore, with their outdated ways of teaching and unwillingness to bring something modern into their lectures they are scaring the new generations away. But not Stella. She is one of the reasons Harry went into his PHD and now he gets to work with her. He couldn’t just reject her invitation for her annual Christmas Party she holds for her students and some colleagues. 

Now he is standing by the wall, drinking mulled wine and just gritting his teeth, trying to calculate how early is too early to leave. A couple of girls have already tried to chat him up, they like to circle him, leave him almost no room to escape and then make him talk about school stuff, but then they slyly bring up personal things, hoping to break his usual character, but he sees through them always. 

Harry’s best friend, Niall always teases him that he should just give in and have fun with one of them. His morals are a lot looser than Harry’s, that’s for sure. 

Just as he is about to look for the bathroom, not to use it but to hide for a bit, another group of girls spots him and he can already feel his skin crawling as they approach him from down the hallway. He is quick to assess the situation, but he realizes he has no chance of fleeing before they reach him. 

“Profesor! So good to see you here!” 

And here we go. 

It goes the same, they are extremely nice and inquiring about his plans for the next semester and then suddenly they are talking about summer and Harry knows they are moments away from asking what he’ll be doing once the school year is over. One of the girls is talking about going to Italy on a yacht and the others chime in with their own ridiculously over the top plans while Harry is avoiding to even look at them, his eyes roam around the other guests. 

That’s when he sees her. 

Just down the hall he can peek into the kitchen and there she is, with a boy Harry assumes to be her boyfriend. He’s seen them around campus the past few weeks, he even waited for her after Harry’s class and saw them walk away together as he fought the way his stomach churned every time. 

Since the moment she walked into his class at the beginning of the semester Harry has been feeling like he is losing his mind. Whether it be the way she laughs with her friends before class or focuses with undivided attention as Harry explains something by the board, or says hello every time she passes him in the cafeteria, Harry can’t stop thinking about her for days after even though he knows such feelings should be banned from his mind when it comes to a student. Every time he catches himself thinking about her he wants to throw himself out the window, but he still can’t fight it. There’s something in her that draws him in and swallows him whole and it’s not just the looks. Unlike a lot of students who take his classes for easy credits or to drool after him, she is there to learn as much as she can and she’s had the most brilliant thoughts on certain subjects Harry has ever encountered, making him almost jealous he wasn’t the one to think about them. 

She is… unmatched. And forbidden, but impossible to ignore. She’s been his vice for months.

From where he stands it appears she is having a fight with said boyfriend, her always cheerful expression is now rather upset and confused while the boy seems to be over the conversation, almost irritated by her, dismissed. Harry tries to appear not too obvious about watching them, but he is also way too fixated on her to ignore what’s happening just down the hallway. 

He glances away just for a few seconds, but the next time he looks back he sees the boy stomping away, irritated, while she is left there, pulling on her coat before disappearing through the backdoor, swallowed by the darkness of the unlit back terrace. 

And before Harry could stop himself, he is already moving.

“Excuse me girl,” he mumbles disorientedly as he slips out of the small circle. 

He places his glass to a nearby table and then grabs his own coat from the wardrobe in the hallway before making his way outside. After her. 

The moment he steps out into the cold a short sense of realization washes over him that he definitely shouldn’t be here, that he is crossing a line, but then another voice in his head tunes it out, convincing him that he is just making sure she is okay and there’s nothing wrong with that. 

Stopping by the door his gaze rakes through the terrace, but he doesn’t see her, until she spots her slouched form sitting on the bottom of the stairs leading out to the lawn. He hears her sniffling, but she hasn’t acknowledged his presence yet, if she noticed it at all. There’s a couple of moments of hesitation on his end, he can hear the rational side of him screaming somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him to turn around and just walk back inside, yet he still finds himself moving towards him and then that voice is silenced. 

“Everything alright?” Harry asks from the top of the stairs, but he startles her so much that she jumps to her feet and backs away a few feet. That’s when he sees her tearful eyes and red nose. 

“S-Sorry, I don’t–”

“Hey, it’s all good. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just checking in.”

She squints her eyes at him and that’s when he realizes she must not even see his face since the light is coming right behind him. So he walks down the stairs and then finally his face is lit and realization settles in her eyes. 

“Oh, Professor Styles. Hi.”

“Hello Y/N. Are you okay?” he asks again, to which she just chuckles bitterly. 

He can’t miss that even with tears running down her cheeks and her eyelashes stuck together, she looks so fucking beautiful it baffles him. He has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her tear-soaked cheeks. 

“Um, yeah, everything is… perfect,” she scoffs, reaching into her pockets, probably looking for tissues, but finding none so Harry grabs one from his inner pocket, handing it over to her, her fingers brushing against his for the shortest second as she takes it and then it’s over, but his skin keeps tingling. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles before drying her face as much as she can. “I’m good. Just…” She looks at him and changes her mind. “Ah, wouldn’t want to bore you with my nonsense personal drama.”

“Drama is never boring, have you learned nothing in my class?” he jokes and it actually makes her laugh. 

“This drama is not worthy of being taught in class though.”

“I bet some of the big names thought the same thing upon writing what we read in class these days.”

“So you’re saying I should write about how my boyfriend is fed up with me because I told him something he did hurt me?”

“That sounds like something I bet a lot of people would want to read about,” he smiles and when she mirrors it, he can feel his chest expanding. Somewhere way too deep in his mind an alarm goes off, but it quickly becomes one with the void and all he can think about is her. “Actually I can think of a few great pieces that are about similar topics.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, you’re not the first one to experience this.”

The way she looks at him is setting him on fire. The mixture of sadness, tiredness and gratitude towards his attempt to cheer her up is still making her glow in a way Harry has never seen before on any woman. 

“Do you mind analyzing one for me right now?”

“I’d be happy to.”

The party is completely tuned out for the two of them. First they actually talk about a novel, but soon it turns into sharing their favorite books and authors, their guilty pleasure reads,  recommendations for each other and even more personal bits Harry would never share with a student, but Y/N is the exception. 

They have no idea how much time passes as they stand outside and Harry ignores how the cold starts to sting his fingertips even in his pockets, because he knows that if they go inside this bubble will pop and he is too selfish to let that happen just yet. 

When there’s a short silence Harry notices that she is probably slipping back into what happened earlier and when she looks at him again he already knows she is about to share.

“I gave him a chance and explicitly told him not to fuck me over, because I can’t deal with that again. But all he has been doing is manipulating to believe that I’m always in the wrong.”

“It’s impossible for you to always be in the wrong.”

“I know. Well, part of me knows, but then I always go back to thinking that he is right, I must have messed up something.”

“That just proves that you have self-criticism, that you don’t just think everything you do is perfect.”

She sighs and looks away, her gaze distant as she battles herself inside her head, a feeling Harry knows very well, unfortunately. It doesn’t sit right with him that she is visibly struggling because of an immature guy’s untreated problems. She deserves so much more, but how can he tell that without crossing a line?

“Give it some time and you’ll see it clearer. Use your critical thinking on his actions as well, not just yours and don’t settle for less than your worth.”

“You think I did that?” she asks, eyes jumping back to meet his gaze. “You think I settled for less than my worth?”

There’s more behind her eyes than the words she said out loud and he is torn, because he can feel himself being pulled in more than ever, like she just opened the door the slightest and he has the chance to slip in. It’s the first time he senses something on her part and after all the yearning he is eager to take the chance. 

“I think you deserve a lot more, Y/N. You’re brilliant, bright and give so much to others, you should get the same amount if not more back. If someone can’t see that, then they don’t deserve you.”

For a second he wishes he didn’t say a thing, he regrets crossing the line and he fears her reaction, but then… 

Then he forgets everything. Because she is kissing him. 

It happens fast, one moment she is staring up at him with doe eyes, the next her lips are crashing against his, her hands grabbing onto the lapels of his coat. He barely recovers from the shock when she is already pulling away.

“I-I’m so sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, I just—Oh my Go–”

Her stammering is quickly cut short when he kisses her, his hands holding her jaw to angle her face perfectly and while her kiss was closed, rushed and panicked, this one is different. He is quick to beg for her to open her lips so he can explore as much of her as humanly possible, he is letting all the passions loose that he’s been locking up these past months and when she returns it just as eagerly it just pushes him even further. 

They inch back to the wall of the house and when he pins her against it a moan slips past her swollen lips, completely maddening him. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against her lips, kissing her jawline, savoring the sweet taste of her skin that’s supposed to be cold, but it’s actually burning. For him. 

He keeps one hand on the side of her neck, the other one digs into her hip through her coat and she keeps pushing against him, while her hands wander under his coat, they are on his waist, back and when they move to his lower stomach, brushing against his belt, something snaps inside him. 

But before he could completely lose his mind the backdoor opens and he quickly sobers up, pulling her farther away from the corner so they can’t be seen. 

“...and that was actually crazy,” a girl speaks up, oblivious to how Harry has Y/N pinned against the wall just a few feet away. They are both breathing heavily, but she has her face buried in his shoulder while he covers his mouth with a hand, adrenaline racing through his veins. 

“Ah shit, I’m out of cigarettes,” another girl says.

“Mm let’s get out of here then. I think Max said they are having a little party as well.”

“Okay.”

Then the door opens again and the voices disappear, but reality hits Harry hard in the head.

He slowly pulls back, enough to look at her face and when he sees her swollen lips and slightly smeared mascara he almost combusts. 

Because he wants nothing more than to take her, right here and then everywhere else in the world, but he also realizes what he just did and this time his rational side wins. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as he jumps back, cupping a hand over his mouth.

“I wanted it–”

“Y/N, stop!” he cuts her off. “Fuck, this was a mistake.”

“But I wanted it! You didn’t–”

“I said stop!” he barks and she shuts her mouth right away. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

And before she could protest again or worse, kiss him again, he is already storming back inside, across the house towards the front door.

“Harry! I haven’t seen you all night!” Stella catches him, but he just wants to get as far away from this house and from Y/N as possible.

“I’m sorry, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later,” is all he manages to say before he is already out the door.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[itsdabatt]

Can i interest you in some snibor (reverse robins)

(Descriptions + close ups under cut)

Damian Al Ghul-Wayne AKA “Nighthawk”

Age 26. Formerly known as “Mantis”, Damian was Batman’s partner and sidekick from ages 10-18. During this time he makes a handful of similar-aged allies (and eventual friends) but is ultimately one of few child vigilantes for a while. Tension builds over the years, as Damian is desperate to prove himself worthy of the Batman mantle and Bruce is hesitant to sentence his son to such a bleak legacy. Damian dies and is resurrected at age 18. Shortly after being stripped of his title, he returns as Nighthawk, an aggressive but resolutely non-lethal hero. Over time he and Bruce relearn to coexist, thought not without great difficulty amidst the conflict of Tim’s emergence as Cricket. Damian still feels his father’s rejection and dreadfully anticipates the day he is cast away yet again, but he does his best to include himself in Bruce’s chosen children’s lives, having grown to know it’s not their fault. Nighthawk is now known as Gotham’s most merciful vigilante.

Timothy Drake-Wayne AKA “Draken”

Age 21. Formerly known as “Cricket”, Tim convinced Batman at age 14 to let him join his crusade by leveraging his knowledge of his and Damian’s identities (gained through a mix of process of elimination & a hunch regarding damian’s relation to the league of assassins, his time of conception, and bruce’s travel records). Feeling Damian’s absence, Bruce accepts his proposal, inaccurately assuming he wouldn’t grow as attached to a child who shared no blood relation to him. When Tim’s parents die, he’s adopted at age 16. Troubled by their death, he becomes Draken at age 17. Bruce notices a few concerning statistics in Tim’s patrols but is unable to confront him as he adopts Jason and then Dick soon after. When Bruce is reported to be dead, he left explicit instructions to not allow Damian to become Batman, leaving Tim as his successor. Not long after this, Tim runs off to look for Bruce, leaving Dick and Gotham to fend for themselves. During this period it is known that Tim was exposed to a lazarus pit, but he has done extensive work to conceal the events that took place during his search. Tim eventually returns with evidence of Bruce’s survival, seemingly unchanged by his journey beyond a strip of white hair and green eyes.

Jason Todd-Wayne AKA “The Red Hood”

Age 16. Formerly known as “Firefly”, Jason was adopted at age 12 after being caught stealing the tires off the batmobile. Unwilling to trust Bruce Wayne, Jason was promised the opportunity to become batman’s sidekick, just as Tim (who jason admired) had. At 13 Jason is thought to be dead. In actuality, he was held in an abandoned wing of Arkham Asylum being tortured by the joker for over a year and a half. There have been recent reports of a Red Hood operating in gotham, and while few details are known at this time it is of note that Dick seems to be quite avoidant of any conversation regarding him. Interestingly, the Red Hood has shown a steep decline in fatalities following his initial hostile takeover of the gotham drug trade. While his presence is felt, the Red Hood is rarely seen. Despite this, the Red Hood has been known to protect the children of Crime Alley, and reportedly has only ever spoken directly to children.

Richard “Dick” Grayson AKA “Nightwing”

Age 13. Formerly known as “Robin”, Dick was adopted at age 10 when Tim and Bruce were in the audience as he watched his parents die in an orchestrated trapeze incident. Although Dick is determined to track down his parents’ murderer, Damian and Bruce try their best to convince him otherwise. Before they can break through to him, Tony Zucco is found dead in the harbor with no known cause or motivation behind his death. With the choice taken from him, Dick ultimately accepts Bruce’s terms and chooses to become Robin, being Batman’s sidekick alongside Jason for a little under a year. When Bruce dies, Dick is justifiably upset by the division of the family and Damian does his best to support him alone after Tim disappears. Still reeling from the loss of his parents, then Jason, then Bruce, and now the sting of Tim’s abandonment, he begins to lash out and question the sanctity of the no kill rule. He becomes Nightwing at age 13 soon after Bruce’s return to life, having begun to associate the name “Robin” with death and betrayal. Dick claims he has had no contact with the Red Hood. In an attempt to socialize Dick with non-crimelord vigilantes his age, Damian and Jon formed the Teen Titans, which, in hindsight, may have been more trouble than it was worth.

[won4kiss]

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────I’LL WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE.

(🧺) ── 𝓙EONG JAEHYUN﹙정재현﹚ ꒰ 𝓰. oneshot ៸ fluff ៸ f2l ୨୧ㅤㅤ WARNiNGS : not proofread ៸ kissing ៸ lovesick jae❞ best friend! jaehyun x 𝑓! reader ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ꒰ WC : 2.7K ꒱ SYPNoSiS 𐙚 year by year, moment by moment, growing up with jaehyun has led to the love you’ve been waiting for all along .ᐟ ── LiBRARY

─2005

THE FIRST TIME YOU MEET JEONG JAEHYUN,

you’re both eight years old, and it’s the last day of second grade—it’s one of those annoyingly hot afternoons where the sun is brighter than ever, stretching shadows across the playground.

you’re sitting on the swings, your feet barely brushing the sand, when you notice a boy standing nearby, hesitating, as if unsure whether to approach.

he’s holding a small toy in his hands, a little red car with chipped paint, and he’s staring at it with a furrowed brow.

he finally looks up and meets your gaze, and there’s something curious and open in his eyes.

“hi,” he says, his voice nervous but steady. “i’m jaehyun.”

you tilt your head, watching him, and he gestures to the empty swing beside you. “can i sit?” ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!

you nod, and he sits down, gripping the rusty chains of the swing and kicking his feet off the ground in a way that feels awkward, like he’s too big for it already.

for a while, the two of you just sit, listening to the squeak of the swings and the lively chatter of the kids around you.

“i like the swings,” he finally says, his voice quiet. “it feels like i’m flying, like superman.”

you smile, feeling an instant connection to this boy with his shy smile and big dreams. “me too, but batman’s better than superman.”

from that day on, jaehyun becomes a constant in your life.

every day after school, he finds you on the playground, and together, you make up games, share secrets, and talk about everything from your favorite snacks to the names you’d give your future pets.

he tells you he wants to be a singer someday, his face lighting up with excitement, and you tell him that you think he’ll be amazing at it.

─2010

MIDDLE SCHOOL ARRIVES, BRINGING A LOAD OF CHANGE.

suddenly, jaehyun is taller, his voice has deepened, and he’s taken up basketball.

you notice the way people seem to watch him now, like he’s someone worth paying attention to.

but even though he’s growing into himself, becoming the kind of boy who can light up a room, he’s still your best friend.

one autumn afternoon, the two of you are sitting on the grass behind the school, sharing a pack of chips after practice.

the leaves are a vibrant mix of orange and red around you, and the air is crisp, the kind that makes you feel alive.

as you talk, he reaches over and plucks a small wildflower growing in the grass, examining it with a thoughtful expression—without a word, he hands it to you, his cheeks turning pink.

“it reminded me of you,” he says, a little shyly. “small but… strong.”

you take the flower, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest that you can’t quite place your finger on.

you press it between the pages of your notebook that night, letting it dry as a quiet reminder of that moment, a memory of a shift between you, unspoken but deeply felt.

─2014

BY HIGH SCHOOL, JAEHYUN IS SOMEONE EVERYONE NOTICES.

he’s joined the basketball team and fills out his uniform in a way that turns heads—girls pass him notes in class, and he’s always surrounded by people who want to be near him, to bask in his warmth.

but even with all the attention, he never changes around you.

he’s still the boy who waits for you outside your classroom, who finds you in the crowded hallways with an easy smile.

one friday night, there’s a big party, and he convinces you to go with him—the house is filled with people, the music loud and the lights dim.

you feel a little out of place, but jaehyun stays by your side, his arm slung over your shoulder as he introduces you to his friends, laughing and making sure you’re comfortable.

at some point, the noise becomes too much, and you slip outside for a moment to catch your breath.

you’re leaning against the porch railing, looking up at the stars, when you hear footsteps behind you.

“hey,” jaehyun’s voice is soft, and he’s smiling as he joins you, leaning beside you on the railing. “you okay?”

you nod, grateful for the quiet moment away from the crowd. “just needed some air.”

he watches you, his gaze warm. “thanks for coming with me. i know parties aren’t really your thing.”

his words make you feel seen in a way that goes deeper than friendship, and you wonder if he can hear your heart pounding in the stillness.

for a moment, you’re both quiet, the night stretching around you, and you feel a longing settle deep in your chest—a quiet, insistent feeling that you’re almost afraid to acknowledge.

─2016

SENIOR YEAR IS A BITTERSWEET TIME.

the two of you are talking about colleges, dreams, and the future—you’ve applied to different universities, and the thought of not seeing jaehyun every day makes your heart ache.

one afternoon, you’re sitting in the school gym, watching as he practices with the basketball team.

he’s focused, his movements graceful and sure, and you find yourself lost in the sight of him—when practice ends, he jogs over, grinning, his hair damp with sweat.

“thanks for waiting,” he says, a little breathless, he tosses his towel over his shoulder, his smile softening as he looks at you.

“can we go somewhere?” he asks after a moment, his voice quiet.

there’s a vulnerability in his gaze that you rarely see, and you nod, letting him lead you outside.

you end up at the park, the same one where you met years ago.

sitting on the swings, just like you did when you were kids, there’s a feeling of nostalgia between you, a sense that something is ending.

“i’m going to miss this,” he murmurs, his voice soft. he looks at you, his eyes reflecting the sadness in your own.

for a moment, you feel a surge of courage, the desire to tell him everything that’s been building in your heart over the years.

but the words catch in your throat, and instead, you reach over, slipping your hand into his.

“me too,” you whisper.

─2018

UNIVERSITY IS A STRANGE AND LONELY PLACE WITHOUT JAEHYUN.

you both try to stay in touch, texting and calling when you can, but the distance is hard, the busy schedules and new friendships creating gaps that you can’t always bridge.

but you still make time for each other, clinging to the friendship that has been your constant for so long.

one weekend, he comes to visit you—the moment you see him standing outside your dorm, that familiar, warm smile lighting up his face, it feels like coming home.

you spend the day exploring the city, eating at food stalls, wandering through bookstores, laughing and talking like no time has passed at all.

that night, you’re lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

jaehyun is beside you, his breathing steady and soft—you can feel the warmth of his body, the comfort of his presence, and you wonder if he knows how much he means to you.

in the quiet darkness, he reaches over, his hand finding yours. “you’re still my favorite person,” he whispers, his voice carrying a vulnerability that makes your heart ache.

you squeeze his hand, the words catching in your throat. “you’re mine too, jaehyun.”

─2021

NOW TWENTY-FOUR,

you’re both navigating the chaos of post-college life, juggling work, bills, and responsibilities.

jaehyun’s career is taking off, his life filled with new challenges, new dreams.

and though your paths have diverged, you still find time for each other, the bond between you as strong as ever.

one evening, he shows up at your apartment, looking exhausted and worn, the weight of his schedule pressing heavily on his shoulders.

without a word, you pull him inside, letting him sink onto the couch.

you make him tea, sitting beside him as he sips it slowly, his eyes closed in relief. “thanks for this,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “i just… needed a break.”

you reach over, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “you don’t have to do everything alone, jaehyun. i’m here.”

his eyes open, meeting yours, and there’s something deep and raw in his gaze, a quiet acknowledgment of everything you’ve shared over the years.

he reaches for your hand, holding it tightly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that feels intimate, grounding.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

and in that moment, you know that no matter where life takes you, he’ll always be a part of your story.

─2023

NOW AT TWENTY-SIX,

you’re both a little older, a little wiser, but still tethered by that bond that has carried you through every stage of life.

you’ve shared dreams, heartaches, and countless memories, and through it all, your feelings for jaehyun have only grown, a quiet love that’s been there all along.

one summer evening, you’re at his apartment, cooking dinner together.

the kitchen is a mess, there’s sauce spilled on the counter, the scent of garlic filling the air.

you’re laughing, both of you a little tipsy, the warmth of the wine making you feel bold.

as you sit down to eat, jaehyun looks at you, his expression serious, his gaze soft and steady.

“there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you, i’ve been putting it off for about a decade though,” he says jokingly, but you could hear the weight behind his words.

your heart skips a beat, and you meet his gaze, feeling the seriousness of the mood.

“i think… i think i’ve been in love with you for a long time,” he confesses, his voice trembling anxiously. “i didn’t know how to tell you, or even if i should. but i can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

tears fill your eyes as you reach for his hand, your fingers entwining. “i’ve been waiting for you to say that for so so long,” you whisper, your voice heavy with emotion. “i love you too, jaehyun.”

in that moment, every doubt, every fear melts away, leaving only the truth that’s been there all along—he’s the love you’ve been waiting for.

and as he pulls you into his arms, holding you close, you know that you’ve finally made it where you were always meant to be.

─PRESENT DAY

NOW, LYING BESIDE JAEHYUN IN THE EARLY MORNING LIGHT,

you feel the quiet peace that comes from being right where you’re meant to be.

the sunlight filters softly through the blinds, gentle rays fill the room and paints jaehyun’s face in warm, golden light.

his arm is draped over your waist, and you can feel his slow, steady breathing, his warmth seeping into you as he stirs slightly, eyes fluttering open.

he blinks, looking at you with a sleepy smile, the kind that’s just for you, a little private thing that makes your heart swell.

his hair is tousled, his face soft with sleep, and you can’t help but reach up, brushing a strand away from his forehead.

“morning,” he murmurs, his voice thick and a little raspy, but filled with a tenderness that makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

“morning,” you reply, your voice just as soft.

for a moment, you both lie there in comfortable silence, simply watching each other, basking in the warmth of the morning and the quiet intimacy that fills the room.

jaehyun lifts his hand, gently running his thumb over your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours.

“what’s on your mind?” he asks quietly, a faint smile playing on his lips.

you smile back, feeling a warmth spread through you, a joy that’s almost too big for words. “you,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks heat up, even after all these years of knowing him.

his smile widens, a small chuckle escaping as he leans closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, gentle kiss that feels like a promise.

he pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes shining with that familiar, deep affection that has only grown with time.

“i really like that answer,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle murmur that echoes the countless quiet moments you’ve shared over the years.

as you lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, you think of everything you’ve been through, every stage of life you’ve faced side by side.

from playgrounds to high school hallways, from late-night calls in college to quiet evenings in the kitchen, your lives have been woven together in a bundle of shared moments, small joys, and unspoken promises.

jaehyun sighs, a contented, happy sound as he pulls you closer, his hand trailing up and down your back in a slow, comforting rhythm.

“i don’t think i ever told you this,” he says, his voice a quiet murmur. “but there was always something about you… from the very beginning. even as kids, i knew that you were going to be someone special to me. someone i couldn’t live without.”

you smile, feeling a lump form in your throat as his words sink in—you reach up, cupping his cheek, brushing your thumb along his jawline.

“i think i always knew, too,” you say softly. “you’ve been my best friend, my constant… and now my love.”

a warmth blooms between you, filling the room with a quiet kind of joy that feels both old and new, a love that’s grown through years of friendship and shared memories.

jaehyun presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as he whispers, “thank you for waiting for me. for always being there.”

you close your eyes, leaning into his touch, your heart swelling with a happiness that feels almost overwhelming.

“you were worth the wait, jaehyun,” you murmur, feeling the truth of those words settle around you like a warm blanket.

the two of you stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, letting the quiet morning stretch around you.

it’s a moment that feels suspended in time, a snapshot of a love that’s been years in the making, built on a foundation of trust and friendship.

eventually, he shifts, pulling you closer, his gaze soft as he studies your face.

“what do you say we make breakfast?” he suggests, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

you laugh, feeling a rush of warmth at the familiar suggestion. “as long as you don’t burn the food this time,” you tease, poking his side.

jaehyun grins, a playful light in his eyes as he sits up, pulling you with him. “no promises,” he says, his laughter filling the room as he pulls you out of bed and leads you to the kitchen, your hands still intertwined.

as you sit down together, sharing a simple breakfast, you realize that this—these quiet, everyday moments—are the ones you’ll cherish the most.

because after all the years of waiting, all the moments of longing and uncertainty, you’ve finally found your way to each other after all your years of knowing him.

jaehyun reaches across the table, his hand finding yours, his fingers warm and steady around yours.

he looks at you, his eyes filled with a quiet, enduring love that speaks of all the years you’ve shared, all the small moments that have led you here.

and in that moment, with his hand in yours and his smile lighting up the room, you know that every second of waiting was worth it.

every second of waiting for his love was worth it.

© WON4KISS 2024 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

NOTE. i genuinely enjoyed writing this sm !! i miss my husband already guys this is so horrendous T-T i was listening to we can’t be friends string ver while writing this i’m literally sobbing ☹️

୨୧ TAGLIST OPEN ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @loves0ft : COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK TBA.

[shomatoriashi]

11/08/24; 02:33pm

yandere!sung.jinwoo x fem.reader

me: (imagine) a hot man offers you a drink at this korean bbq place, and you don’t want to look uncool and take a shot, only to realize it’s just lemon lime soda

you end up getting starry eyed for this devastatingly handsome man, enjoying the rest of what you thought would be a solo dinner with this charming man-

but little do you know, he’s been lovesick for you and stalking you for quite some time now -

lmao convince me not to do this bestie

@nyashykyunnie: convince me to convince you not to

warnings: stalking; obsessive thoughts and behavior.

work had been a stressful event for you, causing your once steady walking pace to slow down to a complete crawl. exhaustion was felt reaching down into your very bones, and it felt as though your body was being dragged down by weights itself.

lately, work had gotten so exhausting, with your boss forcing you to pick up extra shifts while you struggled to stay afloat. yet despite it all, you were able to survive and make it towards your day off.

currently, you were basking in the freedom that came with a friday night after a long shift work. the fact that it was also your weekend off added an extra layer of sweetness to it all-

and you were going to celebrate this joyous occasion with some much needed korean barbecue. walking across the streets of the city, you head towards your favorite restaurant with a bounce in your step. the exhaustion was quickly replaced with excitement and joy at eating all of your favorite cuts of meat and sides.

entering the establishment, you eagerly tell the host that you’d like a single table, grinning widely when he takes you to a table settled in the middle of the restaurant. looking through the menu, you had to swallow the excess moisture that floods your mouth from all the delicious scents that fills at the air.

after what felt like hours of waiting, your waitress greets you and asks what you’d like to have. when you tell her your order, she smiles and writes everything down, promising to bring out your food shortly so you could start grilling it. so caught up in your eagerness to destress and enjoy a delicious meal, you didn’t notice how a tall man kept his eyes on you.

you were about to unlock your phone and scroll through the various apps when the sight of a large glass bottle being slammed against your table makes you jump in your seat.

trailing your eyes upwards, you were taken aback upon seeing a handsome man with deep, grey eyes staring down at you. locks of wavy, ebony hair was seen falling across his forehead as he pours the liquid into the shot glass.

“a pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to dine all alone, so how about i keep you company?” he flashes you a kind smile, offering the shot glass filled with a clear liquid to you. by now, your heart was pounding in your chest, becoming flustered while beneath this devastating man’s amused gaze.

despite how you didn’t enjoy drinking, something about this perfect stranger’s alluring charm made you want to appear poised and cool enough to handle your alcohol. with a determined nod, you take the shot glass from his hand and down the whole thing with one gulp-

the burn was immediate, and you nearly choked until the familiar flavor of lemon-lime fills at your tastebuds. your eyes widen with realization, meeting kind grey eyes once more as he sits across from you. “no need to panic, i’m not big on drinking either, so let’s enjoy some of this crisp soda instead.”

“y-yes. that would be nice.” you admit to him with a bit of a dreamy expression on your face. now that you were completely relaxed, you were able to see just how gorgeous he was-

and you were dumbfounded at how he came to you.

he feels your gaze and smiles at you, “my name is sung jinwoo.”

you nod and eagerly tell him your name, knowing your heart was steadily melting for him. when your food finally arrived, jinwoo was the one who helped with grilling your favorite cuts of meat, all while serving it to you with a bowl of rice and all of your favorite sides.

throughout dinner, you basked in jinwoo’s presence, enjoying the night with him as you told him all about your interests and the things that brought you joy-

but little did you know, jinwoo had already known all of these things about you.

his meeting with you had not been a serendipitous one, oh no.

when jinwoo first caught sight of you, it was when he saw you walking out of your apartment and ran some errands. where you had gone, he had long forgotten by now, but all he knew was that the moment he saw your face-

all he wanted to do was protect you; to shield you from the world while taking you in his embrace.

it was crazy that he could feel so strongly about another human being at first sight. it’s just… something about you pulled him to you-

like it wasn’t gravity that was keeping him grounded to the earth, but you.

and jinwoo never wanted this feeling to disappear.

he takes advantage of his powers as the shadow monarch, placing only the best of his soldiers within your shadow while watching your every move. and when merely watching you through a haze of darkness wasn’t enough, then he’d resort to physically following your every move.

jinwoo was proud to say that he has stalked you for close to a year now, memorizing your schedule and the places that you frequented. of course he knew that you weren’t big on drinking alcohol-

or how you cried during your favorite dramas-

and the way you fell asleep while clinging to your favorite plushies.

he documents all of these nuances pertaining to you, keeping several journals on him, documenting your likes and dislikes with his own musings, all while praying for the day he can meet you naturally-

a day like today.

he had stood outside your workplace, hiding his face beneath the hood of his hoodie while watching your movements through his soldiers’ eyes. anger coursed through him each time your coworker and supervisor piled on the work for you, further exhausting you.

when you finally stepped out of the building, jinwoo could see the relief in your eyes all while allowing his gaze to soften for you. wishing to make his first meeting with you as picture perfect as possible, he shadow exchanges himself toward your favorite restaurant before getting a table.

now it was just a waiting game-

and you were perfectly ensnared within his trap.

jinwoo notices the way your eyes kept sneaking glances at him, with you eating your meal without truly tasting anything. he could hear the slight hitch of your breathing and was delighted to hear the way the blood seemed to rush through your veins as your heart raced for him-

you were finally his.

wishing to further cement your growing affections for him, jinwoo pays for your meal before offering to drive you home, not once daring to leave your side the moment you step out of the restaurant together with him.

as jinwoo drove you home, he felt saddened at the fact that he would need to leave you so soon, not wishing to make you uncomfortable while pushing the boundaries you may not be ready to break-

however, he was certain that the disappearance of your boss and coworkers would spark some concern within you, and that you’ll run into his arms soon enough-

it was only a matter of time.

end notes: lmao don’t mind me, i just miss sung jinwoo so much (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[william-t-sickofyourshit]

Despite being tired, William’s full attention was on Sebastian. He didn’t mind staying up late to talk to him, if that was what Sebastian needed. His poor darling complained about pain and discomfort, and William was reassuring him, and cheering him up, and promising him all sorts of things to lift his mood once he’s back home. “I will bake you an apple pie, darling. And we will watch movies together every night. Don’t worry, hospital stay is only for a moment. Soon you will be back home here with me.” William smiled at the phone.

They stayed on facetime for quite a long time, until William started actively yawning. Then even clueless Sebastian had to notice that William was just exhausted by now. “Mm… you know, I should probably get home…” William hummed eventually. “I need a shower, and tomorrow morning it’s work again…” he yawned once more.

So, William then made another round over Sebastian’s cottage, showing each of the six cats to the phone’s camera, so Sebastian could say his goodnights. They stayed on the phone while William walked home to his house, and then Sebastian got to also greet Dexter via facetime as well. But eventually, whether they wanted it or not, they had to hang up. William could hear the nurse in the background, in Sebastian’s hospital room, telling him that she will put him on light sedatives for the night, because he really needs some sleep. And Sebastian could see how sleepy William’s eyes looked by now, he was barely keeping them open. 

So after a few more minutes of ‘I love yous’ and ‘goodnights’ they finally ended the call. William’s house got so quiet all of a sudden. He missed Sebastian terribly already. Before showering, William decided to go to his church for a moment still. 

The inside of the church was chilly. William lit up two big candles on the altar, and knelt down for a prayer. He begged God for good health for Sebastian, and for forgiveness for his sins. He did that a lot, lately, praying and asking God to forgive him for whatever it was that caused such punishment. As if it was his fault.

“Please God…” William whispered under his breath. “Surely you see inside my heart, and you know how happy Sebastian makes me. He is good for me, and I know that you put him in my life for a reason. I know I didn’t handle it the best, I broke my vows, I’m lying to the people of this town… but I will make it right. I promise. And Sebastian doesn’t deserve to be punished for my cowardly mistakes…”

The prayer lifted some guilt from William’s heart at least. He hoped that God would listen. 

He dragged himself into the shower, hot water washing away the exhaustion slightly, and soreness from his muscles that was caused by anxious tension all day long. William crawled into bed heavily, Dexter curling right at his side. He put the phone next to him on the pillow, just in case Sebastian needed him. He didn’t even notice when his eyelids fell heavily, and he dozed off, sleeping like a rock. 

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[sweetheartsaku]

(BLLK) wherever u go i won't be far to follow

𝜗𝜚 BLUE LOCK VARIOUS: LILLIES.

a/n: [fem!reader] GAIS GAIS GAIS dew we fw the bllk posts 🤤it seems yes!!!!!! sorry for the tag !!@infpdoll @amelielovess for u<3

— characters: chigiri, rin, bachira

part one ! ♡ isagi, kunigami, nagi, reo

chigiri hyoma ; H.S.K.T - leehi, wonstein

can we imagine him sitting on the bathroom counter as you gently massage the jade roller across his face after a face mask. his hair is freshly washed (you brushed it 100 times on each side) so the room smells like peony and coconut, shower is foggy and little bits of his crimson baby hairs seeping out of his headband (〃´𓎟`〃) don't forget to kiss his forehead!!!!!!!!

gives the best?? massages???? maybe it's because of his high maintenance leg, used to doing it on himself so when you groan in pain after a scenic date, he most definitely wastes no time rubbing all the sore out of your legs

PEAK of his day is when he first wakes up and you guys brush your teeth next to each other, he knows sooner or later he'll be under your grasp as your thumb lightly rubs under his eye, rubbing away all excess sleep while your other hand runs through his hair.

secret kpop stan chigiri... totally not self-projecting HUH WHAT WHO SAID THAT what is a kpop stan uhm ! is a gg stan, gets defensive when someone discredits his faves and most DEFO a kiss of life (julie biased), le serrafim (sakura biased) and itzy (yuna biased) fan. probably owns a twt fan acc, i said what i said 🥰

by the way, don't tell him you notice when blush graces his face when you delicately graze the side of your finger across his lashes.

rin itoshi ; soft spot - keshi

rin itoshi who goes completely quiet when it comes to you. not because he secretly doesn't like you or anything, but quite the opposite (=´∇｀=) ! when he sees you, he's completely speechless and ends up staring at the girl who just stole his heart (for an uncomfortably large amount of time). when he sees almost anybody, he always has some sort of venom to spit but when he sees you, he can barely find any words for love 🥹

FACE MASK VICTIM NO.2 !!!!! lowkey flinches a little (affectionate) because he more used to the hot eye masks he gets at the convenience store, when the cold peach mask makes contact with his face, he gets a lil shiver nd' it's the cutest thing

idc how generic i sound HORROR MOVIE DATES!!!!!!!! i'm so here for horror nerd rin, i find it the cutest thing on earth and i just just just. waiter waiter one glass of rin please ! if you're scared (me), he tells you when there's a jump scare and covers your eyes when there's gore or when there's a freakazoid on screen

loves to sit in silence and play horror games too, whether it be the bathhouse, platform 8, as long as it's with you <3 secret valo/splatoon sweat

face scrunch when you push his bangs back n' give him a peck at the crown of his hair (;´□｀)/! not a physically affectionate guy but with instincts as sharp as his you wonder why he just lets you pepper his face with kisses...

baby face.

bachira meguru ; never ever getting rid of me - waitress, the musical

HUGS FROM BEHIND!!!🥹 puts his hands in front of your eyes and tells you to "guess who!!!" but not in a super senior way but more like a "y/nie y/nie guess who guess who!!!!!" way. he's such a cutie patoot i'm dead

music taste range is INSANNEEE biggest fan of babymetal, knows every lyric to hitorie or 2019 genre gacha sabrina carpenter die-hard, white girl radio enjoyer i don't make the rules (me too bachira, me too.)

LOCKS IN AT THE ARCADE (he hasn't won anything yet. key word YET!!). his attention span per machine is very limited but tries his absolute hardest into getting a plush he noticed your eyes wouldn't stray from and stays there for a while, persuaded he's guaranteed to get it. "look, look y/n!!! it's right there i'm sure i can get it. one more try?" same with gachapons. how can you not love this man

PDA lowkey isn't a thing and tackles you when he feels fit. loves to spin you around and does not give a damn if you have two left feet, an unconditional loverboy and is just the cutest (precious) (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

i am going to bake him into a cupcake.

matching absolutely everything!!! keychains, exchanged shoe laces, patches, bracelets. on the topic of fashion he love love loves when you wear things that are a little odd (this is for the fashion girlies) like mismatching tights, oddly coloured charms on necklaces and/or chunky glasses :3

finds minion facebook memes and laughs.

[stxrslut]

THE SLEEPOVER ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

summary; during a lovely sleepover with your best friend sarah cameron, you admit to never once having orgasmed before, the confession makes your best friend feel ever so guilty, she feels simply obligated to show her innocent best friend how to please herself right now.

content; pillow humping, fingering, guided masturbation, innocent!reader

this evening has been ever so lovely, just like every evening on which you’ve slept over at your best friend sarah’s house. you’re always taken care of so well there. 

right now you’re sitting up on her bed with her, all tucked in while you both watch some neon pink 2000s chick flick on the tv. although not much attention is being paid, you’re both too absorbed in a happy conversation. 

you’re all about oversharing with sarah, you do it all the time. she’s does it with you too, in fact she’s doing it right now, going off on a rant about some stupid guy who tried to come on to her at the country club. 

“and I considered it just for the sex, y’know, because I haven’t had a good orgasm in weeks,” she stresses the last word with wide eyes, leaning a little closer to you before continuing, “but I decided I couldn’t be bothered to deal with him. I can just make myself feel good after all.” 

you tilt your head, nodding along, “that makes sense.” of course you have not a clue about it. you’ve never had sex, or even pleasured yourself for that matter. it has just never been something that had occurred to you to do. “do you.. do that a lot?” you ask, you know she won’t be opposed to it. 

“not more than it’s normal to,” she shrugs, leaning back, “I mean you do it right?” her question is intended to be pretty rhetorical but she notices immediately when you react unexpectedly. 

you look down, “I don’t— I- I haven’t..” self consciousness washes over you for a second. even though you know that it’s not oversharing in her eyes, it’s still a little embarrassing to admit. 

she looks shocked to say the least, her mouth falling slightly open before she can stop herself and regulate her reaction. “like.. never?” 

you shake your head, “no… don’t know how even if I tried.” 

that sentence seems to make her think, her eyebrows furrow for a second before she shakes her head, not accepting your statement, “no. no no no. you can’t.. not know. you’re missing out.. I mean.. how do you even feel good? no. I’ll just have to teach you.”

that is the conversation that leads you into the most vulnerable position you’ve been in for a long time. sitting up, leaning back on your arms, legs spread open over a pillow, your nightgown pulled up to reveal your glossy folds. 

“oh you need it,” sarah coos, she’s bent down so that her face is level with your pussy. “give me your hand,” she speaks gently, reaching out to take it. she pulls it down and guides you to touch yourself. 

your fingers are cold, having been out in the air conditioned open. it proves quite a shock when two of them collide with the small bundle of nerves you know to be your clitoris. 

you let out a whimper of confused emotion, mostly pleasure, mixed with some unsureness and maybe a little bit of curiosity too. you’d felt pleasure before, and of course you’d had that small need for pressure in this area before. but actually feeling that pressure, it’s overwhelming. 

you notice that she’s guiding your fingers in small circles in time with the pulsing of your nerves. her free hand climbs up to touch your hole before sliding two fingers in and moving them in a rhythmic pace with the circles. creating the perfect mixture of feelings to make you feel amazing. 

you both keep it up for many minutes. your hips are bucking and moving involuntarily as the sensation becomes more intense. the pressure gets stronger and you start to feel a sort of knot forming in your stomach. 

at some point she’d let go of your fingers to let you rub yourself independently, like how a parent lets go of the back of their child’s bike when they become confident they can ride by themselves. 

“oh! m’gonna–” you can barely make up words as the pleasure overwhelms you. your breathing is all ragged and shaky, “sarah… gonna cum.” you cry out, movement speeding up frantically before the feeling of bliss finally washes over you.

it's such a new feeling, and yet so primal, like it's rooted into you. you could tell when it was coming and now you lean into it and experience like you already had one hundred times. you throw your head back and moan loudly, completely disregarding the fact that you and sarah are not the only people in this house.

sarah is looking up at you with a grin on her face. she's still touching you, helping you through and letting you savour the feeling for as long as you possibly can. she has a proud little twinkle in her eyes, she's so happy that she's been able to help her best friend feel such a good feeling for the first time, she realises she wouldn't have wanted it to be at the hands of anybody else. 

she waits for you to come down and once you do she swoops in, leaning forward to pull your tired out body against hers, “you did so well,” she kisses you cheek in a gentle, affectionate manner. “were gonna get cleaned up now, yeah? then we can rewind that movie.”

[2amriize]

✩࿐࿔ the new coworker - seunghan one shot

summary: everyone was kinda scared of you at work, until he showed up.

genre: sunshine x cold, fluff pairing: seunghan x reader note: i miss seunghan very much. today was the day he was supossed to comeback, so im really missing him today </3

(idea by: @jakahbot ♥)

For some people, office work can seem very boring, and for you, it was no different. Although the job was comfortable, every day felt like the same monotonous routine. You’d only been working there for a year, but you still hadn’t managed to start a conversation or make friends with any of your coworkers. This was typical for you; it was always difficult to start conversations with people, and most didn’t see you as friendly since you often had a serious expression. The truth was, you thought you didn’t really need to befriend anyone—you were just there to do your job, so having friends wasn’t necessary, right?

One day, during your coffee break, as you sat in the cafeteria sipping your coffee, you were surprised to see your supervisor enter with a young man by his side, showing him around the office. The young man had dark hair and a somewhat cat-like face. For a moment, your eyes met, and he gave you a smile that made his eyes disappear before he walked out of the cafeteria.

Why did he smile at you? You looked around to confirm that no one else was there for him to be smiling at, and indeed, you were the only one present. Not even two minutes had passed when a group of your coworkers came into the cafeteria, talking excitedly about the new guy in the office.

“Did you see the new guy? He’s adorable...”

“Right? His smile almost made me melt, and his voice…”

“I hope they put him near my desk so I can see him every day…”

They fell silent when they noticed you in the room, glancing at you for a few seconds before giving a quick greeting. That’s when you knew it was time to leave. For some reason, you felt like your presence made people uncomfortable. Whenever you saw your coworkers in the halls or cafeteria, they looked at you as if they were afraid. It was something you’d never really understood. Without saying a word, you left the cafeteria and returned to your desk.

You weren’t expecting to see the new guy at the desk opposite yours, but as soon as he saw you arrive, he quickly stood up, bowing to greet you.

“Hi, I’m Seunghan. I’ll be working here from now on. I hope we get along well,” he said, looking at you with the same smile he’d given you earlier.

You looked at him for a few seconds, then nodded several times before turning your gaze back to your computer screen. Maybe you were just bad at socializing since you didn’t know how to respond to him; you just hoped he wouldn’t interfere with your work too much.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Days passed, and at first, everything went quite smoothly. There was no noticeable change; you just had a new coworker across from you (who would smile every time you made eye contact). The only thing that annoyed you was hearing some groups of coworkers come over to your section to ask if Seunghan needed help or just to offer him a snack or drink. At first, it didn’t bother you too much, but the interruptions gradually started to overwhelm you, as they kept you from working.

During one of these visits, you decided to take a break, getting up from your desk with a sigh and leaving. The office fell silent as they heard you sigh, watching you as you exited the room. But once the door closed behind you, everyone resumed their conversations.

Stepping outside, you sat on one of the benches across from the building, planning to wait until people left your coworker’s desk. After a few minutes, while looking at your phone, a coffee cup appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw that it was Seunghan offering it. You stared at him for a moment, confused, before taking the cup. He then sat down beside you, looking at you.

“Y/n, right? Sorry for being such a bother in the office…” he started, looking down at his coffee. “It seems like a lot of people have taken a liking to me,” he added, flashing you his usual smile.

“It’s alright; I guess it’s not really your fault,” you murmured, taking a sip of the coffee.

“Oh? This is the first time I’ve heard you talk,” Seunghan said with a small laugh, looking at you in mild surprise. “You know, I’ve heard people say not to approach you or that they’re afraid of you…”

“Yes, I’ve heard that too.”

“But I don’t think that’s true, so maybe I’ll be a bit of a bother to you.”

You looked at him, a bit confused, unsure how to respond. What did he mean? The fact that he was even talking to you now felt strange. It was the first time someone at work had a conversation with you about something unrelated to reports or work issues. Meanwhile, Seunghan held your gaze. After a few seconds, you just stood up without really knowing what to say and headed back inside.

“See you, Y/n!” he called after you.

To be honest, you thought he was just being polite that one time and that it would end with that conversation. You didn’t expect that Seunghan would actually try to become closer to you. He started leaving snacks on your desk, which you found after returning from breaks. Every time you looked over at his desk, you’d find him smiling at you, sometimes even winking before returning to his work. Initially, you didn’t know how to react, and you’d simply put the snack in your bag to eat later.

But that wasn’t all. During the first few weeks of working together, he’d often come to you to ask about things he didn’t yet understand, which you’d try to explain as briefly and concisely as possible. He then started sitting beside you in the cafeteria during breaks, trying to spark a conversation or simply talking about himself, sharing things like what he did over the weekend or the dramas he was watching.

At first, you would simply listen, occasionally meeting his gaze. You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed his company. You’d always had your coffee alone in that room, so it felt a bit strange at first to be sharing it with someone else. But for some reason, you were getting used to having Seunghan by your side. In fact, you were starting to look forward to his company. You couldn’t forget the expression on his face the first time he saw you smile or when he made you laugh. His eyes were bright, and he couldn’t help but smile as he looked at you.

“Oh? You have a really pretty smile, Y/n,” he said the first time he saw you smile.

Of course, as expected, this began to spark rumors throughout the office, causing the coworkers who’d already looked at you with unease or even fear to now glare at you with irritation. You didn’t mind; they’d always looked at you that way. What did bother you, though, was being judged by people who didn’t know you, who didn’t really know who you were.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Several months had passed since Seunghan had started working with you. The days that had once felt monotonous and hard to get through were now pleasant, thanks to him. But that day, nothing was going as you’d hoped. One of your supervisors had scolded you for sending out documents before they’d been reviewed. You couldn’t help feeling bad, and unconsciously, you avoided Seunghan all day. You exchanged glances a few times from your desk, but you were so lost in thought about what had happened that you quickly looked away. Seunghan obviously noticed you weren’t quite yourself, but each time he tried to ask what was wrong, you’d go somewhere else, almost as if you were avoiding him.

That day, you decided to stay late to correct your mistake. It might have seemed trivial to others or just a small error, but to you, it felt huge. Before you knew it, the office was completely empty, with only your desk light still on. You checked the time: 9:30. You let out a sigh as you gathered your things and walked out.

“Y/n,” a voice called as you exited the building, and turning around, you saw Seunghan.

“Seunghan? Why are you here this late?”

“I brought you dinner,” he said, showing you the bags he held in one hand.

“Oh, that wasn’t necessary…”

“Is something wrong, Y/n? I know I’m usually the one talking, sharing stuff about my life, but sometimes I also want to know what you’re thinking…”

You looked at him in silence. No one had ever shown much interest in you, or at least, not in how you were feeling or what was happening with you. You didn’t know why Seunghan was behaving this way toward you; maybe he was just a genuinely kind person, but you were grateful for it.

“Maybe…maybe we could go to my place for dinner? It’s too cold out here…” you said without thinking, and Seunghan nodded eagerly.

It was the first time you’d invited anyone to your home, but it was too cold outside, and it wasn’t the best place to talk. Once settled in, Seunghan and you sat at the table, and after a few seconds, you told him what had happened that day. Seunghan listened attentively, understanding why you’d been acting that way.

But the conversation didn’t end there; maybe it was because you were in your home, which felt like a safe place, or maybe it was because Seunghan inspired so much trust in you, but you started sharing things about yourself, like your interests and why you’d started working there.

Talking to Seunghan helped you stop dwelling on that morning’s incident at work, and before you knew it, it was nearly 2 a.m.

“I don’t understand why everyone says negative things about you…” Seunghan murmured, making you shrug.

“Well, I can understand why everyone speaks so well of you,”

Your comment made both of you laugh softly, holding his gaze for a few moments. If someone asked you how you felt in that moment, you wouldn’t know how to describe it exactly, but it was as if you felt at peace. It had been a long time since you’d felt so comfortable with someone. After a minute of looking at each other in silence, you nodded a few times, averting your gaze.

“Thank you for reaching out and talking to me, Seunghan. I really appreciate it.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Y/n; you know I did it because you caught my attention,” he murmured with his familiar smile.

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori

@enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123

@sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies

[sugawhaaa]

SAN X READER

⚝₊ ⊹˚Scented feelings⚝₊ ⊹˚

Warnings:: mentions of SA and harassment, suggestive at the end

Genre:: friends to lovers

Pairing:: gym bro!San x fem!reader

A/N:: I've been cooking this up for a long time so I am PRAYINNN to the gods above this does well 🙏

San was a somewhat new friend but the two of you clicked like magic and nothing was too embarrassing to admit between the two of you. You met at the gym when you first started working out frequently and he gave you some tips. One thing led to another and now you work out together multiple times a week. He's always so encouraging, helpful and understanding.

If you explain to him that you're having kind of a rough day or not feeling well he won't try to push you like he normally does and he will respect the fact you want to keep it chill. All in all he is the best gym bro you could've asked for.

Today you came in a bit earlier than usual and started warming up with your regular stretches and light weight exercise to get your blood moving. As you did that you noticed two guys looking at you quite frequently and occasionally talking to each other. You chose to ignore them and listen to some music until San arrived. It wasn't too long after that you noticed San come in through the door with his bag and massive water bottle in hand. He smiled when he locked eyes with you and came over to you.

“You got here early today,” San smiles as he looks down slightly to meet your height.

“Yeah my schedule was clear and I just felt like coming by early,” you shrug and San nods. The two of you then get to work, following your usual routine. However you noticed the men from earlier were getting bolder and were much less obvious than before. You sigh softly as you go back to lifting some weights and Sans brows furrow. He hadn't noticed the men yet so he decided to ask what had been bothering you.

“You seem…frustrated?” San says as he comes closer to you, talking softer than usual.

“Yeah it's just those guys over there. They've been looking at me since I got here,” you tilt your head over to where the men were standing and talking. Sans brows furrow again as he looks at them.

“Want me to talk to them?” He offers but you shake your head.

“Nah I don't want to make a scene,” you set the weights down again and stretch out your arms above your head. San watches you carefully as you stretch before looking back at the men. He seemed to be more conscious of them than you were.

“I'm gonna go talk to them,” he said as he started to storm over to them. You put your hand over his chest.

“Don't, they're not worth it. Let's just keep going,” you smile at him and he sighs.

“Alright, but if they keep annoying you I'll talk to them. Formally,” he smiles innocently, too innocently. You continued working out and ignored the men and they seemed to stop staring at you…finally. However once you finished your workout San gave you a fist bump and I little sit hug while patting your shoulder. “You did good today,” he smiles, his eyes momentarily invisible, and you headed over to the girls change room. Upon approaching the door you were interrupted by the two guys from earlier. One blocked the door, it wasn't very deliberate but it was obvious, while the other stood more to the side talking to you.

“Could I get your number?” He asked straight up and you blush, not because you felt butterflies in your tummy like he probably thought, but more because you were so confused and embarrassed.

“Oh I uhm,” you shake your head and chuckle awkwardly. “I'm not interested,” you smile, still wanting to he polite because what if they really did have good intentions? It was doubtful but still. When you refused the man's face contorted with anger and what was this other emotion you could see in his eyes? You couldn't put your finger on it before he started getting mad.

“Oh come on just give me a chance baby,” he started getting closer to you and your body froze up. You weren't quite sure what to do in this situation; the man was much bigger and taller than you and you didn't want to cause a scene but you needed to find a way to get out of this situation.

“What's going on here?” San steps up next to you and puts an arm around you, smiling warmly to the man.

“Just friendly conversation, you know what I mean,” the man chuckled and San arched a brow at him, not very amused by his excuse.

“I see, well me and my girlfriend have some plans for the rest of the day so we'll be off then,” San pats your shoulder before kissing the top of your head. You felt your heart skip about a thousand beats.

The way his body pressed against yours, every inch of his muscles pressed against yours, including his arm muscles that were quite literally the size of your head and the kiss was so gentle and…sincere?

“Haha, have a good day you two,” The man chuckles awkwardly and backs up as the two of you turn to leave. San brings his hand down to your hand, interlocking your fingers, as he picks up your bags and leaves the gym. As you walked down the sidewalk you glanced back at the gym then at San.

“You can let go now,” you say as you look up at him, his cap hat shading in his eyes.

“We gotta sell the act or they may make a scene,” he leans down to whisper to you and your heart skips again. He was so close to you, so close to the point you could feel his body heat radiating onto you, and it got you excited. You thought you just thought San was you know a good looking guy, no romantic feelings, you just appreciate his beauty but after that insanity back there? The way he whispered to you made you freeze up to the point your jaw clenched to hold in all the things you were feeling.

San turned the corner, dragging your frozen presence along, and let go of your head. “They're way out of sight now, we're good to go,” he pats your back and you blush softly with a smile.

“Y-Yeah, we're good,”

“I'll take you back to my place so you can shower, in peace this time,” he laughs softly. “But in all seriousness I had to hold myself back from clocking those guys. No woman should have to deal with disrespect as much as they do these days,” he huffs as he crosses his arms, walking steadily with you. “Like God forbid a woman tries to get fit or take a shower,” he sighs while shaking his head, looking like a disappointed father. “Do you deal with that behavior often?”

“Uhm…not overly,” you shrug and he nods.

“If you ever find yourself in danger call me okay? I couldn't think of a better use for these muscles other than to clock a bastard bothering you,” he says as he pretends to box the air. You chuckle softly but nod.

“Thanks San, I'll call you,” a brief moment of silence fell upon the two of you when you realized you weren't sure where you were going, you were just following San's lead. “Where are we headed?” You ask as you trot along beside you.

“My place, so you can shower in peace,” he chuckles and you find yourself blushing. You had been at his house a few times before but showering in someone else's house feels like the next step in a friendship. When you get to his place you take your gym bag to the bathroom and San shows you how to use his shower just in case you didn't know. “This is temperature obviously and on the shower head there are four settings, the further you go to the right the higher the pressure goes and stuff,” he shows you before setting the showerhead back on its little perch. “You good?” He gives you a little thumbs up and you nod.

“Yes, thank you Sannie,” you smile and he blushes softly at the nickname.

“Sannie,” he repeats and laughs softly before leaving the bathroom. You sigh softly and begin to undress but just as you start San comes back in. “Sorry, here's a new towel and you can set your clothes on the counter here,” he hands you the towel and takes the old one off the rail. You thank him as he leaves you alone.

You undress and turn on the shower, making sure it's the right temperature before hopping in. You take your shower relatively quickly but as you water down your body you notice his body wash…he wouldn't mind you borrowing just a little bit right? Maybe? What's the worst he could do? Get mad at you for using it but meh he'll get over it. Unless he thinks you're a weirdo or creep for him. But that's way too far, he probably won't even notice unless he's sniffing you which would make him a creep and without thinking any further you grab the pale blue bottle and squirt a little bit of the soap into your hand, since there were no clothes nearby you had to result to just your hands which is fine, but as soon as you squirted out the soap Sans scent filled the room.

Whenever he'd spot you or help you get into good positions he'd get close enough to you that you could smell him and this is exactly what he smelt like…obviously. But it made your heart flutter. The scent was so indescribable. Coconut mixed with vanilla and maybe a hint of that fresh air smell. Oh, it was so good. You lathered the soap over yourself as you watched the suds bubble up before washing off of your body. Before you could even think you were smelling all of his soaps, like a fucking weirdo. But he'd never know so what's the harm? His shampoo was overwhelmingly strong. It had a very fruity smell, like a deep cherry or strawberry. He wouldn't mind if you borrowed it right? Either way you used just a little bit before getting out and drying yourself off.

The towel was nice and warm and very freshly scented. His laundry detergent was also very pleasantly scented, smelt like fresh air, and filled your head with images of clouds in a blue sky. You finished drying off and threw on your dry clothes before brushing down your damp hair. You put everything back the way you had found it and went to go find San.

You found him out in the living room on his couch and he turned to look at you. "Hey," he smiles as he looks you up and down very quickly. "Have a nice shower?" He asks to distract himself from your body.

"Very nice," you laugh softly before sitting next to him. When you sat down he got a whiff of his bodywash. He was surprised, the shock showing on his face for a split second, but he didn't mention it.

"So...are you gonna stick around or carry on with your schedule?" San asked very light-heartedly, he wouldn't be offended if you wanted to leave.

"I'll stay for a bit but I need to run some errands today," you say as you check your phone and San nods. The two of you hang out for a bit before you continue on with your day. That evening you get home and realize you left your bag at San's place. Your hairbrush, deodorant, pads, chapstick, and much more were in there. You decided to text him about it and he instantly found it in the bathroom.

You• would it be okay if I swing by after dinner to get it?

⛰️• ofc, I'll be here 👍

You• thank you 😭

After texting him you began to cook dinner before, of course, eating it. You then went down to San's apartment again and you couldn't help but feel excited to see him again. Even though it had only been a few hours you always craved to be near him...in a friendly way of course. When you came by he had your bag ready for you by the door and you wanted to ask if you could hang out for a bit but...you couldn't.

"I think everything's in there," San says as he hands it to you. You take the bag and smile, thanking him, but San could see you were thinking about something. "Y/N, you okay? You seem...distracted," he leans against the doorframe and you feel your heart stop at your face heating up.

"W-Well there was a complication with some of the pipes in my apartment and we were told to leave but I haven't found anywhere I can crash for the night," you make up a lie to stay at his place and he looks surprised.

"Oh well you can stay here for as long as you need. It gets lonely here by myself and my cat," he smiles, his dimples showing and you look at him surprised.

"You have a cat?" You chuckle softly and San laughs. He takes you into his apartment again and goes to his bedroom, encouraging you to follow. He then picks up a big long haired white cat.

"This is Muffin," he holds the cat up in his arms and encourages you to pet her. She's extremely fluffy and doesn't seem to mind being pet, she kinda just sits there. San also shows you his spare room. "There's not a lot here, not even a bed, so you might wanna sleep on the couch instead,"

"Thank you so much for letting me stay over," you smile at him, feeling a tinge of guilt but it was buried down by your excitement to spend the night with him. San shrugs.

"No problem, you hungry?" He pushes himself off the doorframe and walks out to the kitchen. You follow after him, Muffin following you as well, to the kitchen.

"Not overly, ate before getting here,"

"Right," San nods but makes you have a snack with him anyway. He sticks on a movie to entertain you but you end up talking to each other the whole time, the movie now out of question. The two of you got to talk on a deeper level than usual, things like relationship struggles and internal battles you've fought growing up. San always looked up at you so sincerely. His eyes were filled with sincerity and interest, he didn't just hear your words he listened to them, a trait many men fail to hinder. But something about his gaze so focused on you made you feel...excited. You felt like you were gonna flutter away at any given moment.

The two of you then go quiet, staring into each other's eyes, San then clears his throat. "Would you like a blanket?" He offers you a blanket and throws one on for himself. You snuggle up into the blankets and are overtaken with his scent again. You go back to watching the movie and then...you feel a sex scene approaching. Your body tenses as the girl on screen seduces the man and you chuckle softly but San remains focused on the show.

Eventually the two characters get down and dirty and you for some reason feel the need to turn away. Just a second ago you had so much to talk about but now...

"What a nice...ceiling you have," you chuckle and San laughs.

"If it's too tense for you we can skip this scene," San tilts his head at you but his words made your mind flicker for a moment. It was different from him saying "we can skip this scene" he said "if it's too tense," you thought of how to respond.

══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══

"Why don't we just pause it?" You suggest and San nods with a little shrug before pausing the movie mid-moan. You turned your body to look at him and he did the same, slightly man-spreading as he lifted a leg on the couch and held his arms open on the head of the couch. That's when you noticed the tent in his pants. You were excited at the sight but disappointed in the fact you weren't the cause of his arousal.

"Do you...have a boyfriend?" He asks softly and you look at him shocked. "Or girlfriend," he chuckles, breaking the ice a little. "I don't judge," he confirms and you think for a moment.

"N-No, I'm single," you smile. "But you surely must have someone in your sights," you giggle and San smirks slightly, chuckling under his breath.

"You could say that," he tilts his head up before looking you up and down. "What about pets? Got any furry or scaly friends at home?" He smiles light heartedly.

"I do actually. I have a fish and a cat, kinda ironic isn't it?" You laugh softly and San smirks.

"So where are they staying tonight?"

You freeze at his words.

"W-What do you mean?" You laugh but you knew you weren't getting through to him. Your face starts to turn red as you realized you've been caught lying.

"Well you have to stay here tonight because your apartment is having "complications" right? So, where are your pets?"

"They're at my...they didn't have to..." you try to make an excuse but your mind goes blank as you become flustered. San then leans forward.

"I don't mind you staying the night but if you wanted to spend time with me you could've just asked baby,"

To be continued...

[weltraum-vaquero]

Swan song

Professor Viktor x TA Reader

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

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[AO3 link] ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

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

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

Word count: 7.8k

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

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

He didn’t lie. 

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

When did he find the time?

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

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

He must have read it multiple times.

“Coffee?” He offers.

“Yes, please.”

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

You frown. “What was what for?”

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

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

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

Uh oh. 

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

“Why’s that?”

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

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

You wish they were right.

You’re glad they’re not.

You look at Viktor.

“Do you mind it?���

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

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

“Trying not to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why wasn’t your name added on?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The implication dizzies you. Is he…?

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

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

“I was thinking it could be you.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to taste them.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, did you.

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

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

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

“I’m glad you think so.”

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

And decides to torture you.

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

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

You need to stop.

And you most certainly need help.

“Is something the matter?”

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

“Wh— me? No. Why?”

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

“Did you not have lunch?” Viktor asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” he says.

“Thank you.”

Silence.

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

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

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

—

“I brought you something.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your chest swells so much it hurts. 

He made you soup?

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

“I wanted to. Have a seat.”

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

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

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

“I do care.”

And that rings true not just for the borscht.

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

It’s November before you know it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m free right now,” you suggest.

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

Right. 

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” He watches you with appeased amusement.

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

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

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

“You grew up in Russia?”

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

Changed his name?

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

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

Goddamn it. Focus. You need to focus.

“Sorry.”

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

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

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

“Come closer.”

God help you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Much faster.

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

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

“It is.“

You await the verdict with a bated breath.

“How much?”

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

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

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

His hair’s tangled in his goggles.

“Oh, wonderful,” he grits out sarcastically. 

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

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

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

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

He listens.

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

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

“Do you think you can do it?”

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

But yes. You think you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You need. To get. A grip.

“Sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s so warm. 

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

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

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

You’re staring at your boss’ crotch.

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

You’re disgusting.

You need to put an end to this.

“You’re welcome, professor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If he knew the half of it.

—

You’re late.

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

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

Viktor’s in a wheelchair. 

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

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

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

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

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

“A shock wave.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry.”

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

“Just… do not let it happen again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have it. I’ll be quick.”

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

“Peace offering,” he clarifies when you hesitate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.” You grimace in sympathy. “Fun.”

“A punishment for it, more like.” 

What’s that supposed to mean?

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad I could help,” you say.

—

Viktor isn’t there at all next week. 

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

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

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

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

Dr. Prof. Cecil B Heimerdinger

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

-Cecil B. Heimerdinger

9:32

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

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

Would this count as an emergency?

Your phone beeps.

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

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

9:34

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

9:35

Me

Thank you so much! 

9:35

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

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

Good luck 👍 

9:42

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

Who is that? 

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

—

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Thank you.”

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

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

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

10:11

You unlock your phone and jump straight into the chat.

Me

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

12:02

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

I knew you could.

12:02

Thank you.

12:02

Me

Focus on resting up and getting well soon! 

12:03

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

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

12:05 

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

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

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

Me

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

12:05

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

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

12:06

My apartment is also an option.

12:06

The choice is obvious.

[pepperonijem]

iii. tell me your favorite love song || to.you

"i wanna sing it with you."

summary: Council meeting! It's time for you to reminisce on failed dates and first confessions with Eren, Mikasa, Armin, and Jean! pairing: Levi Ackerman x gn!reader content: cursing, floch slander lol songs mentioned: completely - jaehyun

A/N: this chapter is definitely more filler, but I had to split it up because it was hitting well over 10k words for one chapter lol.

let me know if you'd like to be tagged! comments and rb's are appreciated :)

previous chapter || masterlist || next chapter

“Did you… Did you write that yourself?”

The last note from the piano seemed to echo through the room for a while before Levi finally turned to look at you.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Just finished it last night actually.” Levi looked down at the piano keys as his fingers ghosted over them, touching them with enough pressure to push down but not make a sound. “What did you think of it?” he asked. He seemed more vulnerable than you had seen him before, like you were seeing him in a way he wasn’t even used to seeing himself.

“It’s really good,” you answered. You weren’t really sure what else to say. It was good, it felt personal, like something more than just a catchy song. He had used your words, that had to mean something, but you weren’t sure what. “Was that part about the coffee–”

“From you?” Levi interrupted. Although he was looking away from you, you could see his ears turn pink. “Yeah, it was. I’m glad you noticed.”

You felt something flutter away at your chest. “I’m glad I could help you out,” you replied. If he wasn’t going to say anything more than that, then you would just take it for what it was. Levi nodded but didn’t reply. “I’m really flattered that I got to hear it first.”

Levi finally looked up at you. “Of course,” his head tilted. “Who else would I play it for?” As if it was the most obvious thing.

You’re sure your eyes widened in surprise and your cheeks definitely went pink, because almost immediately, Levi coughed and added, “You helped me write it so obviously you’d hear it first.” Right. That’s all. He was just offering something in return.

“Oh,” you began. Not sure if the sigh that escaped your lips was relief or disappointment. “Well if you ever need to write another song, you know where to find me. Though maybe I should start charging.” You hoped your tone was as light and playful as you intended it to be.

Levi let out a soft chuckle as he shook his head. Good. “Name your price.” 

Before you could add on, his phone buzzed against the wood of the piano before he reached out to check it.

“It’s Hange,” he explained. “Apparently we have band practice in 20.” He pocketed his phone before turning back to you with an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you around?”

His eyes seemed to twinkle under the fluorescents of the practice room and you felt your heart thud against your chest. He smiled. “See you around.”

Levi left right after that, and you found yourself stuck in the room thinking about his song. Your fingers pressed against some of the keys that you remember him playing, as if looking for a code to see what he was thinking. It felt… electric, to have something, not quite a secret, between the two of you. You couldn’t help but imagine him singing it on stage, no one else knowing that a little bit of you existed in the lyrics of his song. 

You found yourself wishing that you could hear him sing your song — the song about yo– the song he wrote that just so happened to include your words and seemed to describe exactly how you were feeling about him – again. Maybe he’d say it was for you.

Maybe he’d say it was how he felt about you too.

Later that night, you found yourself at Eren and Mikasa’s place, laying on their sofa with your head in Mikasa’s lap. You had sent out a text to your group chat, in desperate need of more minds on the case. A knock sounded on the door and Eren stood up to answer the door. You heard him groan immediately as it swung open.

“Why the hell are you here?” Eren spoke. It was immediately obvious from his lack of enthusiasm that he was not speaking to Armin.

You heard Armin’s voice reply. “I heard this was a council meeting,” he explained nonchalantly as he walked in with two boxes of pizza and a smug looking Jean behind him. “I saw Jean on my way here and figured he could be helpful.” The two of them smiled and waved as they walked into the living room and set the pizzas down on the coffee table.

“I don’t let strays into my place, Armin,” Eren huffed as he shut the door behind him, letting Jean into his place anyway.

Mikasa rolled her eyes and you chuckled as she chastised Eren. “Whatever, babe,” you felt her chuckle. “Just last week you pulled over in the parking garage and caused a 15 minute traffic jam because you stopped to pick up a lost cat.”

Eren’s cheeks reddened as he relented. Pouty as he was, he could never say no to Mikasa. Walking over, he lifted your legs as he sat down next to her before letting you rest them in his lap. “You didn’t need to announce it,” he whined as Mikasa leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“Anyway,” Armin chuckled, moving to sit beside Jean against the coffee table and facing the three of you. “We haven’t called a council meeting like this since Eren went through his emo phase.” Armin looked over at Jean as he explained.

“You would have an emo phase,” Jean sneered at Eren.

“You probably had one too, dickhead.” Eren countered.

“Yeah, if you count Justin Bieber as emo,” Jean rolled his eyes.

“Jean…” Armin began softly. “That’s… that’s not any better.” Armin patted his back as Jean looked away in embarrassment. Everyone laughed lightheartedly at that, even Jean… eventually.

“Okay,” you began, drawing out the last syllable. “Now that we’ve determined that Eren and Jean are both dorks, we can get to the problem at hand.”

“Hey!” Eren and Jean both shouted in offense. 

You sat up and reached for a slice of pizza before you continued. You weren’t particularly sure of how to approach the subject, but you also knew that after five seconds of silence, Eren would begin prodding at you. Maybe it was like ripping off a bandaid?

“I think Levi likes me.”

The silence was deafening. You weren’t really sure what to expect, but silence from everyone, especially Eren, was not it. Mikasa, definitely. Armin, maybe, he liked to think before he responded. Jean, from what you’d come to know, tended to hold off on offering advice until he heard others’ perspectives. Eren, however, was always one to speak whatever was in his mind, to refine his thoughts aloud.

“Did you all hear me? I said–”

“No, we heard you the first time,” Eren said, still staring at you with wide eyes. “Levi? Like 5’3” lead singer of No Name that looks like he wants to beat my ass every 10 minutes, Levi?”

You nodded back. Looking around the room, everyone seemed to be in a similar state of shock. Mikasa was resting her chin on a closed fist and her eyes were full of intrigue. Armin had a brow raised quizzingly, and Jean’s mouth was wide open until something settled in his brain and his lips pressed together in a smirk.

“I totally called it,” Jean beamed. “Didn’t I tell you he was singing right at you that one night?” 

You recalled Jean’s words from the first Halloween party you saw Levi at and you nodded. Levi did seem to have his eye on you that time.

“Nope, no, no,” Eren stood up. There was the Eren you knew. You sat up as well.“Levi doesn’t sing to people, he just sings and then glares from the stage. He glares at everyone.”

Eren also had a point. You’d known Levi to be exceptionally grouchy, and to make no exceptions for who he glares at. Maybe he was glaring at you for dancing with Jean, who he didn’t seem too fond of.

“What makes you think he likes you?” Armin asked curiously.

“I… He wrote a song about me?” you offered sheepishly as Eren’s eyes somehow got wider.

“He what?” Everyone asked in unison.

“I–” you stammered. “Well he never said it was about me, but he did use my line.”

Eren was pacing around the room now. “What was the line he used?”

“Something about the first coffee shop run in autumn.”

Recognition lit up in his eyes as you mentioned the lyric and he paused his movements. “He also used a line from Erwin in that song,” Eren thought aloud. “And I think he had a line about the drums that Hange had said about Miche.”

Oh, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t help but feel… disappointed. Eren’s words were sobering, and you felt yourself shrink. It was true, you had only met him a handful of times. Why would he write about you? Mikasa seemed to sense your deflating mood because she leaned over to wrap an arm around you. You smiled at her in return. 

Upon noticing your mood, Eren let out a sigh. He sat back down beside you and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want him to like you,” he began. “It’s just that… well, Levi’s the most emotionally unavailable guy I know. I’ve never so much as heard him say the word ‘happy’ outside of a song. I just don’t want you to build him up in your head just to get hurt by reality.” He looked at you knowingly.

Armin nodded along. “Eren’s right,” he agreed. “Being in love with the idea of someone is as good as handing your heart over to be broken. You shouldn’t have to put yourself through that again.” 

Again.

You remember that night freshman year that you were supposed to go on a date with a guy named Floch.

Floch had come up to where you and Eren were sitting and having lunch out on the quad. It was a breezy spring morning and you recall the way Floch’s red hair blew across his face as he approached the two of you with an easy smile. You gave Eren a ‘do you know this guy?’ look as he shook his head no.

“Hey,” he had said to you, pointedly ignoring Eren. 

“Hey…” you answered politely but cautiously as you looked over at Eren. Eren was eyeing him suspiciously.

“I just wanted to let you know how good you look in this light,” he spoke again with a charming smile and his hand extended out for a handshake. “I’m Floch.” You blushed at him and slipped your hand in his as you introduced yourself. Eren’s eyes sharpened into a dangerous glare when Floch twisted your hand in his and brushed his lips against your knuckles. He coughed and finally drew the redhead’s attention to him. 

“I’m Eren,” he said and reached his hand out, knuckles up, to mock Floch.

Floch simply laughed and nodded his head. His eyes fixed into a cold stare that contrasted his smile. “Hey man.” 

Floch reached over for one of the napkins that sat between you and Eren and pulled out of a pen and wrote down his number. “Text me?” And when you nodded, he walked away, back to his group of friends who jovially patted him on the back at his return.

“That guy is an absolute creep,” Eren breathed out, not bothering to wait for him to be completely out of earshot.

“Eren…” you warned. “He seemed nice, and he was kind of cute.” You pulled out your phone.

“He looks like half the guys on this campus,” Eren rolled his eyes as he looked at the number written on your napkin. “Don’t text him.”

“Too late,” you replied, as you hit send on a message.

Once Mikasa and Armin found out about it, they were on his side. 

Floch had asked you out on a date immediately upon seeing your message and that Friday night, Armin and Eren had come over to the dorm room that you and Mikasa shared. You were in the middle of getting ready, still trying to settle on an outfit and the two of them were sitting on Mikasa’s twin bed watching you with interest. 

Mikasa stood by you at your wardrobe, helping you pick and choose tops for your outfit while Armin deeply sighed.

“Are you sure we can’t convince you to not go?” Mikasa prodded even as she handed you another piece. You held it against your body to check it in your reflection before shaking your head and handing it to her.

“Guys,” you pleaded. “I really like him. I don’t see what the issue is.”

You watched Eren scoff and make eye contact with you in the mirror. His bright eyes watching yours carefully. “I can give you a list. Alphabetized even.”

You turned to glare at him. “Bite me, Yaeger.” Floch had joined you and Eren and Armin for lunch the next afternoon with a fully cooked meal for you and a bouquet of flowers, and since then, you and Eren had been arguing about him since then. Even Armin was skeptical of him and how he seemed to love-bomb you, as he called it, right after meeting you. “It’s nice to be with a guy that’s so direct about how he feels about me.”

“That’s the problem,” Armin spoke up. “Isn’t he a little too interested? The flowers, coming to your classes with breakfast, like that’s nice, but you’ve known him for all of two days. He hasn’t even asked about your major.”

You chewed your lip. You could argue with Eren all day long, but Armin had always been able to get you to see reason, even if you chose to ignore it. Which you did. There was only 15 minutes left before the time Floch said he’d pick you up, and you decided you were too far in to text him now.

“Armin’s right,” Mikasa said. “And he’s been a shit texter, hasn’t he?”

“Okay, but not everyone is a good texter,” you argued. You grabbed one last outfit option and walked into the bathroom to change. “Misa, you barely send five words in a single text on a good day.” You walked back out after changing and watched as Armin and Eren and Mikasa gave you a reluctant thumbs up.

You settled onto your own bed and Mikasa sat beside you and fussed with the collar of your top. “Shouldn’t that jackass be here soon?” Eren sighed.

“Yeah,” you replied. “He said 7, so five more minutes.”

At 7 p.m., Floch was nowhere to be found.

At 7:15 p.m. he hadn’t answered any of your texts.

At 7:38 p.m. you got a call from Floch. Who butt-dialed you. From the club. With his friends who congratulated him on getting a girl to fall for him in a record-breaking five days.

At 7:45 you were crying into Mikasa’s arms.

At 8 p.m. Eren said, “A guy who likes you isn’t going to see you as a challenge to be won.”

“Woah woah woah,” Jean chimed in. “How do you know that he’s emotionally unavailable?”

Jean’s voice brought you back to the situation at hand.

You’re not quite sure why you were suddenly feeling defensive. Armin and Eren had only ever looked out for your best interests, especially after that incident with Floch. But when you remember how shy Levi got after he finished playing, and how open he was with you the night before, a part of you desperately wanted them to be wrong.

“Have you met him?” Mikasa chuckled. “That man is the definition of ‘if looks could kill.’ He only looks nice when he’s on stage.”

“Well he can’t be all bad if he can write songs that are so… personal” Jean continued to ask. Armin was right to bring him. His presence was refreshing. 

“You somehow manage to be passing psych when you’re an absolute dumbass,” Eren countered. Mikasa swatted at him and he immediately folded. “Sorry. Instinct. What I meant to say was that Levi holds his cards close to his chest, not necessarily that he doesn’t have feelings.”

“My question still stands,” Jean replied. “How can you write songs like that and be emotionally unavailable?”

Eren looked at him with frustration. “It’s not that hard,” he retorted.

Again, Mikasa swatted at his arm and shot him a glare.

“I mean I imagine it’s not that hard.”

Jean rolled his eyes before continuing. “No offense dude,” he began as Eren scowled at him. “But you are the biggest loverboy I’ve ever met. It’s pretty obvious which songs you had a hand in writing because they’re so very clearly about Mikasa and so very clearly written by a simp.” 

“First of all, how would you know?” Eren accused. “And second of all… which songs?” he blushed as Jean smirked. He was a lot more perceptive than he let on.

Jean cleared his throat as he began to sing… croak, more like. 

“Oh, show me a map of your soul Every second from now I’m gonna love you completely.”

Jean only stopped when Eren lobbed a pillow at his face, but it didn’t stop him from laughing. That was the song you’d danced with Jean to the first night. 

He was right. 

Eren wrote that song when the four of you were still in high school, when he and Mikasa had first started dating. It was the night of the winter formal and you, him, and Armin had spent weeks coming up with the perfect plan for him to confess to her and Eren was more nervous than you’d ever seen him.

“Are you guys sure I have to tell her?” Eren had sweat dripping down his forehead even as you stood on the balcony of the ballroom in the middle of December. He had already pulled his coat off, left only in his white button up and red tie, both of which he’d undone a bit to try to cool himself off.

“Yes!” you and Armin both cried out.

“But what if she hates me after this?”

“Do you know how stupid you sound right now?” you scoffed at him, your breath coming out in puffs in front of you.

“But–”

“No buts, Eren,” Armin chastised. “Mikasa deserves to know.”

“And you both deserve to be happy,” you added. “She’s going to love this.”

Eren, with a nod of determination, reached for his guitar case and shook his fingers out, trying to warm them up. Armin gave you a quick nod and you were thankful to be able to get out of the cold.

You walked back into the ballroom to find Mikasa already wearing a coat. The dancing was still in full swing and the band that the school had hired was playing some slow jazz standards. Under the glow of the warm lights, you could see your hands regaining color after having to hype your nervous friend up for over 20 minutes in the cold. She smiled when she saw you approach. “Headed somewhere?” you had asked her.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I couldn’t find you guys, so I thought I’d go out to the balcony for a breather.”

Perfect. You smiled sweetly at her as she raised an eyebrow. She knew something was up, but Mikasa in all her kindness was never one to fight against one of your schemes. “Oh? I’ll walk you out.”

You slipped your arm into hers and reached for your phone with your other hand, shooting Armin a text, telling him to clear out. He found the two of you just as you reached the french doors. His cheeks were pale with a bright spot of red that stretched across his cheeks and his blonde hair was disheveled from the wind.

“Oh hey,” Armin said casually. He pulled you away from Mikasa as she looked at the two of you with confusion. “Sorry, we just have to, uh, discuss some things. But the balcony’s free.”

“Thanks…” Mikasa said skeptically. The two of you watched as she finally walked out of eyesight before Armin grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you upstairs to another balcony. 

“Armin, you suck at bluffing,” you chuckled at him as he rolled his eyes.

Once you were both settled, you and Armin headed towards the railing. You could hear Eren’s voice crack as he spoke to Mikasa, “I wrote a song for you.” Armin looked at you curiously as you reached for the tie of your coat and began to wrap it around your phone.

“What the hell are you doing?” Armin whisper-shouted to you. He made no moves to stop you. 

“They’ll want a video of this,” you explained matter-of-factly. “Now hand me your tie, it’s not long enough.”

With a roll of his eyes, he obeyed and you knotted the two ties together. Armin made sure the phone was secure and hit record before leaning over the balcony to dangle your phone over the edge. You and Armin both listened in awe as you listened to Eren sing. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard him play the guitar, but it was the first time you’d heard his voice. You didn’t think he had it in him to carry a tune, honestly, but he did surprisingly well.

Jean’s voice snapped you out of your memories. “Was I right?” he questioned smugly.

Mikasa smiled as she looked over at a blushing Eren. “Yeah, you were.”

“See?” he raised an eyebrow at you as he continued. “All I’m saying is that maybe that song was about you, and maybe he only knows how to express his feelings through music. I don’t think it’s a reach.” Jean put his hands up in defense as he finished his statement.

“Well look,” Armin conceded. “Jean has a point. Some people are better at expressing themselves in other ways, like some people are acts of service people.” He pointed over at you. “Like how you make sure Eren and Jean always have class notes when they need it.”

He pointed at Mikasa. “Physical touch,” he explained. “You don’t say much, but you know when to put an arm around someone who’s sad.” 

Finally at Jean. “Quality time.” Jean scoffed as he wondered how Armin read him so easily. “You don’t have to hang out with us if you don’t want to, but you’re here.”

“Whatever,” Jean mumbled, but his cheeks turned pink anyway. Jean was perceptive, but Armin could read any person and a situation upside down and backwards.

“Well how does that help me?” you asked. “We can speculate about Levi’s feelings all day long… but I’d like to have a concrete answer.”

Armin’s eyes lit up as he devised a plan.

“Eren, what did you say your psych project was again?”

“To spend time with… oh no,” Eren trailed off as he watched the all too familiar mischievous glint in Armin’s eyes. He sat up straighter. “Armin, don’t include me in your plans.” “What?” Jean asked. “What are you planning, blondie?”

“Well, if you and Levi just so happen to do things together, and Jean and Eren just so happen to be there too,” Armin explained with a smug smile. “Then you can have them keep track of whether or not there are signs that Levi’s actually into you.”

Eren groaned as Jean laughed heartily. “That sounds so fun, actually,” Jean said. Armin returned his grin.

“It really doesn’t,” Eren countered. “Why can’t you and Mikasa go?” he asked Armin.

“I’m busy working on my own projects,” Mikasa shrugged. She smiled smugly as she continued. “Armin has his capstone.” If Mikasa was on board, so was Eren, however reluctant he may be.

“So it has to be you and Jean,” Armin confirmed to Eren. “Plus you guys will keep each other balanced, since Eren is a skeptic and Jean is a believer. And you guys get a good grade on your project.”

“C’mon, jackass,” Jean rolled his eyes at Eren. “It’s only a few more weeks till the end of the semester.”

Usually, you and Armin were the schemers of the group. One of you would come up with a plan, and the other would be ready to make it happen. This time however, you had a weird feeling. Anticipation? Excitement? You didn’t have time to decide, because soon, all eyes were on you.

“What do you think?” Armin asked. You scanned their faces. Jean and Armin looked at you with excitement. Mikasa also seemed interested in this plan. Eren, though he tried to hide it, also raised an eyebrow in interest.

“Ah,” you sighed. “What the hell? Why not?”

a/n: originally, i was gonna make floch a guy who tried to date you to convince you to join a cult (bc surprisingly, when i was in university, cult recruitment was a big thing?) but decided to make him a jack-ass instead. also the idea of Eren being a "can i sing for u" type of guy is so funny to me and you can't convince me that if he had a little sibling he wouldn't be a protective overbearing little shit.

[letsquestjess]

The Bad Batch and Crushes (TBB x GN!Reader)

Summary: The Batch have a crush on you, and want to tell you how they feel.

Warnings: None.

-- -- -- -- --

Hunter

Hunter gets fussy when he develops a crush, even more so than when he is around his siblings. Throughout the day, he will check up on you, asking if you need anything, if you slept well, and find any excuse to be in your presence. You often chuckle at his worrying of you, and you assure him you’re fine, but the one time you gently lay your hand on his arm while reassuring him, his heart skips a beat and he freezes. You’re a little too busy to notice, but Hunter is having a profound moment of realisation. He has a crush on you and there is nothing he can do to change it. 

The situation had come to a point where he wished to get everything out in the open, but he wasn’t sure. You were fleeing the Empire, and it wasn’t exactly the most opportune moment for any kind of romantic involvement. However, the more he considered the circumstances, the more he understood there may never be a perfect moment. He resolved to tell you when you were next alone. It took several weeks before the opportunity arose, when the team made repairs outside the ship and the two of you were tasked with monitoring the cockpit readings and ensuring that none of the levels ventured into dangerous territory. Despite his doubts and nervousness urging him to reconsider, he overcame them and began the conversation as smoothly as he could. As he relaxed, talk flowed, and he shared some amusing remarks he knew would make you smile. When he confessed his crush, he anxiously observed your reaction, hoping you wouldn’t pull away or reject him. Much to his relief and surprise, you confessed you felt the same way and had secretly wondered how long it would take for him to realise your affection for him. 

Echo

Echo has had crushes on others in the past, particularly during his early days as an ARC trooper, but what he feels for you is more than just a crush. He always manages to bring a smile to your face and ensures you have a drink and regular meals. He takes to sharing things with you he knows will make you happy, such as books, holo-movies, and artwork that reminds him of you. 

While you were assisting him with the dishes after dinner one evening, he inquired if you had eaten enough and offered to make you a dessert if you wanted some. He rambled a little, asking if you’d had enough to drink and if there was something specific that you might like. Jokingly, you remarked that with how attentive he was, anybody would think he had a crush on you. He posed the question of how you would respond if he told you he did, speaking hypothetically, of course, but his serious tone suggested this was anything but speculative. You were caught off guard because you’ve been interested in Echo for quite some time. Assuming your silence meant rejection, he kindly reassured you that there was no pressure to respond. He couldn’t understand why he said what he did... and then you confessed your feelings for him as well. He made an attempt at three different sentences, each one faltering as his mind caught up with what you had said. When it finally sank in, he made sure you were certain. Without a single second of hesitation, you gave him a bashful nod and the two of you spent the rest of the evening discussing your feelings and making the decision to embark on a relationship.

Wrecker

Wrecker does not do subtlety. He tries, but it’s just not in his nature. He enjoys being near you and despite the teasing from his brothers, he will happily take any chance to assist you, all while making you laugh until your sides hurt. His only desire is to see you smile. He is interested in a relationship with you, and has often wondered what it would be like, but he is unsure about your wishes in that area and is afraid of making you uncomfortable.

There came a time when you began to notice what was going on. You suspected Wrecker’s crush on you, Crosshair and Hunter had both confirmed as much, but you wanted to hear it from the man himself. In truth, you also liked him, and you couldn’t keep evading the subject. You made sure that you were both alone before you asked him if he might have a crush on you. Despite feeling sheepish, he was completely honest and admitted that he did. Before you could respond, he hurriedly reassured you it was all right if you didn’t feel the same way and that he valued your friendship above any romantic feelings he might have. Seeing the sweet relief on his face upon learning that you felt the same way about him, you couldn’t help but pull him into a tight embrace. A true romantic at heart, Wrecker instantly squeezed you back and nuzzled against your hair. Get ready for the most enchanting relationship you’ve ever experienced, because all he wants to do now is fill every single one of your days with love.

Crosshair

This man despises having a crush. It’s not just about the uncertainty of the other person reciprocating his feelings, but also about his own internal struggle. He convinces himself that you will never feel the same, that he is not suitable for you, that you deserve someone better, and he starts to spiral. 

It was definitely a surprise when he suddenly revealed his feelings. Following an extended period on the ship, you both decided to take a walk, wandering in complete silence. He was often quiet, but not to this extent. You checked he was okay, and the words poured out of him with no restraint. Before allowing any more negative thoughts to persuade him he had no chance with you, he had to remove them from his mind and get a clear answer. Despite being taken aback by the confession, you reassured him you shared the same feelings, but hesitated to say anything before because you were unsure about his feelings. The slight chuckle he gave you was raspy and low, but it was so wonderfully him you couldn’t help but smile. After spending the evening by a crystal-clear river, the two of you decided to take your budding relationship one step at a time and venture into that unknown together.

Tech

Tech doesn’t really notice his feelings for you until one specific moment, when you are assisting him with a project and make him laugh with a clever comment. It’s like a light switch goes on in his head and every thought is occupied by you. He attempts to focus on the amusing tale you’re sharing, but he finds himself captivated by the way your lips move and the subtle gestures you make while speaking, and he desperately needs to hold you. Damn, he wants this feeling forever. 

He kept it locked away for a long while. It was not practical and could jeopardise your safety. He was a fugitive clone evading the Empire, his situation couldn’t have been more dangerous. However, he had a genuine affection for you. You provided him with a sense of security, and he felt desired and cherished, all those extraordinary things those cheesy holo-novels spoke of. One night, while engrossed in his latest project, he confessed everything, using his tinkering as a distraction to prevent himself from retracting the words he wanted to express. After he finished speaking, a quietness descended upon both of you, and he questioned aloud whether pursuing a relationship would truly be the wisest choice given your circumstances, even if you felt the same way. As you moved closer, asking him what he would say if you said yes, he caved. He wanted to be with you, and he was unwilling to deny you both a chance at happiness for the sake of practicality. 

[yanmuffins]

what if the dimension of batman vs vampires p&f reader and damian accidentally stumbles upon is vampire!reader dimension? oh, and they arrive after vampire!reader is killed and turned into a vampire

the drama if p&f reader looks the exact same as vampire!reader (honestly, i see them as two different people since p&f reader is the same age as Damian and vampire!reader seems to be dick's age), since bruce looks at them and can't quite remember If vampire!reader looked like this when they were little

they all looking at p&f reader and damian being kids and wondering If vampire!reader were like that at this age, but then realizing that they don't have memories of vampire!reader like that

the despair, the anxiety, the guilt they fell

Why didn't they noticed vampire!reader sooner? why didn't they acknowledged them? why why why why

now vampire!reader it's nowhere to be found, and they could be in danger (they are), hell, for all they know they could be dead! (they kinda are)

and p&f reader and damian slowly backing away as they watch these alternate versions of their family descend into madness

let's just hope that version of the batfam finds vampire!reader fast and don't become desperate enough to end up becoming yanderes for p&f reader too

context &. context.

interesting!!!

i think vampire! reader and p&f! reader are basically just different versions of the same person. p&f! reader is gender neutral so they could be whatever gender you want them to be, while vampire! reader is female. also, you are correct, vampire! reader is older. while p&f! reader is around a year older than damian and came to the manor after him (being around 10 when they came to the manor and 14 in the fic), vampire! reader is around 21-years-old, closer to jason in age, and came to the manor somwhere between dick leaving for the teen titans and bruce adopting jason.

so, yes, p&f! reader is not only younger, but was the last one to arrive at the manor in their reality, and they had a pretty good, healthy childhood before that. not to mention bruce already had damian, so the concept of a biological child wasn't entirely alien to him, and they already had their hands full with him. the familial bonds ate tight-knit, lives are too busy, bruce already has to deal with his exceptional children and since reader is so normal, they're kinda overlooked.

and although there are similarities in the way and reasons both readers are neglected, i think it's worse with vampire! reader. she's around 7 when she comes to the manor, the circumstances around it being extremely shady (it was a scandal), and she's there before anyone except dick, whom she has shallow interactions with. from then on comes jason and the following children, and she just has to watch her father (and older brother) make time for everyone but her.

anyway, appearence-wise, p&f! reader and vampire! essentially look the same, or at least extremely similiar. but here's the thing: vampire reader's bruce does remember what his daughter looked like when she was around p&f! reader's age. and that's what makes him crumble, because vampire! reader looked abstemious and somber from a yong age, which is a far cry from her younger, alternate-dimension version.

that fact hits him the hardest, but dick notices it too. his birdie looked like a mini-adult from the day she came to the manor, and seeing p&f! reader he just wishes he could have actually bothered to be there for her. jason notices it the most because he was the one closest to reader before joker killed him, as she was the only one in the manor around his age. the others, though?

they have no idea. mostly because they weren't there when vampire! reader was a kid, but there are some memories; of her welcoming them home, little acts of affection, trying to get close to them. and they took it for granted. they started noticing her lately, yeah, but as it seems it had been a bit too late.

vampire! au damian would feel kinda jealous of the sibling bond p&f! reader and damian share, it would stir conflict between the two damians which i think could be funny amidst the angst (if you ignore that they're both kinda terrified of this batfam spiraling). all in all, i think bruce thinks of how shit it is to have a child missing so he would make sure to help send both p&f! reader and damian home safely. he's got his own kid to take care of and good lord, that's going too big of a mess for him to even worry about the two intruders in his dimension.

[autobots-one-half]

the Nerima Wrecker Crews' Guide to Ranma Fandom for Newcomers

With the release this month of a brand new anime adaptation of the eighties manga Ranma ½, a lot of new fans are joining an older fandom that may leave them...confused about some details.

See, when the Ranma manga began in 1987, series creator Rumiko Takahashi was already solidly-established from her success with the runaway hit Urusei Yatsura. It only took two years for an anime adaptation to begin airing....for a mere eighteen episodes, before being canceled. If you go back to the '89 anime, you will almost certainly notice some drastic shifts in art style and tone from the first eighteen episodes to the remainder, and that's because only a single season was produced by Studio DEEN before production shifted to a new directorial crew, who dubbed the following season Ranma ½ Nettōhen (Fierce/Hot Battle Chapter).

The thing is, between the original eighteen episodes being made while the manga was still relatively early in its nine-year run, attempts to draw in better ratings by heavily promoting fan-favorite characters, a need for filler episodes to let the manga catch up to the pace of the anime's releases, and even the biases and friendships of the respective directors and writers...some things wound up being different.

And as a result, the Ranma ½ of the Eighties and Nineties is very different from what we're going to get with the 2024 anime. The 2024 series is based on a manga that had been finished for decades, and between the official releases so far and some unfortunate early leaks, it shows plenty of signs of being far more faithful to the original manga.

So, we of the Nerima Wreckers' Crew are here to introduce you to a few of the things you might run into as a new Ranma ½ fan exploring the existing fan content that has accrued over the past few decades!

Be aware: you're about to read spoilers for a four decades old manga. Questions about something that we don't cover in this post? Leave a comment asking for more, after the jump!

Something to get out of the way first: we're the NWC as an in-joke: as both Transformers and Ranma fans (and in some cases, fictive introjects), we wanted to combine the 'Wreckers' group name from Transformers with the English-language Ranma ½ fandom's nickname for the group of martial artists, students, teachers, monsters, and other characters who populate the series:

The Nerima Wrecking Crew.

The principal setting of Ranma ½ is Nerima, a ward of the metropolis of Tokyo. There are 23 special wards, and Nerima is a real-life one that is found in the northwest of Tokyo—in fact, it was the 23rd and final ward! In English-language communications, the local government identifies the ward as Nerima City, so that's how we'll speak of it here.

Nerima is a large city that still retains a very suburban, even exurban character stretching back to its history of farming. There are even still farms within the city limits, including at least one dairy farm last we checked! It's part of Tokyo, but it has a kid of old-fashioned peaceful character...that makes it the perfect place for anime characters to disrupt. That kind of disruption led the English-speaking fandom to dub our favorite crew of violent martial artists the "Wrecking Crew", presumably after their propensity to bust down walls and buildings.

A lot of anime and manga take place in Nerima. Takahashi's previous hit series Urusei Yatsura, the cat-robot classic All-Purpose Cultural Cat-Girl Nuku-Nuku, the anime adaptation of Stop!! Hibari-Kun, even Tokyo Ghoul...okay, some of these are not quite the same genre as the others.

This is often attributed to the large number of anime studios based in the city, but Ranma's adventures in Nerima have a special bond with the environment that seems to go beyond, stretching back to the original manga. Ranma is often seen walking along (or falling from) fencetops above canals just like the above image from Wikimedia, and scenes set in nearby parks map fairly well to specific ones in Nerima City, so we can generally assume that the neighborhood where the Tendō Dojo is found is roughly in the Ōizumi area along the Shirako River seen above.

More specifically, it's in an imaginary neighborhood somewhere nebulously within those boundaries, a neighborhood that parts of the older fandom know as Furinkan-chō, AKA "Furinkan Town", after the Furinkan High School that Ranma and Akane attend—drawing a connection to the more official identification of the cast of Urusei Yatsura as living in Tomobiki-chō and attending Tomobiki High School.

A sober, dignified edifice to education...populated by a bunch of martial arts lunatics.

Some of whom are probably going to be pretty different in the new anime!

Meet the principal of Furinkan High School. Yes, this is a native Japanese man. Yes, he has problems.

Principal, Headmaster, or in Japanese Kunō-kōchō (no given name provided) is, unfortunately, the unfortunate father of the equally unfortunate series mainstay Tatewaki Kunō. The Principal here visited the USA for a while in order to learn from our education methods and came back an even worse problem than he'd left, becoming obsessed with the trappings of Hawai'ian tourism and the English language. In the original Japanese, his dialogue is heavily peppered with random English words and phrases (and an obnoxious Woody Woodpecker-style laugh).

The thing is, it's hard to translate a character randomly speaking English...into English. So, the official English translations of the original manga and anime had the Principal badly pepper his speech with Hawai'ian Pidgin phrases. It's going to be a little while before he shows up in the new anime, so it's hard to say for sure how he'll be translated...but it probably won't be that. So, new fans: you're probably going to encounter a few fanworks where there's a random fake-Hawai'ian man threatening teenagers with bad haircuts.

Teenagers like Hikaru Gosunkugi.

This is Gosunkugi. You'll probably see him next season, because we're going to perform acts of supervillainy if they don't make a second season. He shows up pretty early on in the manga, and has an important role to play in a major storyline...but he didn't show up in the original anime for 94 episodes after he was supposed to appear.

What we got instead was Sasuke Sarugakure. There's some debate about exactly why the anime-only character Sasuke was added: a diminutive ninja with thick eyebrows, prominent whiskers, buck teeth, and a miserable lot in life as the Kunō family servant. Seemingly...the only servant. Sasuke's role in the original anime seemed to have been not only to fill in for Gosunkugi in an early storyline, but to act as a comedic foil to the overblown antics of the Kunō family—especially absurd since the anime took the already comical wealth of the Kunōs from the manga, and exaggerated it to an absurd degree that seems all the more ridiculous when you learn that Sasuke sleeps in the crawlspace and gets by on fewer than three meals a day.

Oddly, this characterization as a comically impoverished ninja is a recurring bit in Takahashi's stories: Urusei Yatsura featured the job-hunting missing-nin Kaede, and the last few volumes of the Ranma ½ manga introduced the threadbare kunoichi Konatsu.

Get used to this image. It's probably all you're going to see of Konatsu for a good few seasons...because the original anime never got to that part of the manga.

Konatsu is a thorny topic in the fandom due to matters of gender that aren't helped by the original anime never getting to those stories, and the original manga chapters taking forever to be available in English. What can definitely be said is that Konatsu A: identifies as a kunoichi, specifically a title for female ninja, and B: is AMAB.

But this is a series that's all about playing with gender.

For example...

The Girl. An anime-only episode of Nettōhen presented a story of Ranma taking a blow to the head, waking up not long after and insisting on actually being a girl—identifying her life as a boy as being something akin to a bad dream. This version of Ranma knows she was assigned male and turns back into a male body when splashed with hot water, but she demonstrates a visceral dysphoria about it that is painfully relatable. The episode's plot is concluded and the status quo is restored when the pacifistic girl is struck once more in the head at the end, restoring the Ranma who is a confident martial artist and self-identified man among men...but an increasing number of highly-rated fanworks reference this single-episode anime-only story.

This isn't the only time an anime-only episode touches on the idea of Ranma who is solely identified as a girl:

Ranma and the Evil Within starts off with Ranma joking about staying a girl forever, only for it to be taken seriously by the recurring problematic antagonist Happōsai (seriously, he's just the worst, and for some reason the original anime production team decided to make lots of anime-only episodes featuring him). A magic incense is brought into play, splitting off all the femnine 'yin' from Ranma's masculine 'yang'.

This split-off half is characterized as unbalanced, magically powerful, and a threat to Ranma's life. So of course, she looks sick as fuck. But just like The Girl, she's a one-off character. Don't worry: if the anime runs long enough to cover all the manga storylines, we'll still get a story about a female-only duplicate of Ranma. But it's going to be a little while.

Speaking of girls in Ranma ½, let's touch on Akane's female friends!

Mostly going unnamed in the manga, Akane has several female classmates and friends who received more prominent roles in the old anime.

(gif by @roseillith)

The two most notable of these are Yuka (lighter brown hair), and Sayuri (darker brown, often in a ponytail). These names do get called out in the old version of the anime, though they don't seem to have much personality beyond "girls who are friends with each other and Akane".

This role is sometimes filled by others in the old anime. It's much harder to find episodes where any other girls in the class are named, but due to two of them recurring, fanworks often bring them up as Akane's other friends:

Meet Asami (wavy shoulder-length hair) and Hiroko (short hair and freckles)...or is that Makoto and Shikako? Sources vary on these names, and English language websites disagree on which are the 'official' names. If anyone can track down an episode where either one is named on-screen, we'd appreciate it!

Akane isn't the only one with school friends: Ranma's got a few recurring acquaintances among the male students, as well.

In the old anime, these two are specifically named as Hiroshi (lighter colored hair and wider eyes) and Daisuke (dark hair and narrow eyes). They're often treated by both the source material and fanworks as Ranma's sole "normal" guy friends, and in general behave like stereotypical high school boys...including openly lusting after Ranma's girl form, even after they learn that she and the male Ranma are one and the same.

Hiroshi and Daisuke show up more consistently as a pair than Akane's friends in both the manga and the original anime, and fanworks often pair them romantically with Yuka and Sayuri. But even with how common Hiroshi, Daisuke, Yuka, and Sayuri are (down to their incredibly average names), they deserve mentioning for new fans...

...Because the new anime renamed them all! "Hiroshi" is now "Shingo" (しんご), "Daisuke" is now "Kiichi" (きいち), "Yuka" is now "Noriko" (のりこ), and "Sayuri" is now "Tomoyo" (ともよ).

That's it for now, because there's a brand new episode out that we haven't had a chance to watch while we wrap up this post on our lunch break. Until next time, this is the Nerima Wrecker Crew, signing off!

[battexthefox]

SuperBat #3: Paperwork

This takes place after the League all reveal their identities to eachother. Bruce funds a large chunk of the League, and Clark does a lot of the reporting and interviews.

Bruce tends to stay on-base for a while after the League meetings adjourn. It's so much easier to get paperwork done off-world, especially with how busy the Manor and Batcave can get. The interruptions are minimal, there aren't kids running around trying to spar with eachother, and Bruce doesn't have to worry about getting called into the field. Plus, the cafeteria has a fantastic view of the Earth below. What's not to like?

So there Bruce is, finishing up a watchtower expense report, drinking his coffee, when Clark walks in with full Superman gear and a notepad. He sits down at another table, not yet noticing the de-cowled Bat two tables over from him. He starts to read over his notepad with League accounts of the recent Legion of Doom incident when he hears the chair across from him move. Clark looks up, making direct eye contact with Bruce.

"New article?" The detective looks at the notepad.

"Yeah," Clark sighs. "I wish some of the League had thought to get media training. I don't know what to do with this quote." Clark points at a line Hal had given him about how the Joker wasn't "as funny as he usually is."

Bruce chuckles. "That's quite the statement. I'll look into setting up a workshop for us. God knows some of them need it."

Clark looks at Bruce, dumbfounded. He had never seen the Caped Crusader laugh so openly while in costume, even with cowl off. He shakes off the surprise, and looks at what Bruce is working on.

"Expense reports?"

"Mhm." Bruce nods. "Some damage occurred to a couple zeta tubes during the Legion of Doom fight. Repairs were pricey, but manageable."

"I didn't know you did the paperwork for that," Clark remarked, brows furrowed slightly.

Bruce smiled slightly. "What, did you assume I had someone manage it for me?"

"Well, I mean. Yeah." Clark scratched his neck, his face heating up slightly. "I mean, you can afford to, plus you always have a lot on your plate."

"It's hard to find people with accounting experience that we can trust with our secrets. I thought we'd be better off if I did them myself."

Clark nods. That makes sense, he thinks. Bruce isn't really a trusting guy.

The duo fall into a comfortable silence, working across from each other, enjoying the company. The next meeting, Clark asks Bruce to stay after again, and they do, enjoying the familiar silence and each other's company. After that, every League meeting also becomes a work session for the two.

[ghostlychief]

love like ghosts

summary: simon visits you in your dreams

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gen!reader

warnings: angst; death

---

You’re falling. Your body is tumbling through the clouds, but the ground seems to be nowhere in sight.

It seems endless, like you will plunge through the sky forevermore, as you spin and flip through the infinite sky. That’s when you hear it. A soft voice, like an angel, cutting through the air.

“You’re alright, sweetheart. Listen to my voice, let it guide you down, down, down.” The voice tapers, and gets softer. It is no louder than a whisper, but you can hear it perfectly, through the wind that whips near your ears.

Right after hearing the voice, you notice your speed slowing down. Now you’re floating, making your way slowly through the clouds, no longer free falling. It’s nice, you think. You close your eyes and enjoy the descent down. To where you were going, you had no idea; but you don’t mind.

You begin to crave the assurance of the voice again.

“I’m right here,” it says in its hushed voice. Almost like it knew that you needed its comfort again, for it to keep guiding you, consoling you. There’s something so familiar about the voice, but you can’t place your finger on it. The deepness, the tenderness of it; you’ve heard it before. You’re sure.

“Why am I falling?” You ask. You’re confused. Why are you here? Where are you going?

“You’re taking a journey to visit an old friend,” the voice replies. “You haven’t seen them in quite some time; they miss you.”

You hear the voice explain what’s going on, but you’re still perturbed. Something’s wrong. There’s now a heaviness surrounding you despite that you’re floating instead of rapidly falling.

“An old friend?” you ask. You can’t think of anyone you haven’t seen in a while. All your friends are healthy and you’ve seen them just the other week. You whip your head around, desperate to find any sign of who is talking to you, but you see nothing. The air around you constricts and darkens as you continue your descent.

There’s still a cloud of ambiguity about what you are doing here; about who you’re supposed to see.

The clouds start to thin out and that’s when you make out the ground. Although it’s not a normal ground, its soft and fluffy, just like the clouds you’ve been falling through.

You gently land on your feet, looking around for your supposed “friend.” You frown. You see no one around you. You are alone.

The heaviness that envelops around you intensifies and your chest starts to ache. It feels like someone is pushing a dagger through your heart. You look down at your chest and see nothing penetrating it, no blood. What is going on?

“Y/n,” you hear. The piercing you felt in your chest immediately subsides.

It’s the voice again, although this time its louder, and seems close to you. Unlike how it was when you were in the sky. The voice from up there felt like a mist surrounding you, everywhere around you. But this, this voice is coming from a specific spot behind you. It’s sharper, clearer.

You turn around and gasp at what, rather who, you see. It’s him. Simon.

When you turn around, he smiles at you, like you are his whole world. His eyes crinkle when his lips upturn, he’s giving you his full smile, the one you loved most dearly. The scar above his lip twitches slightly as he looks at you.

“Simon?” you whisper. You can’t believe he’s standing in front of you. He looks just like your Simon, but there is a haze surrounding him, giving him an ethereal glow. You walk slowly up to him, afraid that if you run, he will disappear into a cloud of mist.

“Hi sweetheart.”

Tears fall down your face while Simon swiftly takes you into his arms. He wraps them around your frame, pulling you tightly into him. He smells familiar, something you’ve longed for. You wrap your hands around his neck, your nose in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you choke out.

“I know baby, I know. I miss you too.” At this, he clenches his arms around you even more, the action causes him to lift you slightly off the cloudy ground.

You continue to cry into his neck, relishing this moment because you sense that it’s not going to last. The heaviness is seeping back into your chest, the point of the dagger teasing your heart.

“Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.” You plead. The mist around you tints grey, threatening to twist black as you bargain.

You look up at him. He smiles gently down at you, bringing up a hand to brush your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“You know I can’t stay,” he repines.

You’re grasping at his hands now; they are resting delicately on your face. His thumbs stroking underneath your eyes, wiping away the constant flow of tears.

“But I love you,” you argue. “Why did you leave me?” You’re sobbing now, still in Simon’s hold.

“No one knows why some people’s time ends before others, but just know, I’m here waiting for you when it’s yours.”

He looks down at you one last time before he says, “I love you so much. I’ll see you soon.” When you look back up at him, he’s fading away into the stormy clouds that surround you. The heaviness in your chest returns, and wraps around your heart, making it hard for you to breathe.

“Simon!” you scream. You repeat his name over and over and keep wailing for him to come back, already missing his warmth. But, no matter how much you scream into the void, he doesn’t return. You start to lose your voice and your throat becomes scratchy. Exhausted, you lie down on the soft ground, deciding that it’s time to rest.

As you close your eyes, you feel the constriction around your chest loosen up, and your breathing slows. The clouds envelop your body, and you gently seep into them, the darkness completely consuming you.

--