but you have no ring? (blurb - michael robinavitch x f!reader)
summary: robby can't help but show you off to one of his patients when Perlah reveals that he's engaged.
pairings: romantic!michael robinavitch x reader
word count: 1k
technically a part of this universe but can fully be read as a standalone, no knowledge of that storyline necessary here :)
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cw: typical warnings that apply to the pitt (mention of a burn injury, hospital setting), fluff even though you aren't actually physically present for this interaction, reader has hair long enough to be clipped back in a nondescript way
!!!!!!contains spoilers for season 2 under the cut!!!!!!
i know we all felt something when Mrs. Kovalenko was asking robby whether he was married or not soooooo obviously i had to write this! also i will definitely be writing a longer fic based on season 2 once everything is released
Robby can’t wait for one o’clock to come.
You had been going on and on about the ‘curse of the last shift,’ something you had seen on a TV show you watched. You had also warned him that having his last day before leaving be the Fourth of July was a terrible idea, but when he didn’t budge you admitted defeat, then promised that you’d come by with lunch for him halfway through the shift. He just had to make it to one.
“Hey, Emma could use your help in six,” Dana says. “Nasty burn on the thigh.”
“On it, thanks,” He says. He overhears the woman in the room say ‘samovar’ as he walks over, pushing the door open to reveal the patient sitting on the bed, Emma at her side.
“I’m sorry, what’s a samovar?” Emma asks.
Robby pulls his glasses out of his pocket as he steps up to the computer.
“It is a big metal urn for coffee or tea,” He explains, putting his glasses on and tapping his badge against the sensor. “They can get super-duper hot, and I was never allowed to touch ours.”
He scrolls through the chart for a moment. “Hello, Mrs. Kovalenko, my name is Dr. Michael Robinavitch, everybody calls me Dr. Robby.”
“Robinavitch?” She asks. “Jewish?”
“You guessed it,” Robby says. “And I see that we are here today for a burn, why don’t we take a look?”
He grabs a blanket from the cart beside the computer, pulling his glasses off and turning around, setting it over her lap.
“Oh, not married?” Mrs. Kovalenko asks, his left hand on full display. The watch on his left wrist is the one that you bought for him, years ago, but she has no way of knowing that.
“No, I am not married,” He answers, giving it easily, his mind focused on the task at hand and not wanting to get into his relationship status with Emma in the room.
“You attend synagogue?” She questions, chuckling a bit.
Robby pulls a pair of gloves on as he answers. “Uh, not for awhile. I mean, High Holidays, mostly.”
He leaves the room feeling heavy, the conversation not going remotely in the direction he thought it would. Luckily, she’ll mostly recover from her burn, but Robby can’t help but wonder if she’ll ever fully recover from what she experienced. He sighs, stretching his neck out before grabbing his phone, sending you a text.
Hey, you awake yet?
You haven’t texted him ‘good morning’ yet, so he’s guessing probably not. He sighs, sliding it back into his pocket and moving on to his next patient.
He returns to her room about fifteen minutes later, just as Perlah’s finishing up with the nonstick dressing.
“Hello, how’s it going in here?” He asks, sanitizing his hands again. “Did I miss all the gross stuff?”
“Timed it perfectly,” Perlah says.
“Excellent,” Robby says, taking a seat on one of the stools. “My job is all about delegation and time management.”
Perlah hums. “Oh, not for much longer.”
Robby perks up a bit. “That is very true.”
“Why for not longer?” Yana asks, looking between the two of them.
“Because tomorrow I am leaving to go on sabbatical,” Robby answers, hands resting on his thighs.
Perlah leans closer to her. “He’s leaving us for three months to travel with his fiancée.”
“Ah, you have fiancée?” Yana asks, her face brightening. “But you have no ring?”
Robby smiles, reaching for the chain around his neck, pulling his engagement ring out of his scrub top. Yana leans forward, admiring it for a second.
“Very nice,” She says. “Where travelling?”
“Hopping around between a few states,” Robby says, honestly not even being able to recall the itinerary off the top of his head. “Then back home for a few weeks.”
“When’s the wedding?” Yana asks, extremely invested in this newfound development regarding his love life.
“November twenty-ninth,” He answers. “She’s always wanted a winter wedding, so, that’s what we’re doing.”
Yana makes a pleased sound, nodding as she holds a hand to her chest. “Oh, I bet she will be so beautiful.”
“She always is,” Perlah says. “Inside and out.”
Robby’s heart starts to race at the comment, warmth spreading over him. She doesn’t even say the comment to him, simply saying it to Yana without any hesitation. Robby knows that it’s because she truly thinks that about you, and that idea makes his thoughts blur for a moment.
“You have picture?” Yana asks, and Robby snaps back to focus, humming. Usually, he wouldn’t show patients photos of you and him, but she’s so lovely. And he knows that you would be telling him to pull one up if you were here, so he does.
The one he picks is from a few weeks ago.
You’re sitting criss-crossed on the nest chair in your living room, he’s across the room from you on the couch. You have a book in your lap, the top half of your hair clipped back, wearing an old sweatshirt and black leggings. The book is open, but you’re looking at him, thumbnail inbetween your teeth as you grin. He can still remember exactly what he said to elicit that response.
He has his camera on, already pointed at you when he realizes, eyes narrowing.
“I asked you where that sweatshirt was this morning,” He says. “You said it was in the wash.”
You glance up, already giggling, your beautiful smile on full display. Robby takes the photo before you can respond.
“Maybe you should’ve looked harder.”
He spins his phone around and Perlah cranes her neck, trying to see it too. Yana’s eyes go soft at the sight of you, a gasp falling from her lips.
“Very, very beautiful,” She insists. “That smile must light up every room.”
Perlah grins at the way Robby goes soft, looking at the photo for a second himself before nodding.
summary ; chan questions why you wont use your lyrics in one of your solo songs, or even for group songs, considering theyre very well written and produced
warnings ; language, mental health talk
disclaimers ; reader is implied to be depressed / anxious, reader is a vocalist for skz but likes dabbling into rap in their free time
word count ; 1.2k
track ; hailie's song, eminem
masterlist
Chan didn't mean to disturb you. He didn't realize you were using the studio all by yourself today, not until he saw papers flying and muffled shouts from inside the recording booth. He stood out of your line of sight, trying to get a good look at the papers scattered on the floor amongst the littered pens, pencils, and other small trash. Some water bottles sit crushed on the floor around the first chair, like you'd been stomping on them while producing on the outside.
He finds himself still and silent after closing the door behind him, trying to give yourself a little more privacy as he investigates. He hears you fidget around before sighing and clicking some buttons to do another take.
He always knew you liked to make and produce your own songs, just for the fun of it, for them to never be released, held in your hands like a secret kept from the world. Your unreleased tracks were your children, as he saw it. He understood. It took the daily stress off your shoulders, it gave you something to do, something you really enjoyed and were so beyond passionate about.
"Cause sometimes it feels like the world's on my shoulders, everyone's leanin' on me,"
He creeps in further, noticing you're facing away from the window, having moved the microphone around a bit to do so. He always took notice of that. Whether alone or with him and the others, you'd never face the window, like some sort of stage fright, even though you regularly performed in front of thousands, selling out stadiums back to back.
"Cause sometimes it feels like the world's almost over,"
He thought it was endearing, in a way. Through everything, you were still the shy, anxious, sad little kid he'd met almost a decade ago. He's surprised by how quickly the time has flown, but he's also glad. He wouldn't trade that time for the world, he's glad to have grown with you and the other kids at his side, to know you all so deeply, to share the bond you all do. You all taught him that family isn't just blood.
"But then they come back to me,"
He kneels down, collecting the tossed papers from the floor. He taps them on the table, straightening them out before setting them down on the chair. He tosses the trash into a small trash can under the table, all while you're unaware of his presence. A laptop sits on a small table in front of you in the back corner, displaying your sound levels, the backing track, and the instrumental.
He takes a listen as you begin the second verse.
"My boys keep getting older, I watch them grow with pride. People make jokes cause they don't understand me, they just don't see my real side."
Chan smiles. He really smiles. He knows your boys, them, refer to him and the other kids. You never show your emotions around them, not deep like that, hearing it when you think you're alone, it means more than the world to him.
He eyes your journal. A handmade leather-bound journal with handmade pages as well. On the front is an intricate dragon design, much resembling the one used for the 5-Star album concept. He delicately takes it in his hands, unclasping it to open it up. You hold your phone to eye level in the booth, reading from a photo in your gallery. He notices that same page is the one he magically opened up to.
At the top of each page is a song title, and beneath it, lyrics, dispersed in both English and Korean. He then takes notice that all the papers on the floor were reworks of your lyrics. They're all scribbled over, some notes and doodles scattered about. It looked like you were having a mental health crisis with the state of some of the papers. Most of them belonged to the same song, from what it seemed like.
He hears you grumble and stop, pressing the space bar on your laptop. You fiddle with the mouse before pressing your headphones closer to your head, phone perched against the laptop screen. It seemed nothing sounded or looked right to you.
Yeah, felt that.
He's scrapped so many songs over the years because they just didn't work. Did it suck? Yeah, of course it did. But he didn't spend all this time and effort trying to make it work. You were truly passionate about this, from what he can tell.
You begin again. He listens intently, even though your voice is pretty muffled. He can barely make out what you're singing, given that he isn't wearing headphones to listen to you with. He snags a pair plugged in on the table, wanting to listen in full.
"I act like shit don't phase me, inside it drives me crazy,"
He continues to flip through your journal, wondering what other works you've stored away, hidden from the world.
"My insecurities could eat me alive, but then I see my family, suddenly I'm not crazy."
He bites back a toothy smile. You sound good, even if you're getting agitated and upset.
"It all makes sense when I look into their eyes,"
He doesn't hear it, but apparently, you do, the smallest voice crack of all time. You stop again and pull the headphones off, he quickly follows the action and sets your belongings down, not wanting to reveal he was snooping. You shut the laptop and exit the booth with your head hung low, as you round the corner, you finally notice him.
"How long have you been here?" you question.
He nervously glances at your papers and journal, "Like, a minute or two."
You exhale. "Sorry. I thought I locked the door,"
You take a seat under him and open your journal up to 'a special song', the one you were just reading from. Chan sits down beside you, silent as you seem to zone out into your own world.
"Are you doing alright?" he wonders aloud.
You nod in response, not wanting to talk about your producing and rapping troubles.
He flips through the stack of papers in front of him, making it obvious, so you'd take notice. You lean back in your chair and stare at him, wondering what he's doing.
"What?"
He looks at you, shaking his head. “These lyrics are incredible, why don’t you use them? For real use them?"
You cringe at this statement. "They're far from incredible, Chan. They're just vents, for the most part."
He raises an eyebrow in confusion, "That wasn't a vent," he points his thumb toward the booth with a smirk. "That was good, really. Who knew our treasured vocalist could rap so well?"
You roll your eyes. "I was just bored today. Plans got canceled and I got mad, this is my only outlet." you shrug.
He places a hand on your shoulder. "It doesn't matter, Y/n/n. You're good at writing lyrics. You should really consider pitching these, even for a solo thing, promo with another label, ads, something. They're amazing."
That dumb look, it's the one he always gives you. The one he gave you after winning an award at the MAMA ceremony. It's a mix of happiness and encouragement, yet accomplishment, if that makes any sense.
Summary: One of your friends invites Clark to your band’s garage concert without your permission after he’s been fumbling with your guy’s “relationship” if you could even call it that when something is always holding Clark back.
Word Count: 3.8k
WARNINGS: angst, fluff, Clark fumbling you, miscommunication, small argument, jealousy, latina!reader, alternative!reader, friends meddle, reader is a little petty, mentions of roofies, mentions of hurling and vomiting, singer!reader, making up, Clark reveals his secret to you, and a little making out.
A/N: this is lowkey preparing me for writing my oc Eden’s story cause she was in a garage band when she was a teenager but I hope you guys enjoy! Also I am only into season four of Smallville so please do not crucify me!!!!
One thing about Clark, he’s a great friend. He’s always going to be there for his friends. His loyalty knew no bounds for his friends and his family. Always helping and saving his friends and family from whatever danger arose in Smallville.
However…
The same thing cannot be said about his relationship with you. If there even was a relationship at all other than a slight strained friendship. So many times had you two tried to go on a date, so many. However Clark always seemed to cancel your dates. Never an explanation just him saying he couldn’t and someone needed him. Anytime you asked he would just say he couldn’t tell you. He never told you about his secret, never told you about him being from a whole other planet.
He adored you more than anything. Clark couldn’t think straight when you were around. He swore the world disappeared when his eyes landed on you. He’d do anything for you, he was devoted. He just wished he could tell you everything, he knew you’d understand. He was just scared.
He wanted to scream to the rooftops how much he loved you. Especially now as he watched you showing a new student around, Billy or whatever his name was,. He knew this was just a tour, he knew it was. He just could tell how this new guy was looking at you.
“Oh and look yet another hallway.” You pretended to be surprised by it as you spread your hands like it was something grand. “However this one is important cause our lockers are here. What’s your locker number?” You asked leaning over to look at the sheet with Billy’s classes and his locker number. Clark can see how this guy was checking you out as you leaned closer. He hated every second of this.
“Your locker should be…” You trailed off as you made your way down the hall looking at the locker numbers while the new kid followed behind. “This one.” You said patting the empty locker. Then you leaned on the locker next to it crossing your arms. “Cool.” He replied as he opened it just checking it out. “Mine is gonna be over there in case you need anything from me. Though please remember to get a lock you don’t want some handsy motherfucker stealing your stuff.” You informed him, he nodded understanding he could come to you for anything. “So if I needed your number?” Billy asked scratching his nose, you let out a small breathless chuckle.
Just as you had opened your mouth to answer, Clark called out your name walking up to the two of you. “Hey I’m Clark, and you are?” Clark introduced himself to Billy holding out his hand. He was trying so hard to appear normal but he was as stiff as a board. You raised an eyebrow looking between Clark and Billy. You found it odd Clark was suddenly here. It wasn’t that Clark wasn’t friendly, you just found it interesting it just so happened to be when Billy was asking you for your number. “Billy Hernandez.” Billy nodded reaching out to return the handshake. Clark squeezed just a little too hard making Billy wince. “Yeah this is Clark, he’s a little overprotective sometimes.” You told Billy as you gave Clark a look. Clark forced himself to let go of Billy’s hand with a forced smile. You even forced a smile looking at Clark.
“Can we talk?” You ask Clark gesturing to the end of the hallway. Clark now looked like a dog being scolded. He knew that tone and knew that you didn’t appreciate nonsense like this. Clark swallowed as he began to nod before he replied verbally, “Yeah sure.”
You grabbed Clark’s arm and dragged him down the hall. You found an empty-ish part of the hallway. Stopping, you turned to face Clark. Your eyes were boring into his and this eye contact was a little heated. “So what was that?” You questioned as if this were the beginning of an interrogation. Clark ran his tongue along the back of his teeth before swallowing. “What was what?” He stammered as his fingers twitched against the strap of his backpack. Narrowing your eyes you stepped closer to Clark. “As soon as Billy asks for my number you suddenly appear?” You recalled the events that happened just a few moments ago. Clark raked his fingers through his hair shrugging his broad shoulders. Rolling your eyes and putting your hands on your hips while you shook your head. “I just didn’t like how he was looking at you.” Clark attempted to defend himself though he knew you could see right through him; it’d be no use to continue to act like he wasn’t jealous. “Clark…” The way you sighed just screamed that you were irritated, your eyes now locked onto him. He knew he had no right to be jealous when he wasn’t being open with you. Or at least even giving you a good explanation for when he cancelled dates.
“I already told you Clark. If you can’t be honest with me then I don’t know how much longer I can be patient.” Which meant you’d stop giving him so many chances to disappoint you. Clark was about to reply in protest or defense he didn’t know because the bell had rung disrupting his thoughts. You didn’t even give Clark a chance to say one last thing before heading to your chemistry class. Clark sighed watching you walk away as corny as it might sound he hated when you leave but he loved watching you go. Clark shook his head trying to get his thoughts back on track.
He wanted to be with you more than anything. He just wanted to keep you safe which is why he never told you about what he was. He tried to tell himself not being with you was just something he’d have to accept if he wanted to keep you safe. But he couldn’t imagine being with anyone else other than you. You made him feel complete and you understood him as best as you could. He couldn’t just let that go.
Maybe he’s willing to risk it.
He wanted an actual chance with you.
After school you were in the parking lot with your bandmates. “Behold the posters for our show!” Vivienne revealed taking the hundreds of posters. Vivienne had designed it and made the whole thing come to life. You were always impressed of what she could come up with. Your band name, Dirty Dog printed so beautifully. “Vivienne this looks so sick.” You praised grabbing one and examining it after bringing it close to your face. You just wanted to look at all the details and see the hard work Vivienne put into it. “Fuckin’ nerd.” Keith taunted smacking the poster in your face. You gasped like you were offended but this was normal it was Keith being a dick. “Jerk.” You grunted as you grabbed Keith by his neck and put him in a head lock. He could get out of it at any time, you guys just like to pretend you were fighting. “Say uncle dickhead.” You cackled as Keith pretended you were strangling him. The noises he was making just made you laugh so hard. Even the way he was reaching his arms out like you were choking the life out of him. Even reaching for your other friends for their help. “WorldStar!” Freddy boomed with his hands cupped over his mouth watching you and Keith go at it. His girlfriend Lucy rolling her eyes as she huddled up to her boyfriend tighter.
Vivienne turned her head away when her eyes landed on Clark, she remembered you two were friends. Maybe he’d wanna come to the show. Without you paying attention she ran after Clark. “Clark!” Vivienne shouted his name to get his attention. Like a dog he snapped his head around to look. He knew Vivienne was one of your friends, he was a little surprised she was talking to him. He thought you would’ve told your friends about what was going on.
You did tell them…you had just forgotten to tell Vivienne. As you let go of Keith’s head your eyes landed on Clark and Vivienne. She was handing him a poster. You couldn’t just call her out and say no, you’d look like an asshole. It’s not that you didn’t want Clark to come, you knew he wouldn’t end up showing up.
Clark caught your gaze while Vivienne was chatting to him about the show. “Yeah we’re gonna provide snacks and drinks. I think it’s gonna be a fun time you’d get to watch-“
“I’ll come.” Clark interrupted taking the poster from Vivienne with a grin. He could invite Pete and Lana to hold him accountable. He couldn’t miss this chance, this opportunity to see you because come hell or high water he wasn’t going to squander this opportunity. Vivienne’s face lit up like she was clearly excited to tell you that Clark would be coming. “Awesome! Yeah bring by any of your friends!” Vivienne chirped before she ran off back to your group.
You just couldn’t help but stare at Vivienne like she was crazy. “What?” She asked like she just hadn’t done something so heinous. Inviting the man who kept missing dates and giving excuses. You just shook your head and hand. “Don’t piss me off.” You said with a humorless brief laugh. Scratching your nose you just nodded your head towards your truck. “Let’s head out and set up.” You told them you didn’t want to talk about it. You just wanted to set up for the show tonight and just forget about that. It wasn’t like Clark was actually going to show up that much you expected from him.
Clark jogged up to his friend Pete. “There’s nothing going on right?” Not even a hey or what’s up from Clark just that question. Pete raised an eyebrow looking at his best friend. “What do you mean?” He asked staring at Clark like he was an alien. He was but that didn’t matter. “Like no one affected by the meteor rock or like anything adjacent to that?” Clark elaborated as if he was in a hurry. In a way he was, he wanted to know if he could actually keep good on his word. He wanted to be there for you, he wanted to show up for you. He wanted to prove he was your man. “Not that Chloe or I have been made aware of.” Pete replied narrowing his eyes a little. Pete’s gaze went down to the flyer in Clark’s hand. “Good cause we’re going. You, me, and Chloe.” Clark suddenly declared perfect timing as well Chloe walked up to the two of them.
“Where are we going?” She asked amused by his panicked words. Clark handed Chloe the flyer Vivienne had given to him. Chloe looked it over and immediately had a smirk on her lips. “Someone’s trying to get out of the dog house.” Chloe teased Clark as she gave him the poster back. Clark’s bottom lip stuck out a little, he absolutely was trying to get back into your good graces. He’d do anything to see you smile at him again. “Yeah I am.” Clark admitted with a nod as he scratched the back of his neck. “Better not make any other plans then Clark, you gotta be there for her.” Pete laughed patting Clark’s shoulder. Clark wasn’t going to allow anything to mess this opportunity up.
That evening Clark, Pete, and Chloe arrived at your house where the show was being held. Upon arriving Clark noted the small group of his classmates. Though he paid them no mind once his eyes landed on you. You were dolled up, you were so beautiful he forgot how to breathe. His mouth became dry, dryer than a desert if that was possible. You were just walking around the makeshift stage testing the microphone and its volume. You hadn’t even noticed him yet just focusing on making sure everything was just right.
“You look like some lovesick puppy.” Chloe teased nudging her elbow into Clark’s ribs which snapped him out of his trance. Clark gave a small glare to Chloe as he huffed. He couldn’t deny it you made him this way. He didn’t hate it in any way.
You finished confirming the mics were good enough for the performance. It’s not like it was a big event just you guys having and providing some fun. Once you stepped away from the microphone on its stand your eyes locked with Clark’s. He actually showed up, he was here. He wasn’t looking like he was in a panic or hurry. The way he was looking at you made your heart flutter. It’s like you were the only thing that existed in this space. You loved and hated the way it made you feel. “Hey it’s time to start.” Keith told you slightly tapping your upper arm snapping you of it. “Right.” You nodded as you saw your friends taking their place.
You patted your microphone taking your place on center stage. Getting everyone’s attention, once all eyes were on you that’s when you spoke to the crowd. “Hello weirdos and freaks which I say with love, we’re Dirty Dog and we hope you enjoy the show.” You announced to them with a grin. “Tonight we’re gonna start with a song called Sorority Girls.” That’s when the show truly began hearing Keith’s fingers start strumming his electric guitar.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to be a Balboa girl.” Lucy croaked into the mic then music actually began to kick in. You were bobbing your head with a smile as you clapped three times. “Alpha, Beta, Delta!” You and Lucy exclaimed into the mic. “Placenta, Zita Smegma!” One more the two of you exclaimed. “Alfalfa! Hey, hey, hey, girls, let’s all look the same and act really fucking stupid ‘cause they like us that way!” You sang into the mic like you were some preppy girl. Clapping three times again before you gripped the mic. “Hey, hey, hey, boys, let’s go to the frat party, the theme’s white people, get your roofies ready. Shoot their parent’s money away and act like assholes everyday!” You shouted jumping up and down on the stage. Clark watched with a smile, the way his stomach fluttered watching you in your element should be criminal. “Wanna take a stroll down Greek Row. Find the biggest pack of douchey football bros, got their brand new polos on, yeah. Wanna spew a little on everyone, wow.” You and Lucy sang in unison putting your mics close together before pulling apart. “Hurl, hurl, hurl, on sorority girls.” You continued putting your hands on your stomach and moved like you were actually going to hurl but you didn’t. “I wanna spew, spew, spew on fraternity dudes.” Now you were pretending with your hands that you were vomiting. Again you weren’t going to even though you were performing in front of Clark after all the countless times he’d left you alone. “I wanna hurl, hurl, hurl, on sorority girls. I wanna spew, spew, spew, on fraternity dudes!” You repeated those motions again as you sang. “I just wanna ruin the day in a particular way!” You and Lucy shrieked but tastefully not an unworldly shriek but in a way that worked with the song. Keith, Vivienne, and Freddy played their instruments for a moment. Letting the instrumentals take over. “Wanna take a stroll down Greek Row. Find the biggest pack of brainless female drones! Got their brand new whatever’s on, yeah. Wanna spew a little on everyone waa-ooh, waa-ooh, waa-ooh!” Then the rest of the band joined in at the end.
“Wanna, wanna spew on you!” You shouted hopping up and down at the mic.
“Alpha-falfa!” Lucy screamed after you.
“Greatest fuckin’ football dudes!” You shouted pointing at Clark who just so happened to be on the football team. He pointed at himself with a small smile.
“Delta trelta!” Lucy chimed in.
“I’m a little kangaroo!”
“Gamma jamma!”
“Wanna, wanna fuckin’ puke and spew on you!” You sang the last note with a high note before you laughed.
The rest of the show went normally and as planned. In your eyes it went splendid even with the surprise of Clark showing up. Clark stuck around after you guys packed up. Chloe and Pete had left after Clark told them he was going to stick around. He made sure you were alone so he could speak to you. He had to tell you, if he wanted to be with you this was his chance.
“See you guys later!” You waved to Lucy and Freddy as they left in their car. You scratched your cheek as you turned seeing Clark standing there. You couldn’t lie it was a little awkward after earlier today. “So you showed up.” You spoke up after a moment of silence. Clark let out a small chuckle as you made your way next to him to lean on that white picket fence. “I did.” He confirmed softly staring at you. You were so beautiful even if you were just a little disheveled from the way you put yourself into your performance. You both stood in silence for a few minutes. Enjoying each other’s company after not having been alone together in a long time.
Clark let the quiet take over before he took a deep breath. “There’s something I wanna tell you.” Clark began his tone shaking even his hands trembled a little. You raised an eyebrow your gaze softening looking at Clark. You noted how nervous he seemed. “It’s about why I’m always running off and never could tell you anything.” He added making a spark of hope light up in your gut. The petty side of you wanted to make sure this would be a good reason. “Go on.” You encouraged gently putting your hand on his arm. That eased Clark’s nerves a little. He loved the effect you had on him. “I need you to just listen to me.” Clark mumbled making you worry a little that this would change something between you two.
“I want to be with you more than anything but there’s something you should know about me.” Clark sighed and the way his shoulders lowered like a huge weight was lifting off. “I’m not like everyone else, I’m different.” He began, you wanted to ease the tension and crack a joke but you knew now wasn’t the time. Your gaze remained lock onto him and your thumb began to move up and down to soothe him. “I’m an alien and why I leave all the time is to save Lana, Pete, Chloe and others from the people affected by the meteor rock.” Clark ripped the bandaid off, he could tell you.
You weren’t stupid he knew that for a fact. You were silent for a few moments taking in what he just told you. All the dots were connecting in your head. This was all making sense because after the failed dates someone was either dead or arrested. She remembered what happened with Chloe and that guy who was going to take her body heat and kill her. “You’re not fucking with me.” You let out a breath as you stared at Clark half-expecting him to start laughing. “I’ll prove it.” He told you as if you needed more proof. He walked towards your truck looking around making sure no one else was watching. He squatted down gripping the bottom of your truck. You were about to stop him before he just picked it up like it was nothing. When he put it down and looked back, your eyes were wide standing there frozen. Your mouth agape staring at Clark. He let you have a moment to take this all in. He knew it was a lot but he needed you to know.
“So you play superhero…” You whispered pointing at Clark. Now it was all making sense and Clark quite literally just proved it. You wondered what else he could do but you were you’d find out. “Clark Kent you just got so much hotter.” You finally said making Clark’s cheeks flush. That was definitely unexpected but you were reacting so much better than he initially believed. It was making him beat himself up over not telling you sooner. “Does this mean you’ll give me another chance to take you out?” Clark asked feeling like now it was the right time. He slowly made his way back up to you and took your hands in his. “Yeah but if danger comes up I’m coming with you.” You immediately nodded taking your bottom lip between your teeth. Clark wanted to argue and say no you couldn’t but he saw no point in arguing with you. You were head strong and always willing to help others.
“Fine but I’ll call the shots okay?”
“That’s cute that you think you’ll get to call them.”
It was like the spark reset between you two and the banter had returned. Clark let go of one of your hands to cup your cheek leaning in slowly. Meeting him halfway you captured his lips in a tender kiss. This kiss was a long time waiting to come. You placed your hand on the side of his neck pulling him in more. Tilting your head to deepen the kiss Clark’s hand slowly trailed to the back of your head to keep it there. As sweet as the kiss was it became a little heated. Lord knows how many times you two made out when things were good between you two. Clark let go of your other hand gripping your waist instead like he never wanted to let go. You happily oblige by grabbing his jacket pulling him in your hand that was on his neck immediately went to tangle your fingers in his hair.
“Mija! I’m too young to be a abuelito!” Your dad immediately called from the garage. You and Clark immediately pull away with sheepish looks on your faces. Clark’s face was entirely red and you quickly darted your eyes to the side to avoid looking at your father. Your father had his hands on his hips feigning a look of disappointment. He nodded his head towards the inside before heading inside himself. You knew that was your cue for curfew. “The king needs his princess back in her tower.” You told Clark chuckling a little as you leaned in kissing his cheek. Clark smiled at your lips touching his cheek. You ran off inside as you were about to press the button you looked at him. “Next Saturday?” You asked with a smug grin and Clark’s smile showed off his canines. “Sounds perfect.” Clark agreed that’s when you pressed the button to close the garage door and headed back inside.
Clark waited for a few seconds before he turned around and celebrated that he finally had the girl of his dreams.
Little did Clark know you were watching him grin and celebrate.
And little did you know Vivienne knew the whole time because of the way she messaged you the next morning asking if you and Clark talked.
“That little shit.” You grumbled.
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed! I literally wrote this in three days! But uh yeah let me know what you think please!!!
hiii!! first time requesting anything but a long time reader, love ur writings hehe 💖💖
would love to see your crack at a musician reader who’s lost feeling in their hands from overwork, paired with boothill and jing yuan (separately) and whoever else you so please! i just figured boothill and jing yuan would have the clearest parallels since they all tend to view their bodies as instruments 🙇♀️ it can be platonic or romantic, but maybe the main source of angst + hurt/comfort is the guys seeing themselves in reader’s habits? the rest is up to you ^^
((i’m so sorry if this is long-winded or doesnt make much sense LOL))
Rest Between the Notes
Tags: Boothill x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Healing, Emotional Angst, Overwork/Burnout, Musician!Reader, Platonic Relationships, Possible Romance, Fluff, Themes of Loss and Recovery.
Warnings: Mentions of physical pain/ Numbness, Emotional distress, References to trauma and loss, Some mild violence or past trauma (Boothill's part), Depiction of exhaustion and burnout, Possible discussion of self-neglect/Pushing oneself too hard.
A/N: AHHH, Thank you!!! <33
The room smelled of burnt oil and old smoke, the dim holo-lights flickering low. You sat hunched over your guitar, fingers trembling as they hovered over strings that no longer sang back like they used to. The familiar electric buzz of notes was gone. Only silence, thick and heavy, filled the space.
Your hands — once quick, sure, alive — were numb, cold as ice. The constant grind, the endless nights of practice and performance, had stolen the feeling. You could no longer coax melodies from the instrument that had been a part of you, like a limb, like a weapon.
The heavy thud of boots echoed through the room, metal plates clanking softly. Boothill stepped inside, shadow stretching long beneath the low ceiling. His dark grey hat, adorned with red stars and a feather, sat crooked on his head, and that infamous red scarf wrapped tight around his neck. His mechanical torso gleamed faintly beneath the half-open jacket, exposed and unyielding like the man himself.
“Well now, darlin’,” he said, voice rough and slow with that unmistakable southern drawl, “looks like you’re tryin’ to wrestle with a ghost.” He nodded toward your hands. “Those fingers ain’t talkin’ back, huh?”
You managed a dry laugh, bitter. “It feels like they’re dead. All the strumming, all the pushing myself... I think I wore them out. The music’s slipping through my fingers like sand.”
Boothill lowered himself onto the stool beside you, eyes studying your trembling hands as if weighing their worth.
“Listen here,” he said, voice softening beneath the grit, “I know what it means to be trapped inside a body that won’t obey no more. Lost mine once too — all flesh, all bone — before they put me together piece by piece. Ain’t easy, havin’ parts that feel like they don’t belong.”
You looked up, curiosity piqued.
“When I was flesh and blood, I fought tooth and nail to survive. Lost everything — family, home, the whole damn world I knew,” he said, jaw tightening. “Then they tore me apart and put me back ‘together with steel. Took me a long time to reckon with what that meant. Sometimes, feels like I’m just a gun waitin’ to fire, but ain’t got no soul behind the shot.”
He reached out his cybernetic hand — cold metal against warm skin — and gently took your trembling fingers.
“How long you been pushin’ these hands before they went silent?” he asked quietly.
“Too long. I always thought stopping meant losing the music forever,” you admitted, voice cracking.
Boothill’s grin was sharp, a flash of teeth like a predator’s. “That’s the fool’s pride, friend. Even the deadliest gunslinger knows when to lower his piece and rest. ‘Cause you can’t hit what you’re aim’n at if your hand’s shakin’.”
He paused, then added in a gentler tone, “I see myself in you — that fire, that damn stubborn streak. But you gotta listen close: you ain’t a machine. Ain’t meant to break ‘fore you bend.”
You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing. “I’m scared, Boothill. Scared that if I stop, even just for a moment, the music’s gone for good.”
He squeezed your fingers firmly. “Darlin’, the music’s in you — not just in your hands. Give ‘em time to heal. Let yourself breathe. I swear on my star-spangled hat, I’ll watch your back while you rest.”
A silence fell between you, heavy with unspoken fears and fragile hope.
“Promise me somethin’,” he said, voice low but fierce. “Promise you won’t let pride burn you out. ‘Cause I’ve seen what happens to folks who don’t take care of their fire. They burn down, and ain’t nobody left to raise the ashes.”
“I promise,” you whispered, eyes moist.
Boothill stood and tipped his hat back on, a rogue grin spreading across his sharp features.
“Good. Now, let’s find you some rest, and when you’re ready, I’ll be here to listen — even if it’s just a whisper at first.”
As the night grew deeper, you let yourself lean on Boothill’s fierce kindness. His brash, relentless spirit was tempered by a quiet understanding — a reminder that even the toughest gunslinger needs to reload and breathe.
And maybe, just maybe, the music would find its way back through those loaded hands.
The chamber was calm, a sanctuary from the world outside. You sat cross-legged on the polished floor, the guqin resting lightly in your lap. Your fingers hovered over the strings, hesitant and unsure. The fluid dexterity you once commanded was gone, replaced by a numbness that refused to lift.
A soft rustle of silk announced his presence before he spoke.
“Your hands betray the fatigue you deny,” Jing Yuan said quietly, stepping into the soft light.
You looked up, meeting the calm golden eyes framed by long white hair tied with a red ribbon. His presence was serene, regal, yet gentle.
“I have noticed your absence from the daily practice,” he continued, voice measured, “and feared this day would come.”
You managed a tired smile. “They’ve lost their feeling, Arbiter-General. The music I coax from these strings... is fading. I am afraid the sound itself is slipping away.”
Jing Yuan approached and seated himself beside you, the dual capes draping softly around his shoulders. His armored right arm gleamed, patterned after a nian — a symbol of strength in the face of adversity.
“You treat your body as your instrument, as your music,” he said. “Yet even the finest instrument demands rest and care, lest it falters.”
You sighed, frustration etched deep in your voice. “I thought if I pushed harder, if I played longer, the music would never leave me. But now, silence threatens to swallow everything.”
He regarded you with the wisdom of centuries.
“I understand,” Jing Yuan said softly. “Time has worn me as well. My strength, once formidable, now fades slowly — a reminder that even the Divine Foresight is subject to impermanence.”
He extended his armored arm, a symbol of both power and vulnerability.
“Your music lies not in these hands alone, but within your spirit,” he continued. “Like a river beneath frozen ice, it waits for the thaw. True mastery lies in knowing when to rest, when to listen to the silence between notes.”
You reached out, fingers brushing the cold metal of his armor, seeking the steady strength beneath.
“Come,” Jing Yuan said gently, rising with graceful deliberation. “Let us walk among the gardens. The balance between effort and ease is where healing begins.”
Together you stepped outside, the soft breeze carrying scents of jasmine and distant song.
Beneath the twilight sky, you felt a fragile hope blossom — the promise of renewal not only for your hands, but for your spirit.
“Thank you,” you whispered. “For your understanding, and for showing me that strength is sometimes found in stillness.”
He smiled, the quiet dignity of a man who has faced countless battles shining in his golden eyes.
“We are all instruments of time,” he said softly. “May your song rise again with grace and power.”
And beneath the vast heavens, you realized healing was a journey best traveled with gentle guidance and patient heart.
Notes: Big AN incoming. This has become my little baby over the last week. It is incredibly self-indulgent, featuring a violinist reader (like myself) and I have quite a few music recommendations for reading this. Firstly, I listened to Sibelius’ Violin Concerto in D Minor, and I imagine that for the opening of the fic. Not only is it an astounding piece of music, but has an interesting story of mental turmoil and burnout that really resonates with themes of this fic I think. I then also listened to The Butterfly Lovers Violin Concerto for the second violin section later on in the hotel. Do give them a listen, even if you don’t usually listen to classical music. Your resident violinist fanfic writer highly recommends.
Warnings/Rating: Fluff, yearning, lots of plot leading into soft smut, a bit of angst, one use of y/n, reader is a violinist from Demacia - a little bit of LoL lore, swearing, whirlwind romance, unprotected PiV sex, female-receiving oral, reader is smaller than Jayce (but who isn’t) | 18+ MDNI
Wordcount: 6.5k
Synopsis: Jayce is usually not one for pompous concerts, but one musician and three days manage to change his perspective on music and romance for good...
Masterlist | Ko-Fi | '72 Hours In Piltover' playlist
“Councillor Talis! I wasn’t expecting you here!” Mel raised her eyebrows in surprise as she pushed off the balustrade, greeting him with a customary kiss to each cheek before handing him a champagne flute.
“I can’t say it was my first choice for this evening, but I needed to talk to you about today’s proposal—“
“That can wait,” she brushed him off, sitting back on the edge of the balcony again, eyes gazing back out to the stage. “The concerto is about to begin.”
Jayce crossed the gap between them slowly with a small huff of frustration, resting against the wall casually as he took a sip of the bubbling liquid, watching as the orchestra took their seats to tune up.
“Is this that Demacian virtuoso Heimerdinger was babbling on about?” He asked, gesturing vaguely downwards with his glass.
Mel nodded, swallowing a sip of her drink. “She’s a good friend of mine, and an astonishing musician.”
Jayce hummed absentmindedly. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate music, it was just never as important to him as science. The arts were simply something to pass the time.
He opened his mouth to speak again, just for sudden applause to silence him, Mel clapping loudly down his ear as someone walked out on stage, people throwing white roses onto the stage in droves. He was too busy flicking over the audience to pay attention to the performer, instead counting the sheer number of great houses and dignitaries in attendance with surprise.
He glanced up at last when the first notes rang out, resounding around the concert hall eerily.
His glass paused against his lips when he finally focused on her, the soloist standing in the soft glow of the spotlight as they started the yearning melody, immediately demanding his attention.
“I didn’t realise you were so interested in the classical arts, Jayce?” Mel’s voice was dripping with sarcasm beside him, eyes flicking over his face as he stood enthralled.
He hummed softly, not registering her words fully as his eyes remained fixed on the violinist. Their command of the stage, their instrument, and the audience had him transfixed. His eyes were unable to tear themselves from the fast moving fingers as they worked against the strings. The care and delicacy it took bewitching him, not to mention the performer behind it all.
She was astoundingly beautiful, almost ethereal under the soft stage lighting, the muscles of her arms flexing with each movement of the bow, her eyes closed with concentration and brow furrowed as she lost herself in the music. For a moment, he could have sworn there was no one in the hall besides the two of them.
He slowly became aware of Mel watching him closely, eyes trained to the side of his face in thought. “I know you weren’t going to go to the gala after the concert, but I can introduce you, if you like. She is attending as my personal guest.”
“She is?!” His voice came across far more desperate than he intended and he cleared his throat roughly, “I mean, is she? That would be interesting – to meet a close friend of yours, that is.”
She grinned slyly, taking a sip of her drink, “You have certainly changed your tune.”
He side eyed her as she held in a laugh at her pun.
“What can I say, music makes people act strangely.”
“Yes, it’s the music.” Her laugh finally escaped and she muffled it with her hand as he sighed agitated, eyes and attention drifting back to the woman on stage.
The room was growing unbelievably stuffy as you stepped between guests, each one laying their compliments on thickly – although whether they were to appease you or appeal to councillor Medarda you weren’t sure. Either way, your feet were beginning to ache, your throat scratched, and the champagne was starting to taste stale.
“I think I might have to make an escape,” you muttered to her, earning a soft chuckle but noticing her attention was elsewhere. You followed her eyes to the man approaching, ready to put on the fake smile, only for your jaw to fall slack.
“(Y/n), this is our very own man of progress, councillor Jayce Talis.” Mel gestured to the man now standing before you and your stomach fluttered, eyes raking over his tan skin, his towering height enough to have you swooning. He was far more handsome than the pictures led you to believe, and that was saying something.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” you smiled softly, holding your hand out for him to take, feeling your skin heat up as he leaned down to kiss the back of your hand softly. “I hope you enjoyed the performance, councillor.”
“Councillor Talis here is usually more… mechanically inclined than musically,” Mel interrupted, a knowing grin shot in Jayce’s direction that he chose to ignore.
He flushed a little, fingers fidgeting around the stem of his champagne flute. “It is true that I am perhaps more used to the hum of machinery,” he laughed awkwardly. “But yes, I very much enjoyed it. It was – you were – astounding.”
You smiled softly, ignoring the flutter in your chest. It was the first compliment this evening that felt truly genuine. “I suppose the orchestra is its own kind of machine of sorts. All individual parts coming together to make magic,” you pondered, satisfied when his lips twitched up with a small laugh.
His breath hitched in his throat as you smirked into your champagne glass, raising a brow at him over the rim, sending his mouth dry.
“Councillor Medarda, is this the brilliant young virtuoso?” Your eyes stayed fixed on his as another dignitary sidled up to you, your mind ticking away as you took his features in for a moment, too busy to listen to her introductions until you heard your name, finally pulling your eyes away to greet them.
Your heart sank a little when you turned and found him missing from your side. Your eyes flicked over the crowds hoping to spot him, but it was like he had vanished from thin air.
“Are you quite alright, my dear?” The old woman’s voice called you back to earth.
“Quite – sorry, it’s been a long day,” you brushed off, forcing a half-arsed laugh. “Would you excuse me?”
You glanced around for the nearest door. The air was becoming almost oppressive, making you feel dizzy the longer you spent in amongst the throngs of people. You made a beeline for the large set of balcony doors propped open across the room, the gentle breeze that sent the thin drapes billowing drawing you in like an oasis.
Huffing a sigh of relief as the cool air hit you, you pushed the curtain to the side and slipped out, pausing on the threshold when your eyes caught his silhouette, the wall of muscle unmistakeable even in the dim lighting.
“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” You called softly, lips twitching into a smile when he jumped, turning quickly away from the balcony edge to see who it was, his shoulders relaxing a little when he saw you.
“I thought you would be busy being swept off your feet,” he teased softly, letting you lean against the balustrade beside him.
You laughed gently, “gods, I think I might dissolve on the spot if I have to spend any longer mingling.” You jokingly cringed at the thought.
“Not your scene?” He enquired boldly, raising a brow as he studied your face. Your own attention was fixed out on the lights of the city below, giving him time to really break down the contours of your face, eyes lingering on the gentle curve of your lips as you pursued them in thought.
You shook your head, “I am far happier in the comfort of my practice room.”
He huffed a clipped laugh, “you remind me of my partner.”
Your brows rose as you turned to look at him, “your partner?” You tried to hide the disappointment you felt in your chest.
“My lab partner,” he was quick to clarify. “He has one of the most brilliant minds of our generation, but he is far more content tucked away in the lab than sharing himself with the world. You know, before our first innovators competition, he was so nervous he was si–“ he stopped himself quickly, realising he was rambling. “He would probably hit me if I finish that story.” He laughed.
You laughed softly with him, forcing your gaze back out over the city again. “What about you, councillor Talis? Are you more for the practice room, or the spotlight?”
He hesitated for a moment before answering. You could feel his body tense every so slightly beside you, the air around him suddenly feeling thicker.
“If I’m honest?” He paused to wet his lips, “I miss the old days, before all this politics. I’ve never minded the spotlight, but I think I would like to spend a little more time in the lab again. Just me and the machines.”
You hummed softly, mulling his words over. “I guess that’s the bitter sweet thing about our lines of work, you never know how good you have it until everything changes. Fame is never what they make it out to be.” Your tone was sadder than you perhaps intended, but for the first time in a long time you felt you had someone who might finally understand what it was like.
He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “You know, before tonight I thought there was no conceivable way for science and art to compare,” he started earning a playful eye roll from you, “but I think you have made me see that they’re not all that different after all.”
“Well, I am glad to have been of some service,” you tipped your glass to him and he cheersed it gently, both of you taking long sips as you looked back over the busy city.
“How long are you in Piltover?” He asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence.
You shrugged, “another day or two, I think. Everything blurs into one on these tours.” You sighed, leaning your full weight atop the stone railing and looking down over the edge.
You sensed his aura shift, his face dropping slightly at the news. “And after that?”
“Back home to Demacia I think, closing it out where we began.”
“It would be interesting to visit Demacia someday,” he mused, taking another small sip of his champagne.
You snorted lightly, eyeing him carefully, “Don’t take this personally, Mr. Talis, but I’m not sure that you would receive quite the same welcome.” He looked at you confused for a moment before his lips parted in a silent ‘ah’ as the realisation dawned on him. “You might not be a mage yourself, but this Hextech of yours would put you in a difficult situation. Not all of my kin are as open minded to the prospect of magic”
You both fell into silence again, this one more tense than the last. Part of you didn’t want to step away, wanting to cling onto the moment as long as you could as the world seemed to stand still around you, the only thing alerting you to the passage of time being the steady thrum of people on the other side of the glass doors.
“I don’t suppose you have any plans for your final few days here, do you?” He asked cautiously, glancing down at the dregs of liquid in his glass before turning to you, leaning with one elbow on the balustrade as he finished off the last drops.
“Besides more shaking hands, I don’t think so,” you turned to face him and mimicked his stance, intrigued.
“How about I give you a tour of my lab? My little practice room, I suppose” he chuckled awkwardly, eyes flicking back to his glass before finding you again. You could see the nerves swimming behind them.
You couldn’t help but grin, nodding tentatively. “I would like that, very much – so long as your partner doesn’t mind?” You teased softly and he chuckled.
“He won’t, I’m sure.”
“Well then, councillor—“
“Jayce. Just Jayce, please.” He stopped you.
Your stomach fluttered and your skin prickled under his intent gaze, the warmth of the champagne suddenly hitting you as he looked at you with doe eyes, hazel orbs softening in the soft balcony lighting.
“Well then, Jayce,” you spoke softly through a smile, “I suppose it’s a plan.”
You knocked on the door cautiously, pushing it open and peeking around, hoping to the gods you had managed to find the right room.
“You’re here!” Jayce sounded genuinely surprised, pushing his stool back as he stood quickly, crossing the lab quickly to greet you.
“Well I was promised a tour,” you chuckled softly as your eyes flicked around the room quickly, taking in the various machines and tools scattered around. They made the place feel almost cosy, despite the harsh lines and sterile lights. Finally, you landed on a very confused looking man sitting looking between the two of you, goggles pushed up into his hair, his brows furrowed at the intrusion.
Jayce cleared his throat as he crossed to you, opening the door more fully and gesturing for you to step in. “Viktor, this is (Y/n), the violinist I was telling you about?”
Viktor’s face softened a little as he nodded, humming under his breath, cautious eyes flicking between the two of you again before his lips quirked up into the ghost of a smile, “Yes, I see that now.”
You glanced at Jayce a little confused as he coughed awkwardly, sending his partner a disconcerting glare before turning to you more softly, the irritation melting from him almost immediately as he gestured loosely to his partner, “And this is my lab partner, Viktor, don’t mind him.”
Viktor snorted a laugh across the room and Jayce glared at him again before turning back to you, an exasperated chuckle escaping his throat as you raised a brow. “So, that tour…”
“You truly are a remarkable man, Jayce,” you mused as he led you out to the Academy foyer again, your fingers twirling absentmindedly around the small cog he had flicked to you teasingly. You tried to ignore the heat of your skin under his hand as he guided you through the door, fingertips resting against your lower back as he held the door open for you.
He scoffed self-consciously and you could just about spot the light flush that creeped up from beneath his collar. “Viktor’s the real mastermind behind it all. I wouldn’t have managed any of it without him.”
Jayce continued to lead you through the corridors, still lingering close to your slide despite having retracted his hand from your skin.
You glanced at him, taking a moment to study his face as you smiled softly, “he means a lot to you.” It was more of a statement than a question, and he chuckled quietly.
He reached out again quickly, his hand settling against your back as he guided you again. You hadn’t even realised you were starting to stray off away from him as you gazed at him until he tucked you a little closer into his side again, helping you narrowly avoid walking into some oncoming students.
“He is like a brother to me,” he agreed, leaving his hand gingerly against your back as he guided you towards the main doors. “Do you have anyone like that? Back home, I mean?”
You hesitated for a moment as you both stopped by the doors, hovering as if neither of you really wanted to part. “My teacher,” you admitted quietly, swallowing thickly, “although they passed a few months ago.”
Jayce’s eyes immediately softened, his features immediately twisting with regret, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t m–”
“It’s okay, they had been sick for a while,” you offered him a tight-lipped smile before glancing down at your hands as you fidgeted with the cog. “Tell me, do you know any good bakeries around here? I’m dying for something sweet.” You laughed softly, your smile turning more genuine when he visibly relaxed again.
He nodded a little too enthusiastically, and you could see himself beat himself up for it immediately in his head, swallowing hard as he controlled himself again, “There’s one just down the street – I could take you, if you like?” he added quickly, gesturing towards the door and stepping a little closer towards it. “I could do with more breaks.”
You lifted a brow, your heart fluttering in your chest at the thought of not having to say goodbye just yet, “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother…”
“You’re not,” he raced to stop you, his voice low and sincere. “You never could be.”
Warmth flooded your chest, creeping up to your cheeks “Well then,” you murmured, lips curving into a coy grin, “lead the way, dear tour guide.”
His smirk softened into something more tender as he offered you his arm. You glanced at it for a moment, hesitantly, before looping yours around it, your hand resting on the firm muscle of his forearm as he pushed the door open for you.
You wiped the corner of your mouth as you laughed, brushing the icing sugar away from your lips.
“You still have a little – just there,” Jayce pointed to your face vaguely and you wiped your fingers across your chin again, still giggling as he rolled his eyes. “No, just – come here,” he laughed breathily as he reached up.
Your breath caught in your throat as he brushed his thumb over your cheek, his calloused fingers resting against your jaw to steady his hand as he brushed the evidence of your baked treats away. Your laugh died in your throat as you both paused there for a moment, your eyes unable to move from his as you swallowed thickly. You were sure he would have been able to feel the effort beneath his fingers as they brushed your pulse point.
“Got it?” you asked gingerly, the sound coming out as little more than a whisper, not quite trusting your voice.
He retracted his hand a little too quickly for your liking, coughing to clear his throat awkwardly as he tore his gaze from yours, looking anywhere but your face. “Yeah, you’re good.”
That light flush was back again in his cheeks.
You too glanced away, your eyes catching your watch as you looked down at your lap. Your eyes widened when you realised how late it was. What was supposed to be a quick tour and lunch break had turned into nearly five hours of talking.
“Gods, I have to go!” you rushed to stand, gathering up your jacket and swinging it over your shoulders hurriedly, fighting to find one of the arms. “I have another thing I promised I would go to with Mel, I–” you broke off with a huff, still fighting to try and swing your jacket on.
Jayce stood, fingers curling around the fabric and holding it still for you to slide your arm in more smoothly. You hesitated again, realising just how close he was standing to you. Another small step and his lips would have brushed your forehead.
“Can I see you again?” his voice wavered a little, betraying his nerves. For a split second, you were sure you caught him glancing down to your lips. His honey eyes lingered for just a moment before coming up to meet yours again, once again stealing the air from your lungs.
You barely hesitated before you fished in your bag, pulling out a pen and leaning down to scribble on one of the cafe napkins, the ink mixing a little with the remnants of powdered sugar. “This is my hotel,” you capped the pen again and handed him the napkin, “If you have time, stop by tomorrow? I’ll be there.”
He nodded fervently, fingers brushing over the paper as if it were made of the finest silk. “I’ll be there.”
You smiled again before you leaned up on your toes, your body moving quicker than your own mind could process to place a quick kiss to his cheek, your lips barely brushing the skin before you pulled away and rushed out the cafe door.
You unfolded yourself from the chair slowly, pulling your legs out from beneath you as the knock on your door roused you. You pulled your robe a little closer to your body as you pressed against the peephole.
You had spent almost all day in your hotel room at this point, moving gradually between your bed, the chair by the balcony, and playing aimlessly, wandering around the suite and, quite frankly, moping.
When you had first arrived in Piltover, you had wanted nothing more than to get the performance over with and finally go home so you could spend some time to yourself. Maybe even take a few months off playing to just… be.
Now, however, you wanted nothing more than to stay, just another few days, at least. Just to see him. The man you had spent all day moping about.
You pulled in an anxious breath as you stepped away from the door, taking a moment to compose yourself before you pulled it open, hiding behind it a little when you realised just how exposed you were in your thin pajamas and your robe.
“I was starting to think that you weren’t coming,” you teased lightly as you leaned against the door, unable to stop your grin as your eyes flicked over him. His hair was a little disheveled, as if he had been raking his hands through it all day, and his chin was shadowy with the hint of stubble. Your eyes paused, however, on the bouquet of white roses he had cradled in the crook of his arm.
“I am so sorry,” he huffed, raking his hand through his hair and confirming your suspicion, “I have had the busiest day.”
You stepped to the side, biting your lip to try and suppress your grin a little as he stepped past you, letting you close the door and lean against it, simply admiring him for a moment as he looked around the suite, taking the moment to try and calm the tingle in your skin.
“I brought you these,” he held the flowers out bashfully. Any attempt to calm yourself were immediately thwarted as he smiled softly. You took them from him gently, your fingers brushing his. “I didn’t have any to offer at the show, and I felt I needed to make up for that.”
“You didn’t have to,” a sheepish smile tugged at your lips as you set them down, unwrapping them carefully as he settled in the chair you had just been huddled up in, watching as you placed each rose carefully into one of the empty vases on the large table.
“I wanted to. I meant what I said the other night, you were spectacular,” he brushed you off. “I just wish I could hear you play again before you leave.” His voice grew tighter and your hands paused over the final flower, your fingers brushing over the soft petals as a lump formed in your throat. How did a man you had only met two days ago have such a big effect on you?
“When do you leave?” His words came softly, almost heavy.
You turned slowly, leaning against the table and pulling your robe closer to your skin. “Tomorrow.”
An uneasy silence settled between you as you picked at your thumb. The air between you seemed thick, the easiness of yesterday had seemed to evaporate as you realised that it was all going to be ripped from you before anything had really begun.
“Would you play for me?”
You glanced up quickly, eyes widening as your fingers stilled.
You could see the immediate panic in his face, “I didn’t mean to overstep–”
“No, no, sorry,” you breathed a laugh, “I just…” you hesitated for a moment, rolling your lip between your teeth, “I actually get pretty bad stage fright,” you chuckled as you frowned at you.
“But you seem so natural on the stage?” he pressed, lips curving into a baffled grin.
“It’s different up there. With the lights, you can barely see anything beneath you. Here, well, it’s you.”
He sniggered, sitting back in the chair and draping an arm over the back of it as he relaxed more, the ease quickly returning. “What does that mean?”
You rolled your eyes, pushing off the table and rounding to where your violin sat propped up on its stand. You lifted it slowly, rolling your thumb over the strings on the fingerboard. “You’re the man of progress,” you drawled, “You’re special.”
You heard him shift behind you, but you didn’t register that he had moved until you felt his hand brush down your arm, fingers trailing down the soft satin of your gown. You turned your head just slightly, enough to glance at him over your shoulder.
“I’m just Jayce,” he reminded you softly, his voice little more than a murmur.
Pulling in an unsteady breath, you leaned down again quickly, picking up your bow and twisting it in your fingers. Jayce took a few slow steps back, leaning against the table you had leant against earlier as he watched you.
“What would you like to hear?” you asked quietly, your thumb strumming over the neck of your violin as you held it against you.
He shrugged lightly, folding his arms over his chest. “Whatever you’ll let me hear.”
Your fingers felt clammy as you brought the instrument up under your chin, letting the shoulder rest dig into your collarbone as you nuzzled your chin into place. Your eyes fluttered shut as you rested your fingers over the strings, feeling the thin metal as you thought it over.
You exhaled softly as you lifted the bow to the strings, sucking in a breath again as you started to play, the notes resounding around the suite’s small sitting room. You felt yourself get lost in them again, your brow furrowing and jaw clenching as you breathed through the music, barely aware of Jayce as he stood watching you in awe until you suddenly felt brave enough to open your eyes, finding his immediately, as if he hadn’t taken his gaze off you.
He continued to watch you for a few minutes before he pushed away from the table slowly. You continued playing, your gaze remaining steady as you pressed through the notes, only faltering as he stepped closer towards you, suddenly struggling to draw breath.
You lowered your instrument slowly, the sound ebbing away as the bow fell from the strings as he stepped closer, his eyes falling to your lips as they parted for breath.
Then, he kissed you.
His lips were a little rough against yours as he pressed against you, careful not to bump your violin as his hand wrapped around your waist slowly, your arms dropping slowly to your sides as you started to lose yourself in the feeling, his tongue rolling teasingly over your lip.
You gasped against him, and he rolled his tongue against yours, deepening his hold on you as you pressed up against him, desperate to be closer.
You broke away from him for only a moment, pausing to glance between his eyes before you turned to rest your instrument back in its stand.
Without a second thought, you pulled his hand into yours, taking steady steps backwards towards the bedroom as you pulled him with you, smirking softly as he reached up with his spare hand to loosen his tie, dropping the fabric to the floor as you crossed the threshold, immediately tugging him into you again and crashing your lips to his.
Within a breath, he was tilting your head up to meet your lips more easily, fingers nestled under your chin as his other hand roamed down your side, fingers bunching the thin fabric of your gown as he pulled at the satin string that held it together.
You were more than willing to let it fall from your frame, pooling at your feet beside the bed before he pressed gently against your hips, easing you back onto the mattress as he brought a knee up to rest between your thighs, pausing just briefly to let his eyes roam over your scantily clad form.
“You’re breathtaking,” he sighed before his lips found your skin again, trailing down your throat as he worked to undo his shirt buttons. He gave up after the first few and opted for shrugging it off over his head instead, tossing it to the side as you giggled at his desperation, sheer joy bubbling in your chest as he kissed you again with a grin.
You arched your back with a sigh as he kissed down your chest slowly, his fingers making light work of pushing your top up your torso and encouraging it over your head. It took him very little time to latch onto your chest and suck teasingly, eliciting a soft groan from your throat as your wove your hands into his hair, tugging instinctively as he rolled your nipple under his tongue, glancing up with lust-blown eyes before continuing his path down your body.
He tapped on your hip gently, grinning dopily, “move up.” His voice was little more than a breathless pant as you obliged with a smirk, shuffling up to rest against the lush hotel pillows, your skin tingling with anticipation as he settled between your legs again, hooking one over his shoulder and pressing lazy kisses from your ankle, up your calf, to your thigh, where he paused.
His eyes found yours again, seeking silent permission as his hands rested against your hips, fingers toying with the thin fabric of your sleep shorts.
You nodded, “please.” You barely managed to get the word out before he was tugging the soaked fabric away from your core. You would have laughed at the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips had he not immediately lowered himself, his breath fanning over your folds and sending a shiver through your nerves.
“Oh, Jayce,” you were not oblivious to the effect your voice had on him. He leaned forward, his tongue darting out to part your folds tentatively and lap at your wetness. His eyes fluttered closed with a groan as he tasted you, fingers instinctively tightening against your skin as if holding himself back.
The whine that escaped your throat would have been embarrassing had you not been so lost in the way his tongue flicked at your clit with ease, his hands wrapping around your thighs to hold you against him, locking his head between your legs as if he were happy to be suffocated between them.
Your hands found his hair again, practised fingers tugging at the strands to press him closer to your core, spurring him on as he licked into you, tongue dipping down to your entrance to gather your wetness, alternating between fucking into you with his tongue and lapping at you like a man starved. Every flick, every swirl, sending waves of bliss through your stomach, making your toes curl and cramp.
It was almost embarrassing how quickly he was pulling you towards the edge, holding your hips still to avoid you squirming away from his mouth as he devoured you gently, sucking every so often on your clit and sending shocks of pleasure through your body, your stomach twitching with the shocks of it, until the pressure grew too much, eventually snapping as you came on his tongue. Your body tensed under his hands, yet he held you down, continuing his assault on your clit until you were pushing at his forehead, desperate to find some relief from the overstimulation.
You laid there panting for a moment, hand pressed to your forehead as you tried to come back to your senses when you realised he had made no attempt to undress himself any further – ever the gentleman. Instead, he was simply knelt at the base of the bed, watching you blissfully with a dopey smile on his face, chin glistening a little in the moonlight with your slick.
“Come ‘ere,” you reached for him, laughing when he crawled up towards you, caging you against the mattress and meeting you in a kiss you could taste yourself in as you pressed against his shoulders, encouraging him to roll as you straddled him, hands resting against his broad chest for balance.
You took a moment to feel the strong muscles beneath your palms, trying to commit them to memory before you kissed down them, fingers making light work of his belt as you tugged his slacks down his thighs with a little help from him.
“You’re so beautiful,” you mused as you crawled back up him again. Even in the dim light you could see the faint blush that covered his cheeks. It only darkened as you settled over where he needed you most, his cock twitching against his stomach as you hovered above him.
You gave him a few tentative strokes, the weight of him heavy in your palm as you spread his leaking precum across his skin before you lifted yourself up on shaky legs. His hand quickly replaced yours, letting you use both hands to balance on his chest as he brushed his tip through your folds, a low hiss escaping from his lips.
With a sigh, you sunk down on him, letting his tip split your lips as you eased down on him gradually, letting yourself grow accustomed to the delicious stretch. You could tell he was trying his best to avoid bucking up into you as you adjusted, the muscles in his abdomen tensing as he groaned.
With a sigh you bottomed out, shuffling your legs a little beside his hips for better leverage as you lifted yourself up slowly before dropping down. Both of you groaned in unison, your fingers digging into his skin, your head dropping forward as you bit your lower lip; Jayce pressing his head back into the pillows.
Your breath came out in gentle pants as you rode him slowly, your fingers clutching at his broad shoulders as you felt him drag along your walls. His fingers fluttered over the skin of your hips as he helped guide you lovingly, squeezing softly with every roll of your body against his.
“You feel so perfect,” he mumbled aimlessly, his brain fogging over as you squeezed around him, “Fuck – you are so perfect, so beautiful like that–”
He pulled his lip between his teeth as he pushed himself to sit up, his arms snaking around your waist to hold your chest against his as you continued to rock against him. He leaned forward a little to bury his face in the crook of your neck, nestling against you momentarily before his lips dragged across your hot skin, his breath searing as he trailed open mouth kisses across your pulse point desperately.
Your fingers dug into his hair, holding him against you as you continued to lift yourself lazily, grinding your hips against his with soft mewls, your eyes screwed shut as you lost yourself in the feeling of him filling you, gasping his name each time he bucked up into your instinctively, reaching spots of you you didn’t even know you had.
“J-Jayce, I–” you trailed off, your hips starting to rut a little more pathetically as your energy drained, the pleasure twisting your stomach making it harder to concentrate on your movements.
With a breathy laugh against your lips he tightened his grip around your lower back, twisting you both until you were sprawled out beneath him, legs wrapping around his waist as he settled between your legs.
“I’ve got you–” His voice was breathy as he brought his lips to yours again, capturing them and swallowing your breathy groan as he pressed into you again until his hips were flush with yours, one hand balancing him beside your head as the other clasped at your thigh, holding you against him as he rolled into you, again and again, the new angle letting him drag tauntingly along your front wall.
You practically sobbed when he brought a hand down to your clit, his thumb rolling over your clit lazily as he huffed, his movements growing sloppy.
“Need you to cum for me,” he muttered in your ear, his breath gravelly with effort. “Feel so good around me, need to feel you – really feel you.” He was particularly begging, and with the way he moved against you, it brought you to the edge again.
You nodded pathetically, your nails clawing at his broad back as he leaned down over you, your thighs pressed up against your stomach as he bent you to his will, your muscles melting against the mattress as you turned to putty in his hands.
“I’ve got you,” he uttered again as you came undone around him, your walls fluttering and squeezing him with such force that you nearly pushed him out. He pressed forward, groaning against the shell of your ear as he filled you, his member twitching as his head dropped to your shoulder, his desperate groans drawn out as he came down from his high slowly.
He squinted as he opened his eyes, trying to adjust to the light as it filtered through the thin curtains. For a moment, he glanced around confused, trying to get a grasp of where he was when it dawned on him, the memories of the night before flooding back. His lips ticked up into a lazy smile.
He rolled over slowly, the smile slowly fading as he reached out to find a cold mattress beside him. Pressing his palms against the bed he sat up, letting the sheets droop around his waist as he looked around the room, brow furrowing when he found it empty.
Standing and pulling on his boxers and trousers from the day before, he padded out to the small sitting room quietly. He stopped in the doorway, his chest tightening uncomfortably when he spotted her violin missing. His eyes wandered again, settling on the single white rose on the table, all other traces of her removed.
He stepped towards it slowly, as if moving too quickly would cause it to disintegrate. With a small, defeated huff he picked the flower up, rolling the stem carefully between his fingers, watching it despondently as he realised she had gone - truly gone - where he could not follow.
He held the flower against his lips lightly, the velvet petals brushing against the skin as he inhaled, eyes fluttering shut as the gentle perfume washed over him. Then, he dropped it, letting it fall from his grasp ack to the table as he stepped away to collect his clothes again - the moment as fleeting as the last 72 hours in Piltover.
Hello!! Hope all is well, can you write your take of headcanons on a muscian!reader for peter parker or joaquin? Im thinking like paramore singer lol but any style of music would be fine! Im interested in what you pick!
thanks for reading! Write when you get to or ignore this, Best wishes <333
Peter Parker x Musician!Reader
★ Peter was entranced the first time he saw you perform. It was early on in your relationship when you decided to invite him to one of your shows. He called Ned to help him figure out what to wear to fit in (but he still stuck out like a sore thumb). Every time you looked out at the small crowd, you saw him smiling and bopping his head along to the beat.
★ After the show, he met you backstage. "That was incredible," he couldn't stop staring at you. Now that you could see him up close, you noticed that he had made a black shirt with your name written in big letters. "Is it too much? Ned told me to go for it but I don't really trust..." You cut him off with a kiss.
★ Peter basically became your roadie after that. Fixing your speakers to make sure the sound is perfect, tuning your guitar, carrying equipment from venue to venue, etc. Anything he could do to help you, he did. Even when his schedule was packed, he made time to help you out.
★ He tries to help you with the music side too. Peter was in band so he has some musical experience. If you need someone to play an instrument, he volunteers. He's not always good at it but he tries his best for you. But Peter turns out to be really good at producing your songs. The technology aspect comes naturally to him and he knows how you like things done.
★ With the kind of venues you play, sleazy guys always always try to get with you after you perform. Handsy with hungry eyes. The first time Peter sees it happen, he steps in immediately. "Hey man, back off. She's not interested," he says using his body as a barrier to protect you. Peter's never afraid to stand up for you.
★ He's your number one fan. Putting posters up around the city advertising your shows, telling everyone he knows about your music, commenting under all of your posts, and listening to your songs on repeat. Peter rarely posts on social media but when he does it's usually about you. He doesn't have many followers but it's the thought that counts.
★ Catching him singing your songs under his breath is a regular occurrence. Whether it's while he's cooking in the kitchen or taking a shower. Sometimes he'll mindlessly tap the beat to one of your songs when he's bored.
★ Peter doesn't mind if you rehearse around him. The noise doesn't bother him. He even helps you work through ideas. You'll ask him what sounds better or if a song needs something else. Peter loves being part of your process (especially when the song is about him).
★ The first time you play a song you've written about him, he tears up. He loves that you're proud to be with him. Peter's always wanted to be with someone who isn't ashamed of him and you're that person. Songs about him form simply because you can't get him out of your head.
a/n: i might end up writing a joaquin version too. if i do, i'll tag you!
Pairing: ex!musician!Clay Barton x ex!musician!reader
Part 1 Summary: Your night soured when your bandmate quit on you twenty minutes before the you needed to perform, but you quickly helped by an unlikely savior.
Warnings: fluff, angst if you squint really really hard, let me know if I missed any!
Word count: 1k
A/N: here you go my lovelies!! enjoy!
You were on in twenty minutes.
You felt electric with anxiety and excitement, how you always felt before a show. You thrived off of the adrenaline rush shows gave you, so addicting it almost felt like a drug. You could hear the crowd thrumming with anticipation and it made you feel filled with nerves. You loved this feeling.
“You ready?” You asked, turning to your bandmate.
“No. We need to talk. Out here” She nodded to the exit backstage, looking pissed.
“Is it really that important? We’re on in twenty.” You asked, slightly irritated that she chose now of all times to want to have a heart to heart.
“Yes. Now.” She grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the exit.
“Okay, okay. I’m going.” You huffed, following her out into the hallway. Out here, there were other bands psyching themselves up and going over song lyrics.
“So what do you want?” You asked your bandmate, crossing your arms.
“I quit.” She stated.
“You what?” You shook your head, baffled.
“I quit. You got it through your head now?” She tilted her head, somehow getting more pissed than she already was.
“Seriously?” You questioned her, still in disbelief of what was happening.
“I can’t handle working with you anymore, you’re so self-centered. You didn’t even want to talk to me until I dragged you out here! I’m so sick and tired of your shit!” She ranted.
“You couldn’t have at least given me a heads up before the show? We’re the next band up!” You yelled at her, irritation crawling through your veins.
“You’re proving my point! You don’t think about anyone but yourself! Have you even stopped to think about how many times I sucked it up and suffered my way through every rehearsal and show we had together?” She pointed angrily at you.
“Wow, so you’re saying that I’ve basically been a pain in your ass this entire time and you finally have the guts to say it to my face?” You took a step towards her, your stance menacing.
“Yes! Have fun at the competition, I hope you win!” She stalked off angrily, throwing her hands up in the air.
“Oh I will! No thanks to you!” You yelled at her.
“You are so welcome!” She screamed back, slamming the door on her way out.
You were going to lose it. You wanted to scream or curse someone out but you did none of those things, you just ran a hand through your hair and sighed, trying to work this out in your head. This was nothing compared to the other things you’ve gone through. You work under pressure all the time, stress is nothing to you. Yeah. Right. You were screwed.
“Ouch.” A familiar voice said, bringing you back to the fact that there were many onlookers that just watched what just happened.
You looked over to the person, thinking it was some old hookup or something, but instead you saw a face that you used to love. Crooked smile, shaggy dark brown hair, and a look in his eye that told you he was trouble. Your ex-boyfriend. Clay. You stood there frozen, before blurting out “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too, princess.” He smirked at you.
“Don’t call me that.” You hissed.
“Funny, I remember when you loved when I called you that.” He remarked, obviously enjoying how irritated you were already getting.
“What are you doing here?” You repeated, gritting your teeth.
“Why is anyone else back here? I’m competing.” He gestured to the all the other bands in the hallway.
“You have got to be kidding me.” You sighed, closing your eyes and wishing away this night. Maybe when you opened your eyes everything would go back to normal.
“For once in my life, I’m not. We could do each other a favor, if you wanted.” He suggested, crushing any hope you had left that this night would get any better.
“And what favor is that?” You raised your eyebrows at him.
“It was kind of hard to miss what just happened. I could help you out here. We could use an extra guitarist.” He asked, looking almost nervous.
This was perfect. But such a bad idea. But such a good one too. This was exactly what you needed. But did you want to work with your ex? Seeing how bad your relationship ended, working together didn’t seem like the smartest option, you knew that the both of you would end up trying to beat each other over the head with your guitars by the end of it. You didn’t have any other option at the moment, and you desperately wanted this record deal.
You rolled your eyes and muttered “I’m in.”
“Really?” He blinked at you, not expecting you to say yes.
“Yes. Don’t make me regret it.”
“I would never.” He gave you his trademark crooked smile that made your heart squeeze in your chest. Deep down, you missed that smile.
“Welcome to the band.” He stuck out his hand.
“Yeah.” You shook it, hating yourself for getting into this position.
“Hey, I’m back! Who’s this?” A girl with bouncy blonde hair and killer eyeliner made her way over to the group, smiling at the two of you.
“Our new guitarist.” He slung an arm over your shoulder, instantly making you shove him away.
“Oh sweet! We needed one! Nice to meet you, I’m Kenzie.” She said, looking confused at why you two were so annoyed with each other.
“Cool.” You nodded at her.
“Don’t take her bitchy disposition as a personal thing Kenz, she’s just like this.” Clay reassured her when her smile fell slightly at your remark.
“Bitchy?” You turned to him.
“What do you want me to deny the fact?” He taunted you.
“You’re unbelievable.” You scoffed.
“Hey, could I interrupt and ask what’s going on here?” Kenzie asked, looking terribly awkward.
“We used to date.” You explained blankly.
“Ah, this makes a lot more sense now.” She nodded her head.
“Hey, you’re up next! Let’s go!” A hassled looking stagehand pointed to you and gestured backstage.
“We’re coming!” Clay said before you could respond, walking over to the backstage door.
“I don’t know what you’re performing, you do know that right?” You asked Clay.
“Yeah you do actually, it’s the songs we wrote together that one time, remember?” He tilted his head at you.
You did remember, although you really wanted to forget those times you two would sit together making up lyrics and chords, laugh at one another whenever you’d make up a stupid rhyme. You shoved away the feelings that rose within you when you remembered how things were before it all went bad, and walked backstage.
This was such a bad idea, but you’d deal with the consequences later.
