#Heavy on the angst

[nyxunderwood]

Check out the new chapter of Shooting Stars, Falling Objects, my new post-Hogwarts, Prongsfoot AU set five years after Sirius Black’s untimely, but heroic, death. Only James believes he’s still alive.

Snippet

“You were a teenager, James,” Remus said gently. “You panicked. You couldn’t have known what would happen that night. When are you going to forgive yourself?”

Salt stung the back of James’ throat, his eyes burning. Surely, eventually, he would run out of tears. It had taken him years to tell Remus what happened between Sirius and him that night, years to find the words. He could not quite bring himself to regret confiding in him; at that point it was either speak or die.

Remus had respected his request that they never speak of it again. Until today.

“This isn’t about what happened,” James said, his voice hardly audible.

Remus shook his head, his grief apparent. “Your whole life is about what happened that night. Sirius wouldn’t have wanted you to feel this guilty, to torture yourself year after year, never moving on.”

Each word Remus spoke tightened like a vice around his chest. Memories overwhelmed him: the lake, the comet lighting up the sky, Sirius pulling him close, the kiss that had felt like coming alive. And then running, unaware that it would be the last time he would see his best friend.

Say something.

James swallowed hard, his voice hoarse. “Sirius wouldn’t give up on me. I can’t give up on him.”

Remus pressed his hand to the kitchen table as if to steady himself, his gaze dropping. He tapped the surface, an almost inaudible signal of defeat, before straightening his jacket.

“The memorial is at four at Hogwarts,” he said quietly. “Peter’s written a nice speech. You’re always welcome to join us. To pay your respects.”

Read the whole chapter on AO3.

[mylostloversbookmarks]

Waiting for a Miracle

Characters - Joel Miller x Reader, Ellie Williams

Summary - After being attacked by raiders, you sustain a serious injury - Joel and Ellie do everything they can to save you but will it be enough?

Word Count - 2.5K

Warnings/Tags - 18+ only Minors dni. Typical canon language, Angst, mentions of blood and wounds, swearing, hurt, anxiety, pain, guilt, insecure!Joel, upset!Ellie. Suicide attempt mentioned but not heavily discussed. Im not a medical professional so forgive me if anything is medically inaccurate!

A/N - I hurt myself with this one! Set Post-Outbreak! This is heavily inspired by EP.6 ~ Kin and the beginning of Ep 7 ~ Left Behind, and I thought it would be fun to reverse the rolls on this.

Reblogs, comments and feedback are so welcome and so so appreciated!

If you enjoyed this check out my other works here ~ Masterlist

Divider credit to @saradika

As he walked through the barren wasteland, he could feel the all-too-familiar sense of desolation wash over him. The air is thin and icy, hurting his lungs as he inhales. The only sound that can be heard is the howl of the wind and the crunch of fresh snow under his tired, heavy footsteps.

Moving further down the dirt road, he can see the outline of the dilapidated farm house where he left Ellie watching over you. Its walls crumbled, the roof caved in, the windows shattered, and the once-blue front door hung loosely on its rusted hinges.

Inside, the scene was just as bleak. The remaining furniture was overturned and broken, thanks to raiders tearing their way through any property they came across.

The walls were peeling and covered from floor to ceiling in a thick coat of dirt and grime. A heavy layer of dust had settled over everything in sight.

Moving further into the house, he makes his way to the barricade he had put in place before he left you and Ellie this morning to look for more supplies and any medication he could get his hands on.

 "Ellie?" He huffs out to let her know it is him moving the barricade as he leans his weight on one side of the heavy mahogany book shelf, sliding it along the dingy wooden floor to reveal the doorway.

"Joel? Did you find anything?" Ellie's pleading voice is muffled from behind the closed door.

Opening the door, he finds Ellie in the exact spot he had left her several hours before, sitting on her knees beside the filthy matteress he had laid you on what felt like a lifetime ago.

She was hunched over you with an old rag in her hand, mopping up the sweat that was beading on your forehead. He could see the worry etched onto her face as she did everything she could to keep you comfortable. She looks up at him as he enters, her face grim.

"How is she?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn't that he didn't want to disturb you; he just wasn't sure he could stop his voice from breaking if he spoke any louder.

Ellie shook her head. "She's still unconscious, but I think her fever has gone down a bit and the wound isn't bleeding anymore."

Joel just nods, his eyes fixed on you. Seeing you lying there so helpless and vulnerable, like a ghost of your usual bubbly, sarcastic self, the ever-present crease between your brows was gone; your teeth were no longer fussing at your bottom lip; your smart mouth was no longer calling him out on his bullshit; and your face was pallid and covered in a sheen of sweat.

The sight stirred up a storm of emotions within him that he couldn't quite put a name to. Joel knew that he had always been drawn to you, even before the attack.

Though he would never admit it and always did his best to hide it. He couldn't place what it was about you that brought him out of himself, despite his best efforts to keep you at arm's length.

He had vowed to himself that he would never get attached to anyone again. Not after what happened to Sarah.

It wasn't that he didn't want to care about people, but he has learned that in this world, caring for people only brings pain, and he just didn't know if he could survive another loss.

He almost didn't survive it the first time. The faint scar on his temple is a constant reminder of the events he has drank himself into oblivion over on many occasions in the hopes of scarring them from his memory, but it never works.

Though Ellie had always ribbed him when she caught him watching you from a distance, usually when youd set up camp for the night and you were rolling out your sleeping bag or flipping through one of the books you had picked up on the road.

She would jab him in the ribs with her elblow, uttering "Eh? Eh?" with a wiggle of her fair eyebrows. He normally silences her quickly with a stern warning glance, worried you might overhear her.

Now, though, his feelings were more intense, and he didn't know if it was because he was too tired to keep up the effort to hide them or that the fear of losing you was overpowering every other thought that raced through his head.

His mind was consumed by guilt; he had failed. Again. He had failed Sarah. He had failed Ellie over and over, and now he has failed you. Failed to protect you from the man coming at you from behind because he was too fucking old and deaf to hear him coming.

He couldn't fathom why you both had insisted on staying with him when you had both overheard him speaking to Tommy. It was the first time Joel had opened up in what felt like two decades.

He openly admitted to his brother that he knew he was going to get you both killed. He begged Tommy to take Ellie the rest of the way, and he knew that you wouldn't leave her side.

He remembers standing in the stables thirty minutes after he had intended on leaving, pretending to check over the horses saddle and reins, when Ellie walked in, closely followed by you and Tommy.

He offered you both a choice, insisting you would be better off with Tommy. He didn't even make it through his sentence before Ellie was thrusting her pack into his chest, effectively silencing him.

You had given him a reassuring smile and a small nod as you moved to help Ellie onto the horse. And now here you are in front of him, lying lifeless on a soiled mattress in the dead of winter in the middle of nowhere because of him.

He knelt down beside the mattress and took your hand in his, his thumb rubbing small circles into the clammy back of your hand. Motioning to Ellie to pass him his pack, Joel opens it and takes out the supplies he found on his run.

"I found a drug store; it was mostly picked over, but I found this under one of the cabinates." He explains, lifting out a vile of pennicilin and a syringe that is still safely housed in its unopened sterile packaging. He says a silent prayer of thanks to whatever higher power allowed him to find this.

Ellie just nods, her eyes glued to Joel's hands, watching as he takes hold of your hand, turning it so it is palm-up as he rolls your sleeve up past the crease of your elbow, removing his belt and tightening it around your arm.

Tapping at the viens in the crease of your arm but getting no response, you had lost so much blood from the wound that your viens were refusing to stand to attention.

Joel doesn't want to risk injuring a vein, so he decides to inject you directly into your wound. He removes the belt, throwing it to the side, rolls your sleeve back down, and sets your hand back by your side.

"Ellie, Im going to need your help." He murmurs to her, his voice thick with emotion.

"What do you need me to do?" she implores him.

"I can't find a vein; she's lost too much blood, so I'm going to have to put it into the wound. It's going to be painful, but we don't have another option. I need you to hold her still no matter what, okay?" Joel demanded it as calmly as he could.

"Okay, I can do that," Ellie confided, her voice wobbling with the unshed tears that were threatening to spill over at any moment.

"Hey, she's going to make it; she's going to be okay," Joel promises her, his hand coming up to rest on her cheek, wiping away a tear that was making its way down her cheek.

Ellie just nods in response, her tears flowing freely now. Joel pulls the blanket down and gently rolls your t-shirt up your torso, stopping at your ribcage. Removing the bloodied gauze that was covering the wound just above your left hip.

The wound was deep and had left a jagged, misshaped circle of angry crimson on your otherwise smooth, perfect skin.

He tore open the plastic wrapping and removed the syringe from its packaging, taking a deep breath before inserting the needle into the vein and withdrawing the medication.

"Okay, hold her still," Joel says, his voice unsteady as he positions the needle over your wound, placing his other hand on your cheek and rubbing his thumb back and forth, willing you to hear him before he continues.

"Darlin, I'm sorry. This is going to hurt, okay? But it's going to help, I promise."

Ellie nods towards him, signaling she was ready; she has repositioned herself at your head, her hands resting on your shoulders, and tightens her hold on you as Joel inserts the needle and slowly pushes his thumb down on the plunger.

You flinch and groan in pain, but Ellie holds you steady, tears flowing down her face and leaving little dark spots where they land on the mattress.

Finally, Joel withdraws the needle and sets it back inside the packaging in an attempt to keep it as sterile as possible given the current surroundings.

He grabs another patch of gauze from his pack and presses it against the wound. He pulls your shirt down and lays the blanket back over you, tucking you in as best he can, being careful not to jostle you too much.

"That's it, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice gentle as he strokes your hair. "Now we wait," he sighs, more to himself than anyone else.

Joel and Ellie sit in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, exchanging worried glances, unsure of what the future holds.

Despite the uncertainty, Joel is determined to do everything he can to keep you safe and help you recover. He holds your hand tightly, and his thumb continues to rub small, reassuring circles into the back of your hand as he silently vows to protect you at all costs.

As the moments tick by, Ellie's anxiety grows with each shallow breath you take. She feels helpless and scared, unsure if you will make it through the night.

The weight of potentially losing another person she cares about is too much, and she breaks. Loud, ragged sobs break through her clenched teeth, shaking her small frame.

Joel's eyes snap up at the sudden sound, and he can feel his heart constricting at the sight of her tears. He releases your hand, pulling her into a tight embrace. He strokes her hair, whispering words of comfort in her ear as she cries into his chest.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, baby girl," Joel murmurs softly. "We're here for her. We're not going to leave her. We're going to get through this together."

Ellie clings to Joel tightly, her body wracked with sobs as she tries to process her emotions. She's scared of losing you and of what will happen if you don't make it. Joel's presence and his words provide some solace, giving her a glimmer of hope that things might be okay.

The three of you stay like that for what feels like hours, huddled together in the dimming light, listening to the sounds of your breathing.

It's a comfort to hear the sound even out ever so slightly and to know that you're fighting to stay alive as hard as they are to keep you with them.

Eventually, Ellie pulls away from him, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her coat. She looks over at you, still sleeping on the matteress, and takes a deep breath.

"We're going to make it through this, right?" She asks, her voice wavering slightly.

"We are," Joel replies firmly, his gaze locked on you. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep you both safe."

Ellie nods, a look of determination taking over her face. She moves back to your side, taking your hand in hers and squeezing firmly.

"We're here; we're not going anywhere."

The hours passed by slowly; it was well past dark now and getting colder. Looking over at Ellie, Joel can see she is fighting to keep her eyes open.

"You need to get some rest; I'll stay up with her." He murmurs; his tone is serious, and she doesn't bother to argue with him.

"Okay, but you'll wake me if anything changes." Ellie pushed, not moving a muscle until she had his word.

"I will," he whispered solemnly.

Ellie stood and stretched for the first time in hours, grabbing her pack and unrolling her sleeping bag a few feet away from where Joel sat by your mattress.

She was so exhausted from the stress of the current situation that sleep found her quickly. In a matter of minutes, Joel could hear her soft snores.

Joel shifted into a more comfortable position beside you, stretching himself out on the floor so he was lying on his side, his head level with your own.

He reclaimed your hand in his. It was cold and limp, and he couldn't help but think about how much he had taken you for granted.

He has known that you were strong enough to handle anything that came your way and that you didn't need anyone's help. But now, as he looked at your pale face, he realised that it was ridiculous to think that anyone could have made it out of that situation in any other way.

He leans in close, his forehead resting against your hand, his eyes closed. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I should have heard him. I should have protected you." His voice broke, and he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by your steady breathing, Ellie's snores, and the occasional creak of the old farmhouse. Joel stayed there, still holding your hand, lost in his thoughts. He thought about all the things he wanted to say to you and all the things he wished he had done differently.

He wished he had been more open with you and told you how much you meant to him. He wished he had hugged you and spent more time just being with you.

It was too late for those regrets now. All he could do was sit there, holding your hand or stroking your hair. Willing you to wake up and hoping that somehow, someway, you would pull through. That you would come back to him, and he could make things right.

As he sat watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. Joel knew that nothing would ever be the same again. That he would never be able to erase these memories and that he would always carry this pain with him.

But he also knew that he couldn't give up, that he had to keep fighting and keep pushing forward. For you. For Ellie. For himself.

And so he sat there, stroking your hair and whispering all the things he should have told you before, waiting for a miracle.

[lilmissnatcat24]

hi my name is lilmissnatcat24 and i love angst

major major major major turn left/electric sheep spoilers

Shepard wasn’t paying too much attention. How could she be? Garrus was sitting two seats down from her. Garrus. She still couldn’t fathom being awake. It felt like the last two years were a dream, a horrible, fetid nightmare where Garrus was dead. 

But she saw him. She saw his corpse in the elevator shaft just a few steps away from his apartment door. She saw his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his mouth slack. She saw MedEvac using some sort of metal clamps to widen the slash in his throat in order to get a breathing tube down his throat. She almost pulled one of the doctors off of him. Couldn’t they see it was hurting him? How could they ignore all of the blood coming from his throat when they nearly decapitated him? She remembered falling to her knees and vomiting. She remembered someone ushering her away and giving her one of those blankets made from aluminum foil. She remembered Chellick, of all people, leaning on his crutch, his left leg missing, as he heralded Shepard into Garrus’s apartment and brewed her a cup of tea. He gave Whiskers von Trapp a little treat. He patted the back of her shoulders when she cried so hard she choked on snot. 

And now, Garrus was here. He didn’t look like it, but he was here. He wouldn’t look at Shepard. He wouldn’t look at anyone. He just stared off into the distance, his spine as stiff as a board, his hands clasped in front of him. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Not the slick, tight black suit he wore, as if he were on the way to a business meeting. Not the red scars dancing along each of his plates. Not the slash in his neck that glowed so bright it was nearly a neon sign advertising that he already died once. 

It wasn’t just here that Garrus was ignoring her. It was since she woke up. She’d been all over the ship, in his quarters, hell she’d even waited outside of the bathroom. It was like he was some Keeper sticking to the vents or something. She’d even go as far as to ask EDI where Garrus was at that very moment, and as soon as she’d get there, all she’d see was an empty room. He was a phantom, it was nearly worse than when he was dead. 

[mashas-rotting]

If you like Severus Snape fic

And you like being hurt-

Go read broken silence by witchimage on AO3

I sobbed. Its not finished yet but the author is still writing. I'm praying for a happy ending and I'm clutching my pearls.

[gremnda]

Hello Ethubs nation :]

no text version

[ky-landfill]

“No, Tim.”

[dhampiravidi]

ok but what if God/the gods are just a bunch of writers who dislike the canon (what happened in the 1st universe) & they decided to make their fics/RPs, heavy on the angst. whenever we get deja vu or repeated dreams…that was the other universe

[pixelpubph]

Relativity Falls reunion if it were up to me (This one's actually happy guys I swear) Design for Mabel taken from the great @onebadnoodle, since their designs are so damn rad I just had to use it

[happy74827]

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their real names."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple to say. Something easy, yet not so simple to answer.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

[portrait-of-a-moron]

“Maybe I could’ve protected you in another lifetime.”

I’m sorry for the repost I forgot an entire layer that changed little Lloyd’s face 😭🥲

[canisalbus]

Imagine if Machete and Vasco were dragons, but there was more lore behind it:

Machete being taken from their nest after their mother was killed, and “raised” by the church. He was beaten, humiliated and starved, described to the common folk as “a hideous creature” or a “spawn of the devil”.

One day, Vasco, a gold colored dragon finds Machete, and with his help, he breaks Machete out, and frees him.

They now live in a forested cave, far away from the reach of the cruel hand of man.

[simp-ly-writes]

To Forgive, Is to Regret

─────── · · Hate the Love That Drives Ambition (pt.2)

Pairing: Father!Silco x Mother!Reader, Jinx & Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: When you thought to have rid yourself of Silco once again, he somehow always finds a way to come back and this time in the form of a blue-braided girl who is more determined than ever to have you all together.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, reader called 'mom/mother,' angst, groveling, found family, fluff, miscommunication, blood and violence, hurt/comfort, alcohol and suicidal thoughts mentioned, swearing, happy ending, not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,185 | PART ONE

─ · · A/N: so proud of this fic, let me know if you enjoy! :)

─────── · ·

When Silco returned back to Zaun most people that saw him walking back to the Last Drop thought nothing of it with his long calculated steps and hardened glare. His coat flaps flying behind him in the wind as wisps of his breath exited his nose and rose up with the smog. But it was when he sat at his desk, cigar in one hand, knuckles turning white around a amber filled glass in the other, that Sevika could tell something was most certainly wrong with the man.

Sevika opened and then closed her mouth, thinking it better not to say anything in that moment. She listened as his foot tapped underneath the desk as he wore underneath his breath before flinging everything off his desk with the back of his hand, glass shattering against the floor.

The table groaned by the force in which he gripped the wood afterwards, hair falling down onto his forehead as his yellow eye twitched in pain.

Silco's mind raced with the image or your eyes burning hatred into his own, the unshed tears welling in your eyes before they couldn't stop. He felt the knife pushing past his skin, its cold exterior finding the warmth of your arms circling around his shoulders as you welcomed him before it became twisted, digging and scraping, he was bleeding, Silco felt sick as you shoved him away, kicking and yelling like he was the devil in everyone else's sight.

He remembers the feeling of your cheek in his palm, his fingers brushing past your quivering lip. He wanted nothing more than for you to grip his vest and wrap your legs around him with the same force you pushed him away with.

He wanted nothing more than to explain if he could have you physically but you did not even give him that. You shook your head, your son, our son, Silco corrected himself, his heart gripped so tight he felt sick, hunching over himself as he groaned. Cigar burning his fingertips as he closed his eyes tighter, no, you spoke so softly.

Yet such a simple word that he heard on the daily did nothing to compare when it came from between your lips as Silco's parted, murmuring what echoed through his head, no...

"No!" Silco yelled into the room as Sevika took a step back, trying to push herself into the darkness. lies- would love me, would protect me- lies!

I never meant to lie to you, if I had known a minute earlier... If I had known a minute earlier. Silco shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought of seeing only your blood left on that sewer grate and the years of torture his imagination put him through thinking that his henchmen that turned to be rivals had done to you...

How your skin must have split, shattering its radiant glow. How your smile must have been cut by your screams, your bones broken alongside your hope, you disgust me. Silco groaned, hands shaking as he struggled to breathe before going into a fit of coughs.

Jinx sat upon open the rather's, her shoulders tense as she looked down at her father-figure in what looked to be a deep pain; something she understood deeply as she picked at the skin by her fingertips leaving just enough skin before they bled.

She had never seen Silco like this... so far gone and removed from himself. He was acting like a completely different person, muttering to himself, and is that a tear running down his eye? Jinx was concerned, the wood beam she sat upon groaning as she shifted her weight in contemplation of going down to greet he struggling man yet a knock at the door told her else wise.

The oxygen becomes thin in the room as the seconds tick over not slow enough. Silco nods his head towards the door, falling back into his chair and reigniting his cigar before looking up towards the ceiling where he catches a hint of blue.

Sighing he looks down to see who arrives seeing his contracted hitman turn in the men who had hunted you through the streets he had thought to have scared in order to keep you safe, you disgust me.

The scaled hitman opens his palm, demanding his payment as Sevika throws him a dufflebag of cash before the heavy oak doors slam closed. And with a calmness both women hadn't seen earlier, Silco stands up from his chair, tapping his cigar out before unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves.

The ex-henchmen's eyes go wide with panic, they move their bound feet and hands frantically, trying to flee from Silco as he slowly walks over and stands before them both at his feet.

They watch as his head tilts, neck cracking with the side-to-side motion. A band over their mouths blocks their screams of their impending doom as Silco leans forwards, hair covering parts of his eye yet his yellow one glows through the darkness as he chuckles.

"You took everything from me," Silcos words echo throughout the room, softly spoken to hide the pain fluctuating in his words. He lets his words sit heavy in the room, falling and engraving themselves into their ears before all that can be heard his their screams calling out to Silcos heart.

Sevika shifts her footing, looking up to Jinx who blankly stares at the two dead figures in the office, her eye twitches before she jumps down watching as Silcos back tenses, shoulders rising and falling with his ragged breaths.

Grabbing a towel set down on an armchair, Silco cleans off the blood from his fingers tips slowly, watching them get clean before interlacing his fingers and closing his eyes, "one minute quicker, hm," he whispers underneath his breath before looking over his shoulder.

"Sevika?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Dispose of these corpses, burn them, throw them into the bay, I do not care- just be rid of them, " Silco demands, stepping over one of their legs before standing before Jinx who opens her arms in a silent ask before Silco sighs and gives her a hug.

Jinx can feel his tremors, his fingers shaking as they pick up a braid, "you know that I will protect you, always," Silco whispers into her hair and all Jinx can do is nod, her mind racing with scenarios to explain what just happened but she decides to save those questions for another moment as she waits for Silco to calm.

─────── · ·

"Let us take a walk," Silco says, appearing suddenly in Jinx's space a few days after the... event. She stands up abruptly, shutting down the music and nods violently before jogging after the man.

Silcos hand stay in the pockets of his jacket as he walks down through the streets and through the mist before standing above a drain cover. Jinx raises a brow, looking around the alleyway confused.

"Why are we here?" she asks, turning with a whistle as she kicks an empty trashcan, a rat scurrying away between her feet as her lip moves up, showing her teeth in disgust.

"Here is where I lost another part of myself, here it died," Silco states before crouching down to feel where he remembered your blood to have settled between its grooves. "But I though Vander tried to drown you in the bay?"

"That he did but he only killed a weak man then. Here is where I don't identify with the living any longer," Silco explains before standing to watch the confusion cloud over Jinx's features.

"I don't get it... are you like a cat with nine lives or some shit?" Jinx asks, taking a step closer to poke at the man with a smile yet all she receives is a bitter chuckle and dead stare forwards.

"Hm, no. You could have had a mother, you do have a mother, before the world had to take that away from us too. See that we can only trust in one another and if you were to kill me for whatever reason know that I would not blame you for there is little I could want now, even my own life," Silco spits out that last word with distaste as Jinx panics, hands stopping just before giving the man another hug.

"Why- why would you say something like that?!" Jinx cries, stepping back as she shakes her head. "I could have had a mom, how, what? Silco- I'm so confused..."

"I loved a woman- love a woman ever since I had known Vander. She reminds me much of yourself, bright, cheerful, intelligent and holds a wicked sense of humour. She could just stand there and you couldn't help but want to be near her... and then I... I killed her unknowingly... the men I had hired to protect her took her from me. Took the life away we could have had together as a family..." Silco turns around without another word, storming back to the Last Drop in need of another drink as Jinx watches him leave with a huff before reaching down to feel here Silco just touched.

"I'll find you," Jinx says with a determined tone to herself before standing back up and jogging to catch up with Silco.

─────── · ·

You stood in your apartment, a pot of stew boiling on the stovetop as you danced around to a record you had just bought. Your cat was sitting in their window box, tail swaying side to side with the beat as the setting sun illuminated the space in a golden glow.

A sudden turn of the front door had you smiling as you moved underneath the kitchen sink to dispose of your vegetable offshoots, "welcome back hun! I folded your laundry and dinner should be ready in five!"

You had heard no response, moving up swiftly and knocking your head against the countertop as you cursed, rubbing your scalp. To your surprise, your son, Rhyker was not there waiting for you at the dining table but a young woman around his age with two long braids that dragged across the floor.

How the fuck do people keep getting in? You ask yourself, picking back up that kitchen knife as you point it towards the younger woman. "And just who the fuck are you?" you question, the blade glimmering in the sunlight through the sheer blinds.

"I'm Jinx, pleasure to meet ya!" she says with a smile while opening her arms before stepping up to stand on the table, bending down to grab the knife out of your hand and to shake your other. "And now I'm gonna politely ask you to break-up with whatever 'hun' you have and come back with me!"

You stare at her, blinking and unmoving before furrowing your brows and tilting your head, "Is that a threat?" you ask in a calm tone, your patience reaching its breaking point after the week from hell you had experienced since Silco had decided to make a reappearance into your life. Rhyker had non-stop been asking questions every time he came home and every time you refused to answer he threatened to go and find his father and ask him himself.

You pinched your brow, trying to remove the oncoming headache as Jinx through the knife across the room without a second care and you did not even budge that had Jinx smiling. "I'll make it one if you don't start moving your top-side-ass to the door. I really need you to come with me, I mean I was used to his brooding and off-putting nature but now? Its a step to far, I mean, asking me to kill him? God, whatever you two must have done together must have been important for him..."

The door opens as Jinx's speech dies on her lips once seeing a younger Silco enter the door, "no fucking way," she mutters underneath her breath before leaving you in the dust to pick at your sons features and walk around his form.

"You look so much like him, holy shit!" the blue-haired woman says as you roll your eyes. "If Silco want anything to do with us, tell him this again for me, maybe it'll finally get through his thick skull, we are never coming back- not after what he did to me- to us!" you shout, picking up the knife once more as Rhyker rolls his eyes before setting down his bag. Not even sparing Jinx a second look before serving enough bowls for all three of you at the table.

"If you want answers, you might as well stay for dinner since I don't think my mom is letting us out of Piltover except in a bodybag," Rhyker explains without looking up from the pot as you and Jinx look between one another. This was going to be a long night...

─────── · ·

"So wait, let me get this straight, you and the old man were running Zaun and what? A little life or death scare and your out of it? I mean I at least die one a week, no wonder you are in Piltover you weak ass," Jinx says with a scoff before downing the rest of her second bowl of stew, "Great cooking by the way."

You return a scoff, picking up everyone's plates before moving back towards the sink. "When you get older... have a child... you tire more easily from that line- that at times, all you wish is to cross over rather than ride it," you explain.

"You sound just as depressing as Silco is, you two I would say are fucking perfect for one another," Jinx retorts, giving Rhyker a shove as he glares at her.

"No, that man has caused my mother nothing but pain. It was a mistake on my part going to look for him," Rhyker says, giving Jinx a shove back of her own as she miles wildly at him. "Well tinker-boy, know that me and your mom are heading back to Zaun tonight if you like it or not! I really need her, I mean Silco is ruining the business after he returned from whatever happened topside!"

"What? Did he finally feel the weight of his choices then? Good, then let him suffer as I did raising my boy by myself on the run and exhausted. If he can't last a few days then what good is he to me?" you retort, "I think it's time for you to leave."

"But!"

"No," Rhyker stands, looking down upon the blue-haired girl with a hardened glare. She can see Silco flashing in and out of her vision as she shakes her gaze clear and next thing she knows, she's being thrown out into the hall, the door locking behind her.

─────── · ·

Jinx stares at the closed door, giving it a solid kick before heading back to the Last Drop where Silco was already waiting for her in the lobby. "And where have you been, young lady?" Silco demands, kicking a shard of glass with his boot as both watch the pice shatter some more and scatter across the uneven floors.

"I went to go see, mom. She's really pretty, Silco! I have no idea how you pulled someone like her back in your days, I mean even her neighbour looked interested," Jinx says with a wide smile watching as Silcos eyes widen before hardening.

"What. did. you. just. say?" Silco asks again, annunciating every syllable.

"I. went. to. go. see. her." Jinx responds back before reaching over the bar to pour herself a glass of juice. "And just so you know, you son says 'hi'" With a echoing slurp, she sets her glass back down before giving Silco a pat on the back and running out the doors, "They're serving roast tomorrow!"

─────── · ·

Like clockwork, every night the blue-haired girl who you learned to be 'Jinx' shows up at your door and invites herself in for dinner. It takes weeks for you to finally warm up to her as Rhyker struggles with the concept of not having all your attention yet at the same time enjoys how much she seems to know about Silco without having to annoy you any longer.

You start to see her like your second child by the end of the mouth, making sure to buy foods she likes in the fridge and her favourite juice prepared as well for dinner. She helps you with the dishes afterwards, chatting to you (or sometimes at you), about how things are going in the Undercity as you nod along.

Her stories make you smile as she using her whole body to tell them, you love watching as Rhyker and Jinx share their sketchbooks and tech with one another on the living room carpet as you lean against a doorframe and observe them both, "do you two want some snacks?" you ask, looking at the time to be early morning hours yet nobody seems ready or really wanting to leave just yet- not even yourself from this moment.

Jinx nods enthusiastically as you laugh, her smile only growing from the sound as Rhyker throws a pillow at her before they both are play-fighting and tossing the couch contains everywhere before settling down for cheese and crackers. You nibble on some yourself, nodding along as they present to you their newest findings and next thing you know, you all are asleep in front of the fire that burns through to the next day.

When your eyes reopen you see Jinx staring down at you her hand hovers over your head as you reach up and hold her hand with a smile, "you are welcome to move in with us," you speak softly, not wanting to wake Rhyker up.

Jinx's eyes well with tears as she gives no reply but hugs you, gently before tightening as she sobs. You rub up and down her back, humming in her ear and rocking back in forth, "thank you," she whispers, closing her eyes to savour the moment as do you.

─────── · ·

Silco paced around his office, Jinx had not come back in days and every-person he hired to scout the undercity turned back without answers and empty handed. Sevika rolled her shoulders, "I could always look topside-"

"No. she wouldn't be there still, not unless..." Silco trails off before shaking his head and standing, Sevika beings to follow after him before he pauses, looking over his shoulder. "I should be good on my own, take the day off, If I do not return... know that you are left in charge-"

"Boss! I-" Sevika begins to plead, a part of her knowing how everything would turn tits up if he left.

"No, this is something I must do on my own for myself." And with that, he was gone from the shadows and emerged into the daylight, awaiting at your doorstep and surprised to see Jinx opening the door in fluffy pyjamas.

Silco glared, about to tell her, what if an officer was here instead? what if- "Don't worry, I knew that it was you at the door. Wouldn't have opened it otherwise, I know I'm still hot stuff up here now come in!" jinx opened the door that bit wider and Silco looked around the space in search for you.

"Mom-" Jinx's eyes widened alongside Silcos as they sat there in silence at the call of the title before Jinx continued, "Mom, won't be home until tonight. She's helping with one of Rhyker's school events."

Silco nods, closing the door behind himself and locking it before observing the various photos on the walls he didn't have a chance to the first time he visited. Only a visitor, Silco reminded himself as he set down a picture of you with a younger Rhyker in your arms with flowers in your hair.

You smiled widely in the photo as you did in each image, Silco watched as Rhyker grew up through them all before pausing at a smaller on on the mantel. It was you standing behind Jinx and Rhyker, your hands on their shoulders as they both looked up to you with smiles. Silco's heart ached, his fingers twitching to caress your face through the glass before falling back down to his side.

Jinx watched while rubbing her arm, "We hide that too anytime anyone comes over, I hide with Mr. Whiskers over here," Jinx explains, pointing to the cat now resting on her shoulders between her braids with a smile.

Silco observes how calm she appears, walking around the apartment and pouring out two glasses of water, "You know, I don't think I've ever been happier here. Sure I like walking around and shit and I do miss my stuff, and that drawing from Vi... and you and I guess Sevika couldn't give a shit but I miss her too and I just... I don't know."

Jinx can't explain what she feels when in the comfort of your home, of having a sibling that does annoy her yet also protects her, speaks with her and you... offering unconditional love, opening your home up to her even when she was connected with Silco. And maybe that was what made you offer it in the first place, that vision only your heart could see through its pain and torment just as Silco stood there in the Silence. Listening to how the tap dripped and the cat purred.

"I can see how it would be hard to leave, I do miss you back at home," Silco says yet hating the look of guilt that washes over her face. "Do not feel guilt, child, for living through happiness."

Jinx nods, "I have been having less... thoughts as well. I just, I don't want anything to ruin this."

"I know how you feel," Silco says, taking a seat at the table as Jinx does the same opposite of him. "Moms, not going to be happy when she see's you here," Jinx says watching as the cat hops down from the table to return to the sunlit windowsill.

Silco hums, disregarding Jinx's last words, "To love, is to hate. To forgive, is to regret, and when we face our reflections, we live wanting the past."

"Don't go speaking poetry on me again, old man. No wonder mom can't figure her feelings over you when you constantly speak in riddles!"Jinx ridicules, pointing a finger across the table as Silco shifts in his seat.

"I regret not following after your mother... of not taking a step away from my work to prioritize her. I was so focused on building our future, something I thought we both could be proud of. Yet my ambition drove through it all and now we are stuck here. It is no longer if Sevkia would have told me a minute earlier before the enforcers came- no. It was always me..." Silco sentence slows as he hears footsteps nearing. He is surprised to have not noticed the two people entering the room as Jinx smiles. Taking Rhyker by the arm and heading to his room as he shows her his newest robot.

Silco moves to stand before you place a hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing at his back in a soothing motion. Silco reaches up, placing his hand atop your before picking it up and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

You both sit there in the silence that speaks greater than any words you both could come up with. Both of your life lines meeting at an intersection once more. You toy with us, picking up your other hand to feel the softness of his hair going through your fingers as Silco leans back so his head rests upon your chest.

"I don't know if I have it within myself to forgive the past you, Silco. But maybe I will be able to live with the new one," you explain, watching with a small smile how his eyes close from your touch as he murmurs back, "the old me died when I saw only your blood in that alleyway but my love will remain throughout the ages."

"I hope that love is something I don't have to count on again, Silco."

"You won't need to but only count on my actions."

"I hate that I have always loved you, Silco," you chuckle, beginning to pull away before Silco stands, stopping you as he pulls you into a hug, your head resting upon his chest, listening to how his heart beats in time with your own.

"Hate, love, all are the same at the end of the day as they both share passion at their core. All I want is you, your lips or your words placing stakes into my heart. Nothing of that matters as long as I have you. I love you, darling," Silco says, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other resting upon your lower back as you let out a breath.

"I love you too."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: who doesn't love a happy ending 🥰

─ · · PART ONE

[thebadchoicemachine]

We’ve all heard the “Scout gets too much attention” rants in the fandom but I also want to say: Scout gets too much hate.

Like, he’s decidedly NOT a coward. I have no idea where people get that from. His entire backstory is that he got fast to that he could run into danger before the fight ended. He’s got voice lines pleading for his life, but every character has voice lines where they’re weak or losing.

He’s also not that annoying to anyone but Spy (besides the people he’s killing). I’m easier on this though because it comes from gameplay habits.

Also, Scout is strong. certainly not as much as the rest of the team, but he’s quick, acrobatic, and whip smart about surroundings. He did single handedly take on a Heavy. Sure, it was his meet-the and everyone is overpowered but still. He puts up a fight. (My favorite subversive moment of the ‘scout gets wreaked by everyone automatically’ is in Mann Swap where we see him use his skillset to match with heavy’s strength.)

It’s hilarious to punch the punching bag, ofc. But Scout is my least favorite of the main nine and it still kills me to see him in “serious” tf2 fan media with only his joke traits.

[the-odd-shu]

Hey Hextech, is it gay to cuddle your co-workers?

A continuation of lab shenanigans.

Masterlist

Next part here!

Characters: Viktor, Jayce, Reader

(Jayce/Viktor/Reader) (POLYCULEEEE!)

A thread following the chaotic trio that is, laboratory illustrator!Reader, Viktor and Jayce being unsupervised in the lab.

Note; this takes place during season 1, and the reader is gender neutral with they/them pronouns.

CONTAINS VIKTOR SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!

There's only one couch in the lab.

There are three desks, four chairs, one whiteboard, boxes upon boxes of chalk, and only one couch.

The couch which Jayce is currently taking a cat nap on and taking up all of the room of. The lab lights are dim, and Jayce looks so comfortable, sprawled out on his back, with his boots still on his feet, whilst his legs hand off the end of the furniture because he's just that fucking tall. He has an arm slung over his eyes despite the low light, and he looks stupidly adorable.

Reader is half tempted to turn right back around and try to find somewhere else to take a power nap. They can't be bothered to lock up their desk, and walk all the way across the academy, and then all the way home to tumble into bed. And their desk is a no no, since hey always wake up with a painful crick in their neck and Viktor's knowing grin taunting them for their bad choices.

The couch looks tempting though... and can they really be bothered to go wandering around campus looking for somewhere comfortable to sleep until their meeting later? The answer is no. No they cannot.

Besides, Jayce finished with the council over three hours ago, so he's had plenty of time for undisturbed rest. And clearly, if he didn't want to share, than he would have put his sizeable salary into finding another couch for the lab already.

Decision made, and sleep tugging at their eyelids, they shrug off their jacket, yank off their boots and carefully sit on the very edge of the couch near Jayce's hip. The worn cushion barely gives under their weight it is so old and devoid of stuffing. How Jayce is deeply asleep on the thing and continues to choose to nap on it since it was brought in, they had no idea.

There's enough room for them to gingerly lay down parallel to Jayce's body on their side. They're so tired, they hardly care. Everything aches. And Viktor isn't around to tease them for essentially 'cuddling' Jayce, which they clearly were NOT! Their back was to the man after all, with the cotton of their shirt barely brushing his jacket sleeve.

If they stayed still, he might not even notice. And they could have their nap and slip away without anyone even-

A sharp inhale of breath at their back has their body stiffening like a deer in headlights. Their tired eyes bug wide, and yet they manage to keep from throwing themselves off of the couch and taking the stupid nap on the hard, cold floor instead. Maybe Jayce won't even notice. Maybe they can pretend to be asleep already.

"You're going to fall off that close to the edge."

And oh fuck... Jayce's voice is deep and slurred from sleep.

Their mind screeches to a hault, when the couch shifts violently, and then an arm is winding over their side to drag them backwards. Jayce does not pull them into his chest, but he does give them enough space to be laying on their side comfortably. He's rolled onto his side too, and has shifted back towards the backrest to create more room. He retracts his arm, and his breath evens out.

Reader's mind spins. Jayce is a touchy kind of guy. Always pressing a hand to their shoulder when commenting on a sketch, or leaning up against their back in the kitchen with a quiet apology when reaching for something in an hoverhead cupboard whilst they're waiting for the kettle to boil.

He does it to Viktor too, so Reader know's it is just Jayce being Jayce.

They fall asleep like that, one hand under their cheek, their back to Jayce with a respectful pinkies worth of space between them.

Of course they wake up tangled together. Jayce's arm somehow around Reader, keeping them from rolling off the edge of the couch. Their head is tucked up under his jaw, and his breaths slowly ghost across their ear. It is the most comfortable they've ever been whilst resting on this couch.

Viktor is at his desk, when they decide enough is enough and they REALLY have to get back to work. Jayce audibly grumbles as they untangle themselves, before rolling towards the backrest and putting his back to the rest of the lab.

Viktor scarcely looks up from his work before offering a simply, "ah, you're awake. When you've finished cuddling, mind helping me out with-?"

Viktor falling asleep at his desk.

Reader and Jayce have been quietly arguing over what angle, they should draw of a new project.

Viktor snores when he sleeps. Soft, barely audible puffs of air that are only really noticable when the debate dies down whilst both sides take a moment to breath and gather their thoughts for another round.

The sound draws both sets of eyes to Viktor's desk. Where he has passed out on his notebook, cheek pressed down against the pages, arms limp at his sides, and his cane leaned up against the desk beside him within arms reach.

Wordlessly, both decide to put a metaphorical pin in the argument, whilst Jayce steps away from Reader's desk and begins unbuttoning his waist coat, which has somehow become the unoffical lab blanket. Not only because Jayce is all to happy to lend it to either of his colleagues, but because it is big and warm and everyone secretly loves waistcoat priviledges.

On quiet footsteps, Jayce crosses the room to drape it over the man's shoulders. He doesn't stir, and the other two get back to their playfully fighting just a tad quieter.

Reader not having the keys to get back into the lab, so they sit down beside the doors in the corridor to wait for Viktor or Jayce to come back. Of course, they fall asleep slumped against the wall, and Viktor and Jayce rock up together to find them. Viktor sighs, very put out.

"If anyone saw this, they'd accuse us of abuse." He mutters to himself, rummaging in his pocket for his keys.

Jayce bends down to rouse reader who was having a surprisingly good nap. They refuse to get up and just curl up tighter.

"Come back in ten minutes." They negotiate sleepily.

And Jayce is torn. They look really comfortable, but they'll certainly be feeling sitting on the floor later, so he's reluctant to just leave them there without a cushion at least. Of course, Viktor is quick to prod him along.

"Come on Jayce!" Viktor prompts. "If they're going to be a brat, treat them like a brat."

Which Jayce interprets as scooping Reader up into his arms instead of leaving them out in the hall with the lab door left unlocked.

Of course Reader wakes up immediately. Demanding to be put down, and squirming, Jayce just grins and hauls them inside whilst Viktor shakes his head at their stupid display. Jayce then unceremoniously dumping reader on the couch, and as tradition at this point, shrugs off his jacket to throw at their head.

"We should probably invest in a blanket." Reader grumbles, spreading the jacket over them as best they can before snuggling down.

Viktor deadpans. Somehow, he doesn't think the sentiment will stick for long. Not with his own secret love of waking up wrapped in Jayce's waistcoat, and not with Reader's visible relaxing form under the weight of the jacket, and not with the stupidly soft look Jayce is looking down at them with.

Reader who drags Jayce down by his shirt collar or the lapels of his waistcoat to press a kiss to his forehead.

Reader who exclusively kisses Viktor's moles. As a rule they kiss both of them in farewell after a long day. On under his eye, and the other above the corner of his lip.

Reader who then has to go back to Jayce to bestow him with his second kiss because otherwise he pouts and demands that you play fair.

They're not dating yet...

Lying in Jayce's bed after a rare evening of leaving the lab early. Sitting elbow to elbow up against the pillows, all three of them are reading books, and have changed into their night wear, with Jayce in the middle and Reader and Viktor on either side. Mainly because Jayce tends to roll a lot and will roll OFF the bed if given the chance, and Viktor needs easy access to his cane or brace at all times.

It is Reader who breaks the silence without looking up from their book. "Would you guys still love me if I were a worm?"

They feel two sets of judgemental eyes turn to zero in on them. So they play it cool and neatly turn a page. Their partners exchange confused looks.

"If it were humanly possible," Jayce started slowly, "maybe?"

"Absolutely not." Viktor firmly added.

Reader sets down their book offended. "Maybe?" They parrot back to Jayce, and then turn on Viktor who meets their gaze with a frown. "Flat out no!? Do you two even love me?"

"Of course." Viktor says calmly, "but if you happened to turn into a worm, I would not be best suited to offer you a comfortably, inhabitable environment, what with my long work hours and dangerous research. Therefore, it would be kinder to set your worm-self free, and let us both move on with our lives."

Reader stares back at him in betrayal.

"So you don't love me."

Viktor rolls his eyes at their dramatics.

Jayce tries to soothe them. "Well, look at it this way, it won't happen, so you won't have to worry about it-"

"Jayce, you both work with MAGIC!" Reader points out. "You have somehow turned magic into a power supply. There is a whole rune dictionary, and thousands of untold combinations that might very well turn the right candidate into a worm."

Jayce is at a loss for words.

Viktor sits back against his pillow and returns his attention to his book, "I still stand by my earlier statement."

Reader tsks and returns to their book to. "For the record, I'd build you both mud homes and take you everywhere with me. It wouldn't matter if you looked different, because you'd still be you deep down."

Jayce looks suddenly touched, and Viktor's hard expression softens a little.

"That is, surprisingly sweet, for such a weird conversation." The latter mutters, whilst Jayce leans in to land a firm kiss to Reader's forehead.

BONUS AND SPOILER FOR SEASON 2:

For some reason, Jayce dragged Reader down into the Hexgate basement before the final fight, getting them to help him pull out all the batteries from the core whilst shit goes down on the surface.

And of course, final form Viktor comes to find them in all his robed, mysterious glory.

Jayce and Viktor having a fun little back and forth.

Reader: looking at final form Viktor with wide eyes.

Reader: flushing under his intense golden gaze and ducking their head, fighting tooth and nail to keep from tucking their hair behind their ear like a school girl with a crush.

Final form Viktor: visibly amused, as he always was in the lab whenever he thought they were being stupid.

Jayce with horror in his voice as he follows Viktor's gaze to Reader: "No! Please tell me you're not thinking what I know you're thinking!"

Reader with visible guilt as they throw up both hands and motion to all of Viktor's tall, god-like glory: "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? HE'S HOT, AND HE'S VIKTOR! AND I AM MERELY A MORTAL!"

Jayce: "He is trying to kill us!"

Reader: "So? He looks hot doing it!"

Jayce: "Just focus! Please?!"

Reader: "Then tell him to conceal his itty bitty waist. I cannot focus right now, Jayce!"

Viktor: tilting his head as an unnatural angle with fondness in his voice. "It is refreshing to find that you still find my form appealing, even after such unnatural change."

Jayce just watching on in dismay: ...

Reader turning on him: "I TOLD you I'd still love you both if you turned into worms."

Viktor snorts in the background, whilst Jayce goes through the five stages of grief. He settles on dismay and points his corrupted hammer at Viktor's new form: "THAT is some sort of Eldritch being. THAT is VERY different to a fucking WORM, Y/n!"

Next part here!

[mobius-m-mobius]

well... I mean that *is* true so - Lokius Incorrect Quotes [14/∞]

[blairamok]

“how long did you have to burn before becoming fireproof?”

been reading the strange moon series by @racketghost lately and was inspired to draw up some crowley angst because that line absolutely haunts me. featuring season 2 angel baby crowley after their million light year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulfur. :(