#I still need to make an art tag.. eventually

[brodyfoxxsmassivetits]

bros heart iz gonna explode

+ mini doodle redraw n old stuff I thought about redrawing (but didn't..eep..)

idk why he's so pale that's only from a year ago💀

I'm not as kookoo crazy about laur anymore I think like other people's laurel hcs are neat my laur is just...nonbiney BOO WHERE'S THE INTEREST?!?!

still crazy about duardo though weeheeee

[sleepinglionhearts]

Thinkin' 'bout girl Zoro

[mjrdm]

.

[adiosterror]

YOU KNOW WHAT i have no shame this is MY blog and I get to decide what i post about

Speaking of newer f/os from the request of dearest mootie milo, y'all will be sooo disappointed in the new arrivals hehe,, rubs my hands together

It is with great sorrow that I announce to you.. that BFDI is awesome actually

At the time of posting this I've watched bfdi, first half of bfdia, bfb (PPEEEAAAKK) and up to tpot 10

And this... this THING

He is so cute oh my word

I should've known I was doomed when I started making ocs but I am fighting this off as an interest like crazy

A friend I had a falling out with like.. three years ago now? Had a trigger to object shows, so since that was my only exposure to them, I just disliked them and refused to engage since

Then a current buddy pulled me aside and was essentially like 'dude.. this is my whole childhood, you need to watch this just humor me' so I agreed and now i'm hooked on it

Atm i have two ocs but I only have references of one, i just havent drawn by other one digitally yet

Yeah this is all I have for now I fear,, there's other characters I'm considering f/o'ing like scag from regretevator but idk yet, regretevator doesn't have many characters with a personality type that clicks with me that way

Why four does?? I can't answer that bro I have no clue,, just like, with me if you place bets on the table for me having a crush on the most popular character, you're most likely taking home the jackpot,, i'm very predictable hehe

Ohhh actually i wanna make another post about my ocs im working on!! I've made a lot for a ton of different fandoms (like.. 3 im just being dramatic) and i'd LOVE to share them!! Bye friends }:)

Expect bfdi posting now I guess,, sigh,, I can't believe it either

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)

[sofastuffing]

i have a headache

[homoeroticvillain]

oh hey i figured out how to draw tits

[neolxzr]

quick post naruquin when no ones looking

[spotsupstuff]

How does sparrows feel about compliments? do they make her happy or her insecurities make it hard to accept that people think positively of her?

depends on who they come from!

from strangers on the internet, she disregards them cuz it's only the internet. at first she used to get flustered but then she thought about it n just -shooing motion-. the idea is that you don't know her and she isn't supposed to be loved and treasured by the society, so it has to be a lie

from strangers on the cities' streets, she gets uncomfortable. because she doesn't know them, this is high circle people who don't understand- who benefit from this wretched system and also gave her those insecurities in the first place. if it's a Child that compliments her though, that's hard to disregard in some way. so she flushes, giggles and thanks them with a little bow

back in her home farm district where she knows everyone, compliments are just part of the conversation. they don't mean much more than a pat on the back. they are more action based down there. wanna show your gratitude or appreciation, you take the other for a trip to spend quality time together or for dinner or give a gift

when one of her siblings compliments her, she suspects they did smth wrong n r trying to ease their incoming punishment. compliments r again kind of... far on the side- when they actually compliment her work for smth she smiles at them n goes on about her work when Inkling compliments her, Sparru gets excited as if she was still a child n runs up to hug her when granpa compliments Any of the children it gets quiet while they stare at him wide eyed in surprise. cuz he's usually the mean type to everyone but Inkling. then he gets offended by their stares n goes back into his grumpy ways n the children heave a sigh of relief before laughing

with Euros it was a process. at first she got flustered, then she disregarded them, then she got uncomfortable because it was knocking on her low self-esteem but boy was originally planning on worshipping her so it wasn't like he was going to stop. one day she cried in panic because she didn't know how to interact with this and that's how Euros figured out that Sparrows isn't all that fine mentally. told her that there isn't anything wrong with what he's doing, he means every word and he won't stop. so Sparrows had to find how to cope with it which turned out to be shily accepting it. she still cries sometimes cuz yanno how it be, but slowly she gets more self-confident n eventually starts dishing out compliments for him too. eventually it all fades into the same background like with her home farm district

[kakusu-shipping]

I’m making a Mario Series Shipping Chart and Bowser is making it incredibly difficult to format

[adhdvane]

long time ago i made some oc's for the each of the xeno clashes, i'd been meaning to draw them for ages... this is just one of them. more details under the cut

lol copy paste from old text file from 2022 claims to be an envoy of lord diablo (it's actually more depressing than that and he ends up revealing his past to ion (<< ifrit one) in a fake story event i will never write) (he also believes the other characters in this group to all just be envoy's of their patrons). he's been traveling to meet with powerful warriors hoping to find one who wields/has the legendary third diablo xeno weapon. the Xeno Diablo Bow. This man is an idiot. it's just the normal ssr diablo bow. When he finds out you have one he asks if he may hold it and try to conquer it's divine power. You're like ok w/e? (or if you say no lyria is like you should just let him, he seems so excited, don't be mean). and so he tried to use it, but obviously can't use bows, and just keeps repeatedly failing miserably, the one arrow he manages to fire he fires straight up and it hits him on the way down and he blacks out. When he comes to he sees you and apologizes for his horrendous display. he then gets on his knees, like bowing to you and begs you let him follow you and teach him of your ways so he can one day wield the almighty xeno diablo bow. In battle, he's like super graceful, out of battle he's clumsy as fuck and is always injuring himself. Under his robes he has lots of scars, not a single one is from battle. they're all from doing dumb shit and being clumsy as fuck. him and the corow girl are constantly arguing with each other. ((her goal is to kill god (((corow))) for fun :) and that's absolutely blasphemous in his eyes)) -he talks with very formal/polite language. despite being unable to use a bow, he always has a quiver and arrows with him so he can practice (miserably) for another chance to use the fabled xeno diablo bow. -doesn't like his name and wants to be called majin (but like as a noun not a name. he doesn't want to individuality of a name.)

[ggukivrse]

the art of pretending – jjk | teaser

summary. when you and jungkook show up to your much anticipated graduation trip and realise neither of you had the guts to tell your friends about your recent break up, there’s only one thing you can do to keep the trip from falling apart: pretend.

but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings: exes to lovers, fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, angst, fluff, (eventual) explicit sexual content, swearing, alcohol consumption, ft. seokjin, namjoon, hoseok, jimin, taehyung, yoongi + four female ocs, other chapter specific tags

word count: 1k

notes: right soo... this fic was not apart of the poll i put out BUT i did manage to finally write something so you can't say anything (writer's block has been kicking my ass lately, study break was just a result of my horniness loll). this is j a teaser so if we like this, i’ll prioritise it, if not, it’ll still get written, just a bit slower! enjoy reading my angels <333

ps. kiara is pronounced like tiara, just with a k

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The road stretches out ahead, long and quiet, humming under the tires. You lean into the car door, forehead pressed against the glass, fingers mindlessly tugging at the threads on the hem of your shorts.

Summer air seeps through the half-cracked open window, warm and heavy with the scent of trees and sun-baked asphalt.

You should be excited. Everyone else is.

A full week away — just your group, no classes, no work shifts, no group projects hanging over anyone’s head for the first time in four years. A final trip before the “real world” starts to pull everyone in different directions.

But your stomach’s been tight since the moment you packed your bag. And now, with every mile you put between yourself and home, it just gets worse.

“You’re really quiet,” Kiara says, glancing at you from the driver’s seat. She’s got one hand on the wheel, the other flipping the volume knob down on the music. “Like... unusually quiet. Do I need to be concerned?”

You shake your head without looking at her. “Nah. Just tired.”

Kiara makes a sound like she doesn’t believe you, but she doesn’t press, and you're grateful for it.

You glance over at her. She’s in an oversized T-shirt, dark brown hair falling in curls past her shoulders, sunglasses balanced on top of her head instead of over her eyes.

“I thought you’d be in full DJ mode by now,” you say, nodding toward her phone. “Where’s the summer playlist?”

She smirks. “I’m easing you into it. Jimin says my music tastes give him whiplash.”

“He has a point.”

She scoffs. “Please. Hoseok says my music’s amazing.”

“He says that about everything you do," you say with a smile.

She shrugs, casual. “He’s not wrong.”

It’s adorable how hopelessly smitten they are. Even after a year together, Hoseok still looks at Kiara like she hung the stars.

You remember when they finally got together, after years of dancing around it. Everyone in the friend group had seen it coming — everyone except them.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Kiara laughs, and you can’t help but join in. For a second, the knot in your chest loosens. Just a little.

"Speaking of Hoseok," you start, glancing over at her. “How come he's not coming with you?”

She sighs. “Shift at work. He tried to switch but his manager’s being a dick. He’ll drive up tomorrow morning.”

You nod. “That sucks.”

She hums in agreement, but you’re already half-lost in your thoughts.

As much as you feel bad for Hoseok, you're quietly grateful Kiara asked you to come with her. The idea of doing this drive alone — just you, a quiet car, and way too much time to sit with everything you haven’t let yourself feel — would’ve made the weight in your chest unbearable.

She hasn’t said much, but she’s always had good timing. Maybe she didn’t even realise how much you needed the company. Or maybe she did.

“Lucky me, I got upgraded,” you say lightly.

She grins. “Damn right you did.”

The playlist switches songs, something soft and nostalgic. You stare out the window again, at the lazy sway of trees and the occasional flicker of a passing car.

“I can’t believe we actually pulled this trip off,” Kiara says, after a beat. “Twelve people committing to anything at the same time? Miracle.”

You nod. “Taehyung’s been talking about it since first year.”

“Yeah, and threatening to disown us if anyone bailed.”

You huff out a small laugh.

Back when this trip was just an idea tossed around during late-night study sessions and half-finished group projects, you'd been genuinely excited — borderline giddy, even. The promise of a full week at a fancy resort with your closest friends had felt like the perfect reward after years of deadlines, breakdowns, and pulling all-nighters on cheap coffee and instant noodles.

It was one of those plans that didn’t feel real at first — the kind of thing you talk about just to survive the semester — but then slowly, it started taking shape. Rooms were booked. Deposits paid. Group chats flooded with outfit ideas and packing lists.

You remember counting down the months, then the weeks. You’d imagined bonfires and inside jokes, sunsets by the water, slow mornings in a warm bed.

Back then, this trip had felt like the light at the end of a very long tunnel. Something to look forward to. Something certain.

Now, you can barely keep the dread from crawling up your throat.

“You sure you’re good?” Kiara asks again, gentler this time.

You blink, pulled back to the present. “Yeah. Just... a lot on my mind.”

Again, she doesn’t push. Just gives you a side glance and says, “Well, don’t overthink it. We’ve got a whole week of sun, overpriced cocktails, and probably at least one group fight. You’ll be fine.”

You offer a small smile. “Yeah, you're right. I’ll be fine.”

But your stomach’s still a mess, and the name you’ve been avoiding thinking about drags itself right back to the front of your mind.

Jungkook.

You haven’t seen him in a month.

Not since it ended.

And in about an hour, you’re going to be standing under the same roof as him — spending an entire week in the same space, breathing the same air, pretending it doesn’t feel like your insides are still bruised from the last time you spoke.

A small, irrational part of you hopes he won’t show. That something will come up. That he’ll decide it’s not worth it.

But you know him. He’ll be there.

Of course he will.

Kiara says something — probably teasing, probably meant to distract you — and you laugh on instinct. Keep the smile on your face, even as dread pools low in your gut.

This was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime.

You glance out the window again, the road narrowing in the distance.

Now, a part of you can't stop looking for the nearest exit.

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taglist | click here to join: @thegreatdepressionme

[steddieas-shegoes]

ride out the storm

for @steddiemicrofic inspired by this amazing art by @ahhrenata

rated t | 453 words | no cw | tags: steve has migraines, modern au, college student steve, domestic fluff, established relationship, living together

🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️

It’s a bad day. Eddie knows it the moment his eyes open and Steve’s hair is in his mouth. He runs hot at night, so they almost never wake up cuddled together unless Steve’s had a nightmare or he already woke up once and has a migraine.

He hears rolling thunder in the distance. Rain hits the window. Lightning flashes.

Steve always gets a migraine when it storms.

Steve shuffles around until he’s facing Eddie, one arm under his head. He fell asleep in his regular clothes last night, too exhausted from a long day of classes and swim practice.

Eddie looks over his features, wishes he could take away his stress, his pain, make everything okay.

They’ll just have to ride it out, though.

He presses his lips to Steve’s as softly as he can, smirking when Steve sighs and his forehead loses the worry line.

“Love you so much,” Eddie whispers as he rests his head back against the pillow, lays an arm over Steve’s back, and closes his eyes.

****

When he wakes again, Steve’s awake, playing with the sleeve of Eddie’s sweater. His eyes are closed, but he’s definitely awake.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers in case he’s still in migraine mode.

“Hey, baby,” Steve replies, voice raspy from sleep, but a normal volume. The migraine must be mostly gone. “We slept late.”

“You needed it.” Eddie yawns. “Head hurt still?”

“Not so bad.”

“Good,” Eddie leans in to kiss him, a quick peck before he has to get up and get them food and leave for class. “Looks like it’s still raining. Need a ride to class?”

“Think I might skip.”

“You? Mr. Perfect Attendance?” Eddie gasps, but laughs the second Steve hits him with a pillow. “Because of the headache?”

“Yeah. And I could use a day to catch up on studying. Robin’s gonna take notes for me,” Steve explains. “Want me to make breakfast?”

“No, sweetheart,” Eddie sits up. “You rest. Take the day. I’ll bring you toast and eggs.”

Steve winces. “Just toast?”

“Got it.”

****

By the time Eddie got back home that afternoon, the rain had let up, but the clouds hadn’t quite parted to let the sun shine. Steve is still in bed, glasses on while he looks between his textbook, his notebook, and his laptop. His hair’s a mess, probably from running his hands through it while he studied.

He crawls into bed carefully, resting his head in Steve’s lap. Steve’s hand cards through his hair while he mutters to himself about something on a chart. Eddie watches him closely, somehow falls even more in love.

Eventually, he stops and looks down at Eddie. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Better now.”

“Mine too.”

[remmys]

🎃 TFTOBER 2024 !!

Hey there!! I really wanted to participate in an October prompt list, but seeing as I've been really hooked on TF2 for this entire year, I figured it would be fun to do a TF2 themed list!!

If you participate, feel free to tag your posts w/ #tftober !!! I'd love to see what other people do <3 This list should be perfectly doable for any medium (art, writing, sfm, etc!)

Below the cut is a list of all the prompts with some extra flavor text/ideas! Things are kept vague in a typical drawing prompt fashion

DAY 1 - Main

Who's your main? Who do you play most often?

DAY 2 - Hats!

It's not called a glorified hat simulator for nothing! There's plenty of cosmetics at your fingertips in the game!

DAY 3 - Relationships

Everyone knows someone. Whether it's a family member, a friend, a lover, or even an arch nemesis!

DAY 4 - Pyrovision

Put on the goggles and take a look at things with a new perspective!

DAY 5 - Battlefield

Probably where a mercenary spends most of their time

DAY 6 - On Break

Battles don't rage on forever. You've gotta take a break eventually

DAY 7 - Offense

The front lines. The moving force

DAY 8 - Defense

The back lines. Makes sure nobody gets too far

DAY 9 - Support

Everything in between! Perhaps even the foundations of some teams

DAY 10 - Teamwork

It's not called TEAM Fortress for nothing, right?

DAY 11 - Fem Fortress

Happy Friday! Give some love to the girls!

DAY 12 - Free Space

Draw, write, or SFM to your heart's content! Do whatever you'd like!

DAY 13 - Respawn

Nobody stays dead.

DAY 14 - Capture the Flag

That briefcase isn't going to steal itself!

DAY 15 - Backstab

Should've checked behind you.

DAY 16 - Mann vs Machine

Guns and bullets or nuts and bolts? Who knows what could be running through those metallic minds...

DAY 17 - Expiration Date

Teleportation and bread. What else can I say?

DAY 18 - Headcannons

Think a little deeper. What do you just know has got to be true about the mercenaries?

DAY 19 - At home

Everyone comes from somewhere. Everyone has a home.

DAY 20 - Headshot

Looks like you stood a little bit too still.

DAY 21 - Alternate Universe

Emesis Blue? Lil' Pootis? A universe where the mercenaries are all alligators? The world is your oyster.

DAY 22 - Australium

A divine and valued substance rarer than gold

DAY 23 - Administrator

There's more to a war than just the fighters

DAY 24 - Pets

Some people have a soft spot for certain animals. Others choose to keep theirs around 24/7.

DAY 25 - Injury

An inevitability of war

DAY 26 - Control Points

A constant back and fourth

DAY 27 - Comics

Ink, panels, and pages. A story through words and pictures.

DAY 28 - Custom Class

Is nine really enough to cover everyone needed in a war? Probably not!

DAY 29 - Ubercharge

A miracle of medicine

DAY 30 - Sentry

Sometimes the best way to get good aim is to not be the one aiming

DAY 31 - Scream Fortress

Happy Halloween! Scream out to your heart's content and enjoy the spooks of the night!

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reaction to catching you masturbating

Request: hii! I absolutely love your svt reactions so I have a request for you!! would you be comfortable writing smth like "svt catching you masturbate" ? thank you so much already!!

A/N: I kept the relationship between the reader and the member ambiguous in some parts, while in others, it’s more evident that they’re in a relationship. So yeah, little mix of both! Added smut tag just cause of the topic...

Content: Suggestive MDNI! Nothing too graphic at all, but still, minors, don’t interact. Be good, okay?

Seungcheol: At first, he’s stunned. Freezes in place, eyes widening as he processes what he just walked into. But then that smirk creeps onto his lips. “Did you get too impatient, baby?” he teases, stepping closer. He’d love to take over, but he also respects your space, so he leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching with dark amusement. “I could help, but this is kinda fun to watch too.” Yeah, yeah, Ik I don’t write voyeurism, but this is just how it felt for Seungcheol, okay? It’s got voyeuristic elements, sure, but it’s not strict voyeurism—it’s all consensual, playful, and definitely not secretive. It’s less sneaky peeking and more teasing dynamics in intimacy

Jeonghan: He lives for this moment. He doesn’t just walk in—he leisurely strolls in, leans against the wall, and takes in the scene with that infuriatingly smug expression. “Well, well, well… having fun without me?” He enjoys teasing you until you’re a flustered mess. Loves getting under your skin, enjoying every moment of your embarrassment. He might even pretend to leave just to see if you'll call him back. If you do, he’s all in, but you’ll have to prove just how much you want him to join and once you prove it, his hands will be on you in an instant.

Joshua: He wants to be polite. His first instinct is to look away, muttering a flustered, “Oh my God, I—sorry! I didn’t mean to—” But then he realizes exactly what you’re doing and… yeah, now he’s not looking away anymore. His voice drops as he slowly approaches, “You don’t have to do that alone, you know.” His fingers gently guide you, helping you as he closes the distance between your bodies. And suddenly, his usual sweet smile is replaced as his hands move with purpose.

Jun: Jun’s first reaction is Pure Curiosity™. “Oh? What’s going on here?” He tilts his head, watching you with a fascinated look like he’s studying a piece of art. He doesn’t get flustered—if anything, he’s intrigued. After a beat, he grins, “Should I go, or should I join?” He steps closer, "So, what are you waiting for?" he asks, a mischievous grin forming on his lips. He slowly reaches out, his fingers brushing against your skin as if to test the waters. He's teasing, but there's a daring edge to it now. After a beat of silent tension, he pulls back slightly, letting the moment linger. "If you're not going to make the first move," he whispers, "I will."

Hoshi: You hear a GASP. He SLAMS the door shut behind him—but he’s still inside the room. “OH MY GOD—” His hands are on his head, pacing like he just witnessed something forbidden. “I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING—Wait, should I leave?! DO YOU WANT ME TO LEAVE??” Eventually, he gathers himself, but his ears are still burning red. “…Or, um, do you want me to… stay?” He glances back at you, and the sight makes him freeze once more. His face is still flushed, but there's a resolve in his eyes now. Okay, okay, he mumbles, walking over to you like he's still unsure if he's making the right decision. "Do you need help?" Without waiting for an answer, he reaches for you, his hands hesitant but gentle.

Wonwoo: At first, he stops dead in his tracks. Doesn’t say a word, just blinks as his brain malfunctions. And then he simply backs up, slowly closing the door. But now he can’t get the image out of his head. Later that day, you catch him looking at you from across the room, his eyes full of teasing smirk. "Couldn't wait for me, huh?" he whispers when you're alone, leaning close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath. His fingers graze your wrist, and then without missing a beat, he starts to kiss his way down your neck. The tension is palpable, and this time, he's in control. He's not waiting anymore.

Woozi: Immediately turns bright red. “I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING.” Tries to flee, but his feet won’t move. His brain is fighting itself, one part is screaming at him to leave, while the other part is very much enjoying the view. The initial fluster has him rooted to the spot, but eventually, the attraction takes over. He mumbles, “…Do you want help or not?” It takes everything in him to ask, but once he does, it's game over for you. His voice is low, almost shy, but it carries a command that makes your heart race. When you nod, he wastes no time, his hands finding yours with a tensed grip. His touch is tentative at first, but soon, he's all in, his lips finding yours with a passion that he hadn't let himself show before.

Dokyeom: Screams. Trips over his own feet. Panics. “I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING—I MEAN I DID, BUT I—SHOULD I—WHAT—” He’s so flustered it’s almost adorable. Once he finally calms down, he fidgets and mumbles, “…Do you want me to, um, help?” His ears are red, but his eyes are hopeful. As he approaches you, he seems to forget his earlier panic, his hands now reaching for you, "I-I think I can help,” he stammers again, but this time, he doesn't hesitate. His hands are firm on your shoulders, and he pulls you closer, his gentleness surprising you as his lips press against yours, his hands tracing every curve of your body with an intensity he didn't expect. Give my man sex pls.

Mingyu: Gasps so loudly you’d think he’s the one getting caught. “OH—OH MY—” He doesn’t know whether to leave, apologize, or combust on the spot. You have to tell him what to do, or he’ll stand there, frozen. But once his brain finally catches up...he’s more than ready to make up for lost time and before you know it, he's at your side. "Okay, okay," he says, shaking off his earlier surprise. "I get it now." He steps closer, placing his hands on your hips as he leans in with, "Don't worry, I'm here to make it better," he assures, but you can see the mischief in his eyes. He's up to no good. His hands guide you to where he wants you, all the while his touch slowly becomes more possessive, staking his claim.

Minghao: Completely unbothered. Doesn’t even blink. He doesn't rush, simply closes the door behind him with a soft click. His eyes never leave yours, and his voice is smooth as he steps closer. "If you needed something, you could've asked," he says adding, “Do you want to keep going, or should I take over?” and he takes over. He doesn't wait for you to answer, he pulls you into his arms, his kiss urgent but controlled. "You've already started," he murmurs against your lips, his hands quickly shedding your inhibitions as he shows you exactly how it should be done.

Seungkwan: Gasps like he just walked into a crime scene. “EXCUSE ME?!” He immediately turns away, covering his eyes. After his initial freak-out, “So, uh... can I help now?" he asks, his voice low-key shy but high-key teasing lol. You could tell he's adjusting his pants but when you give him that look, his confidence blossoms. He's no longer the embarrassed mess he was at first. Slowly, sensually, seductively he approaches you, his hands growing bolder as he finally touches you. His kisses come faster now, each one more urgent than the last as he makes sure you feel every moment..

Vernon: Pauses. Blinks. Says, “Oh.” And that’s it. But while he looks unbothered, his brain is actually short-circuiting. Stares for a second too long before he clears his throat and casually says, “Need a hand?” as if he’s offering to carry groceries. Yeah, he’s definitely into it. He sits down next to you, his hands light as he takes the lead, guiding your movements with authority. There's a calm to him, but his touch speaks volumes as he watches you closely, reading your every reaction. He's patient-waiting for you to tell him what you want next, while making sure you enjoy the moment with him.

Dino: Immediate panic. “OH—uh—SORRY—” His hands go up defensively, but he doesn’t actually leave. At first, he's unsure of what to do, but then his confidence kicks in, “…Wait. If you’re in the mood, then why am I over here?” he asks, his voice now a little more assertive. His hands slide up your arms, moving you toward him. "Let me show you how it's done,” he adds, his tone full of playful arrogance as he leans in, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His movements are confident now, as if this is exactly where he was meant to be all along.

[hivemuthur]

hihihihi i literally love ur writing smmmm like i actually need it sb. any time you post ik it’s gonna be peak literature 🙂‍↕️

anyhowwww, i wanted to request an arcane fic with a university au viktor x reader where viktor and reader are like academic rivals or wtv and they’re always bickering but viktor rlly wants to be her friend and doesn’t want to be rivals. sooo he tries like anything he can and as reader eventually warms up to him another guy comes along (maybe jayce or smth idk? or it can just be a random) and becomes their friend like almost instantly and viktor is JEALOUSSSS and envious and just ufhfhhffhhfghhf i need that sb.

it can be nsfw or sfw i literally do not care i just need that plot paired with your writing and ik it’s gonna be an absolute masterpiece.

Hey, love! You know what I'm gonna say, right? Sorry for the long wait. This will have 3 chapters, like for real, not like the other one that now is looking more like 5. I'm gonna say a few things got changed here, because I forgot the essence of the request while writing, but the general message is: Viktor is bad at flirting.

Tightrope - Ch. 1.

viktorxfemale!reader mature (overall explicit), frenemies/academic rivals to lovers, modern university AU

Ch.2. | Ch.3.

word count: 5,9K

tag: #tightrope

summary: You and Viktor are tethering the line between friendship and rivalry, Jayce being one amongst the few common factors you both acknowledge (of course more is there but for the smart people you are, you tend to be very stupid about things). Oh, and you have to do a project together.

author's note: I have a very poor name vocabulary sorry. Here's another Joe, this time he's a dude :v thank you @rennethen for beta reading and bearing through my shit with such grace. One trick pony here we go!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

You squint as your eyes scan the list of projects for Heimerdinger’s class. And since the professor is just and fair, like a nice old man who has seen it all, you already know what to expect. But you check anyway.

He wouldn’t pair you—the almost top-of-the-class student, fighting desperately with your feet and elbows to stay there—with someone undeserving. This little annoying thing in the back of your head called hope still glows faintly, last embers about to die as you’ve read through almost all names known to you except for yours.

And as a bucket of cold water gets thrown over the ashen pieces of coal, you find it. And oh—

Of course. Next to it, your least favourite name. Of course, just… great. This is great. This is fine.

The last time you worked together, it ended with a lot of papercuts, pencils flying, and Jayce using notebooks and blackboards as shields—not to mention a tiny explosion because neither of you could agree on proportions.

So, like the responsible classmate you are, you make one final, desperate attempt to convince the nice little man to change your partner. For the sake of public safety and the well-being of everyone who steps foot on Academy grounds.

You are also nice and well-behaved, so even though the door to the classroom is open, you knock on the doorframe before disturbing the professor.

“Ah! I would lie if I said I wasn’t expecting you to show up. Please, come in!” he exclaims, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes in sheer existential pain. If he already knows what you want, you already know how this is going to go.

Still, you press forward, stepping inside and clasping your hands behind your back in what you hope is a diplomatic stance. “Professor, I was wondering if—by any chance, purely hypothetically—there’s a possibility to switch partners for the project?”

Heimerdinger folds his arms behind his back, looking up at you with the kind of patient amusement that makes you feel like a child asking for extra dessert before finishing dinner. “Ah, yes. I was almost certain you’d ask that,” he says, nodding sagely. “And before you say anything else, I do hope you won’t drop out of my class if I say no.”

You open your mouth, ready to assure him that you would never be so dramatic—except that’s exactly what you were about to say, just in different words.

Before you can recover, Heimerdinger raises a hand and continues. “This project is worth thirty percent of your final mark,” he states, his voice gentle but firm. “I am, of course, aware of the... tension between you and Viktor.” His moustache twitches slightly, betraying a hint of amusement. “However, I must ensure fairness in all assignments. There will be no one riding on someone else’s back in my class.”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “Professor, with all due respect, we nearly set a classroom on fire last time—”

“The most beautiful diamonds,” he interjects, tilting his head with a knowing smile, “are shaped under pressure.”

You stare at him, jaw tight. He stares back, completely at ease.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

“I—” you gulp on air, searching for words. Finally, a breath of surrender escapes you and you deflate completely, saying only, “Thank you for your time.”

Seeing your sagged chest and fingers grasping the edge of your notebook tightly, Heimerdinger offers you a consolation. “I know I seem ancient to you, child. But trust me when I say, I do remember what it’s like to be young, and a little bit of friendly rivalry can be transformed into something truly groundbreaking. Think Newton and Hooke! Tesla and Edison! Bohr and Einstein! All of them were in quandaries that led to further discoveries!”

While Heimerdinger lists off pairs of rival geniuses, completely different names surface in your mind, unspoken but undeniable. Verlaine and Rimbaud. Love and Cobain. Sid and Nancy. Bonnie and Clyde. You are convinced those are the dynamics that loom over you and Viktor—just without all the feelings, of course.

And if only you were just competitors, like Bohr and Einstein, things would be so much simpler.

From the very first meeting, Viktor had been cold and reserved, his sharp tongue laced with enough venom to wither anyone foolish enough to challenge him. But if there was one thing you had to do to stay afloat in this sea of STEM sausages, it was dare. And challenge.

You still remember that moment vividly. How you almost stumbled when Jayce introduced you—because gods, he was gorgeous. An angular face that looked carved from marble, warm amber eyes framed by a fall of auburn hair. A boy so unfairly pretty that, had you met him a few years earlier, you would have fallen hard.

Your eyes swept him from head to toe before you slipped your hand into his, and for a single, traitorous moment, something fluttered in your chest. A rush of warmth, unexpected and unfamiliar.

Then you blurted out your name with an embarrassing stutter—

And the magic shattered the second Viktor opened his sweet mouth.

"Charmed," he drawled, but the dryness in his voice suggested the opposite. His gaze flicked over you in a quick, assessing glance before he tilted his head towards Jayce. "Is she another one of your projects, or does she actually know what she’s doing?"

The warmth in your chest evaporated instantly, replaced by a sharp spike of irritation.

Oh. Oh. So that’s how this was going to go.

With a weak smile, you thank Professor Heimerdinger, and your mind is so out of it that you almost curtsy—which you hastily disguise as an awkward bow. Nearly stumbling over your own feet, you literally fall out of the classroom, colliding with something big and solid.

“Careful there! Hi, oh—” A surprised voice reaches your ears, followed by a strong arm steadying you. “Hi there. Hi, um. You alright?”

Either he’s a halfwit or completely smitten with you, because his articulation leaves much to be desired. Not that you're one to judge, given your current coordination.

“Hi, sorry. Just a small… miscalculation.” You smile sheepishly and extend your hand out of habit, instinctively introducing yourself to your unexpected saviour. After all, that’s how you met Jayce.

“I’m Joe,” he says in one breath, your much smaller hand completely disappearing in his massive palm. “It’s nice to meet you.” He chuckles, a blush blooming across his cheeks—so unabashed, his eyes glinting—and oh.

Nice, you catch yourself thinking in the most obscene, ludicrous way as you zero in on his chest, the tight team T-shirt clinging to it.

“Eh, it’s nice to meet you too.” You grin, nodding, and blink stupidly, batting your eyelashes, not entirely sure what’s happening.

Before you get a chance to unglue the dumbfounded smile from your face and actually say something more, Jayce’s voice rings through the corridor, your name echoing off the walls.

“There you are! Oops! Making new friends? Don’t mind her, this is her love language.”

Jayce—the oblivious Jayce, a man so naïve it would never cross his mind what he is doing to someone you literally just met thirty seconds ago. Mortification is too weak a word to describe what you feel inside.

“Jayce!” You smack his chest and shake your head in disbelief. “Don’t mind him, he’s an ass.”

And as if poor Joe doesn’t have enough on his plate already, another voice bombards him, and you’re certain he’s beginning to regret ever catching you.

“Hello. Are you a new face in Heimerdinger’s class?” Viktor asks, wearing that redundant smirk, his voice stretching into a deliberate, chewy, gross thing that makes you scowl. Just outright cruel.

“Heh, no, I just happened to catch your friend,” Joe answers without missing a beat. “And… I was hoping I could get her number.”

And that just. Does it.

You nod faster than you think, already reaching for his phone, clumping your number in there with sticky, shaky fingers and a stupid blush creeping up your neck. You avoid Jayce’s and Viktor’s eyes, but oh boy, you can feel both pairs drilling into you almost viscerally. Viktor’s especially—those fucking yellow embers burning right through you from under furrowed brows.

You flash Joe one last smile and a very awkward, very hurried, “Call me,” not knowing what has gotten into you. Then you let Jayce sweep you away toward your usual route to the cafeteria, while Viktor strolls behind, full of graceful disdain.

“So, I saw the tables, and…” Jayce clears his throat, chattering into your ear. “I’ve seen the pairs! We can share a lab, I’m paired with Sky!”

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh and pat his shoulder—a touch saying more than a thousand words. Words that say how much you can’t wait for another round of throwing objects at Viktor, while Jayce scrambles to catch anything that might hurt Sky.

“Oh, are you not happy about the distribution of projects?” Viktor asks, a small smile playing at his lips.

“The project is fine. The distribution… I’m sure you understand.” You throw him an acidic smirk, your eyes empty of any emotion save for one slow blink. Neural Interface for Prosthetics is actually an incredibly good project—Heimerdinger got you there, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Well, maybe you could be just a little more grateful had he paired you with Jayce or Sky.

“Eh, you will forgive me, but I do not.” Viktor pauses and looks at you—challenging you. And you really hate it, because it works. “I do not wish to have the project jeopardized by something silly, as the topic itself aligns with my interests.”

“I’m sure the feeling is mutual, Viktor. Can we please eat? I am about to eat one of you if we don’t go to the cafeteria right now,” you sigh, exasperated, and your stomach growls to support your claim.

“You can eat me!” Jayce lands face down between your bickering, and you just laugh, completely disarmed.

Once you finally sit down, Viktor simply opens a book next to his tray, ignoring both you and Jayce completely—obviously sulking about something. Jayce, on the other hand, takes massive bites of his sandwich, staring at you intensely, as if willing you to spill the tea. When that doesn’t work, he speaks.

“So… who’s the new guy?” he elbows you playfully and you can barely understand him with his mouth full. But his eyes say it all—he is dying to know.

"Jayce, you’re so transparent I almost can’t see you. Where are you, Jayce? Where did you go?" You wave your hands around dramatically. He almost chokes. Viktor scoffs, unimpressed, barely glancing up from his book as he stirs sweetmilk into his coffee.

Once the immediate hazard of death by choking is under control, Jayce flashes one of those earnest grins—one that practically screams what a good person he is, full of pure intentions. "Oh, shut up. He seems nice, and I’m curious."

"He’s just a guy, nothing more," you hum, taking a sip of your coffee. And even though you have no idea if that little encounter will go anywhere, you can’t resist adding a pin. "Yet."

Viktor looks like he is holding back a scoff, so he just turns the page in his book with a violent sweep.

"Well… do you like him?" Jayce presses, oblivious to the tension at the table. He’s just such a gossip girl.

You let out an incredulous laugh. "Are you alright? Why are you so interested?"

Jayce shrugs. "I don’t know, I always thought you’d end up with someone of equal… interests?" Intelligence is what he really means. But that would be cruel. Just because a guy plays rugby doesn’t mean he’s brain damaged. Surely.

"Oh please, I hate STEM bros." You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms with an air of finality, as if that settles the matter. You do hate STEM bros. They are full of themselves, have no respect for women and look down on you.

Jayce raises an eyebrow, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. "Erm… you are a STEM bro."

Viktor finally looks up from his book, watching you with the barest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

You gasp, pressing a hand to your chest as if mortally offended. "Jayce Talis! I am a lady! Not a bro!"

That is Viktor’s cue. “I don’t think that lack of testicles classifies you as a lady instantly,” he says in a deadpan voice.

And you don’t know what pushes your stupid mind to say it. Is it just muscle memory—your tongue snapping back whenever you talk to Viktor—or an actual intention to say something mean to him? You really don’t know. In one breath, you say, voice equally dead to his, “Of course not. If that were the case, you’d classify as a lady as well,” and watch the chaos unravel.

None of that happens, though. The underwhelming events carry on in painfully slow motion—Jayce’s eyes widening so much there’s a real threat they might never close again, while Viktor gulps his coffee with an agonisingly slow bob of his Adam’s apple. It’s only when he’s done that you realise he was fighting not to choke on it—because the next moment, he bursts into laughter, covering his face with his hand.

Jayce exhales the breath he was holding and laughs as well—you’re not sure if it’s at your joke or simply at the sight of Viktor laughing so openly, an event so rare it shouldn’t go uncherished. Despite yourself, you grin. Indeed, Viktor’s face—his eyes squeezed shut to the point of a tear slipping from beneath his long lashes, smile lines filling out his hollowed cheeks, his teeth bared in an uninhibited cackle—is a sight to behold.

The stupid thing in your chest stutters, as Viktor wheezes and lowers his hand to rest on yours. “Remind me to never cross you again. Merciless is an understatement,” he says, barely, with a really warm smile and you find yourself blushing again, for the second time in a mere hour. Because of two different boys.

And as any moment made of pure magic in the history of magical moments, this one doesn’t last either. It gets violently interrupted by a buzz of your phone on the table.

If you wanna take a stroll, I have a free period now :) We can meet by the fountain. Joe, in case you wonder who this is :)

And your blush deepens. You calculate options in your mind and soon decide on the what the hell one. “I’m gonna scram boys. See you in the lab after class?”

“Yes. Please bring the less… distracted version of yourself if you can,” Viktor states and all the warmth evaporates from him at once. Back to the usual version of himself—sharp wit, balancing on the verge of cutting.

As you mumble an absent, “I’ll do my best,” and wave them goodbye, Jayce returns to his sandwich and sighs knowingly.

“You know… wouldn’t kill you to be a little bit nicer,” Jayce says, leaning forward on his elbows. His voice is casual, but there’s an edge of curiosity beneath it, like he’s prodding at something fragile just to see if it will break.

“This is me being nice,” Viktor replies in a neutral tone, lifting his coffee to his lips. The steam curls around his face as he takes a slow sip, his expression unmoving. He is being nice. He is trying to be nice. It’s just sometimes completely impossible to be nice to you when you get like this. Distracted. He scoffs to himself. It’s a strange friendship you have there, but it’s a friendship nevertheless—or so he likes to think.

Jayce studies him, his gaze sharp despite the lazy way he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. “No, that is just you being… well, you,” he says bluntly, tilting his head as if he’s considering whether to push further. “Being a dick is not a way to a lady’s heart.”

Viktor arches a brow, unimpressed. “Excuse me, but have we experienced the same scene? I was the one being offended and laughed it off like a gentleman, thank you.” He gestures vaguely with his cup, his fingers tightening just slightly around the ceramic.

Jayce narrows his eyes. “Then why are you so annoyed in the first place?”

“I am not annoyed,” Viktor states flatly, setting his coffee down with a little more force than necessary. He smooths his hands over his sweater as he rises from his seat, already turning away before Jayce can open his mouth again. “I am great. I am so great, in fact, that I will go and start working on that project. See you, Jayce.”

And then he just strides off, his cane tapping against the floor, leaving Jayce mid-sentence with his mouth open, eyes blinking slowly.

Of course, he is not annoyed. Maybe only slightly—and only because you’ve somehow managed to gain another distraction in your life right before you were about to start working on the biggest project of the year. And it’s just, well, fucking annoying.

***

When you glance at your watch, you yelp and press a hand to your forehead. “Fucking hell,” you mutter under your breath before breaking into a sprint toward the lab.

Viktor is going to kill you—especially since there’s no way to prove you were caught up in something important.

Because, well, you weren’t. It was Joe who took up all your time this afternoon. And he is… surprisingly nice. And smart.

You hadn’t expected that.

What started as a casual conversation somehow stretched into something far longer, the minutes slipping away unnoticed. He had opinions on films—actual opinions, not just generic statements about “liking action movies.” He had read some of the same books as you and even suggested a few you begrudgingly admitted sounded interesting. Sports came up, of course, but he spoke about them with a self-awareness that made it bearable. And when the conversation dipped into politics, he didn’t say anything that made you want to throw your coffee in his face. That alone was impressive.

It was… weirdly comfortable. Easy, even. Even when he lingered.

Joe’s gaze held onto you a second longer than necessary, like he was memorising the way you looked when you laughed. And when he hugged you goodbye, his arms stayed around you for just a breath too many. The slow way he untangled himself from you made it clear that if you hadn’t pulled away first, he wouldn’t have been the one to let go.

Shaking off the last remnants of Joe from your thoughts, you push through the heavy lab doors with a hurried stumble, your breath still uneven from the rush.

“Sorry, I’m late, guys—” The words die in your throat as you take in the empty room.

Only Viktor.

He stands at the workbench, sleeves pushed up, hands meticulously adjusting the placement of various tools and notes. At the sound of your voice, he pauses but doesn’t turn around immediately. The rhythmic ticking of the clock fills the silence, marking the seconds you take to process the situation.

No Jayce. No Sky. Just Viktor, and the sharp scent of metal and oil clinging to the air.

“Glad you could make it,” he remarks, finally turning his head just enough to glance at you. His voice is even, but something about it feels... off. You can’t tell if he’s irritated or merely stating a fact. Maybe both.

“Sorry,” you sigh, setting your things down with a thud. “I lost track of time.”

“With your new himbo.” It isn’t a question.

You hesitate for a fraction of a second. “Yes. And his name is Joe, Viktor, not a new himbo.”

Viktor hums—a short, unimpressed sound—and resumes his work, carefully aligning a set of blueprints. Somehow, his silence feels louder than an argument.

“Okay,” you say hesitantly, more to yourself than to him, or rather into the empty space between you and Viktor, which seems to be expanding with each passing second.

“And where are Jayce and Sky?”

“They managed to sketch out the roadmap for themselves in the time you spent with Joe and decided they needed the library for further planning,” Viktor replies flatly, still not looking at you. The way he deliberately keeps his gaze averted only emphasises how much has been accomplished in your presumably very long moment of indulgence. How nice.

“Alright, would you like me to crucify myself, or do you want the honours?” Impatience gets the better of you, and you fold your arms tightly across your chest.

At that, Viktor’s hands still over the workbench. His head tilts ever so slightly in your direction, though his gaze remains fixed on the floor, as if acknowledging you fully would be a waste of effort.

“I am merely stating a fact,” he says, his voice low, clipped. “This is more important than some affairs, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, really, Viktor?” You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “And here I thought thirty percent of my grade was worth sacrificing for some sloppy making out—but thank you so much for finally making me see the error of my ways.”

That makes him look.

And he is angry.

His head snaps up, eyes narrowing, gears visibly grinding in his mind as he weighs whether you’re just riling him up or—God forbid—whether you actually have made out with Joe.

His jaw tightens. “Just get to work already, will you?”

You say nothing, only flash him an acrid smile before reaching for your goggles on the workbench.

The two of you work in almost deafening silence, broken only by the occasional exchange of necessary questions and answers. You retrieve materials while Viktor arranges the workspace, and you scribble down the general plan on the blackboard, the tension in the air palpable.

Each time the chalk screeches against the surface, Viktor visibly winces, hissing under his breath and sinking his head between his shoulders in an exaggerated display of agony.

You roll your eyes but say nothing.

“Could you maybe try a little harder to make it less cacographic?” he mutters, irritation creeping into his voice.

The suddenness of it startles you just as you’re making another stroke, and the chalk lets out a bone-chilling whine against the board.

Viktor flinches violently, covering his ears. “For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, voice muffled behind his palms. “Let me do it.” He steps forward, reaching for the chalk without hesitation.

You anticipate the move, tucking your arm behind your back in defiance. A childish gesture, maybe, but if he’s going to be an ass about it, you’re not about to make it easy for him.

He doesn’t stop. He closes the distance between you in a few sharp steps, his expression taut with frustration. Before you can react, his fingers wrap around your wrist—tight, unrelenting. He pries your hand forward and gives a firm shake, forcing your fingers to unclench until the chalk drops neatly into his waiting palm.

A sharp twinge shoots up your arm. It’s not painful exactly, but it’s close enough to make you wince.

Snatching your hand back, you massage your wrist, eyes narrowing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

For a brief second, something flickers across Viktor’s face—regret, maybe. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, buried beneath the same rigid composure he always wears like armour. He doesn’t apologise. Doesn’t even acknowledge it. Instead, he turns to the board and begins writing, his tone stripped of anything resembling warmth.

“I want to wrap this up before tomorrow,” he says flatly, chalk gliding across the surface with sharp, efficient strokes. “And you are being thoroughly incompetent. I told you to bring yourself not distracted.”

You let out a sharp scoff. “Okay, I am so sorry I was late. I’ll stay longer and finish up whatever we don’t get done in time. But you are outdoing yourself in being a complete twat today.”

You don’t wait for a response. Instead, you march over to the workbench, hands immediately finding the prototype components. If you focus on the task, maybe you won’t be tempted to launch something at Viktor’s insufferable head.

“Oh please, I do not trust anything you do without supervision,” Viktor says, scribbling quietly on the board, somehow making a point out of it.

“Viktor, are you serious right now? We literally have the same grades,” you huff, leaning over the table to pick up the components you need. You do your best to tune him out—his bickering is only distracting, and you need to rewire the prototype from the previous project.

Overall, the task is simple enough. The device is built around an EEG-based neural interface—a system that reads electrical activity in the brain and translates it into signals that can control a mechanical limb. In practical terms, the user wears a headband fitted with electrodes that detect neural impulses associated with movement. These signals then travel through a processing unit, which refines the input before transmitting it to the prosthetic itself.

That’s the easy part. The rest, well.

The prototype you’re working on today is a refinement of an earlier model. The previous iteration had suffered from signal lag and inconsistent responsiveness—issues you’re hoping to correct by integrating a new set of circuits and refining the algorithm for noise reduction.

You grab the headband from the pile of equipment, turning it over in your hands. It should work just fine if you tweak the wiring to accommodate the new design. Without thinking too much about it, you start securing the circuits, fingers working on autopilot as you weave the delicate wires through the correct channels.

Or at least, you think they’re correct—until Viktor’s voice cuts through your focus again.

“Are you even listening to me? What are you doing?” His tone is sharp, irritated—like he’s already asked this more than once.

Your expression tightens as he strides over to the bench, clearly unimpressed. “I just rewired it. Nothing too complex,” you mutter, adjusting a loose wire before reaching for the power switch.

Viktor doesn’t look convinced. He picks up the headband, turning it over in his hands with a scrutinising gaze. “Nothing too complex,” he repeats dryly. “Yes, because neural interfaces are famously simple. I’d rather be sure. Show me.”

You roll your eyes but oblige, reaching over and flipping the switch.

The reaction is instant.

A sharp jolt cracks through the air, followed by a strangled, almost undignified yelp as Viktor jerks back, dropping the headband as if it has burned him. His entire body stiffens, fingers twitching violently for a brief second before he stumbles, gripping the workbench for support, blinking rapidly.

Your mouth falls open. “Oh—shit—Viktor—”

He exhales sharply, pressing a hand to his chest, his face twisted in a grimace. “Wonderful,” he grits out. “So that’s what you rewired.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” you mumble, rushing to him, ignoring the sharpness of his tone. Your hands instinctively cup his face as you lean in. He blinks, startled, his mouth parting at the sudden concern—your brows furrowed, eyes searching his face for any sign of lingering pain, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he says flatly. “You’ve electrocuted me.” His hands move to seize your wrists, but you twist away before he can. Your palms return to his face, fingers framing him gently, and Viktor’s breath hitches.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whisper, voice genuine. You are truly sorry, the worry overriding all the anger you had for him mere seconds ago. And Viktor has no idea how to react to this. He stands there, breath unsteady, before muttering, “I’m fine.”

You blink, straightening, and Viktor is almost ready to exhale in relief—until your hands shift again, this time pressing against his chest and back, cradling his heart between your palms. You stand beside him, hands firm but careful, instinct guiding you more than knowledge. You don’t even know if this is what you’re supposed to do for someone who’s been electrocuted, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

His heart thunders beneath your touch. The silence is so heavy you can hear yourself gulp on the lump in your throat. You don’t hate him that much, and you hope he knows it.

Finally, Viktor speaks, his breath still rattling. “Well, would you look at that. So there is kindness in your touch after all.” He tries to sound wicked, but there is no venom in his voice.

“Viktor, you bastard. When have I not been kind to you?” you respond playfully, your hands still pressed against him.

“Ah, well. When you implied my alleged castration is the first that comes to mind. But rest assured, my testicles are good and well. I’d show you, but I’m afraid someone has already filled this position in your life,” he trails off, slipping back into his seemingly unbothered attitude.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groan, rolling your eyes. Still, your fingers linger, as if trying to determine whether his heartbeat is elevated from the shock or something else entirely. Or is it always like this? You don’t dare to ask.

Viktor tilts his head, watching you. “What about?”

“Any of it. You make me fucking gag,” you scoff, finally sliding your hands off him.

“Not yet—but I could.”

You barely have time to register the shift before he catches your hand, his thumb pressing against your palm. A slight twitch makes your fingers curl around his.

“You could what?”

“Make you gag.” The words slip out just as a smirk blooms on his face, faster than he can think to stop either. He can’t tell if he regrets them immediately.

The figurative pin drops. A high-pitched whine rings in your ears. Viktor’s gaze is drilled into you, thumb still pressing into your palm.

Your eyes widen, but you don’t miss a beat. “Well, would you look at that. So there is kindness in you after all,” you murmur.

“Ah, for you. Only kindness, nothing else,” Viktor hums, his voice a low purr as his thumb idly circles the centre of your palm. His grip is loose enough that you could pull away, yet you don’t. His eyes flicker with something unreadable—something that makes your breath catch before you force yourself to scoff.

“Yeah, right.”

His smirk deepens. “When have I not been kind to you?”

“Like… ever?” You raise a brow, tilting your head as if you’re genuinely considering it. “You mock me. You think I’m outright stupid and don’t deserve my spot in class. You constantly correct me and fight me over solutions. You hate working with me, scoff at me, and laugh me out in front of Jayce. And Sky.”

Viktor clicks his tongue, his fingers squeezing yours ever so slightly. “Such is my love language.”

You huff and roll your eyes. “Oh, forget it.” You finally try to pull your hand away, but Viktor doesn’t let go just yet, his grip tightening for half a second before he releases you—only for his cane to hook lightly around your wrist, stopping you mid-motion.

“Wait.” His voice is softer now, coaxing. When you glance at him, there’s something else in his gaze, something warmer, but it’s masked beneath that ever-present air of a prank. “I almost died, you shouldn’t leave me.”

You gape at him. “Viktor—”

“Alright, alright! I surrender.” He chuckles, but there’s something breathless in it. His fingers twitch against his cane. “Wait. Please.”

The sudden plea stills you. Your heart stumbles over itself before you swallow and straighten your posture, crossing your arms in an attempt to shake the feeling off.

Viktor exhales, dragging a hand through his hair before returning his gaze to you. “I do not mock you or laugh you out. I simply jest—I do that with Jayce all the time. You should have noticed by now.”

You purse your lips, unimpressed.

“I do not correct you,” he continues, his voice lilting, as if this is all some grand performance. “I offer you my point of view. And I do not fight you—I simply enjoy some intellectual sparring. Not many can provide one that satisfies me.”

Your fingers twitch, nerves sparking beneath your skin at the way he says satisfies, but you ignore it. Instead, you level him with a flat stare.

“You’re just gaslighting me at this point, Viktor. At least give me a head start before you snap my neck with this thing one day.” You tap the end of his cane with a pointed look.

Viktor grins—slow, wicked. His weight shifts, allowing the cane to rest a little heavier against your wrist, his fingers curling just slightly around the handle.

“Oh, come now. That would be far too merciful.”

Your stomach flips, and you hate that it does.

“Are you going to be good to me now?” Viktor asks, his voice so low you barely hear it, but the weight of it settles deep in your chest.

He takes a step closer, and your breath catches when you feel it—his exhale, warm against your skin, ghosting over your lips. His fingers brush against your wrist, the same one he had seized not long ago. A touch that lingers.

“You have almost killed me, after all.” You watch his lips twisted in a smile you’ve never seen before. And it scares you for some reason.

“Stop this,” you say, firmer than you expected, yanking your hand away. You clutch it to your chest like a wound, like something fragile he might pry apart if given the chance.

Viktor tilts his head, eyes sharp with curiosity. “Why?”

Your throat tightens. “You know goddamn well why.” You take a step back, shaking your head, something bitter curling in your gut. “I am not your project, you dick.”

Viktor’s expression shifts—his smirk falters, lips parting slightly as if caught off guard. “Hey, that is not what I meant—”

But you don’t let him finish. You pivot on your heel, retreating towards the door, your pulse hammering in your ears. You need distance. The lab suddenly feels too small, the air too thick, charged with something neither of you were prepared for.

Behind you, Viktor’s voice follows, just a step behind. “Wait—”

You don’t.

The door swings shut behind you, and Viktor is left standing in the empty lab, staring after where you had just been.

A long exhale leaves him, and he runs a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath,

“Well, damn. That backfired.”

He frowns to himself, rolling his jaw as if trying to make sense of what just happened—of what he just did.

And for the first time in a long while, Viktor realises he doesn’t have a formula for this.