#and I am not good enough at technology to do it myself.

[loudclan-clangen]

*cries in hand lettering perfectionist carpal tunnel insanity*

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Interesting. Don’t necessarily think I’m autistic but I have more going on than just ADHD and I’m not sure what that is.

[wabblebees]

just got THWACKED upside the head by a wave of nostalgia & now desperately want to play kirbys epic yarn..... rude

[disneyprincemuke]

the overachiever * fem!driver

she's just a little competitive, that's all

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver, sebastian vettel x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, liam lawson x fem!driver

notes: YAUUUR i'm back with em femdriver updates dawg

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

oscar leans to the side as he avoids the ball hurled at him at seemingly an alarming rate — could have possibly taken his head off if he hadn’t moved fast enough — then turns back to the pair on the other side of the court. “oi!”

“loser!” she pumps her fist in the air and hops over to her teammate on her side of the court, hand lifted for a high-5. “do better.”

oscar rests a hand on his hip, chest heaving as he whirls around to where the ball had bounced to. “this was supposed to be a chill game. what is your problem?”

liam laughs, clutching his stomach as he threw his head back. he catches the girl’s hand and nods. “sore losers, aren’t they?”

“isn’t this your first time playing padel?” logan scowls. “how are you already so good at it?”

she shrugs as she puts her racket between her legs, readjusting her ponytail. “you know i can’t stand when i’m bad at things. of course, i prepared myself for today.”

when oscar had invited them out for a game of padel, he had expected it to be a first out of many short games. what nobody had expected, though, is for the girl — who claimed to know nothing of the sport just a week ago — to be absolutely dominating them on the court.

there is a reason they hadn’t invited the rest of their friends or anyone else from the grid. they just wanted to slowly take their time to learn the ropes of the game so that when the season goes underway, they don’t embarrass themselves when they get invited to games by other drivers.

but of course, the overachiever did her research and is already excelling to a certain extent. it’s just something they’d had to endure over the years: her in-explainable need to be good at everything immediately. if she’s not good at it from the get-go, she loses interest quickly.

“how? how could you have possibly prepared yourself for a game of padel? you didn’t even have a racket until 3 days ago,” logan scolds, throwing his arms in the air as the frustration slowly gets to him. there’s just something about her beating him in absolutely everything that’s sort of absurd. “i was literally with you when we went to get your stupid racket!”

“there’s this thing called youtube?” she hums with an eyebrow raised with the roll of her eyes. “and i asked fernando for some tips. so i’m kind of… like… a pro.”

“doesn’t make you a pro,” oscar scowls with a frown as he shakes his head. “makes you a bit of a nerd, though.”

“well i am graduating with a degree in information technology in a couple of months. so, perhaps, i could be a nerd,” she hums, with a giddy grin, “at least if the whole racing thing doesn’t work out… i have a way out. unlike you dropouts!”

“a woman in stem!” liam cheers. “if you graduate first class, i’ll buy you a car. what’s your current grades?”

she presses her lips together, nodding as she tries to formulate a plan for her education. “if i study harder for my final exam in a week, i could make that happen. i’m a pretty solid b grade student.”

“i meant a toy car, you freak,” liam frowns, scowling at her. “you think i’m getting paid loads as a reserve driver?”

“i overheard the team discussing you the other afternoon. who knows? we very well may be teammates next year.”

“i sure hope not,” logan butts in with a snort. “that wouldn’t do anyone any good — two idiots in the same team.”

she tilts her head, blinking innocently at him. “what do you mean? williams seems to be doing great with that kind of lineup this year.”

logan clenches his jaw, puckering his lips as he looks at her. “okay.”

“enough fighting,” oscar rolls his eyes. “ready to lose again, logan?”

the american sighs. “yeah, i guess.”

“god, don’t you know what a demonstration means?” max clutches his stomach, hunching over as the pain shoots through his torso. he watches the ball slowly bounce on the ground, right after hitting him in the stomach.

beside her, penelope giggles as she approaches max in concern. “are you okay, maxie?”

max shakes his head, glancing at the young child before dropping to his knees as he groans. “no, p. she bullied me!”

“she’s so strong!” penelope cheers, hopping over to the older girl with a screechy giggle. “but you should say sorry, maybe!”

“you’re right,” she grins, patting penelope on the head. “i’m sorry, max.” she leans down to max’s ear out of penelope’s hearing range. “that you got outplayed by a girl.”

max lifts his head to glare at her. they were just teaching penelope how to play football, the older girl describing earlier how to score effectively after she expressed interest in the sport. when she was asked to demonstrate the move, max didn’t expect her to kick the ball so hard.

“i knew that was coming. you’re so harsh!”

he was expecting a semi-strong kick to his stomach — something that he could catch and bear before they continued their small game of football. but no, she kicked the ball as hard as she could and almost incapacitated him.

though, perhaps incapacitated is too strong of a word. but he still does feel it in his gut, stumbling back in confusion when the ball came into contact with him.

can he really blame her, though? he sort of gets it: the need to be good at everything to please people. maybe it’s the eldest sibling trait.

“i was in varsity when i was in primary school,” she presses her lips together with a small smile. she holds her arms out to the younger girl and gestures towards her parent’s house. “i could get blythe to make us orange juice, p. do you want some?”

she sighs and drops her hands. “you can do better than that.”

logan drops his stance, his hands resting by the side of his body. “what do you mean? i don’t want to hit you so hard.”

“why? it’s not our first time sparring,” she scowls, wiping the side of her face on the sleeve of her shirt. she lifts her hands again, inside a pair of boxing gloves, and protects her face. “come on. hit me like you mean it.”

“i’m not going to hit you,” logan mutters. “we’re just warming up until benny and noah get here, right? that’s what you said.”

“yeah, but,” she darts a hand out, barely missing logan’s face when he leans back to avoid her punch, “i want a real challenge before they get here. come on, logan.”

but logan doesn’t fight back. instead, he takes several steps back when she tries to approach him, both arms darting out in an attempt to rile him up into a real spar.

“stop trying. i’m not doing this with you,” logan sighs, touching gloves with her everytime she tries to reach forward for him. “i know you were in martial arts growing up too, but i wasn’t. i’m just here because you asked me to be here.”

she grins. “exactly. so, fight back. don’t be a coward.”

“you’re not going to rile me up into a fight. i’m not you.”

“it works sometimes.” she dips down slightly and throws a punch into his stomach, prompting a huff as it hits him. “hit me back.”

“no way. stop asking me to do that.”

“coward.”

“okay.”

she touches his thigh with her feet, the taller boy stumbling slightly. “you’re just gonna let me do that to you? do something.”

“you’re not gonna get anything out of him.” a familiar voice makes both of you turn your head towards the door, benny walking in with a small smile and a gym bag over his shoulder. “very patient, this guy.”

“you clearly did not live in the same house as him for years,” she laughs, running over with her arms opens to get a hug. “will you spar with me until noah gets here? logan is so boring — he never hits me back.”

“hey!”

“sure! but you can’t cry when you lose.”

“maybe.”

sebastian tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows. “are you sure go-karting is what you wanna do over summer break? don’t you have other things to do?”

“we’ve done everything she wants to do,” oscar says begrudgingly as he puts his helmet on. “she cried this morning saying she misses racing.”

logan also looks tiredly at sebastian, shaking his head as he takes his helmet out of his bag. “i woke up to her sleeping on the couch hugging her helmet, by the way.”

the girl scoffs, punching logan’s arm as he unveils a secret he was sworn to never say to anybody else just this afternoon. “no, i was not!”

“ah, don’t be so shy about it,” sebastian smiles. “i also felt like that in my rookie year. all i could think of was being out on the track.”

“i guess i could study for my exams.” she exchanges glances with the 3 men around her before shrugging. “oh, well. time to race and beat your asses.”

“oh? you think you could be a 4-time world champion?” sebastian raises his eyebrows. “i’d like to see you try.”

“you clearly haven’t met me,” she hums, stopping in her track to turn around and face sebastian. she holds a hand out between them. “hi, i’m the most competitive girl you’ll ever meet. and i will beat you at go-karting today.”

while that doesn’t actually happen that evening, sebastian laughed as he climbed out of his go-kart at the end of their 10-minute race. she swears to him that someday she will be good enough to beat him in equal machinery (a go-kart).

which oscar begs to argue that she’s simply overdramatising the situation. but she just knows it’ll happen eventually.

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @nikfigueiredo @namgification @happy-nico @darleneslane @localwhoore @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @inejismywife @love4lando

[mangostarjam]

fuji!! hope you've been doing ok lately :)) make sure to give yourself breaks when needed! treat urself with kindness and grace pls, remember you deserve it even when you think you don't <33

i came by to share my most recent 3am smutty brain rot hehe ;)))

key word: tenting. i'd imagine the kaiju suits have some sort of compressive technology to combat this issue, but yknow what probably doesn't?

(answer: vice captain's hoshina's sweatpants. its something you take unfortunate --or fortunate lmao-- notice of during one of ur training sessions when he decides to shed that half-jumper of his. WHICH BTW!! i fully believe he cut the bottom half off bc he likes taking it off when training, but cant be bothered to remove the whole thing LOL)

pre-relationship!hoshina is watching shortie!reader train and give guidance to the recruits and yknow, watching you fight gets him going and really, he didn't mean to pop one then and there but could anyone blame him when you look absolutely stunning beating the sht outa the recruits?? (i'm 5'1". this is self-indulgence hehe)

okieee love u stay hydrated, make sure to at least eat snackies if not meals, byee <33

- 🧸

hiiiiii friend thank you for thinking of me!! i am trying to take care of myself and thankfully august is almost over so i should be better soon!

i'm ngl this did make me wonder about their suits and uniforms HAHA but i am very pro self indulgence with writing!! gray sweatpants and tenting can absolutely be the death of me and while the uniform pants aren't the same thing, they're close enough imo!! or maybe i just think soshiro's hot in anything (also true let's be real)

this is like 900ish words and not smutty (sorry) but i did have fun thinking about a shortie!reader kicking ass!! love u teddy bear anon thank you for dropping by and i hope you still like this!

You're having the time of your life.

A strange thought to have, maybe, while you're busy dodging strikes and dipping and twirling around your opponents. Being much smaller than most members of the Defense Force means you're used to being underestimated, though your platoon has had enough time with you by now that they should be used to training against you.

They aren't.

You laugh as you swoop past the fists aimed in your direction, caught up in the giddy adrenaline of being good.

Everything moves in slow motion. The rise of your opponent's chest, strands of hair catching the light, muscles tensing for a blow. The sharp red gaze watching your every move from by the fence. You take it all in and blow past your teammates, emerging unscathed from the manned obstacle course and grinning, breathless.

Hoshina Soshiro grins back.

"Laps," he says, glancing past you. The rest of the platoon grumbles good naturedly, but they take off jogging around the track. You bounce on the balls of your feet as your Vice Captain stalks over towards you, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants.

"How did I do, sir?" you ask.

"Pretty sure Minase almost caught ya," Soshiro says. "And your form got sloppy at the end. But not bad, I guess."

"Minase did not," you splutter, but Soshiro just laughs. "I swear I'll get a real compliment from you someday, sir."

Soshiro shifts on his feet and you blink, distracted by the awkward way he's keeping his hands in his pockets. He's wearing his typical super-distracting skintight shirt — his jacket is hanging on the fence post — and your gaze pauses on the bunch of his shoulders and the strain of his biceps. Not wanting to be caught staring, you blink and move on. His pants are cinched tight at his hips, but as your confused stare drifts lower, he coughs.

"You get enough of that from the rest of the platoon leaders," he says lightly. "And 'sides, ya still ain't fast enough to get past me."

Sparks fill your veins. You glare up at him. "Oh yeah? Let's go, then!"

"Not now."

You nearly stumble in shock. In all your time under his command, the Vice Captain has never denied one of your training requests. It's led to many late nights in the practice rooms, joking and working together, bits of advice tossed out as he threw you around the room with a strength that made you dizzy. It's surprisingly easy to suppress your silly little crush when Soshiro is busy kicking your ass, but you enjoy the time spent with him all the same.

"Huh? Why not?"

Soshiro shrugs. The movement draws your attention to his shoulders, but that only sends your gaze down his arms to his hands stuffed into his pant pockets. Why is he standing like this, anyway? It's like he's trying to — oh.

Your mouth opens slightly in awe. Your eyes widen. The front of your Vice Captain's pants...

Well, it's safe to say Izumo Tech has some impressive compression technology for the anti kaiju suits. Those things are skintight, molded to your bodies for better kaiju cell synchronization and ease of movement. You've often wondered if it's uncomfortable for people with dicks, since the material sticks so closely. But none of you are wearing the suits right now — you're in uniform, and while the uniform is a bit looser, you've never noticed anything... like this.

Like the thick, unyielding bulge straining against the front of Soshiro's uniform pants.

You snap up to meet his enigmatic gaze as soon as you recognize what you're looking at, but Soshiro merely hums a little. "Ya looked pretty good during that obstacle run," he says.

"But you said my form got sloppy."

Soshiro grins. "Ya still looked good."

Does that mean...? You glance at his pants again and — yup, it's unmistakable. His hands may be in his pockets but there's nothing else that bulge could be, unless he's hiding some kind of secret weapon down there.

"Are you always like this?" you ask. Insubordination be damned — there's no way you can let this go now. Your heart pounds into focus, the lightning quick beat of your pulse drowning out your thoughts as Soshiro snorts.

"Do I get in trouble with HR a lot, y'mean?"

Oops. You're blushing. You're blushing and he's just laughing quietly to himself like your reaction pleases him. "I won't — I don't, um... I don't mind, I was just... wondering?"

Soshiro raises an eyebrow. You gulp as you meet his red eyes. "Am I always turned on while I'm watchin' ya take on guys two times your size?"

You nod. Your Vice Captain tilts his head up, watching birds flit across the sky for a moment as he processes this. "Guess it depends," he says, "this only happens with you, y'know. So d'you want me to be?"

"Do I want you to be...?"

"Interested?"

Your platoon is finishing up their laps, and soon you'll need to take your place among the obstacle course to attack as the next person has their turn. You're running out of time to respond. Your brain is buzzing. The both of you turn to watch as your platoon jogs closer.

"I do want you to be interested, Vice Captain, sir," you say firmly, staring straight ahead but glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. The tips of his ears are pink. "I would be honored."

"It's Hoshina," Soshiro says. He tilts his head slightly towards you and grins at your noise of confusion. "You can use my name while we're datin'."

[klbwriting]

Finally Home - Jason Todd Blurbs

Meeting the Family/Going to a Gala

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Jason is slowly introducing you to the family but Bruce invites you to an art exhibit to meet them all at once

Notes: took the weekend off, felt like I was forcing myself to write too much and needed a little break, I'm hopefully going to get some more writing done today to make up for it!

Jason had been trying so hard to slowly introduce you to his family. There were so many people and all of them were what Jason would call ‘way too involved’ in his life, mostly because he tried so hard to keep them out of his life. He had started with Barbara because he thought you would like her the most. You were both into technology nerd shit and he knew it would drive Dick nuts if Barbara got to meet you first. Then he’d moved to Tim, one to annoy Dick again, and two because again, tech nerd shit. Finally, he had introduced you to Dick who just happened to have invited Bruce over for dinner the same night Jason was bringing you. Great, if Jason wasn’t so sure you were going to be his last partner, he would have sworn he was never introducing anyone to Dick again, but too late now.

“You must come to the art exhibit I am hosting at the manor,” Bruce had said, making Jason nearly choke on his dinner. You smiled politely and agreed, throwing a reassuring smile to Jason. He swallowed and forced a grimace. Bruce had gotten your information to send the invitation and when Jason dropped you off you bit your lip, clearly bothered by something.

“What?” he asked as he walked you to your door. You looked down, looking a little hurt. “What’s wrong?” Had Dick or Bruce said something? If he found out who hurt you he was putting a bullet in them.

“Well, I just, don’t know why you don’t want me to meet your family?” you said. He realized then that he had hurt you. O great, self-flagellation it was then.

“What do you mean? I am introducing you,” he said, trying desperately not to have to say what he was really thinking. He felt so guilty for feeling this way. But you were so different from the others, so not what they would expect from him. It was almost comical someone like you being with him.

“Are you ashamed of me? Embarrassed? Am I not good enough for them?” you asked. Your eyes were so sad, and you sounded so incredibly hurt, near tears even. Jason gently took your face in his hands, making sure you looked right at him. You were so different, so incredibly out of his league.

“No, no no no no, God you’re too good for them. They don’t deserve you and neither do I,” he said. “I honestly was afraid you would meet them and realize what a damned loser I was and want to run the other direction.” You stared at him.

“For being so incredibly smart and reading so many books, you Jason Todd, are an idiot,” you said, leaning up to kiss him deeply. He kissed you back, still holding your face gently, the warmth of your skin keeping his heart beating. He swore without you he would go back to being dead. “I love you,” you whispered when you pulled back and he couldn’t fight the grin on his face.

“I love you too,” he said. “So, you really want to go to that Wayne art festival thing? You’ll have to dress fancy and I’ll have to wear a suit.” You looked him over slowly and raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t wait to see it.”

Jason knocked on your door, dressed in a fine blue suit, hoping that it was the right shade to match your outfit. You had said sapphire so he that’s what he told Bruce when asked for the color for the tailor, and that’s what color he hoped he was wearing. He heard a shuffle on the other side of the door before it opened and he saw you. The most amazing and most gorgeous person he had ever known. Your outfit was sapphire as well, bringing out your eyes, and Jason felt his jaw go slack for a moment. Then your laugh brought him back.

“I guess you like the look?” you asked. He nodded and offered you his arm. You took it and headed to the party.

The entire evening Jason couldn’t keep his eyes off you. You looked so natural and confident, even Damian seemed to like you and he was a demon incarnate. You were stunning in every sense of the word and Jason had no idea how he got so lucky that someone like him, so broken and damaged, had managed to find you, let alone keep you. When he had a moment to leave the boring conversation he was in with the Kane’s he walked over, sliding an arm around your waist.

“May I steal my partner for a few moments?” he asked Stephanie and Cass. Both of them shook their heads.

“No, they’re ours now, we like them” Cass said. Jason shrugged; well guess he was making a scene then. He lifted you up bridal style and carried you towards the gardens, setting you down outside, feeling the eyes from the main room still watching. You had been too shocked to react at first but now you laughed at his antics.

“That was rude Jason!” you said but couldn’t stifle your laughter. He set you down, keeping you close.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, nodding back towards the party where people were back to mingling again. Only Bruce seemed to be watching closely, Jason could feel his eyes on him.

“Well, I don’t understand the art…” you said. Jason let out a grunt.

“No one understands the art and you know that’s not what I was asking about,” he said. You smiled a little.

“I love them, I love all of them, not as much as you, but they are great,” you said. Jason let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He knew that they all adored you, how could they not, but you loving them was just as important. He could say all he wanted that he wasn’t a ‘real’ member of the family, that when he died that connection died, but he knew he was lying. They were his family and now you were too.

[tomlinfonda]

"Why are artists so butthurt about AI art? Horse carriage drivers didn't complain when they invented the car, they were just grateful that the technology evolved and made it easier to get around."

Art is not a carriage, it's not a vehicle. Its purpose is not to be efficient, to do a practical job with as little effort as possible. Art is not something that can be automated, because its artistry lies in the humanity of its creator. Art is wonderful, from a baby's first drawing, inexperienced and unskilled, to the paintings adorning the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

If you consider yourself an AI artist, I ask you: are you proud of yourself when the computer has completed another image that you will claim as yours? Do you look at it and feel the joy of having created something?

Does the generative process teach you how to see the world better? With every image created, do you evolve? Do you understand the planes of the face better now than 1000 images ago? Do you know what rim light is, and where to put it? Do you understand light sources? Tones? Could you take a piece of paper and shade a portrait by yourself?

"AI software is just like Photoshop or Blender, the next step in artistic technology".

It's not though, is it? A digital artist uses a pen to put colors on screen, chooses where to put each brush stroke, when to smudge or use the liquify tool. A 3D sculptor manipulates basic shapes into characters just like a traditional artist molds clay. An AI "artist" doesn't make any of the thousands of choices that lead to the creation of a real piece of art.

"But art is hard, and I'm not good enough."

Neither am I! Man, I'm not the worst artist in the world, but I'm not great, still not at the level I would like to be. Sometimes I draw something and I look at it and realize that it sucks ass! Sometimes I post a drawing online and realize that I drew a character out of proportion, that the light source is not consistent, that I've shaded outside the lines! And you know what's great? That I get to have an understanding of what I did wrong! I get to evolve! I redraw something from 5 years ago and realize that my composition is much better, my shading more believable. And I know that in 5 more years, I might redraw it again and pride myself in how much I've evolved.

I've been drawing since I was a baby, and I still have a long way to go. And that is also fine, because art is a lifelong pursuit, growing, changing, just as I am.

It's okay to not be good. Hell, it's okay if you don't even try to get better. By drawing, you WILL. It's inevitable that, by practicing, you'll learn.

You know what will not make you a better artist? Software that will generate your "art" for you. The result might look more complex than what your skill level allows you to create right now. But it doesn't look better. You could draw a crooked circle on xerox paper and it will look better than all the AI art in the world. Because you made it. Have some faith in yourself. Your vision has more artistic value than what that computer generated.

"If you're afraid that AI will steal your job, learn to draw better!"

I'm trying. Are you?

[gingiesworld]

You Fucked My Daughter

Natasha Romanoff x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Minors and Men DNI

Y/N pov

I was a part of the Avengers since Nick recruited me after I left the Army. I always admired the Avengers for what they did. Nat gave me a more advanced training in hand to hand combat since I already knew how to use weapons. Truth be told, even when I was in high school, I had the biggest crush on her. And I still do. So right now I am working on my dad's newest suit with him while we wait for most of the others to come back from their mission. So it's only myself, my dad, Wanda and Vision left in the compound. And no one wants to be around them two with their sappy mind stone connection.

"Hey kid, I'm thinking of throwing a party tomorrow." He told me.

"What time do I have to be there?" I asked him.

"I haven't decided yet if were having one yet." He told me makingme laugh.

"You saying that you're thinking about throwing one is you saying that you have already thought about it and have decided to throw one." I told him.

"Well ok then. Be there at 8pm." He told me with a smirk. I decided to go and do some training to pass some time using the training bots that dad had programmed for us.

"Hey Y/N, you need a sparring partner?" Wanda asked as she walked in the training.

"Yeah, no powers though." I warned her playfully.

"Where's the fun in that then." She challenged me. We both walked onto the mats and started to spar. She threw some punches which I had managed to dodge.

"You need to watch your opponent Wanda. Anticipate their next move." I informed her as I pinned her to the floor.

"I don't need this training though since I have powers." She told me

"There will always be a time when you need to know how to fight without them. There will always be someone with the technology to mute your powers and then you will be a sitting duck." I told her as I helped her to her feet.

"The only person I know smart enough for that is your dad." She told me as we started to spar again.

"There will always be someone who is on his level of intellect or higher." I told her as I dodged her advance at me and held her in the headlock. She tapped my arm signalling for me to release her.

"You sound so much like Vis." She whined at me as we both sat down and drank some water.

"Well he is a synthezoid that my dad created so. And I obviously got my genius from him." I shrugged making her chuckle.

"You are definitely a Stark." She laughed as we both stretched. We both decided to call it a day and get showered and ready for the party my dad is throwing tonight. I decided on wearing a red shirt with a black tie and black slacks. I brushed my hair back in a high pony and was ready for the party. I met Wanda on the way out of my room wearing a green dress that matched her eyes.

"You look beautiful Wands. Vision is one lucky...." I paused as I tried to think of what to call him. "I want to say man but then again I don't know." I teased earning a slap on my arm and a giggle from the witch.

"And you look dashing. Nat is going to go wild." She told me with a smirk making me blush. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." She said as we walked with our arms linked to the party. When we arrived we went straight to the bar to order our drinks. "I'm going to see Vis." She told me as she kissed my cheek. I looked around the sea of bodies moving trying to find a certain red head but came to no avail.

"Hey Y/N, you look really good." My favorite voice said from beside me. I turned around to see her in a black dress.

"You look stunning Nat." I said as I looked her up and down from her perfect legs back to her beautiful green eyes.

"Thank you Y/N." She said as she took a sip from my glass before handing it back to me. "Do you want to dance?" She asked me with a raised brow and all I could do was nod. She grabbed my hand and led me into the sea of dancing bodies. She wrapped her arms around my neck as my hands held her waist pulling her closer to me as we moved to the rhythmxof the song. I couldn't help biy admire her perfect features. She truly was the most beautiful girl on the planet. I looked down at her lips and noticed that she had done the same before we both leaned in. Our lips met in a soft passionate kiss which I deepened as I squeezed her hips making her sigh as I slipped my tongue in her mouth. She soon pulled away before she ran upstairs to our rooms. I followed her out and found her in her room pacing the floor.

"What was that?" I asked her as I closed her door.

"What?" She asked me trying to play dumb.

"We kiss and then you run. Why did you run?" I asked her as she stepped towards me.

"I like you a lot Y/N. But you are Tony's daughter. There is a big age gap between us and your dad could throw me out of the building." She said worriedly.

"I don't care about my dad because I really like you too Nat. I always have. My dad doesn't get a say in who I date. I am my own person. And I want you." I told her as I stepped forward. "So please let's just do this. We shouldn't care what anyone else thinks."

She stepped forward and crashed her lips on mine as her hands tangled in my hair. I held her hips as I pushed my tongue in her mouth making her moan. My fingers found the zip of her dress and started to pull it down as she took of my tie and started to unbutton my shirt. We stripped each other and were left in just our underwear. I pushed her down on the bed without breaking the kiss as my fingers caressed her smooth skin. I moved my kisses down to her neck and sucked and kiss every part until I heard a loud moan vibrating from her throat. I smirked know that I found her sweet spot. I moved my kisses to her chest above her covered breasts before I reached my arm underneath her and unclipped her bra and removed it. Revealing her lucious breasts. I took one of her nipples in my mouth and sucked harshly making her moan loud as I massaged the other one. I gave them both the same attention before moving my kisses down her body to the waistband of her underwear.

"Is this ok?" I asked her softly as I played with the hem of them.

"Yes." She breathed out. I removed her underwear before I licked a strip through her folds before applying pressure to her clit. She was a mess of moans above me. I inserted a finger into her aching core thrusting slowly as I sucked on her clit. She bucked her hips to get more friction so I added a second finger before increasing my speed and going rougher and grazing her g spot sending her over the edge screaming my name. I pulled my fingers out and sucked them clean before kissing up her body as she calmed down. She kissed me roughly before she twisted us both around as she waisted no time in taking off my underwear. She reached over to her night stand drawer and took out a double ended strap. She inserted the smaller end in me before she lowered herself on the toy making us both moan. I held her hips steady as she adjusted to the size. She then started to bounce as she rested her hands on my chest. The two of us moaning messes as the toy moved between us. I started to meet her thrusts harshly as her movements started to get sloppy. Hitting deeper and harder as I sucked on her nipples adding to her pleasure.

"I'm gonna." She moaned out.

"Me too." I grunted as we both went faster to reach our highs at the same time. I kissed her softly before I broke it with a smile.

"You have no idea how much I have wanted to do that." I spoke in the space between us making her chuckle.

"Me too. And we can go all night long." She whispered before I turned us both around with the toy still in us both before we went on for another few rounds.

Avenger's pov

The avengers woke up with a hangover, with how much they had drunk last night. Meanwhile Steve's room was right near Nats and he heard everything that had happened in Nat's room. To say that he was disgusted was an understatement. With him being an old timer, things like that shouldn't happen at parties. When he joined the others in the kitchen they all laughed at his tired state.

"I thought super soldiers don't get drunk." Sam teased him making everyone laugh.

"We don't. It's hard to sleep when all you can hear is a constant thumping of a bed hitting a wall repeatedly and Nat screaming Y/N." He groaned as he sat down not realising that Tony was stood there with a coffee until he heard him drop the cup. Then the giggling of Nat and Y/N coming into everyone earshot. Everyones eyes flicked between the pair and Tony.

"YOU FUCKED MY DAUGHTER!!" Tony shouted making everyone jump.

"Well technically I fucked her but you know." Y/N smirked as Nat stood there frozen. Tony looked shocked at his daughter.

[snepril]

I'm a trans woman and I'm otherkin. Both labels describe parts of me, but neither describes all of me. Yet at the same time, they're both closely intertwined, both key parts of my discovery of who I am - and both more alike than one might expect.

I knew I wasn't supposed to be a guy. Even from a young age, I was drawn to feminine things. I wanted to be a girl - I just didn't have the words to say it, didn't understand why I felt the way I did. And as I grew older, that feeling crystalized. I tried to deny it, to pretend it didn't matter. Besides, it was never the conventional picture of dysphoria - I could manage being a guy. It was tolerable. That was enough, right?

But it wasn't what I wanted. I knew I'd be happier as a woman - I knew it with a certainty and clarity I could never put to words. I knew, and the moment I realized there was a path forward, a way to be who I knew I wanted to be, I took it. I transitioned. It cost me a lot - my home, my years spent in college, my friends and stability - and it was all worth it. Having that weight off my chest, getting to live as who I always wanted to be... it made everything else so much easier. It's like a good night's sleep - sure, you can manage without for a while, but it saps your strength, makes everything else so much harder.

But as I transitioned, as I embraced my life as a woman, I realized... I wasn't quite where I wanted to be. I was closer - so much closer - but I wasn't there yet. There were a lot of little things I wanted to change about myself... and one big one.

I wanted to be something other than human.

At first I denied it, pretended it didn't matter. I had done so many things I'd never thought possible - I'd transitioned, I had a good job and was living on my own. I had good friends and the freedom to steer my own life. Wasn't that enough?

And those words were familiar. The feeling was familiar. It didn't take me long to put two and two together. And when, one day, an impulse art commission gave me my first ever picture of myself as a sphinx...

...I knew. I knew that this feeling was the exact same one that drove me to transition. I knew denying it would work about as well as denying that I'm a woman. So I decided not to. I decided to accept who I am.

I'm a woman, and I'm a sphinx. I'm transgender, and I'm otherkin.

Otherkin. Somehow, it's an even more loaded word than transgender. It implies so much, and that made it harder to accept. I don't believe in other realities or reincarnation. I don't believe I was a sphinx in a past life or other world - I'm really not spiritual at all. So how can I call myself a sphinx if, objectively, I know I've got the body of a plain old human?

The same way I knew I was a woman.

I'm not ignorant of my biology. I know what's coded into my DNA and what my body is shaped like. But why should any of that have any say on who I am? I'm more than my body, more than the chance outcome of genetics and evolution. I get to decide who I am - and I choose to be a woman, and I choose to be a sphinx. Why? Because it makes me happy. Because it feels right. Because it's my life to live and I get to live it how I want, so long as that doesn't hurt anyone else. Sure, I can't transition to be a sphinx in real life (not with modern technology, anyway), but when has an inability to transition ever made anyone's identity any less valid? I'll do what I can to make my body more comfortable and live with the rest, because the alternative - pretending what I feel doesn't matter - isn't living.

I'm a transgender woman.

I'm an otherkin sphinx.

And I'm happy.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I know why I’m always on my phone; because I claw at the walls of my enclosure if I have even one quiet moment devoid of intense mental or physical stimulus, and the phone is the easiest thing to access.

[storm-angel989]

Hi! Are you taking requests? If so, may I have a part 3 of Reader disobeying pls? I just finished part 2 and honestly, if I was her I’d still flinch when Valentino was around, and maybe find a way to sneak in some extra food or cash to any of his “workers”, maybe even working a little too hard as a way to distract herself from potential flashbacks. (I just want the Vees to feel regret over how they handled her behavior…😅😏)I’d really appreciate if you’d put those points in it too! God this is getting long I’m sorry! Either way, hope you’re doing well and I can’t get enough of your work!!!

I am always taking requests! And working on them. I actually had a plan to edit like six other requests I've written and instead I read your request this morning and well....the muses visit when then visit. So as with every single time I make a plan, I tossed everything I had wanted to write and edit today aside to write fourteen google doc pages to complete your request.

Oops! Hope you like it! =)

<3 Mandy

They say silence speaks volumes. 

As the third week of volleyball practice passed, I wondered if anyone in my family had gotten the message. 

Four weeks ago, desperate to try to independently earn my own money, I was inadvertently hired at one of my Uncle Valentino’s clubs. He found out, pulled me out, and I was grounded until further notice. As punishment for pretending to be at volleyball tryouts, they signed me up for eight weeks of the sport. Frustrated after the first practice, I spat out words I didn’t mean, and my family decided that it was time I learned exactly what a privileged life I led. 

It was eye opening and terrifying to see exactly what it was that my Uncle Valentino did. Although it was never outright discussed, from the morning I spent with him in his dingy hotel office, watching him process and contract souls both male and female, and the lineup I saw them go through afterwards, I came to the conclusion that sex work, drugs and Uncle Valentino went hand in hand. 

For the first time in my life, I saw the darker side of my family. The control my father, Vox had over the city in terms of technology and electricity. The hold my Aunt Velvette held over not only the fashion industry and social media- but on all goods imported and exported throughout the pride ring. And Uncle Valentino- every soul that passed through hell went through him first. In exchange for basic survival, he thrust souls into either his clubs, Velvette’s stage, or Vox’s office. He kept them hooked on the drugs he sold in exchange for their labor, for their bodies. 

After all, it took a thousand unpaid hands to run hell. 

The deeper I dug, the more afraid I became of the only people I knew as my family. I spent my study halls researching, reading blogs and articles about them. Known as the Vee’s, the three of them truly were the most powerful overlords in hell. They had their hands in and controlled everything that went on in the pride ring. Gone from my mind was the softness that I knew them for. In its place was this image of their true selves. 

Photos of Valentino with razor sharp teeth, a single one glinting gold, my father as electricity surrounded him and Velvette, surrounded by swirls of purple took the place of those memories. 

I began to dread going home, dread getting into the limo with Uncle Valentino after each practice. But there was no way out. No sneaking past him, or any of them. I was suddenly aware of just how many eyes I truly had on me every single moment of the day. It didn’t matter if my father did someday decide to inject a tracker into my skin. Not when he controlled every camera on every corner of the pride ring. 

I took to hustling from my last class of the day to the girls locker room to get ready. On the days I didn’t have practice, I found myself inadvertently taking his advice to get stronger by either working out in the school gym or swimming laps in the pool. My body was tired, but at least it gave me an excuse to be away from them. 

I took my sweet time getting dressed  and by the time the rest of the girls joined, we needed to be out on the gym floor. As always Valentino was perched up atop the bleachers, either talking on the phone or typing on his laptop. As soon as practice was done with, he met me at the locker room door to escort me out to the limo. 

“How was your day, bebita?” He would ask.

As if he actually cared. Besides, what did my day matter when he had thousands of other women's lives he was destroying? 

“Fine,” I would reply. 

Short one word responses. Answering questions as he asked, but giving no more than he demanded. I tried not to look at him, and instead kept my nose buried in whatever textbook I happened to have in my backpack that day. Three weeks. Three weeks of going through the same routine. 

Now, as I stood just around the corner from the dining room, I could hear them talking over breakfast.

“Vox, I’m worried about her,” Valentino said as he sipped his coffee. “She doesn’t speak. She goes to school, to practice or to the gym, comes home, eats dinner and goes to bed.”

“I mean, isn’t that sort of what we asked of her?” Velvette asked. “The whole point of this was to show her just how fortunate she is.”

“I’ve seen enough broken people in my life to know when something isn’t right,” Valentino retorted. “She’s quiet. She’s definitely losing weight. And she looks like she hasn’t had a good night's sleep since this whole thing began.” 

My father seemed unconcerned. “I’m sorry she had to learn the dark side of hell. I guess it’s a punch to the gut when you realize life isn’t all sunshine and butterflies. She had the privilege of living the first sixteen years of her life in blissful ignorance. Let her stew. Let her be mad. As for her body changes…” he shrugged. “She’s more active now. Hitting the gym. Playing volleyball. Losing weight is expected. She’s eating dinner with us, so I’m not worried. She’s just mad.”  

“I don’t think she’s mad, Vox,”  Valentino replied slowly. “I think she’s afraid. Of us.”

Velvette rolled her eyes. “Valentino, do you hear yourself? That’s ridiculous. She has no reason to fear us- we’re her family for christ sake we would never hurt her. She knows that.” 

“I’m just saying,” Valentino shrugged. “Maybe Vox should have a talk with her.” 

Vox sighed. “If it would make you feel better, send her up to my office when you two get home tonight, alright? We’ll have a little father daughter heart to heart.” 

Quietly, retreated to my bedroom. Discussion? No. I had read enough at this point to know that my father specialized in mind control. I didn’t want to be any part of any conversation that involved my father, or any of them for that matter. 

And worse? There was no way out of this cage they built. 

“Babydoll! Breakfast!” I heard my fathers voice call from down the hall. 

I could feel the bile rise up in the back of my throat. I swallowed it back and picked up my backpack. I had no desire to sit down and have breakfast with these…monsters. But he couldn’t know that I knew. 

“I’m not hungry,” I called back. “I’ll eat at school!” 

I heard his heavy footsteps fall as they made their way down my hallway. I shrugged my backpack over my shoulders and pushed my bedroom door open to where my father stood on the other side, arms crossed. 

Fear wrapped around my heart as my mind flashed back to the images of him I had seen. My father. A murderer. A control freak. 

“Hey, honey? Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.” He said as he reached his hand out as if to touch my forehead. 

I jumped back and looked away. The article said to avoid his eyes, if at all possible. 

“Yeah, I- I’m fine. I’m just running late, I’ll see you later. Bye.”

I pushed past him and hurried out towards the elevator door. 

“Practice, after school!” He yelled behind me. “Uncle Val will pick you up.”

“Got it,” I said as I stepped into the elevator. 

The school day passed too quickly. Anxiety clenched my stomach with each passing hour, making concentrating or eating next to impossible. By the time I trudged my way to practice, my head ached and my ears were ringing. I tried to ignore it and sipped on my water as I jumped into the routine. Ten laps. Stretching. Mini games. 

Maybe it was from not eating. 

Maybe it was from dehydration or lack of sleep. 

Maybe it was the anxiety from the realization that the people I loved the most in this world were not good people. 

Whatever reason it may be, I jumped to spike a ball and when I landed, a loud snap echoed through the gym. Instantly, I was on my side as pain shot through my body. 

The game came to an immediate halt. Two of my teammates helped me over to the bleachers as the coach talked to me quietly and gingerly pulled off my sock and sneaker. Dark bruises wrapped like a handprint around my ankle. I could feel Valentino’s eyes on me. When I looked up, he stood behind the crowd, concern scrawled over his features. 

Or at least, what looked like concern. He was pretty good at faking it, after all. Just like he did in his office that day. With those girls. Around me, my teammates fawned. 

“I’m fine,” I said through gritted teeth.

“You’re not. Rosa, go grab her backpack,” the coach replied and waved towards one of my teammates. “You’re going to have to get this looked at,”  She turned to look at Valentino. “Do you want me to call an ambulance or…”

“We can take care of it privately,” he replied calmly as he slid his arm under mine. “Lean on me, Bebita…”

“No,” I said sharply.

He gave me a quizzical expression. 

“No..I, I just need my backpack. And maybe my teammates can help me. Uncle Val, can you just have the limo pull around the front?” I said quickly.

He eyed me but took the backpack from my teammates hands and walked ahead of us as two of the other girls slipped their arms under me. Together, we hobbled our way out the front door and Valentino waited as I carefully got into the limo.

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” I told them before Valentino got in. “I’ll text you tonight.”

The second the door closed, I scooted as far away from Valentino as I could. Now that I was out of everyone's sight, the pain radiated through my ankle at full force. 

“Put your leg up on the seat, let me take a look,” Valentino said gently. 

“No, keep your hands off me,” I snarled as I pressed further away from him. “I’m fine. Just give me an ice pack. I have the gym tomorrow and practice on Wednesday. I’m fine.” 

“Honey, that ankle looks broken,” he said softly. “This punishment isn’t…”

“You’ve made it very clear what you’re capable of, don’t fucking touch me,” I snapped. 

To my suprise, he pulled away. 

“At least put it up on the seat. Elevation, until we see the doctor,” he replied. “I’m calling your dad now.”

“Don’t bother, I’m fine.”

He didn’t answer. As soon as the limo stopped, he lifted up my backpack and offered his arm. 

“You can’t walk on that,” he said quietly. “Please let me help you.” 

“I’m fine,” I replied as I stepped out good foot first. 

Pain shot through me the second I tried to put weight on it and to my dismay, I felt Valentino’s arm under me. Without a choice, I leaned on him as we walked into the V tower. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said with a little more firmness. “We’re going upstairs to the nurses office and…”

“I’ll pass on going into your studio,” I snapped as the elevator door opened. “Just leave me alone.”

“Hey, what’s going on here?” My father asked as he stepped out of the elevator. “Val, why aren't you carrying her? If it's broken, she shouldn’t be walking on it.”

“She wouldn’t let me,” Valentino replied sharply. 

“Enough of this crap,” Vox hissed with a roll of his eyes. “Since when do you let your teenaged niece boss you around?” 

He walked to the other side of me and slid his arm under mine. 

“No, Dad. Don’t! Let me be, please!” I begged. 

“You’re hurt. Why are you acting like this? Why won’t you let us help you?” He demanded as he lifted me up into his arms. 

I closed my eyes tightly. I felt him move and heard the elevator door close. 

“Reader? What are you doing?” He asked. For the first time, I heard concern in his tone. “Why are your eyes shut like that?”

I didn’t answer. 

“I told you..” Valentino said softly with a sign. 

“I asked you a question,” Vox said as the elevator door pinged again. “Reader. Answer me. Your Uncle Val seems to think you’re afraid of him. Afraid of me. Is that true?”

I didn’t answer and instead kept my eyes tightly closed. The familiar scent of strawberries filled my nose, but instead of the usual comfort, all I could feel was fear. Each step he took brought me closer to where I was sure I would be drugged, sure I would be hypnotized, sure I would be forced into…

My thoughts were interrupted as I felt my father lay me down on one of the beds. I heard the curtain pull shut and footsteps walk away.  I opened my eyes ever so slightly. Sure enough, the familiar bright lights shone back at me. I was in the nurse's office in Valentino’s studio. 

And I was alone. 

I pushed myself upright and assessed myself. Every part of me ached and my ankle throbbed painfully. Tears welled up in my eyes, tears and I tried to bite them back. The sound of the curtain being pulled back and I shut my eyes tightly. 

“Would it make you feel better if you got a little honesty?” My Aunt Velvette’s voice floated across the room. “Don’t worry. Both your Dad and Uncle Valentino are talking to the doctor. It’s just us.”

“You guys are monsters, why should I trust any of you?” The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You lied to me my entire life, you…”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Velvette perched herself on the edge of the bed. “Sweetheart, we live in hell. The people who come through…”

“Don’t deserve to be sold as sex slaves,” I said angrily. “Or forced to work as models, or stuck under hypnosis by my Dad or…”

“Is that what you think we do? Where do you get your information from?” She asked with amusement. “Not for nothing, but there are a few things wrong with your theory.”

“Oh, so Uncle Valentino isn’t in the sex business? He doesn’t sell drugs? You don’t control the product distribution and my father doesn’t control every single bit of technology and electricity that exists in the pride ring?” I said as I pushed myself more upright. 

“No, those things are true. And what we do at its core is probably more wrong than right. But we’re not monsters. Valentino isn’t selling these women- his contract provides an out. A consent clause. I could choose to cut off production and supplies at any given point. But I don’t. And your father…well, your father wouldn’t use his powers on you unless the circumstances were extreme. And I do mean extreme,” Velvette said softly. “And none of us would intentionally hurt you.”

I felt my anger grow. “You decided that because I wanted to make my own money…”

“No,” she cut me off. “That wasn’t why you got in trouble to begin with. You got in trouble because you lied to us, took your tracker off and decided to go work in a sex club. And yes, we enrolled you in volleyball and yes, you made a snarky comment that scared the shit out of Valentino. I’m not saying how he and your father reacted was right, but I am telling you they love you dearly.” She leaned forward, “someday you too will be an overlord in hell. Someday you too will have the responsibility to these souls that we have. It’s not going to be perfect. And it’s not always going to be right- we live in hell, sweetheart. Handling the darkness is part of what we do.”

I was quiet as I considered her words. A few moments later, the doctor walked in, followed by Vox and Valentino. Velvette stood up and the doctor looked over my ankle. 

One x-ray later, a broken ankle was the diagnosis and an orthopedic specialist was on his way.

“Sweetheart, when was the last time you drank anything?” Vox asked as the nurse looked over my veins.

I stayed quiet as the nurse wiped the crook of my arm. Normally, Uncle Valentino would be the one to put an IV in. But now that I knew why he was so damn good at it, I didn’t want his hands anywhere near me. 

“I’m going to try to do this in one shot, but your veins are pretty small,” she told me. 

I winced as she stuck and restuck me. The third time she pulled the needle out, I burst into tears. 

“No more, I can do it without pain meds, I swear!” I sobbed. “Please, just stop.” 

Valentino handed me a tissue and gave the nurse a writhing look. 

“Leave it,” he growled. “You’re done. Either get someone competent or…”

“Uncle Val, stop. It isn’t her fault! I’m the idiot who didn’t drink all day!” I sobbed. “Just stop!” 

He reached forward as if to take my hand but seemed to think better of it. 

“Show me your arms, bebita. Please?” He asked quietly. 

Hesitantly, I showed him both my arms and he carefully studied the veins. 

“I can probably stick you, if will you let me?” He asked softly. “Please, conejito. You don’t want him to set it without some sort of relief. It isn’t good for your body to be under that much strain.” 

I closed my eyes. The pain was increasing with each passing moment. He was right- I couldn’t take much more of this. Ever so slightly, I nodded my consent. 

True to his word, a single pinch later and I could feel the cold saline seeping into my veins and the pain slowly eased up. Nausea washed over me and the bile from earlier crept back up my throat. I felt my father’s hands pull my hair back and Valentino shoved a bin onto my lap. I coughed as I emptied what little was in my stomach into the basin. 

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” Vox said as he braided my hair back. “I knew you didn’t look good this morning.” 

“I just didn’t have time to eat today,” I whispered. “It’s fine, I’m fine.” 

Valentino visibly bristled. “You are very much not fine. You…” He let his voice trail off and instead brushed the hair out of my face. “I’ll get the nurse to give you something for the nausea. After that, if I get you saltines, will you eat them? Maybe drink some apple juice or ginger ale?”

I shook my head no. “I’d rather have an apple or fruit or something. And water.”

“Not on a sick tummy, crackers or dry cheerios,” Velvette interjected with a shake of her head. “You don’t do well with anything else.” 

Defeated, I closed my eyes as I listened to both their footsteps walk away. How was it that these three, that all I read about them, all that I knew…were tending to me so carefully? That the same man who sized demons up and down, sold drugs and made a deal for their soul would ever so carefully slip a needle into my arm? That my father, the overlord of technology, would hold my hair back as I got sick? I couldn’t wrap my head around it, around the stark difference between the demons I grew up with and what I saw in Valentino’s office. The demons who were in the hospital room with me now, and the ones I read about on the internet. 

“The nurse is coming by with zofran,” Valentino said as he pushed the curtain back. “It will help settle your tummy. Velvette went upstairs to grab you something to nibble on.” 

“I don’t get it,” I said softly. 

“What don’t you get?” Vox asked. 

I hesitated. At that moment, the nurse came in and Valentino plucked the vial from her hands. She set a cup of apple juice on the table and he shooed her away. 

“Just for the nausea,” he explained as he injected the line. As soon as it was in, he picked up the cup of juice and lifted the straw to my lips. “Sip, then talk to us. “We’ve always had an open discussion in this family. What’s bothering you so much?”

I took a sip of juice and swallowed. “You, and Dad and Auntie Velvette, what you do is just wrong,” I said finally. “You hurt people, you punish people, you…Dad, you use mind control to literally take over companies, Uncle Valentino you sell drugs and Auntie Velvette she…she literally ruins people’s lives on social media and decides when and where there will be supply shortages and it isn’t okay! And then you turn around and treat each other and me like…like this!” 

“Woah, woah woah,” Vox said softly. “Where did you learn all that?”

Valentino crossed his arms and gave Vox a ticked off look. “What did I tell you? She should have never gone with me. I told you, I fucking told you!”

“Damn it Valentino, calm down. She was bound to find out the truth sooner or later. Now it’s up to us to sort fact from fiction,” Velvette said as she pushed the curtain back. She pressed a bag of cheerios into my hand, “here. Nibble on these.” 

“I don’t want to,” I said as I rubbed my eyes. “I…”

“You need to get something in your tummy, otherwise you won’t feel better,” Vox said, “Just a little. And listen to what we have to say, okay? Can you agree to that?”

Without seeing any other option, I nodded and put a cheerio in my mouth. My father looked to Valentino and Velvette.

“We..shouldn’t have introduced you to our work lives that way. I shouldn’t have made you…I should have done things differently, I’m sorry.” Vox said quietly. “You didn’t need to see your Uncle Valentino in that role. I wish I could take it back.”

“You’re not going to hypnotize me, are you? Make me forget?” I asked fearfully. “Daddy, I…”

“No, no no…no. Absolutely not,” he replied quickly. “No. You're my daughter and I wouldn’t do that to you. Not now, not ever.”

“So it is true. You can do that. I mean, I always sort of knew what you three were. Sort of knew you were hot shot overlords, but I didn’t realize that…how bad you…” 

Vox held up his hand. “The things we do, we do them because that is our job. We do our best to balance the good and bad in hell. We’re not without compassion, but we have a job to do. A job that provides housing, food, clothing, basic necessities to both hellborn and fallen. There are downsides to things and maybe, maybe when you’re a little older you’ll have different ideas, ways to do things better. But for now, this is our job.” He swallowed. “My mistake was trying to teach you a lesson, and mixing the life we’ve built at home with the businesses we run each day. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I hate that I made you so afraid,” Valentino added quietly as he sat down on the bed next to me. “Princessa, you are my little girl. You always have been. I don’t want you to flinch away in fear. I’m sorry for what you saw. And I’m sorry I frightened you so, so badly. How can I show you I’m not…how can I show you you don’t need to fear me?” 

I swallowed. “Uncle Valentino, let me…I want to be more involved in this business. I want to learn the process myself, understand it for myself.” 

The three of them exchanged glances. Hesitantly, I saw my father nod. 

“Alright, fine. We…we can do that. But not just Uncle Valentino’s responsibilities. All of ours. And…” he sighed. “And I’m going to put you on the payroll. Checks deposited into a private account with just your name on it. That’s what started this entire thing anyway, isn’t it?” 

“Dad, why do you look so upset? Shouldn’t you be thrilled that…”

“Thrilled?” Emotions rushed across Vox’s face, a mix of pain and sadness.  “You think I’m happy knowing we made you so afraid, so terrified of us? I worked so hard- we worked so hard so that you could have a normal childhood- a life without care, without worry. I wanted you to not have to go through the struggles we went through when we were sixteen, I wanted you to enjoy…I wanted you to enjoy being sixteen.” 

For the first time in my life, I saw my father looked defeated. 

“You know, she doesn’t have to give up being sixteen,” Velvette said as she put her hand on Vox’s shoulder. “We can start to introduce her to the family business and let her enjoy school and let her do all the stuff we didn’t get the chance to do.”

“She’s still your ninita, and you’re still her Papito,” Valentino added. “Besides, we’ve always had an open door policy.” 

“Daddy, what was your childhood like? Auntie Vel, Uncle Val I…”

At that moment the next doctor walked into the room. I groaned inwardly as he introduced himself to the adults in the room. 

“You’re a lucky girl,” he told me as he hung my x-rays. “You missed requiring surgery, but setting it will be painful. I’m going to have the nurse give you a dose of something extra strong so you don’t feel anything.” 

“Just, just give the vials to my Uncle Valentino, he can do it,” I said hesitantly. 

“You sure, bebita?” Valentino asked as the nurse brought over the supplies. 

I nodded and watched him wash his hands and pull on gloves for the second time that day. “What..will you tell me what you’re giving me?”

I saw his expression soften. 

“Of course, bebita,this first one is for pain,” he said soothingly as he uncapped the vial and slowly pushed down on the plunger. “Now before I give you the next, tell your Dad what color you want your cast. You can have any two colors you choose.”

“Purple and red?” I asked hopefully as I looked at him.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Vox assured me. He sat down on the bed next to me, took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I love you.”

“I love you too Daddy.”

“This next one is going to make you not care about what the doctor is doing or anything else that happens for the next few hours,” Valentino continued. “Once this is in your bloodstream, you’re going to feel a little sleepy. Just relax, when the doctor is done we’ll bring you upstairs to your own bed, okay?” 

Velvette perched herself on the bed next to my father and patted my uninjured leg. “Don’t worry sweetheart, once we get you all patched up we’ll make a plan. No more secrets, okay?”

I nodded and let the drug Valentino pushed into my body start to work. True to his word, I wasn’t exactly sleeping, but I certainly didn’t care too much about what the doctor was doing. The next thing I knew, I was snuggled into my own bed with my father sitting next to me. 

“Sleep, babygirl,” he said softly. “We’ll talk more in the morning. I promise.”

I felt my eyelids grow heavy. Maybe I could trust them after all. 

[somedaylazysomeday]

Noisy - Part Three

Viktor is going to be busy in the lab for the next week. He comes over to tell you personally.

Viktor x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Word Count: 5,200

Warnings: Arguments, misunderstandings, Viktor has a chip on his shoulder, fingering, unprotected piv sex, discussions of sex with disabilities, creampie

Previous | Next | Masterlist

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The knock on your door was a surprise. 

Not that you didn’t have friends, but very few of them worked or studied at the Academy of Science, Technology, and Innovation in Piltover. Of that small group, even fewer of them would come visit you at your apartment unannounced.

Which meant it was probably one of your neighbors. Your downstairs neighbor was a rather bubbly girl attempting to become a professional musician. She studied under a cellist who taught at the Academy - though you had never quite managed to figure out why a school of science and engineering had a concert orchestra. In any case, she helped conduct the orchestra when she wasn’t working with the professor and gave lessons to students in her off hours. 

But given that you hadn’t heard any music coming from her apartment that day, she was probably preparing for the holiday concert that the orchestra was putting on next week. 

That left Viktor - scientist, assistant to the Academy’s Dean, and your upstairs neighbor.

He was also the man you had shared a brief sexual encounter with a few weeks prior. In your defense, you had been trying to force him to go to sleep so he would stop making so much noise late at night. It didn’t hurt that Viktor was devastatingly attractive, but you had really been more focused on the sleep. 

Another knock shook you from your reverie. It was softer, almost hesitant, and you hurried to open the door. 

Sure enough, Viktor stood on the other side. You took a moment to congratulate yourself for your deductive reasoning, then smiled at him. “Hey Viktor. What’s up?” 

He smiled back, but it looked sickly. You watched his thumb strum nervously along the handle of his cane. “I wanted to let you know that I spoke to Heimerdinger and got permission to work late in the lab next week.” 

You nodded thoughtfully. “I know that curfew has been the bane of your existence for a while now. Do you have a specific project you’re working on or is he just tired of you trying to break in?” 

Viktor’s uncomfortable smile turned to a scowl and you fought back a chuckle. Stiffly, he told you, “I do not try to break in, I-” 

A hand lifted between the two of you interrupted whatever he intended to say next. With your most serious expression, you said, “Viktor! I don’t want to be a party to your crimes!” 

He gave a deep sigh. “You are a menace.” 

You finally broke, and your laughter made him smile. It was a real one and you reached out to pat his arm. “There you are. I needed to see you happy, not fake happy. You’re a terrible actor.” 

Viktor rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling. “And to think I was trying to be a considerate neighbor…”

“Go ahead,” you told him. He raised an eyebrow and you laughed despite yourself. “I’m serious! I’m done. Please say what you came here to say.” 

Though he still looked deeply skeptical, Viktor relented. “I received permission to conduct experiments outside of the lab curfew. I will be working late at the lab for much of the next week. I wanted to tell you myself.” 

A realization was tingling at the back of your mind, but like any good scientist, you needed to test it. You kept your face blankly serene as you nodded. “Thank you for letting me know, Viktor. I hope your experiments go well.” 

He looked mildly disappointed. “Thank you. And I hope your week is pleasant. You will not have me around to make noise over your head.” 

“That will take some getting used to,” you teased. 

“And you likely will not see me very often,” Viktor added, ducking his head at your joke. “When I am home, I will be sleeping. And we work in such different sections of the campus…”

You nodded slowly, your hypothesis all but proven. “That’s good to know. I would have wondered if you were avoiding me.” 

“Never,” he denied instantly. 

That made you feel warm, as did the way Viktor stood in the hall, nervously shifting his weight back and forth as his thumb tapped frantically at the handle beneath his fingers. Despite his clear unease, Viktor glanced at you every few seconds, eyes bright and hopeful in a way that you found both amusing and sweet. 

“I suppose I should leave you,” Viktor admitted, slumping slightly. 

“You know,” you started, pausing the half-pace Viktor had taken in the opposite direction. “If you want to sleep together, all you have to do is ask. If that’s in any way what you were-”

“Can we sleep together?”

The immediacy of the question made you laugh aloud even as you nodded and stepped back. “Well, I was in the middle of grading some papers, but it can wait.” 

“I can wait, if you prefer?” Viktor said, in the middle of crossing the threshold into your apartment. 

“No, you’re going to be gone for the next week,” you reminded. “Besides, this sounds much better than slogging through another essay on population ecology. Come on inside.” 

Viktor seemed almost sprightly as he stepped into your apartment, the tip of his cane hardly touching the ground. He looked around eagerly, studying the interior of your living room with such intensity that you were forcibly reminded that he had never seen it before. With that in mind, you did your best to look around with a fresh perspective. 

The furniture was well-worn - all of it was, in this particular housing unit - but you had done what you could. You'd used an assortment of soft blankets to cover stains or tears while comfortable pillows that shielded your back from spots where the padding beneath the upholstery had all but disappeared. The small table in front of the couch bore stacks of textbooks, reference guides, and the aforementioned papers you had been grading. 

The apartment’s small kitchen was visible from where Viktor was standing, a wine bottle and an old dish sitting in plain sight on the countertop. But you were far too wary of pests to allow any kind of mess in the kitchen, so you didn’t have much to be embarrassed of in there. 

Overall, it was a little messy - especially compared to the stark desolation of Viktor’s apartment - but the most notable feature of your living room wasn’t found in the furniture or in the traces of your work that were scattered around. 

You had installed a collection of corkboards and dry-erase boards around the apartment. The corkboards held the results of your latest experiments while the dry-erase boards held scrawled collections of notes and ideas about relationships between criteria. Your goal was to go around and gather those musings once per week so you could erase the boards, but it had been a while and they were cluttered with your handwriting. 

Anyone else might have made some bland comment about your apartment, but Viktor cut directly to what interested him. After moving to study one of the dry-erase boards more closely, he gestured to it and asked, “What are you attempting to calculate?” 

“Well, each board is set up to have its own focus,” you explained. “On that one in particular, I’m trying to figure out why the toxicity in the Sump level of the Undercity is as high as it is.” 

Viktor’s shoulders tightened, but his voice was bland as he said, “Perhaps it has something to do with the large levels of industrial waste and chemical byproduct that moves through or is stored in the area.” 

He was here to fuck, not fight, you reminded yourself. And yet, even after you had taken a breath and bitten back your immediate harsh response, you couldn’t let the implied insult to your scholarly skills go unchallenged. 

You marched to a corkboard on the other side of the doorway, tapping it sharply with your forefinger. “Yes, I realize that, but look at the particular levels of these toxins. They don’t match up with those you would expect to see from anything produced by the plants in Factorywood.”

“No Undercity industries admit to what they are truly producing,” Viktor said, eyes still roaming over your hastily written notes. They lingered on where you had written ‘Silco?’ beneath a particularly strong toxin found in some products from Priggs Industries. 

“”Of course they don’t,” you agreed easily. “But the toxic by-products still generally match up with what everyone knows the factories are producing. From these numbers, someone on the Sump level is creating chemical products in a quantity that threatens the existence of the entire city, not to mention the serious health risks linked to living in the Gray.”

Viktor sighed, his dark eyes meeting yours. There was a deep sadness in their depths, and it made your heart ache to see it. “It is a noble thing to work on a problem like the Undercity’s health. But you will not get far with it. Piltover has more to gain from looking to the future rather than fixing the problems of the present or the past.” 

“You’re from the Undercity, right?” you asked, needlessly. You knew where Viktor was from. Everyone did - it was one of the reasons he struggled to be respected despite his incredible intellect. 

“You think I do not care for where I am from?” he asked, a sharpness in his voice. “You think I would not keep others from enduring what I endured?” 

The sharp thump of his cane against the floor was loud in your living room, but you kept from wincing. With your steady gaze fixed on him, you slowly shook your head. “I don’t think that at all, Viktor. But I also think Piltover will care about these findings, even if it’s just for self-preservation purposes.” 

“You realize they are more likely to clear the Undercity than make meaningful changes?”

That was something you hadn’t truly considered, though you should have. Anyone with a brain knew that Piltover’s treatment of the Undercity had been reckless and unhelpful. 

Still, you lifted your chin. “I will keep that in mind moving forward, but I have to believe I can do something meaningful to help the people who have no choice but to live there.”

Viktor was quiet then, his gaze fixed blankly on the dry-erase board in front of him as his thoughts consumed him. Eventually, he tilted his head to give you a sidelong look. “Why are the boards next to doorways?” 

You smiled despite yourself. “Sometimes, I get flashes of inspiration if I only catch a glimpse of a problem. Something about seeing the information as I walk into and out of a room when I’m doing another task makes me think differently about a problem. That’s why the boards are everywhere, too - so I can write down what I’ve thought of before it has a chance to get away.” 

“It is a good idea,” Viktor admitted. 

“The Academy has plenty more boards and you definitely have the space for them,” you teased. 

The ghost of a smile flitted over Viktor’s face and the odd tension disappeared. "Perhaps I should look into having some installed. They certainly seem to be helping you." 

You made a face at him, but there was no real antagonism in it. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you’re so interested in the boards. I thought you were here for other things.” 

Viktor’s gaze sharpened as he turned to face you, but his tone was light as he retorted, “Talking about your research findings doesn’t put you in the correct frame of mind? I would have thought better of such a respected scientist.” 

The unexpected teasing brought a delighted laugh to your lips as you gave a shallow bow. “I don’t think anyone thinks of me as a respected scientist, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I happen to have a great deal of respect for you,” Viktor said, the effort ruined somewhat by the way he was focused on your lips. “Can I kiss you?” 

“So much for respect,” you said, leaning eagerly toward him. Viktor was smirking when his soft lips pressed against yours. 

The first time you had kissed, Viktor had been hesitant. When he had gotten over his own discomfort, the depth of his need became apparent, but not before that. This time, his intensity was immediate. After a split second of softness, Viktor’s lips firmed and he used them to part yours so his tongue could slip into the space between them. 

Viktor tried to pull back at the surprised noise you made, but you weren’t having it. Your hands fisted in the front of his vest, keeping him close as you responded to his explorations with some of your own. Viktor was exceedingly sensitive, and you teased as many reactions from him as you could manage before you parted for air, both of you panting. 

“There is such a reaction when we kiss,” Viktor mused, almost to himself. “It cannot be simple chemistry.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything simple about it,” you countered wryly. “Besides, why can’t it be chemistry? Everything else is. Every smell or taste or touch… Chemistry is how we understand and interact with the world around us. Why should kissing be any different?” 

“You are being deliberately obtuse,” Viktor muttered, mouthing butterfly kisses over your jaw and down the side of your neck. You were swaying into the sensation when his lips parted to deliver a sharp nip to the tender skin. You groaned, but didn’t move away. 

“See?” Viktor asked. “Why should that feel pleasant? Simply because of chemistry?” 

“Dopamine, serotonin, and oxycontin,” you informed him. “They’re a strong combination.”

He rolled his eyes, but leaned in again, working his way back up until he could meet you in a furious kiss once more. It managed to be more intense than the first, though both of your attention was split. Viktor was ruching your shirt upward while you were doing your best to unbutton his vest. 

“Your skin is so soft…” he murmured, and you felt like you were on fire. 

Perhaps that was why you forgot yourself, giving his vest a sharp yank. Buttons scattered across the floor and Viktor gave a disbelieving laugh. You offered an apologetic look. “This would be much easier if you didn’t insist on wearing fourteen layers at all times.”

“You are right; that was my fault,” he agreed. You smiled, though it turned to a startled laugh when his fingers tickled up your ribcage. You probably would have protested more vocally if you hadn’t been so relieved at his pulling the shirt over your head. 

“No,” you said decisively, pushing his hands away. Viktor immediately withdrew, looking apologetic, horrified, and confused. “You don’t get the easy job. I’ll take off my own clothes and you deal with all of the buttons.”

Viktor’s eyebrows arched so sharply that they approached his hairline, but he obediently began to undress himself. You made short work of your own outfit and took a comfortable seat on the couch. The soft texture of a blanket teased at your buttocks and the backs of your bare thighs and you luxuriated in the feeling. Perhaps you should lounge around your apartment in the nude more often…

Then Viktor was approaching. He was completely bare and your breath caught at the beauty of him. He was pale, all long-limbs and angular joints. Dark freckles and moles dotted his skin, almost artistic in their placement. Instead of looking small and frail, Viktor put you in mind of a sculpture. He looked like a piece of ancient artwork, perfectly formed to capture a human emotion you recognized, but couldn’t quite verbalize.

The thatch of hair at his pubic bone was dark, eye-catching surrounded by the stretches of pale skin. His cock rose from that darkness, proud and erect, the slightest hint of an upward curve that promised to do delicious things inside of you. 

Before Viktor could come too close to the couch, you stood and motioned for him to turn around. “Let’s go to my room. I want us to be comfortable.” 

When he nodded, you led the way to your room. It was plain compared to the rest of your apartment. You tried to keep the most chaotic parts of your work away. Bedrooms were for sleeping, not thinking, and you did your best to keep the two from being combined in your mind. 

But there were still touches of your personality spread around. You had specifically requested a bed that was larger than average. There were pillows scattered at the head, each one a slightly different softness so you could use whatever pillow you needed for each specific day. They were matched by different blankets across the lower part of the bed. Each one was made of different fabrics, but all of them felt like heaven against your skin. 

You stepped toward the bed, but froze when Viktor let out a soft chuckle behind you. “What?”

Viktor gestured toward the bed with his free hand. “It seems they have allocated my returned bed to you.” 

It took a moment for that to sink in, but then you belted out a laugh. “Thank you for your sacrifice, then. I hope to give you a glimpse of what you gave up.”

“It has a better life here than I could ever give it with me.” When you looked at him, Viktor was studying your body with obvious admiration. 

Before you could tell him how utterly cheesy that was - no matter how charming you found it as well - he stepped into kissing range. Well, you had always heard it was better to show than to tell…

This kiss was no less demanding than the last had been. In fact, each touch seemed to increase in urgency, building toward a precipice. It was exactly what you wanted from someone you were about to sleep with, and you started to get impatient with the teasing touches. 

“Any-” kiss “Any preference?” kiss “For position, I mean.” 

Viktor looked dazed, drunk on your lips, but a concerning thought jarred you from your self-satisfaction. “Wait, this isn’t your- Is this the first time you’ve done this?” 

He frowned at you, color rising high on his cheekbones. “Did you not ask this the last time?”

“Did I?” Honestly, as much as you had thought about that night in the time since it happened, very few of your thoughts had centered on the conversation you’d shared before your focus shifted to other things. “And what was the answer?”

“No, believe it or not,” he grumbled. “I have managed to find at least one partner before you.” 

“Oh, good.” 

Viktor’s eyebrows shot upward at that. “Not quite the reaction I had expected.”

“Sorry,” you offered instantly, hoping you hadn’t hurt his pride. Viktor seemed a little sensitive about his self-image. “I just meant that I’m glad you found someone you wanted to share this with in the past.” 

“How magnanimous,” he said dryly. “But I would prefer if you wanted to share this with me now instead of asking if I am virginal.”

“Virginal?” you asked, nose wrinkling. “Am I an 18th century lord? I don’t care if you’re- ah!”

With a well-placed push, Viktor had sent you sprawling across the bed. The sheer number of blankets over the mattress meant that the impact was so minimal that you hardly noticed it, but you still took a moment to blink up at Viktor in surprise. 

For his part, Viktor looked so self-satisfied that his expression verged on smug. He stepped up to the edge of the bed and stooped to lean over you when you remembered your original point. 

“Wait, I was asking for a reason,” you protested. 

A look of genuine irritation crossed Viktor’s handsome face. “No, you are not my first.”

“Not-” You took a second to give a silent laugh. “Not that. I meant about positions. Do you have a preference?” 

“Not in the slightest,” he assured you. “Now, if you were to ask for my preferences on when we get together, I have several strong opinions-”

“And your leg will be okay?” you asked softly. Viktor paused. “I don’t want this to hurt you.”

“I am not so delicate,” he said. “Any further objections?” 

“Only that you’re not already inside of me.” 

The stunned look on Viktor’s face at your tongue-in-cheek answer was a glorious sight to see. But it was fleeting; only a moment later, his jaw firmed with determination and he crawled onto the bed. Most of his weight was supported on his arms, planted firmly on either side of you, and the weight that remained on his legs didn’t seem to bother Viktor in the slightest. 

So you didn’t feel bad for losing yourself in the sensations. 

Perhaps, given the nature of your first hookup, you shouldn’t have been shocked that Viktor would want to explore. He sucked a mark over your collarbone, and you could feel his smile at the noises it pulled from you. When his clever fingers dropped to your breast, you froze under his touch. Viktor finally pulled away from the tender place on your skin, but only so he could study every microexpression that crossed your face at the feeling of his fingers on the sensitive peak. 

When he finally pulled away, you arched into his retreating touch. Viktor managed to soothe you into lying against the bed once more. That made it far easier for him to lower himself onto top of you, his hips pressing squarely between your thighs. Suddenly, losing his hand on your breast felt like a fair trade. 

When those talented fingers drifted down to your core, you wriggled impatiently. “I’m ready, I promise. Please, Viktor…”

He looked conflicted. “I know. I will give both of us what we want in a moment. But I- I need to feel you.”

Any further arguments you might have made faded away with the feeling of his long finger sinking into you. Your body accepted him easily, so easily that you might have been embarrassed by it if you weren’t so relieved by the feeling of something to grip with your desperate muscles. 

Viktor withdrew his finger far too soon. You groaned when he studied it for a moment before putting it in his mouth. Then you were groaning together and your core clenched so sharply that it took your breath away. 

“Viktor-”

He gave a decisive nod, lined the head of himself up with your entrance, and began pushing inside of you. As if your body was angry at having lost your previous stimulation so soon, the muscles of your channel contracted around his length. In fact, they spasmed so hard that Viktor paused. 

“Am I hurting you?” 

The real concern in his voice was sweet, but you were nearing desperation. “Only because you’re going so slow. Please, Viktor…”

He gave a stuttered half-thrust into you, clearly trying to stop himself before he drove too hard into you. With a crooked smile, he said, “Have I ever mentioned that I enjoy hearing you say my name?” 

“No, but I can do better than that,” you offered. “Start moving now and I’ll scream it for you.” 

Viktor’s eyes widened and he started a series of pulsing thrusts, each one driving himself a little further inside of you. When he was - at last - as deep as he could be, you both paused to soak in the sensations of it. His hips were flush against your ass and one of you was throbbing. You were too close to know which of you it was. 

Most of your focus was on the realization that you had been right: that slight curve of Viktor’s length was in exactly the right place to press against your g-spot. The delicious pressure of it made your toes curl and you lifted your hips in an effort to urge him deeper. 

When you remembered that your eyes worked, you smiled a little to see the intense concentration on Viktor’s face. Your hands smoothed down his back and when they were as low as you could reach, you pulled him closer, urging him into motion.

For someone who had a tendency to be oblivious, Viktor took the hint beautifully. With an audible sound from where you were joined, he pulled out. His motions were achingly slow, but he thrust back in before his head could leave you entirely. This push of his hips was made up of more mini-thrusts. The next only had a few. Then he was driving full-force into you at a pace that took your breath away. 

And his. 

Getting a little winded during sex wasn’t exactly uncommon, especially when things were as heated as they were with Viktor, but it worried you. The legs you had wrapped around his waist - though you couldn’t remember exactly when you had done that - could feel tremors wracking the right side of his body. They seemed to stem from his weaker leg, and it was quickly growing more severe. He was frowning, and while it seemed to be mostly concentration, there was more than a hint of genuine pain buried in the wrinkles of his forehead.

“Viktor,” you started, cutting off with a low cry when he slammed into you. “Viktor, wait.” 

It took another half thrust for your request to filter through the fog of good sex. When it did hit him, Viktor slowed, though you could see the strain of it in his muscles. “What is it?” 

“Roll over,” you said. “I can tell you’re hurting.” 

An expression of displeasure crossed his face. “I told you: I am fine.” 

“You aren’t,” you argued, watching his face turn incredulous. “Viktor, I can see it. It’s not a bad thing. I like being on top.” 

“I don’t need you to pretend you know what’s best for me!” he snapped. 

Arguing with someone who was currently buried inside of you was a new experience. From the stubbornness in Viktor’s eyes and the set of his jaw, he wasn’t going to let you win. You would bash yourself to pieces against the stone of Viktor’s personality. But maybe you could try a different tactic…

“Please, Viktor,” you murmured. “I promise, I’ll still make things feel good for both of us. Just let me do this. Let me take care of both of us, even if you don’t need me to.”

You watched him think that over. A direct and combative approach wouldn’t get anywhere with Viktor, he had spent too much of his life fighting. But the one-two punch of logic and emotion helped you get through the walls he had built around himself. 

He didn’t agree verbally - that would be too much like admitting defeat. But he carefully withdrew from you and settled onto the bed beside you. When you realized what was happening, you scrambled upright and straddled his thighs as soon as he was fully horizontal. 

The brief pause had done strange things to your libido, but it came roaring back as soon as you saw Viktor lying beneath you, his body still hard and eager and shining with remnants of you. 

You sank down onto him so quickly that it pulled a startled noise from both of you. And then you were moving, surging up and down so quickly that the muscles of your legs started aching almost immediately. That wasn’t enough to stop you, not nearly, especially when you saw the stunned pleasure on Viktor’s face. 

You rested your hands gently on his chest, using him more for balance than a true counterpoint, but Viktor thrust his hips sharply. The force of it knocked you off balance, pushing you forward until you were braced against him. 

His hands covered yours, keeping them planted over his heart. You glanced up at him, unsurprised to see Viktor’s intense gaze fixed on you. “I will not break.” 

You nodded, taking the low promise as truth. With the additional weight resting on your hands, your legs lifted you far more easily, working up and down on his shaft. Pressing your hips backward let you brush your clit against the thatch of coarse hair at Viktor’s base, but it also pressed that slight curve against your g-spot. Your inner muscles tightened so hard and fast that Viktor made a shocked noise and you started having trouble keeping your rhythm. 

“Are you close?” he asked, chest rising and falling more rapidly under your hands. 

You didn’t quite trust your voice, so you nodded again. He nodded with you. “Me too. Where-?”

“Inside,” you interrupted. You used birth control for several reasons, but sex actually wasn’t one of them. Having someone come inside of you wasn’t a sensation you particularly enjoyed, but you were close and pulling out was always tricky when you were on top. And Viktor felt so good…

His eyes widened. “Are you-?”

Before he could ask if you were sure, you had fallen over the edge. You fingers curled against Viktor’s skin, legs tingling so badly that you almost stopped moving on him. But as if your body was willing to circumvent your brain to keep the stimulation going, your legs and hips and torso kept going. You were moving up and down and forward and back all in an effort to chase the incredible pleasure that wracked your body and made your movements stutter.

Somewhere in the middle of your orgasm, Viktor reached his as well. He stiffened under your hands and between your legs, thrusting into you to drive you both higher. You felt his length twitch and pulse inside of you, along with a general sense of warmth as he spilled. 

When the incredible flood of endorphins began to fade, you collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. You slumped forward onto Viktor’s chest with him still buried deep inside of you. His hand came to rest on your back, stroking your overheated flesh. You stayed like that for a long while, your ear pressed to the reassuring sound of his gradually slowing pulse. 

“That was incredible,” he said eventually. His voice was low, but the awe in it was unmistakable. 

“It was pretty good,” you agreed. 

A displeased noise escaped him and you lifted your head to look at him, wincing at the way your sweaty skin had stuck to his. “What’s wrong?” 

“There is a considerable difference between ‘incredible’ and ‘pretty good’,” he told you, the disgust clear in his voice. 

You were already smiling at the way ‘pretty good’ sounded in his accent. “Sorry, I meant it was the single most mind-blowing experience of my entire life. Is that better?” 

Viktor hummed, but his amber eyes sparkled down at you. “That seems like a lie. But it is fine. We can work up to incredible.” 

You chuckled at that, and Viktor pressed a kiss to the back of your hand as you settled back against him.

---

Author's Note - You'll note that this isn't a two-part fic, but there will be another Viktor fic this Fanfic February because I had two ideas that I liked.

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought!

[ishanijasmin]

alive alive

contemplating the living forces of nature, thinking about life beyond biology (the layperson's perspective)

i have been thinking a lot about how the earth is alive. maybe even how the world is alive. like, alive alive. the all-singing, all-dancing, moving, caressing, feeling, vibing atmosphere that we have all found ourselves in. the twinkle of the stars, the erosion of a cliff face, the coming and going of the seasons, the whip of the wind, the rise and fall of the sea, the trickle of a stream. so much of the earth is not what we regard as being alive, and i find it fundamentally unusual that we reserve the idea of life for things that manifest in a specific way. i’m not a biologist, and the science of the universe baffles me. but i don’t know how to stand at the edge of an ocean, my feet slowly being consumed by the waves, wet silt building slowly around my ankles to stabilise me, without thinking, ‘what is this, if not alive?’ what does the ocean do if not soothe? what do the cliffs do if not hold?

last week i took a boat trip to berlenga island, just off the coast of lisbon. i am always humbled by the ocean—by its vastness, and as someone for whom the titanic is always in mind, by its mercy. on the journey back to the hotel, i sat on the floating front of the prow of our little boat for a while and let my legs dangle, watching the waves, and it was as close as you can probably be to riding the sea.

as i got progressively more queasy, i followed the patterns for a long time, and i couldn’t really figure out which direction anything moved in, including myself. lost at sea, immeasurably. so later, i looked it up. did you know waves move in circles? you probably did. i didn’t. i have absolutely no idea how these natural processes work. if i were in an ancient civilisation, i would get hit by wind exactly one time before being like, ‘wow, this is witchcraft, i’m doomed.’ wind: caused by the varying pressures in the atmosphere? hot air rises and cold air rushes in? a mystery! feels plenty alive to me! why does it hit my face the way it does—why some days the gentle stroke of a breeze on my sweaty back in the summer, and others a force big enough to move oceans? why at the same time? lisbon is a particularly significant place to be thinking about this: a city plighted by earthquake, great fire, and tsunami in a matter of hours, and left to rebuild from the wreckage.

i’ve had this in over my head experience with windsurfing and paragliding, as well. the wind, never tamed, but understood by people who’ve been observing it for a lifetime and who still prefer to use modern technology to double check their voyages are safe. a respect and a fear instilled by regarding these changes around us as almost alive. almost.

it’s not that i don’t trust scientists when they explain simple geological concepts to me—i suppose it’s like intellectually knowing something rather than intrinsically knowing it deep, deep in your bones. how can you demystify that? how can the winds—the oceans, the lakes, the tectonic plates, the rock formations and volcanoes—how can they not be alive? they are growing, shrinking, subsisting and existing like all of us, not just to hold life as an ecosystem, but as motion in themselves—erosion, weathering, death and becoming.

i have been reading braiding sweetgrass of late, which is where a good deal of thinking about this comes from. in the book (at least the half of it i’ve read so far), kimmerer talks a lot about the reciprocity between people and land, and the idea that we are all alive and that the earth, the sky, the land and its processes are not a dead ‘it’ while we are an alive ‘they’. the earth is being all the time and so am i and so are we all, and it’s kind of hard to think about and also to not think about.

where am i with all this? breathing through the crushing feeling in my chest that has kept me company every day since i can remember; thinking about doing laundry, about growing a flower trail up the side of my apartment that the kids next door won’t prick themselves on, on getting rid of the fungus gnats that are plaguing a couple of my plants, about my husband who has a headache and is squinting, about recharging. the ecology and community of self is as alive as anything else. dwelling on the world and where we all fit into it and how to preserve ourselves and each other—the human each other, the animal each other, the plant each other, the tectonic plate rock formation beach gravestone church road brick wall limestone cliff fossilised shell firewood smelted and mined ring earthquake each other.

[angelicribbons]

Agere reader who is obsessed with watching youtube videos on their tablet, and a concerned Alastor/Vox/Adam makes reader take a break from electronics?

I hope im not sending too many requests at one time 😭 apologies if i am! <3

Never!! I adore these<3 reader is watching those content farms with like Skibidi toilet, Huggy Wuggy, TADC, etc. LOL

Alastor-

After much begging, Alastor had caved and gotten you a tablet. Not VoxTek, of course, although it was hard to find one that wasn’t. He regretted it instantly after a week. That was all you did! It was getting tiring trying to get you to sleep without the damned thing! When it’d been dinner time, today though, he was over it. You hadn’t even touched your food, too busy watching.. what was it you said? YouTube? A silly name for such a thing, but you acted as if you weren’t able to live without the contraption! Alastor sighed, and plucked the device from the dinner table. You immediately whined and reached for it. “No, absolutely not, little one! You have been glued to this thing ever since you got it. No tablet, or any dumb device for that matter, at dinner time. Am I clear, darling?” You keep wordlessly protesting, only letting out whines and shuffling in your booster seat. “I asked a question, you’re big enough to answer it, little love.” You simply pouted and rolled your eyes. Alastor took a deep breath, and threw the tablet onto one of the chairs. “Do I need to repeat myself?” You grumbled. “Ok..” You mumbled. “Thank you. Now eat your food, you were worrying me, fawn..” He took a spoonful of the jambalaya and put it up to your mouth. You opened and graciously accepted the bite, swallowing the dish happily. You had finished pretty quickly “There.. that wasn’t so hard to eat dinner without that frivolous technology shoved in your face, now was it?” He lifted you from your seat and took you to the bedroom, leaving the tablet behind. You squirmed and whined for the stupid thing. Alastor’s smile twitched. “That old thing, really? Please, darling. Give it a rest. You will be fine without it.” Your whining persisted throughout the attempt to soothe you. “My dear,” He begun slowly, getting a little fed up with your attitude. “While I’d rather shatter that thing to pieces, I’m just going to give you a break without it. A week without that tablet, alright? I will be limiting the time you spend on it when you get it back.” You were disappointed, but agreed because you knew Alastor wouldn’t negotiate. “Good, now come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Vox-

Vox was such a suck up for you, so of course all you had to do was ask nicely and you’d get a tablet. He figured it’d keep you busy for the times he couldn’t be there for you. But.. it was getting bothersome how much you were on it. Occasionally, he’d check your screen time. Your most often average was fifteen hours. FIFTEEN. Usually, he wouldn’t be as bothered as he was, but you’d started choosing the fucking tablet over HIM. On his breaks, he went to your room immediately, usually met with a hug and an ask to play, cuddle, talk, etc.. but now? He was barely even noticed when he went into your room. And when asked if you wanted to do anything.. you pointed to the tablet. There was no fucking way he was being replaced with his own product. When he went in your room today, he took the tablet from your hands immediately. Met with whines obviously, but he immediately went to your watch history. “Baby doll, what in all of the rings of Hell have you been watching that’s more important than spending time with me?” When he saw the videos, he blinked. ….Yeah no, the tablet was a bad idea. No more tablet. At least- no more YouTube. He sat the device away from you and picked you up when you tried to grab it. “Ah ah. You aren’t having your tablet today. I’m gonna set a screen time limit tomorrow. We are going to hang out, and I’m gonna show you how much better I am then that fucking brain rot. Come on, sweet thing.” Despite your pouts and attempts to stay annoyed, you had a really fun time! You went to the park, went shopping, and watched the bright red sky darken into a pretty maroon! (why do I kinda wanna write a separate thing for that full scene where you and Vox hang out 🥺 aghhhh would be SO ADORABLE)

Adam-

Adam had an unreasonable amount of heaven bucks, so why not get ya something to keep you entertained during meetings? (And maybe keep himself entertained too if you were watching something cool) What he didn’t expect, was your attachment to it. At some point, he was curious. He took your tablet while you were napping and looked at the stuff you were watching. What.. in all of heavens holy fucking gates, was Skibidi Toilet? And why did you watch so much of it? And why was some short weird ass jester girl PREGNANT with a TOILET’S kid?! He felt like his brain (if he still had one?) was melting more and more by the second just looking at the thumbnails. Yeahhh.. he was gonna put this away. For a while. When you woke up, you immediately noticed your tablet gone. You scurried to Dad’s room to try and get him to help find it, opening the door with a slam, waking him up quickly “Ugh! Fuck, kiddo- what’s wrong? You doin’ good?” You noticed the device in his hand and tried to grab it. He pulled away. “Yeah, no, sugar. There’s some weird ass shit you’re watching and I’m not letting you rot your brain with it.” You immediately opened your mouth to whine but he put his hand over your mouth. “No more a’ that crappy content and I’ll let you keep it. Deal?” You nodded. “Oh yeah, and you aren’t having it for ehhh..three days. Good?” You wanted to protest, but.. he wouldn’t budge about it. You grumbled and reluctantly nodded. “Aight, that’s good.” He ruffled your hair. “Let’s go get breakfast!!” Adam said excitedly, carrying you to his favorite buffet.

Oh my gosh this took longer than I thought it would!! (Note: Alastor was the only one who didn’t see the brainrot that reader was watching because he didn’t know how to work the device- ) I had so much fun with this prompt<3

[ijustwantogohomehogwarts]

m i n e | (s e c r e t l y)

m i n e | (s e c r e t l y)

Y/n recounts the struggles of Timothée going back to work after spending time with her, knowing there's nothing she can do about it because, to the eyes of Hollywood, she doesn't exist. There's nothing she can do...as a girlfriend-

Warnings and such: established relationship, secret/private relationship, sad reader but major fluff points!

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I rolled over in bed, the gut wrenching realization that I was, once again, alone hit me before I even opened my eyes. The spot beside me was cold, covered pulled up and long abandoned...but his scent lingered. The warmth of his embrace, the feeling of his skin, his lips on mine...he was gone, but the memory burned in my mind like it was brand new- present.

I had myself convinced that I was handing this whole situation very well, he even gave me credit for how well I was 'holding it together,' and keeping everything a secret. Oh the irony in having secrets in Hollywood. I knew it was going to be hard, there was no way to make it any easier, but the façade shattered like glass each morning after he left.

It never mattered how long he was here; 12 hours or 12 weeks, it never felt like enough time. Who am I kidding- the rest of my life wouldn't be enough time to spend with him. We never wasted a moment, and made up for all the lack of physical touch until reality ripped us apart again. I'd fall asleep and convince myself that the next morning would be just the same, but nothing ever prepared me for his absence.

God, it was such a cliché thing to think! I could call him 10 times a day if I wanted, I could send him 100 text messages and FaceTime just to stare at his face! We live in a world where technology makes it almost impossible to miss someone...almost. Close isn't good enough...

I trudged around the empty apartment, the sound of his voice, the echo of his laughter; played loudly in the back of my mind. There was no trace of him. Keys, shoes, coat...all gone.

"Stop whining, he'll be back in a week!" I scolded myself in a desperate attempt to pull my head out of my ass and carry on with my life. "He's not dead!"

I made breakfast, cleaned the apartment and played music so loudly I couldn't hear my own thoughts. No thoughts, no tears. Besides, it was selfish for me to be upset: this was his life, I'm just a small part of it. He's got work to do, projects to finish and I'm so proud of him, truly I am! Who am I to hold him back from any of it because I miss him?! I turned the music up louder. No thoughts, no tears.

The afternoon rolled around and I dragged myself into the patio to enjoy the city. There was something magical about the time between when the work day ends, and the night life begins- there was a sense of calm amidst the chaos, something you only got to experience once a day. This is normally the time where I get to call him, or where he calls me, and we talk about the 9-5 grind as if either one of us had one, but I remember his speaking, as he drifted off to sleep last night, that today was going to be different. Busy. Demanding. Attention and time consuming. But he was excited, so I was excited for him.

There was no call.

When the noise started up again on the street below, I resolved myself to spend the rest of the night on the couch, watching movies and wallowing in my own self pity. I knew this feeling wouldn't last, that in the next day or two life would go back to the way it was before he was here, and the cycle would repeat itself. The thought of giving it up never crossed my mind...the days we were together made it all worth it. I was just a person who got too attached and I know that I would eventually learn to handle this better...good things take time after all.

I turned to shut the door, my eyes glancing over the table for the first time all day. It took another glance to notice that something on it didn't belong to me. The undeniable sparkle of designer diamonds. A ring. His ring. One of them anyway.

Maillon Panthere Ring. Cartier. $12,000. Maybe more.

Sticker shock is still very, very real.

He's left things here before, why wouldn't he, but this seemed like too much to simply forget. Shoes and t shirts were one thing, but he's never left something he wears regularly, something so expensive. I smiled, realizing that it was undoubtedly a mistake, and he had days where he would loose his own head of it wasn't attached.

"Missing something?" I texted him, though I didn't expect a response.

I set the ring down on the bathroom counter and indulged myself in a shower that lasted all too long. I threw on a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt that didn't belong to me and picked up the ring again. Funny, I had seen it so many times since he bought it, but it looked much different not wrapped around his fingers. I spun it around my own, blushing feverishly when I realized the only one it fit was my ring finger.

My phone chimed, drawing me quickly out of my thoughts.

"You. Filming on Astoria Boulevard probably until midnight...it's beautiful here. I'll bring you sometime! Call you tonight? xoxo"

Would it really be so wrong...

I jumped off the couch, giddy like a child on Christmas with a plan that would either end horribly or wonderfully, but if I was careful, the latter was the only option. I made myself presentable, without putting in too much effort for the sake of time constraint, pulled on a pair of shoes and a sweatshirt (which also didn't belong to me) and headed out the door.

I walked quickly towards the subway station a few blocks away, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the ring still on my finger. Astoria Boulevard in Queens was about an hour away, and I could only hope he was serious about being there well into the night, or this would be an all for nothing excursion out of the house.

There was a small group of people, only about 12 maybe and mostly girls, giddy with excitement and staring through their phone screens. If that wasn't enough to give away that they were all still there, the sidewalk closures, flood lights and film equipment was. I stepped over the barrier and slipped in with the group when no one was looking, though it didn't appear to be a big deal that they were there so what was one more? I made my way to the front, stopping when my fluttering in my chest became near overwhelming.

"Isn't he dreamy?" Someone whispered beside me.

"I hope we get to meet him!" Someone else replied.

"QUIET ON THE SET!"

Like a light switch, the world fell silent around us. The people beside me all hit record simultaneously and watched the magic unfold in front of them.

"ACTION."

There wasn't a whole lot to see from where we stood, but for a moment, I saw a mess of dark curls. I didn't need to see the face that they belonged to to instantly recognize him.

Him.

Everything came flooding back: the sound of his raspy voice, his lips on my neck, bare skin on bare skin, his fingers laced in mine. The smell of his skin, damp with sweat as he fought to catch his breath. I wonder if anyone had caught sight of the faint red lines down his back, or the dark purple bruises on his hips. My fingers instinctively traced my collar bone, knowing that I had matching bruises just below the fabric of this sweatshirt. My cheeks felt warm- warmer still when the train doors open and my eyes instantly fell to him.

I took in every inch of him; savoring the fact this was one of the very few times I was able to do so in public. There was an overwhelming feeling of excitement, a fear of being caught, though to anyone else I was a fan, nothing more. I felt my pulse quicken as adrenaline coursed through my body:

"I've kissed him. I've ran my fingers though his hair. I've shared a bed with him. I have his number saved in my phone. I'm wearing his clothes. I've seen him naked. I-"

Okay, simmer down.

"CUT!"

"That was great guys! Let's take 5 and we'll try to wrap this up."

There was a commotion of equipment moving and people shuffling around, but through it all I caught glimpses of Martin Scorsese (which was awe inspiring on it's own) and his muse. His beautiful, beautiful muse. The people beside me grew louder, desperate to capture his attention.

"Guys," The man who appeared to be assigned 'Crowd Control' turned towards us. "He knows you're here, he'll come say 'hello' when we're all done. Please let him finish or you're going to have to leave." He was met with muttered apologies, but didn't seem to mind.

I've never gotten to watch him work before, but there was something about it that was so...intoxicating. I already knew he poured everything into his projects, but watching him make it come to life was stunning. He took direction, looked, moved, breathed as instructed. I smiled when the rain machine came out and watched him slowly get drenched, curls sticking to his head, his white shirt becoming sheer...

I stared, unabashedly, until the final 'cut.'

"He'll be out in 10 minutes." crowd control guy spoke.

Almost to the second, the official new face of Chanel jogged around the corner. Clad in heavy sweatpants, t shirt and jacket, his hair was still damp and there was music blaring from his phone. The fans around me were screaming, though defiantly not as loud as I'm sure they have before, seeing how few of us there was. He stopped just short of the barrier, eyes locked on me, and froze.

I bit back a smile, watching him do the same as a beautiful color painted his cheeks. I dropped my head and stared at my fingers when I couldn't control myself any longer. I pulled his ring off my finger and rolled it around in my hand. I stole glanced as he made his way down the line. He was a model (literally) celebrity: doting on his fans, signing every autograph, making small talk, taking pictures...he was genuinely happy to be with them, and I know without a shadow of a doubt he would act just the same if I wasn't there.

"Don't be shy," his voice washed over me, hand touching my arm quickly. "I'm Timothee Chalamet, what's your name?"

"I'm [The nickname he gave you], it's nice to meet you!"

I stifled a laugh as the color in his cheeks began to match my nail polish. I rolled his ring back and forth between my fingers, eyes flickering between his and my hand. In public he was quick on his feet; he ran his hand from my shoulder down to my hand, taking the ring from me leaving no one next to us any wiser. In private, this may have taken him quite a few minutes to realize.

"I like your sweatshirt," A shit eating grin was plastered on his face. "I have the same one, but I seem to have lost it."

"Well, I hope you find it! It's very comfortable!"

"Yeah. I know!"

"You looked great out there! I can't wait to see the final commercial. When does it come out?"

"Thank you! Yeah, I'm not sure, but I'm sure you'll all see pictures soon!" He turned to everyone else who began cheering. "Say cheese!" He called, holding his phone above his head.

We all huddled together and he snapped a picture. I've seen a few like this on his phone- he never deleted them. He looked at me for a moment longer before asking, shyly, if i wanted a picture too. It would match the ones I already have, sure, this felt different...like a risqué little thing I wasn't supposed to have. Of course I said yes!

"Everybody get home safe, okay? Thanks for coming out and I appreciate your cooperation! I hope to see you guys soon!"

Tim turned his back towards the crowd and whispered something to crowd control guy. He turned back and waved enthusiastically at everyone who was being escorted away, though I couldn't help but notice the ring that suddenly adorned his finger was gesturing towards the ground, the same way you would tell a dog to 'stay.'

I walked impossibly slow behind everyone else, and as they rounded the corner, I fell back, following Mr. Crowd Control. He must know...right? Does everyone who works on these types of projects sign nondisclosure agreements? They must, right?

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Tim laughed, falling in step with us as we made our way through what was left of the make-shift set.

"You're young, you'll be fine!" He tried to act offended and even made Crowd Control chuckle.

"Wanna meet Scorsese?"

"No! I look like a bum!"

"Excuse you!" He laughed, tugging on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. "Come on, it'll be quick, we gotta clear out anyway."

Martin Scorsese was a very nice man, though firm and to the point. He admired Timothee and told me, very sternly, to not let him doubt himself. 'He's going places, just you wait!' All of this I already knew, but nodded along enthusiastically. To Scorsese, I was just a 'childhood friend,' which isn't a lie, and though I don't think he would care who I really was to Tim either way, perhaps it was best that the less people that know the better.

"Thank you for the delivery," Tim smiled, wiggling his fingers in front of him. "but you didn't have to come all the way down here to do that!"

"Fine, give it back!"

"Wait- no!"

We stood quietly in a corner while everyone was packed up, finding any excuse to touch or otherwise look at each other. It wasn't long (enough) until Tim's driver came. The feelings which I had first thing in the morning, that lingered through the day began to return...loneliness began to wash over me as I was desperate to hold him. Regretfully, Tim had a redeye flight to catch and had to be to the airport in a few short hours- there was no way I could ask him to come back home for one more night.

"It's not long this time," I reminded myself. "9 days and he'll be back for 3 weeks!"

Still, I couldn't help myself and I watched as my fingers reached for one of his own.

"Do you mind if we take her home first?"

"Tim-"

"Not at all! We should get going though..."

His driver pulled the car around and I got in on the blindside, just in case. There was a strategy to doing- and therefore getting away with- just about everything in Hollywood. I had so much to learn! I rested my head on his shoulder, fingers interlaced as we rode in silence back to my apartment. It was nice. THIS was the kind of intimacy I was going to miss with him.

9 days, I reminded myself.

The rest of the night was a blur, even more so when the headlights disappeared down the road, and I could no longer see my hand in front of my face though the tears. I could feel the pleasant sting on my lips where they began to swell slightly, and I groaned audibly, desperate to have him back already. This of course made me frustrated because I had no logical reason to cry, so I cried some more and the cycle continued.

I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache but immediately reached for my phone. 10 text messages, 1 missed call.

-I love you! -I'm so fucking lucky to have you in my life! -I'll call you when I land, but it will be late, please don't wait up for me! *1 missed call* -Thank you :) -I miss you already :( -You have no idea how happy I was to see you tonight! -Like, OMGGGG that's my babbyyyyy -Fucking beautiful! -I'm going to go to bed....but I wish you were here! -I love you! I love you! I love you!

I smiled to myself and began reading over the messages before they dropped to the bottom.

-Bien matin, mon amour :)

-TIMOTHEE HAL CHALAMET

-I literally just woke up, there's nothing I could have done yet-

- I FUCKING LOVE YOU

-lol I love you more!

*Incoming FaceTime call*

"Good morning," I yawned at the boy who was still in his own bed.

"Good morning...I don't have to go anywhere for a few more hours...If you want to go back to sleep..."

"Not without you..."

"I'm not hanging up."

I'm happy the world doesn't get to see this side of Timothee Chalamet...this is the type of intimacy that I want to keep all to myself- all the intimate moments for that matter, but even when we're old and grey and celebrating 50 years of marriage, this is the type of thing I'll hold most precious. I am undeniably IN love with him.

My muse. My beautiful boy. My baby. My Timothee.

Mine.

[human-encounters-diary]

Day 12

I apologize for the rather abrupt ending of the last record, as circumstances became rather frantic after the recorded incidents. I will apply my best efforts to summarize the following events shortly. After the human volunteered to perform the repair of the damaged outer hover engine, a rather heated discussion broke loose, concerning the risks and other possible solutions to the current situation. The Vitrichl decided that the human should perform the repair, as long as it was proved that her chance of survival was high enough. Several tests were performed, and all of them concluded that the human had a surprisingly good chance at surviving the excursion, although it was unclear whether she would return unharmed, as there was simply not enough information known about Terrans.

The Vitrichl ordered for a group of personally selected mechanics and scientists of the crew to supervise the excursion over the video recording of the space suit the human would be wearing. I was assigned as a part of this group. The human itself, inexplicably, remained incredibly calm, seemingly not grasping the gravity of the situation at hand. Despite my best efforts to make her aware of the responsibility she was assigned, she remained unresponsive. "I am applying my best efforts to make you aware of the risk you are taking.", I stated, trailing after her. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I read the safety thingy, like, three times. And basically the entire board team will be there to guide me through the entire process and tell me exactly what to do. I'll basically not even have to think myself." "I would appreciate it if you did not neglect your thought process during such an important task." "Of course I won't actually stop thinking, it's just a way of speaking. Anyway, you'll have the entire video footage from my suit and as long as the suit remains intact, I should be fine.", Quinn continued. "Still, the probability that the system fails and you do not return…" "Is low enough.", Quinn cut me off.

"Listen, you oughta stop worrying. I might know nothing about alien technology, but this crew knows about it. And, to our luck, I'll have direct contact to them the entire time." She stepped into her assorted suit, machines around her closing and tying everything into place. Eventually, a helmet was lowered onto her head, the reflective surface hiding her face. She extended her right arm, lowering all her fingers except for the first and biggest one, which she pointed upwards. I could not decipher the purpose of this gesture, and as I could not see her facial expression, I was not able put any of my previous knowledge of humans to use.

The human underwent several further safety checks, before the medicals decided it would be appropriate to start the mission at that time. The task of the human was first to simply observe the entire damage, in order to confirm that our monitors grasped the entire extent of the damage. Furthermore, she should, under our supervision and precise instructions, reverse the worst damage she could and, at best, reverse the engine into a working state. The human was transferred into the duct from where all outerboard missions that did not require any larger equipment where started. As soon as the door opened and the human stepped into the void, medicals and scientists scrambled to examine her vitals. "Vitals are steady", a medical informed. Wrin pressed several keys on the control board, establishing the communication line between Quinn's suit and the SIIR Noxos. "Okay, Quinn, how do you feel?", Wrin, who was, for their standards, surprisingly sober, spoke into the communication tool. "Well, I feel like I've just drank a shit ton of water and then gone onto a roller coaster one too many times. Besides that, wow", Quinn's voice sounded from the other end. "Alright, I'm just going to pretend I understood any of that. So, give us a bit to get the suit camera sorted and then you can go on.", Wrin drawled, pressing a few more keys on one of the monitors. As the technicians confirmed a stable signal, Wrin began to guide Quinn into the direction of the damaged engine.

The human's vitals remained stable as she approached the engine in question. As instructed, the human began a scan of the area through her suit, linking the results directly into the main control quarters. Through the analyzation of the information, the technicians were able to confirm that there was no worse damage than our previous scans had recorded.

The human began to work on the engine. She removed the outer layer of metal within a few moments, which was almost fully demolished. As she worked towards middle of the structure, I observed her every step. She moved coordinated and careful, as if frightened that the engine might implode if she didn't (which was, admittedly, a rather real threath). Eventually, she removed a piece of charred metal, exposing an accumulation of cables. Wrin straightened as I took the communication tool from them and spoke into it: "Quinn, these cables are of high importance. Would you be able to reach the brown cable and remove it from its place? As careful as possible.", I added. Despite my, in my eyes, rather clear instructions, the human continued to reach towards a completely wrong cable. "Human", I interjected. "I do not mean to be insensitive, but that is not the cable I was referring to." "Huh? But that one's brown?", the human responded, tone signaling possible confusion, although I could not be sure, as her face was still hidden. "Human-", I started once again, thinking of the most polite way to phrase the following statement, but I could not finish, as Wrin pushed me away rather aggressively before taking the communication tool themselves. "Quinn, the mechanic‘s referring to the second cable from the far right.", Wrin eludicated. "…but that one's Magenta!", Quinn protested further. "Not to the mechanic. Different eyes, different colour perception.", Wrin quipped. Quinn said something indiscernably quiet, before continuing, carefully following Wrin's instructions. As these records' purpose is to observe human behaviour, I will not go into much detail describing the repair. If you wish to obtain more precise information about the details of this particular repair, I suggest you visit the archives, in which we keep all records of repairs, routine check-ups and everything else regarding the state of the ship, to gain a further insight.

The human proceeded the repair, although another thing of note happened rather towards the end: After the human had reconnected several wires and added a new protective layer on the engine's surface, the technicians tested whether or not the engine would start, obviously after the human had moved to a safe distance. The technicians started the engine at its highest setting, but with no success. No sound emitted from the engine. "Wait, let me try something.", the human sounded over the communication line. In spite of any common sense, the human moved closer towards the engine. The human inspected the engine, before suddenly, for some to me inexplicable reason, hitting the engine repeatedly with the flatter side of her hand. "Alright, try again." "Human Quinn, it is imperative that you move out of the immediate proximity of the engine.", I stated, but the human refused. "No, I wanna try something." "Human, it is-" "On one, come on, guys.", Quinn cut me off. "Start the engine on one." Against better judgement, the technicians began to prepare another start of the engine. "Okay, ready? Three, two, one, go!", besides my best efforts to stop them, the technicians started the engine at the exact time as Quinn hit its outer layer again. Fortunately, the engine did start. Unfortunately, the stuttering start of the engine produced a pressure wave that catapulted the Terran away from it. Eventually, her body was stopped by the cable attached to form a connection between the space suit that the human was wearing, and the SIIR Noxos. The body of the human did not move. Wrin, seemingly concerned, spoke into the communication line. "Quinn?" It took a few moments before we received any kind of answer, the silence filled with a slight buzzing sound. Then we registered the human's voice over the line. At first, the human only produced several sounds, possibly signaling pain. Then: "Well, I'm never doing that again." A pause. "Did it work? Is the engine stable?" "The engine is running. I wouldn't call it stable, but it will get us far enough.", one of the technicians informed.

Silence.

"Alright, Quinn, we‘re going to pull you back into the ship. Try not to move too much and uh…don‘t die.", Wrin spoke up.

"I can do that."

As the retraction program was started, I, accompanied by Wrin proceeded towards the intertravel duct. The human arrived shortly afterwards.

The suit seemed to be unharmed, a good sign, but its owner did not.

As a robotic arm removed the helmet and started to disassemble the suit, the human stumbled out. Stumbling, that was not a good sign. The human’s complexion was even paler than its naturally bright shade. And the skin of her face seemed to have a slight green undertone. Had it always been there? I could not recall. Perhaps their skin changed colours, similar to Wrin‘s species?

I was brought away from these suspicions, as the human opened her mouth and released a brown-green, odd-smelling fluid out of her mouth and onto the floor. This couldn‘t be normal, could it?

The human was immediately referred into the, for a ship and crew this size admittedly rather small, hospital wing. The medicals are currently observing and recording any interesting observations regarding the human‘s body. Unfortunately, while the medicals are treating Quinn to the best of their ability, it is difficult, as there is so little known about humans.

Although, perhaps this way I will receive more information regarding the anatomy of humans.

I will continue to record the recovery and the state of the human.