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indecisivemuch · 10 months ago

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Cupids in Converses

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Valentine's was rolling up. You and Luke played Cupid on Percy and Annabeth. But what if playing matchmakers gave both you guys and your unspoken feelings the nudge that you guys have always needed? (Fluff, friends to lovers, happy ending)

Warning: sort of cliché, but it's Valentines so.

Note: Valentines got me in the mood of writing something rom-com-ish. Let's just assume Luke wears red converses that looks like Maia in the show. Also, I've been incredibly busy so I kinda rushed through this one to post it on time for Valentines.

Word count: 4.1k (whoops)

February has always filled the air with some sort of sugary chemical. Everything seemed sweeter like a pink filter had been put over the world. Some may dislike the upcoming February holiday, but it was perhaps one of your favorite times of the year.

Why? You were somehow blessed with the skills of getting people together and nudging them just enough to cross the line they needed to. So far, you have managed to help six couples get together. With Valentine’s right around the corner, the urge to play cupid grew to the point it was itching your hands.

“Well, compared to the Chimera on Monday, Medusa on Sunday, could have been a lot worse,” Percy was quickly interrupted by Annabeth.

“Medusa was Saturday.”

“I thought Sunday?”

“No monsters on Sunday. Monday, you died in a river.” You squint your eyes at the conversation that Percy and Annabeth were having. The familiar bells rang in your head; you could practically hear them roaring at you.

“Right, so Medusa on Saturday…”

“Woah, guys, what’s this?” Luke interrupted. “When did you turn into an old married couple?” Percy and Annabeth both grew slightly flustered at the Hermes counselor’s words. Muttering a few things here and there, the two kids quickly excused themselves and walked off from you and Luke just to avoid the topic in general. You slowly turned towards Luke and peered up at him.

“Surely…” you spoke cryptically.

“Surely what?”

“Them!” you gestured to the direction that Percy and Annabeth had headed off to. You kicked a small rock with your Converse and watched it tumble away. “Surely we can give a little nudge?” you trailed off, bumping into Luke’s shoulder.

“You’re not seriously gonna play Cupid on them, right?”

“No, I’m not…because we are,” Luke let out a loud breath, hands on his hips as he peered down at you. However, you could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Sweet girl, I adore you, but why not let things run their course?” you hope he did not see the physical reaction over that nickname because, internally, your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh? And you’re telling me those six couples from before would have gotten together without me? You know I’m right about this kind of stuff. I can usually sense it. Besides, it’ll be fun, I promise.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Uhm…you get to spend time with me?” you decided to answer, grinning up at Luke when he gave you a feigned unimpressed look. “Please, besides, you and Percy are close, so it would help a lot. I already have a plan and I need your help for it.”

One look into your eyes, and Luke knew he was doomed. For some reason, you just can make him do anything you ask. Luke could feel the hands on his hips slowly slipping as he looked into your eyes.

“Fine.”

Stage 1: Get Percy to realize his feelings cause he’s blind as hell

It was midnight and everybody else was asleep except for you and Luke. The two of you were in the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible.

The two of you were making some fortune cookies for your plan. However, there was a tiny twist to the treat you two were making. You had personally printed out a couple of prompts that you wrote yourself in hopes they would nudge Percy into realizing his feelings.

“Really?’“Romance is in the air. What you’re looking for is right in front of you’?” Luke read out the small piece of paper that you printed. You pulled the cookies out of the oven when they were ready.

“It’s cliche and sort of obvious, but hey! It’ll work because it’s Percy I’m working with,” you quickly pulled the paper out of his hand to put it in the fortune cookie before folding it into shape and letting it cool down.

“Mhm. He’s gonna realize you’re trying to play cupid.”

“Are we talking about the same person? I doubt Percy would realize. Annabeth would, hence why I’m not trying this on her.”

Luke helped you out with a couple of other spare fortune cookies that you two intended to keep for yourselves.

“Alright, finally done,” you muttered, washing your hands. However, you were caught off guard when Luke dipped his hand in the bag of flour on the counter and smeared some on your cheek. Your mouth hung slightly at this, and you looked up at him challengingly. You wiped your hands with a hand towel, “Oh? Is that how we’re playing it?”

“...No…” Luke sheepishly replied, a grin growing on his face when he saw the look of mischief creeping on your face.

“Game on, Castellan,” with that, you dipped both of your hands in flour and chased after the tall boy, who was sprinting around the counter. You caught up with Luke and compromised by smearing flour onto the back of his shirt first. At your attack, he turned around and smeared some more across your face from your other cheek to the top of your nose. You immediately did it back to him.

“Ok, ok, I surrender,” he coughed in between quiet waves of laughter after you smeared some from his cheek down his neck, marking your last attack.

For a moment, Luke and you stood in silence, but when you two let the state of one another sink in, laughs echoed throughout the room again. Luke was able to stop his laughter first, though he was still wearing a wide grin. He washed the flour off his face and dried it with kitchen tissues as you muttered: “Oh, I wish I had a camera. I could practically blackmail you with that photo.”

“I have no doubt you would have never let me live that down,” while replying, Luke also approached you and started wiping the flour off your nose before moving to your cheeks. Your laughter slowly faded as your cheeks heated at the feeling of his hand on your skin. He was looking at you so tentatively. Callous hands - a reflection of his remarkable title as best swordsman - delicately holding your face as if you were the rarest diamond to exist.

Something about this moment felt so domestic. Luke allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that this is how it would feel like to be with you and share cute moments like these together. Luke unbeknownstly let out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in as he made eye contact with you.

However, the moment was interrupted by another camper who yelped upon seeing you two in the kitchen. The presence of another person caused you two to spring apart. “I’m so sorry, I’ll leave,” the camper muttered, clearly abandoning their plan of stealing food and sweets in the middle of the night. Luke coughed to break the silence.

“So what’s the plan after giving it to Percy?” Luke asked, looking down at the fortune cookies before picking one up and munching on it.

“Hopefully, he’ll finally realize his feelings, and when he does…Percy will come to you, for sure.”

Stage 2: Romantic gesture

You were right, Percy came to Luke for dating advice. As you planned, Luke suggested that Percy make a flower crown for Annabeth. Hence, here the Hermes counselor was - with Percy as he picked out flowers for Annabeth.

"I'm gonna need you to guide me on this 'cause I've never made flower crowns before," Percy muttered as he picked out California Poppins, Annabeth's favorite. Luke grinned at this. He found it interesting how the young boy already knew. "Maybe you could make one for someone special too?" Percy said, his voice somewhat unsure.

At the young boy's words, Luke froze. The first person that seemed to pop into his mind when Percy said that was you.

"I mean, might as well, right? It's for Valentine's. Maybe you could give it to someone who means a lot to you and makes you happy?" Percy spoke, though there was something instigative about his tone.

Happy. The word bounced in between the walls of Luke's mind. Once again, the first thing that flashed in his head was you. Then, a surge of images came running from memories of you two. He almost could not remember happiness before you. A warm feeling embedded in his chest as he pictured your smile. Just seeing you happy seemed to do it for him, like you could spread happiness to him by just looking at him. You were like the first glimmer of daylight after a cold night. He subconsciously smiled at that thought.

You have always made him feel loved, even though he knew you were probably doing it platonically. However, he would gladly take any form of love that he could receive from you. Every day, waking up and knowing he had you in his life was good enough for him. Maybe he should try giving you more hints. Maybe you'll finally see it. Perhaps Percy was right with the flower crown idea.

“Uhm, sure,” with that, Luke decided to take some of your favorite flowers into his hand and went to a nearby table, where he started guiding Percy on how to make a flower crown. However, ever so often, his mind would trail to its own thoughts whenever he focused on making this flower crown for you.

Percy watched Luke as the older boy started intensely working on his own flower crown, crafting it with so much care as if it was an artwork intended for a national museum. If Percy didn’t know better, he would think Luke was a perfectionist.

Meanwhile, you were sitting with Annabeth near the ocean where she had previously pushed Percy into the waters, leading to Poseidon claiming him. You asked, “Any plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“No, you?”

“Nope.”

“Oh?” she replied, though you tilted your head at the tone of her voice. “I’m just surprised,” Annabeth explained as she looked out at the ocean instead of at you. “I mean…I thought you and Luke…”

“Huh?—”

“Well, I mean, you two are together all the time, and there seems to be something going on —”

“What do you mea—”

“It always seems like you two would gravitate to one another. I just assumed you two were together already—”

“We’re…just friends,” you settled on saying, though you could hear your heart beating loudly, seemingly echoing near your chest and neck. Of course, you knew you had feelings for Luke. However, you have always ruled it as a silly little crush.

“...You sure? You sound really unsure,” Annabeth challenged, making you sigh.

“I mean, he’s really sweet, and nice…”

“Uh-huh”

“And he makes me laugh all the time…”

“That’s good,” Annabeth’s words echoed as you sunk into silence and started reflecting on who Luke was to you. He has always made you feel cared for. Out of everybody at camp, perhaps he was the one you were most comfortable with, never having to be afraid of being yourself. Almost all of your favorite memories at camp included him in them.

You remember the night you told him about your minor fear of the darkness and how he promised to always protect you in it. In a way, since then, he has become your light. You always felt lit up when he made his way to you. Your eyes are always drawn to him like a moth to its flame. Then, it finally dawned on you how serious your feelings were. You realized how most of the time you seemed to be mindless about the existence of your heart until Luke was around because it was only then that your heart would tug or race to run you breathless. You gulped as your eyes darted around slightly.

“I mean…maybe…” you started but snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Luke’s voice. And there it was again, the silly familiar tug your heart was doing just from his voice. “Hey…” you greeted Luke and Percy before noticing Percy with a flower crown in his hand.

“Annabeth, can I speak to you privately?” Annabeth stood up and gestured for Percy to lead the way, presumably somewhere, so the young boy could give her the flower crown and ask her out on Valentine’s Day. You remained seated, still pondering at your feelings and wondering when they had exponentially grown that much.

“I actually have something for you as well,” you finally looked up at Luke when he said this. You noticed he had his hands behind his back. Something about the way he looked now seemed so shy and timid, which was unlike the outgoing and confident boy you always knew.

Your mouth fell agape when he pulled out a flower crown made of your favorite flower. “Luke…” you said his name and stood up when you saw the item.

However, because your eyes were on his gift, you didn’t notice the way Luke’s breath hitched at the sound of your voice calling out his name. He never thought it was anything special until November two years ago when you said his name while laughing at one of his jokes by the campfire. It was probably a moment you did not remember, but ever since then, he felt so sure that he was named so because the name sounded like it was born just for the sole purpose of being sounded from your lips.

“I made this for you,” he muttered, though it sounded almost like a whisper. His eyes shifted to both of your Converses instead of at you. Something about this made him so nervous as if he was handing you his heart instead of a simple gift. He almost scowled at himself for acting like a boy in kindergarten, confessing to his crush.

If only Luke was looking at you because you were looking at him and the item in awe. Your cheeks flushed from his gesture. Though, you were somewhat glad he was not looking at you because you were sure one look at you right now would tell Luke exactly everything about your feelings. You were a blushing mess. “Luke, thank you so much. This is beautiful. I can’t believe you made one for me.”

You touched Luke’s hand that was holding the crown, and he almost grew an even deeper shade of red. “Put it on my head,” you instructed, and he obliged just like everything else you would ask. He was sure he must have caught a sickness or something for wanting to follow you this blindly. But you were perhaps the only one with the power to get him to do absolutely anything. Just as the crown touched your hair, you peered up at him, and the sight alone made Luke swallow nervously.

You looked breathtaking.

And he meant this literally because Luke felt like he stopped breathing for a second. He could not look away. That was until you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him. His arms wrapped around your neck almost immediately to return the hug as if they existed to only hold you.

However, unlike the hundreds of hugs before, this one felt different. It was as if something had shifted and was bound to unfold.

Final Stage: Valentine’s Day

Annabeth had said yes.

You were ecstatic to learn that the young girl had agreed to go on a Valentine’s date with Percy. Even though you didn’t want to intrude, you and Luke decided to just have a peep to see what Percy had planned. You were not planning to stay long. It was just a sort of reward or a way to see your plan grow into fruition. You smiled when you spot the cute picnic date near the shore.

“See, I told you the plan was going to work,” you muttered as you tiptoed up in your converses to peer at the kids through the tall bushes nearby. You almost lost balance and step onto Luke's shoes that were similar to yours, except his was red.

The boy quickly steadied you with his hand on your waist. You muttered a quick thank you before turning back to the kids, trying to ignore the blush that was slowly decorating your cheeks. But you were quickly caught off guard at the sight of Percy and Annabeth pushing a small boat off the shore and hopping on it.

“Uhm…that is not what I expected. Where are they going?” Luke looked over your shoulder when you said that. Your eyes fluttered at his warm breath hitting your neck.

However, you noticed the two kids looking like they were in trouble and panicking as they quickly started rowing away. You turned your head towards Luke, forgetting he was very close to you. Your voice faltered as you were about to utter your next sentence. Noticing this, Luke turned to you, only causing the two of you to come face to face with little distance in between. You gulped and forced yourself not to glance down at his lips, “Do you think they’re okay? Should we follow them? I mean…what if they’re in trouble?”

Seeing the worried look on your face, Luke frowned. He deeply disliked anything that caused that kind of expression on your face. Hence, he decided to go over to the second boat there and started pushing it towards the water. “Come on,” you hopped onto the small boat with him and started rowing after Percy and Annabeth, hoping to help them from whatever trouble they were seeming to have.

After a few minutes of rowing behind them, you saw Percy and Annabeth rowing into a small tunnel. Luke and you quickly followed in, rowing your boat, only to be engulfed by darkness upon entering the tunnel.

The wind blew much harder in there, causing goosebumps on your arm as your hand gripped your oar tightly. To make matters worse, it was your most hated type of darkness - utter pitch black. Even with your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could see nothing, not even Luke.

You were fine with darkness in familiar places like your cabin, where you knew at least there were other campers around and you were safe. You were also mostly fine with darkness where you could see as your eyes adjusted to it. But here, you were in a tunnel you’ve never been in, where there were possibly monsters that could attack you at any moment.

You were slightly startled by the hand that softly touched yours that, unbeknownst to you, was crushing the wooden oar. You immediately recognize it was Luke’s hand from the warmth and familiar touch. He soothingly ran his thumb across your hand. His actions were proven effective at calming you down when you could feel your grip loosen around the tool.

“Breathe, sweet girl,” his words somehow made you release the breath you were subconsciously holding.

A few seconds later, the lights were turned on. You were met with one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen. Lights were decorating the path throughout the tunnel. There were also plants and trees with extended branches and leaves that softly brushed past the boat Luke and you were on.

Suddenly, you both heard a tune start playing quietly in the background, almost quiet enough to make you two think you were imagining it:

“There you see her, sitting there across the way.

She don’t got a lot to say, but there’s something about her”

His thumb hasn’t stopped rubbing over your knuckles even though the darkness was no longer casting over the both of you. His eyes were absorbing how you looked at that moment, embracing it. You were absolutely stunning and he was hopelessly infatuated with you.

“And you don’t know why, but you’re dying to try

You wanna kiss the girl.”

The lyrics made Luke subconsciously lick his lips as he pictured himself kissing you. Gods, he wondered if his heart would even survive doing so and whether anything would ever surpass getting to kiss you. Your eyes flickered to Luke's lips, and he noticed it. He also noticed how your cheeks flushed as you gulped at his actions.

“Luke.”

“Y/N,” you almost melted at the way Luke was saying your name as if it was an honor or privilege to do so. The tone he used was sweeter than any dessert you have ever had. Gods, it was as if your name was a sacred passage he lived by.

“Yes, you want her

Look at her, you know you do”

Indeed he was looking at you, and it felt almost like he was spellbound because he could not take his eyes off you. Right then, you could see it all - he was utterly smitten. He was giving you a soft smile. The lights decorating the tunnel shimmered in his eyes, illuminating just enough to display his pupils and how they almost completely overtook the usual dark brown color that you love. Before you knew it, he was leaning closer to you on the small boat and you mirrored his action.

“Possible she wants you too, there is one way to ask her…”

Just when Luke was inches from your face, he stopped. His eyes longingly stare at your lips like a long-awaited dream that was within his grasp but not quite within his grip yet. You noticed how he took a deep breath as if mustering all the drops of courage he had. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before he opened them again.

“Can I?” he uttered only two words, but somehow, his voice conveyed enough the yearning coursing through every inch of his body. Luke gulped as he restrained himself from closing the distance and waited for your consent.

You nodded wordlessly.

“It don’t take a word, not a single word

Go on and kiss the girl.”

Almost instantly, he caressed both sides of your face and sealed the deal.

All the glory Luke has gained throughout the years seemed trivial compared to kissing you. It almost convinced him that everything he had gone through to get here today was worth it. He hummed against your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. Kissing you felt like the best gift he had ever gotten in his entire life. Luke knew he was forever screwed from the way it felt. He could not fathom the idea of his lips ever touching anyone else’s. Maybe they were made for you, but his heart and mind do not seem to oppose that idea.

You slowly slid your arms down, allowing your hands to caress his jawline and the sides of his face. However, your hands slightly jolted at the pace of his heartbeat along the side of his neck. It was as if his heart was trying to break out of his body. Your own heart started replicating the same rhythm. It had you flustered that you had such an effect on him.

Luke broke away from the kiss breathlessly. For a second, he hated the idea of needing air to live because if he could, he would not have stopped showing you how much his lips belonged to you. His forehead leaned against yours while his hands rested on your hips. He looked at you endearingly as if he could not fathom that he just got to kiss you. You smiled at the sight of him.

“I know I’m a tad bit late, but will you be my Valentine?” he sweetly asked.

“Of course, Luke.” Luke grinned at your answer. He drew you in for another kiss as giggles escaped your lips and echoed through the tunnel that now marked an important memory for the two of you.

You truly must be Cupid because your plan not only worked for Percy and Annabeth, but somehow also indirectly gave Luke and you the nudge you both needed.

14th February marked the day when two Cupids wearing Converses got their happy ending.

Bonus:

“I told you that would work,” Annabeth whispered to Percy as the two hopped back onto their boat with a speaker in hand, rowing away hastily to be out of sight from the older couple.

Little did you know, Annabeth had orchestrated the whole thing, including the conversation between her and Percy about their mission in front of Luke and you. Annabeth’s plan of getting Luke and you together through playing cupid together had seemingly worked just like she had planned.

Who said you were the only cupid at Camp Half-Blood?

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#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfiction #pjo fic #pjo #charlie bushnell #pjo imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #pjo series #best friends to lovers #fluff

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eddiernunson · 9 months ago

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I Can Do it With a Broken Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+ | PREVIEW

NOW POSTED

Summary: You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.

Warnings: idiots in love, best friends to lovers, ANGST, brief EddiexChrissy, ooc Chrissy, attempted SA, bestfriend!Steve, and needy, desperate smut that makes it all worth it.

Excerpt here:

The puff of smoke that leaves his lips as you approach him should not be this gorgeous, it’s practically unfair. “Hey, Eds.”

He dusts the filter, killing it on the cement table he sits at as he blows out one more puff. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Just from that particular look in his eye, you can tell something is on his mind. “You okay, there, Munson?”

He smirks, effortlessly standing up. “I suppose. I’m not sure how to react. Or how you’ll react.”

Your brows meet your hairline, watching his mind move at a million miles per hour. “Ok, Eddie this better be about a new class of creatures in DnD, or something, because you’re scaring me.”

He smiles, nodding his head over to the halls that lead toward the front door of the campus. “Someone asked me out on a date, earlier, today.”

Your brows furrow, biting back the jealousy that eats at your chest. Every little part of you holds back the monster that threatens to class its way out, to snarl and hiss at every girl that even so much as looks at him wrong. It’s hard to bite it back, to choke on it purposely, but if you must, you will.

It tastes like venom as you swallow it back down. “Oh, who?”

A faint pink spreads across Eddie’s cheeks, much to your dismay. Not once, in your fuck, what, seven, eight years, of friendship have you ever managed to see Eddie blush. (Just once but it was when you nearly walked in on him jerking himself off a few short years ago.) “Who?”

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”

Your jaw drops, but your gut falls through the floor. You swear you hear it smash through the tilted floors and fall into the depths of hell.

“She asked you out?”

“Hey! Don’t act so surprised! A cheerleader could like me!”

That was the last thing on your mind. Of course a cheerleader could like Eddie, they’d be stupid not to. No. Every other girl that Eddie has either slept with, or gone on a date with brought no worry to your head, competition, per say. But a sweet girl like Chrissy, one that bore pretty blonde curls, a sweet smile and a sweet disposition, this is like your worst nightmare come true.

Thanks to the notion of living in a small town, you could recall 99% of the names that Eddie had told you, whether they be hookups or a date. Most of them didn’t intimidate you, only because, selfishly, you could nitpick at things you think wouldn’t work out with Eddie. Whether they were too vapid, too shallow, had none of the same interests as him, only shallowly liked him for his looks, or was a bully…you had something to give great comfort to you to prevent that little jealousy monster from clawing its way out.

This time, your brain wracked itself for some sort of answer. Some sort of flaw in the Queen of Hawkins High that could settle this uneasiness that has taken over your mind. Nothing. Nothing.

“I’m not surprised a cheerleader could like you, I’m surprised that Chrissy Cunningham asked you out,” you answer candidly, watching in step with him to where you supposed was his van. “I’m guessing you said yes?”

“I’d be crazy not to!” Eddie answered sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket. “I’m taking her out on Friday night.”

“Ah, you’ll tell Steve to take Creeper off hold for us, then?”

Eddie stops mid stride, faltering, his brows pinched as he gives you those big brown eyes. “Shit. It totally slipped my mind.”

This is also new. Even as his dates would happen any previously made plans with him were always a priority. You just hope this isn’t a new habit of his.

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”

You nod, giving him the comfort you suddenly find yourself craving. From the pep in his step, the rosiness of his cheeks, the warm glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s truly excited. As a best friend, you tried to be happy for him, however hard it is to make the smile on your face even remotely convincing.

Eddie curls his arm around your shoulder, tugging you along with him for what is probably another afternoon in his room, clouded by a haze of weed.

You smoked more than usual, if anything to allow his excitement and plans for his big date in two days to buzz into the background, the bong rippling through your lungs as a punishment for yourself.

Final word count is about 24k so I think I'll post on the 15 to give my editor a fighting chance. If you want to be tagged let me know <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 10 months ago

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Little Girl Gone

You Haven't Changed a Bit (2)

Mob Boss!Natasha x Mob Boss!Fem!Reader, Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Mob Boss!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Nothing really this is a rather fluff chapter, Natasha is a condescending bitch towards the end

A/N: I love the dynamics that are being built between R and W and her boys in this chapter

The sunlight filtering through the windows is what stirred you awake, but it was the weight on top of you that truly woke you. Eyes shooting open to find Wanda’s body partially on top of your own. Her leg and arm draped over you and you realized you had some how had made it closer to the middle instead of the edge you had forced yourself to when you fell asleep.

Carefully you untangled yourself hoping not to wake Wanda, but as you shifted your weight she stirred. “Mmmm....Y/N?” She called out as you sat up, legs already over the edge.

“Yes?” You call back over your shoulder, grabbing your pants and pulling them on.

“What happened last night? I thought you were staying up all night?” She asked, concern running through her.

“Natasha came by. I gave her half the money. Told her I’d meet her at noon with the rest.” Grabbing your button up and throwing it on and moving over to grab your gun from under the pillow to put it back in it’s place.

“Is she going to leave us alone?” Wanda crawls across the bed so she’s in front of you, staring up at you. She was in a cute pink slip, one of the thin straps falling down and giving you a lovely view of her chest.

“I told her too, but she never actually agreed to it so if it’s okay with you I’d like you to come back with me, of course the boys will come too.”

“To the place I was taken yesterday?” She asks, tilting her head.

“Yes sweetie that’s my home.” Her eyes widen.

“That place was huge. That’s your house?” She sounded bewildered.

“Well when you’re head of the local mafia around here you kind of have the perks of a big house.” Sure your group was nothing big compared to Natasha’s or even T’Challa’s groups, but yours was family.

You pick up your phone, calling on your friend and driver, Happy. “I’ve called for my driver and I would appreciate the three of you staying with me until I have things settled. I promise there will be no safer place for your boys.” You put your hands on her shoulders giving a reassuring squeeze and a soft smile.

You couldn’t lie to yourself, Wanda was a beautiful woman who you’d love to have, but you also truly just don’t want to see her end up like you because of Natasha especially since she has kids. She has to be around for them. She gives a nod and a soft smile back. You don’t miss her biting on her bottom lip as she slips off the bed.

“I need to get dressed and get the boys ready.” She tells you softly. While Wanda gets everything together you get ahold of Carol to let her know what’s going on.

“Make sure nothing bad is going on by the time we get there. Am I understood?” I ask through the phone and she knows what I mean.

“Yes Ma’am. Everything will be perfect when you get here with them. You have my word.” You hang up the call as you wait in the kitchen for the three of them and of course the boys are nothing but questions.

You can tell Wanda is getting overwhelmed by all the questions the boys are throwing her way over all the sudden changes especially from Billy who you’ve quickly learned is the more sensitive of the two boys. You take a deep breath and kneel down, getting the boys attention.

“Listen boys I know you have a lot of questions for your mom, but I want you guys to look at this like a vacation! My house that we’re going to stay at for a bit has a pool with all the toys you can think of! It has a slide and a waterfall! I have a room that is filled with every video game system and just about all their games. I have a room that has a pool table and a foosball table and air hockey!” You tell them, slowly seeing their faces light up. “I have a room that’s like a movie theater with popcorn and candy and soda. I have just about everything your little hearts could want or need and if I don’t have it, guess what?”

“What?” Billy asks making me smile.

“I will make sure we get it, okay? Does that sound fair enough?” The two boys nod in agreement. “So you’re going to stop asking your mom so many questions and instead help her pack, right?” Another nod in agreement to your words as they turn towards their draws, grabbing things they want and need while Wanda gives you a smile and you smile back.

You stand up motioning for Wanda to follow while the boys pack up. You two head towards the kitchen. You lean against the counter, crossing your arms, Wanda standing opposite of you.

“I hope I didn’t overstep by saying I’d get them things if we didn’t have it. I obviously don’t have kids and I honestly just wanted them to stop asking you questions because I could see it was overwhelming you since you weren’t sure how to answer.” Wanda reached her hand out to you, her hand gripping onto your arm. She rubbed it softly as you looked at her and you could tell she had done it as a friendly gesture to reassure you it was okay, but when you felt her hand tighten on your bicep you can tell she gets distracted for a moment.

“We’ll cross the bridge when we come to it, okay? If it’s something I find unreasonable for them to be asking it will be a no. Make sure they always ask me and you get confirmation from me.”

“That sounds like a deal to me. Always ask Mom.” You smirk at her as she pulls back her hand.

“I-I’m going to go grab my bags and check on the boys.” She stammers as she heads back upstairs, leaving you there chuckling to yourself.

======================================================

“Wow!” The boys said in unison as they came through the front door. “Are you made of money Ms. Y/N?” Tommy asks.

“I work very hard for my money Tommy. This is what hard work can get you boys.” You tell them with a smile as they poke their heads around Carol comes over with a smile along with Kamala. Carol leans over whispering in your ear,

“Ma’am I tried to tell her it wasn’t a good time, but Maya is waiting in your office.” If the boys weren’t here you’d probably smack Carol so hard. Instead you plaster a smile on your face.

“Well boys, Wanda. I have to attend to some work issues, but Carol and Kamala here will show you around, okay?” The boys nod excitedly and Wanda takes the few steps over to you, a worried look in her eyes as she grips your arm. You give her a reassuring smile, leaning in to whisper,

“It’s nothing to do with Natasha. It’s a friend who doesn’t know what no means. I’ll be back shortly. I promise you’re safe with them.” She looks into your eyes confirming the truth in your words then nods, letting you go off to deal with the problem at hand as you head up to your office.

You open and close the sliding oak doors of your office stomping on the floor to get Maya’s attention as soon as she’s looking at you you sign,

“It really isn’t a good time Maya.” She rolls her eyes and signs back,

“I understand you met back up with Natasha.” You groan,

“Unfortunately.” Maya and you had met after being in similar situations of a mob boss taking advantage of you. Both of you wanted to be in charge so Maya tends to work in the shadows and also with the Tracksuits, she keeps them in line as much as anyone could. Mainly they’re muscle that the two of you use because they have maybe one braincell between all of them.

“So what are we doing about her?” She signs and you sit on your desk in front of her.

“Meeting up with her in a few hours and paying off a debt for this woman.” You bring up the security camera’s around the house showing Maya Wanda and her boys. “Natasha gave her a loan and then when she couldn’t pay it back right away she took Wanda and tried to do what she did to me. She’s under our protection now.” Maya nods,

“Are you keeping her here?” She signs.

“For the time being. I don’t trust Natasha.” You sigh. “Come with me to this meeting? I just need you as back up in the shadows incase things go sideways.” Maya signs for yes with a smile.

Carol was your right hand for most things, but Maya was your most trusted person. No one could replace her between her skills and companionship the two of you had formed over the past five years.

“Thank you.” You sign and she just lightly punches your arm before slipping out. Though she wouldn’t be there when you exited you knew she wouldn’t be far. Just in the shadows.

You watched the security monitors for a few minutes watching the boys enjoy the much bigger room they’d get to share. Kamala showing them their room along with all the fun rooms scattered about the house.

Your eyes flickered around until you spot Wanda and Carol in your room. It’s not where you had told Carol to take Wanda, but you’d let it slide for now. Your California King bed rather empty with just yourself. If Wanda wanted to stay there it would be fine by you.

======================================================

You sat in the café legs crossed and sipping on your usual order while looking at your phone while waiting for Natasha to show her face. You were always a person that goes by the rule, ‘if you’re on time you’re late.’ while Natasha always showed up five minutes or later to any meeting saying, ‘you hold the power that way.’ It always made you roll your eyes because you hated being late anywhere.

When she showed up at 12:15 you rolled your eyes at the tardiness. She grabbed her coffee before joining you.

“Well isn’t this fun. You playing the boss roll. All grown up now aren’t you?” She teases and another roll of your eyes.

“I’m not playing Natasha. I worked hard to get here.”

“No thanks to me.”

“Yeah. No thanks to you. I didn’t want this Natasha. You forced me into this life acting like you just wanted me to be able to protect myself.” You accused as you grabbed out the manila folder. “It’s all in there Tasha. So I need your word that you’ll be leaving Wanda Maximoff and her boys alone now that the loan plus interest is paid.” Natasha looked it through just as she had last night.

“One more thing and I’ll leave your new little toy alone.” You want to jump across the table and punch her in the face for her little comment, but you’re in a very public place for a reason and you won’t ever be the one to hit first.

“What is it Natasha? What could you possibly want?” You ask exasperated.

“You of course. One last time. You know since you walked out on me.” You feel your face pale; your whole body going hot and ears ring until you can’t hear anymore.

Did she really just ask you that? To sleep with her again? You could feel the familiar feel of bile in the back of your throat, the sound of a gunshot, the metal and sulfur in your nose like you were reliving that night all over again.

“You’ll leave them alone?” She nods. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“On Yelena’s life.”

“On Yelena’s life.” She repeats, and so you have no choice but to agree.

#ley speaks #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #ley writes #wanda x you #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x reader

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tangibletechnomancy · 1 year ago

Text

The (Personal) Is (Political)

~7 hours, Dall-E 3 via Bing Image Creator, generated under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

Or, Dear Microsoft and OpenAI: Your Filters Can't Stop Me From Saying Things: An interactive exercise in why all art is political and game of Spot The Symbols

A rare piece I consider Fully Finished simply as a jpeg, though I may do something physical with it regardless. "Director commentary" below, but I strongly encourage you to go over this and analyze it yourself before clicking through, then see how much your reading aligns with my intent.

Elements I told the model to add and a brief (...or at least inexhaustive) overview of why:

Anime style and character figures - Frequently associated with commercial "low" art and consumer culture, in East Asia and the English-speaking world alike, albeit in different ways - justly or otherwise. There is frequently an element of racism to the denigration of anime styles in the west; nearly any American artist who has taken formal illustration classes can tell you a story of being told that anime style will only hinder them, that no one will hire them if they see anime, or even being graded more harshly and scrutinized for potential anime-esque elements if they like anime or imply that they may like anime - including just by being Asian and young. On the other hand, it is true that there is a commercial strategy of "slap an anime girl on it and it will sell". The passion fans feel for these characters is genuine - and it is very, very exploitable. In fact, this commercialization puts anime styles in particular in a very contentious position when it comes to AI discussions!

Dark-skinned boy with platinum and pink [and blue] hair - Racism and colorism! They're a thing, no matter how much the worst people in the world want you to think they're long over and "critical race theory" is the work of evil anti-American terrorists! I chose his appearance because I knew that unless I was incredibly lucky, I would have to fight with this model for multiple hours to get satisfactory results on this point in particular - and indeed I did. It was an interesting experience - what didn't surprise me was how much work it took me to get a skin color darker than medium-dark tan; what did surprise me was that the hair color was very difficult to get right. In anime art, for dark skin to be matched with light hair and eyes is common enough to be...pretty problematic. Bing Image Creator/Dall-E, on the other hand, swings completely in the opposite direction and struggles with the concept of giving dark-skinned characters any hair color OTHER than black, demanding pretty specific phrasing to get it right even 70% of the time. (I might cynically call this yet another illustration against the pervasive copy-paste myth...) There is also much to say about the hair texture and facial features - while I was pleased to see that more results than I expected gave me textured hair and/or box braids without me asking for it, those were still very much in the minority, and I never saw any deviation from the typical anime facial structures meant to illustrate Asian and white characters. Not even once!

Pink and blue color palette - Our subject is transgender. Bias self-check time: did you make that association as quickly as you would with a light-skinned character, or even Sylveon?

Long hair, cute clothes, lots of accessories - Styling while transmasc is a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don't situation, doubly so if you're not white. In many locations, the medical establishment and mainstream attitude demands total conformity to the dominant culture's standard conventional masculinity, or else "revoking your man card" isn't just a joke meant to uphold the idea that men are "better" than women, but a very real threat. In many queer communities, especially online, transmascs are expected to always be cute femboys who love pink (while transfems are frequently degraded and seen as threats for being butch), and being Just Some Guy is viewed as inherently a sign of assimilationism at best and abusiveness at worst. It is an eternal tug-of-war where "cuteness" and ornamentation are both demanded and banned at the same time. Black and brown people are often hypermasculinized and denied the opportunity to even be "cute" in the first place, regardless of gender. Long hair and how gender is read into it is extremely culture-dependent; no matter what it means to you, if anything, the dominant culture wherever you are will read it as it likes.

Trophies and medals - For one, the trans sports Disk Horse has set feminism back by nearly 50 years; I'm barely a Real History-Remembering Adult and yet I clearly remember a time when the feminist claim about gender in sports was predominantly "hey, it's pretty fucked up that sports are segregated by sex rather than weight class or similar measures, especially when women's sports are usually paid much less and given weirdly oversexualized uniforms," but then a few loud living embodiments of turds in the punch bowl realized that might mean treating trans people fairly and now it's super common for self-proclaimed feminists - mostly white ones - to claim that the strongest woman will still never measure up to the weakest man and this is totally a feminist statement because they totally want to PROTECT women (with invasive medical screenings on girls as young as 12 to prove they're Really Women if they perform too well, of course). For two, Black and brown people are stereotyped as being innately more sporty, physically strong, and, again, Masculine(TM) than others, which frequently intersects with item 1...and if you think it only affects trans women, I am sorry my friend but it is so much worse and more extensive than you think.

Hearts - They mean many things. Love. Happiness. Cuteness. Social media engagement?

TikTok - A platform widely known and hated around these parts for its arcane and deeply regressive algorithm; I felt it deserved to be name/layout/logodropped for reasons that, if they're not clear already, should become so in the final paragraph.

Computers, cameras and cell phones - My initial specification was that one of the phones should be on Instagram and another on TikTok, which the model instead chose to interpret as putting a TikTok sticker on the laptop, but sure, okay. They're ubiquitous in the modern day, for better and for worse. For all the debate over whether phones and social media are Good For Us or Bad For Us, the fact of the matter is, they seem to be a net positive-to-neutral, whose impacts depend on the person - but they do still have major drawbacks. The internet is a platform for conspiracy theories and pseudoscience and dangerous hoaxes to spread farther than ever before. Social media culture leaves many people feeling like we're always being watched and every waking moment of our lives must be Perfect - and in some senses, we are always being watched these days. Digital privacy is eroding by the day, already being used to enforce all the most unjust laws on the books, which leads to-

Pigs - I wrote the prompt with the intention that it would just be a sticker on the laptop, but instead it chose to put them everywhere, and given that I wanted to make a somewhat stealthy statement about surveillance, especially of the marginalized...thanks for that, Dall-E! ;)

Alligators - A counter to the pigs; a short-lived antifascist symbol after...this.

Details I did not intend but love anyway:

The blue in the hair - I only prompted for platinum and pink in the hair, but the overall color palette description "bled" over here anyway, completing the trans flag, making it even more blatant, and thus even more effective as a bias self-check.

The Macbook - I only specified a laptop. Hilariously ironic, to me, that a service provided through Bing interpreted "laptop" as "Macbook" nearly every time. In my recent history, 22 out of 24 attempts show, specifically, a Macbook. Microsoft v. OpenAI divorce arc when? ;) But also, let us not forget Apple's role in the ever-worsening sanitization of the internet. A Macbook with a TikTok sticker (or, well, a Tiikok sticker - recognizable enough) - I can think of little more emblematic of one of the main things I was complaining about, and it was a happy accident. Or perhaps an unhappy one, considering what it may imply about Apple's grip on culture and communications.

Which brings me to my process:

Generated over ~7 hours with Dall-E 3 through Bing Image Creator - The most powerful free tool out there for txt2img these days, as well as a nightmare of filters and what may be the most disgustingly, cloyingly impersonal toxic positivity I've ever witnessed from a tool. It wants to be Art(TM), yet it wants to ban Politics(TM); two things which are very much incompatible - and so, I wanted to make A Controversial Statement using only the most unflaggable, innocuous elements imaginable, no matter how long it took.

All art is political. All life is political. All our "defaults" are cultural, and therefore political. Anything whatsoever can be a symbol.

If you want all art to be a substance-free "look at the pretty picture :)" - it doesn't matter how much you filter, buddy, you've got a big storm coming.

#ai art #generated art #dall-e 3 #bing image creator

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ghostly-runes · 4 months ago

Text

Marauders era 🚬 headcanons

Note: I tried to keep this as historically accurate because I personally don’t like when people ignore that they came from the seventies, but even with my research it’s probably won’t be perfect so just keep that in mind.

Also, if I come up with more I’ll add them, as this isn’t everyone and I know that.

Marlene:

- She smokes Marlboro reds

- Started smoking in 5th year

- Is a social smoker

- Owns a single red bic lighter that has somehow not been stolen from her yet (because she keeps stealing Pete’s and Dorcas.)

- Keeps a cigarette with Dorcas’ number on it (she refuses to smoke it)

Lily:

- Lily doesn’t stick to one brand of cigarettes as she tends to just bum one from the people she knows here and there.

- Lily is a stress smoker, meaning she smokes when something stressful happens. One example of this I can think of is the Marauders and the Pantheon getting in some trouble together and upon finding out, Lily puts her hand out to Dorcas and says, “Can I bum one off ya?” Dorcas, without hesitation, takes out her pack of cigarettes and hands one to Lily, flinging her lighter open to light it for her.

- Carries a pink bic lighter with her just in case she needs it.

- Her lighter is covered in those produce stickers that you get on fruits.

James:

- James doesn’t smoke because Fleamont has asthma and used to smoke and now he has health issues. So because James’ mom and dad aren’t sure if he has asthma, have drilled it into his head that he will never smoke under their roof (It’s one of the few things they’re strict about.)

- He’s the type of person to be hanging out with someone and if they pull out a cigarette to tell them, “Y’know that can kill you, right?” (He does this with Remus, especially when he first started smoking and it pisses Remus off)

Peter:

- Pete smokes Rothmans blues, because he likes the taste of tobacco and they’re popular.

- He started smoking in his 5th year after Sirius and Remus started smoking.

- He didn’t like the ones they smoked though so after some experimenting around he found Rothmans blues and now they’re the only ones he’ll smoke.

- He’s a social smoker

- He doesn’t smoke cigarettes as much as he smokes weed though.

- Has a green and a yellow bic lighter to light his cigarettes (and blunts)

- His lighters get stolen constantly, he’s never ran one through (Sirius and Marlene use them and forget to return them)

Sirius:

- Sirius smokes Winston ultra lights, because they’re more expensive and taste the least like tobacco to him.

- He hates the taste of cigarettes but smokes to calm his nerves.

- Started smoking the summer between 4th and 5th yr.

- When he moves in with the potters in 6th yr he doesn’t smoke in the house as Effie and Monty disprove of it but he secretly smokes on the balcony of his room at night.

- Owns a Vivienne Westwood cigarette case (he uses it a lot because it’s “punk”)

- Has a Silver ornate “zippo” lighter that has the letter “B” carved into it that he never uses unless it’s the only thing he has. (He hates how “posh” seeming it makes him (it’s also a family thing))

- He normally uses a regular zippo lighter.

- Sometimes just lights his with Remus’ cigarette.

- He gets a fancy gold “Zippo” lighter that has the letter “P” carved into it from Monty for Christmas that used to be Monty’s when he smoked. (He doesn’t use it a lot because it’s too sentimental to him (it’s one of the few things Remus has of Sirius’ when he’s in Azkaban that he keeps))

Remus:

- Remus smokes cigarettes that he rolls himself because it’s cheaper than buying the tailor made (factory made) ones.

- He started selling them in 3rd year but started smoking them in the summer between 3rd and 4th.

- He sells them without filters but rolls them with filters for himself because he’s burned his lips one too many times and hates it every time he does. (Sirius also complains about it)

- Used matches to light his cigarettes.

Regulus:

- Reg smokes pall mall filters, because they’re higher quality and easy for him to get.

- He started smoking in 3rd year.

- His first cigarette was one he bummed from Barty but he didn’t like the menthol taste so he sticks with the regular filter kind.

- Regulus actually was the first in his group to smoke regularly as he becomes addicted to things so so easy.

- When Sirius found out that Reg smoked he lectured him for 2 hours on how terrible it was for him, even though at that point Reg and Sirius had been smoking for years.

- Owns a Vivienne Westwood cig case and lighter (uses them religiously)

- Has a silver fancy zippo lighter that has the letter “B” carved into it all ornate. (He stops using it in his 4th year)

Barty:

- Barty smokes Pall Mall Menthols, he’s never smoked anything different because he prefers the familiarity.

- He started smoking in 2nd year after his mamá passed away but didn’t start smoking daily until 4th year.

- He started with pall mall menthols and hasn’t changed since.

- He at first stole them from his dad and smoked them after their fights to ease his anxiety and just never stopped

- Eventually he started buying them himself with money he stole from his dad.

- He uses Evan’s pryokinesis or a purple bic lighter that he stole from Dorcas to light his cigarettes.

Dorcas:

- Dorcas smokes Class A’s with no filter because they’re cheap and she buys them with the money from her summer jobs. So she has to get the cheap kind to save her money and make it last.

- She started smoking in her 4th year but started smoking regularly in the summer of her 5th year after her parents divorced.

- She buys them in bulk right before she leaves for Hogwarts and during holiday break.

- At one point she bought cigarettes from Remus, but found she didn’t like them as much as the tailor made (factory made) cigarettes.

- Uses a silver zippo lighter that flicks open because she lost all of her bic lighters.

Pandora:

- Panda smokes the same as Reg because she just bums them off of him.

- She only smokes when she drinks.

- She smokes weed a lot more than she smokes cigarettes like Pete.

- She keeps a box of matches on her at all times.

Evan:

- Evan buys cigarettes from Remus just because they’re easy to get and he doesn’t mind Remus.

- He doesn’t smoke often and is really just a social smoker but carries his tin of cigarettes on him at all times in case his friends need one.

- Evan uses his Veela pyrokinesis to light his and sometimes his friend groups cigs.

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pinkthick · 1 month ago

Text

A Nocturne in Melody

Pairing: Vampire!Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 9,405(around 30 minutes reading time?)

Summary: Jayce winced, his mouth opening, then closing as he struggled to find the right words. But nothing he could say seemed enough. Finally, he just shook his head. “No, Viktor, it’s not like that. You know it isn’t.”

Warnings: None(?) and dw it doesn’t contain spoilers

Masterlist:A Nocturne in Melody

Part 3

As you both made your way home, the gentle clinking of your cane on the stone pavement echoed through the emptying streets, the rhythm almost soothing beside Viktor’s soft steps. People were still filtering out from the party, making their way through the streets back to their homes, but it felt like they were just background to the two of you. Every so often, Viktor’s gaze would drift to your hand, where the ring now sat comfortably, as though it had always belonged there. Jayce had been ecstatic when he saw it earlier, and Viktor had turned a little pink under his friend’s enthusiastic congratulations.

Jayce had laughed, saying, “I can’t believe you finally did it! I thought you’d have changed your mind after your first try.” He’d paused, a knowing smile lighting up his face as he winked at you.

“What does that mean?” you’d asked, amusement thick in your voice as Viktor fidgeted beside you, looking anywhere but at you and Jayce.

Jayce leaned in with a grin, whispering in a voice that wasn’t quiet at all, “He’s had that ring for ages. I didn’t think he’d ever get around to it.”

“Jayce,” Viktor muttered, clearly embarrassed. “That’s… I just didn’t have the right moment before.”

You’d laughed, the sound bubbling out of you despite Viktor’s obvious discomfort. “I think it’s adorable,” you said, watching as his blush deepened. He was embarrassed, yes, but he was also so deeply content. You could tell by the way his fingers tightened slightly around yours, holding you close.

Now, as you walked together down the cobblestone streets, Viktor finally seemed to recover his voice. “I don’t know if I should find it funny or not,” he muttered, glancing at you, his brow raised.

“Well,” you teased, grinning, “it’s not funny, exactly. You were really stressed about it.”

He scoffed lightly, his mouth twitching in a faint, sheepish smile. “Yes…yes, all right, I was. Terrified, if you must know.”

Just then, a soft drizzle began to fall, each raindrop catching the city lights, creating a mesmerizing shimmer that reflected in Viktor’s crimson eyes. “Oh, wonderful,” he sighed, though his smile remained. “Just our luck.”

You grinned, unfazed by the rain as you adjusted your grip on your cane, taking a moment to steady yourself. “Hey, we’re out here on a beautiful night, newly engaged, with a story Jayce will probably tell at every future party. It’s not so bad.”

He shook his head with a laugh, his hair starting to dampen in the drizzle, a few stray strands clinging to his forehead. The rain began to pick up, transforming from a drizzle into a steady patter, soaking through your clothes as you both looked around for cover. Viktor instinctively stepped closer to shield you, though his slight frame wasn’t much help against the increasing rain.

“Should we make a dash for it?” he asked, glancing down the street that led to your apartment. “I mean…a brisk walk,” he corrected quickly, noticing your glance toward your leg.

You laughed, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I think we can manage. But let’s take our time; I don’t want to slip and end up with a second broken leg.”

Viktor laughed, glancing down at the puddles forming on the sidewalk. “I suppose I wouldn’t want that either.” He extended an arm, letting a few raindrops gather on his palm as if the rain were a strange curiosity. “Funny how things can be so beautiful even in chaos,” he murmured, his gaze distant for a moment before he looked back at you, eyes warm.

You smiled, leaning against him as you both continued at a slower pace, the rain soaking through your clothes but neither of you seeming to mind. It felt peaceful, almost surreal, to be here together, walking under the rain with nothing but the steady rhythm of your steps and the occasional splash of puddles filling the silence. The city seemed quieter now, like it was granting you this moment of serenity, an unexpected gift after everything you’d been through.

“Remember when we used to sneak out as kids?” Viktor’s voice broke the quiet, his tone laced with nostalgia. “Those nights when we’d wander the Undercity until dawn, and then Madame Meredith would yell at us when we’d come back. ”

You nodded, the memory bringing warmth to your chest. “She wasn’t so bad, she did care about us.”

“Probably, but I was still scared of her.” He smiled softly, his fingers brushing against yours as he linked them together, and you felt a shiver run through you — not from the cold, but from the intimacy of the gesture. “I’d give anything to go back to those days… but then, we wouldn’t be here now,” he added, glancing down at the ring on your finger, his expression a mixture of joy and awe.

Before you could respond, a cold drop of rain splashed right onto your nose. You glanced up, squinting as the night sky began to darken more and a torrential rain began to fall. “Are you sure you want to keep walking in the rain?” he teased, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“It’s only a little rain,” you replied, shrugging.

“Only a little rain,” he mocked you, chuckling under his breath as he came close to you, shaking his head in mock defeat. Before you could argue, he surprised you by slipping one arm beneath your knees, the other around your back, and lifting you up in one fluid motion.

“Viktor!” you gasped, your hands automatically reaching up to wrap around his neck as he held you with a surprising ease and strength you hadn’t expected. He grinned, barely winded, and started to move faster, carrying you with determination under the awning of a nearby building.

“Had to keep you from turning into a complete puddle,” he said, setting you down gently as you both laughed. The rain continued to beat down heavily around you, but here, beneath the roof, you were shielded — mostly.

It was only then you noticed the way Viktor was looking at you, his gaze lingering as he took you in, his eyes tracing the way your dress clung to your figure, the fabric soaked and outlining your shape with a teasing, almost ethereal quality. His eyes darkened slightly, his usual reserve breaking down under the weight of the evening and the sight of you. You felt a spark race through you at his gaze — it was a look you hadn’t seen from him before, not with this intensity, and it sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have pulled you out of the rain after all,” he murmured, his voice a little rougher than usual, his gaze never leaving you.

You gave a half-laugh, half-sigh, the tension thickening between you. “You seemed worried just moments ago,” you replied softly.

He reached up, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face as he stepped in closer, his hand coming to rest gently on your head, almost protectively. He leaned in, his lips hovering inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. And then, he closed the gap, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that held nothing back. It was deep and intense, his lips pressing against yours with a new kind of urgency, and you could feel his hands anchoring you, one cupping the back of your head, the other on your waist, holding you firmly as he leaned you back against the wall.

The warmth of his touch, and the strength of his grip left you breathless, caught off guard by how deeply he was kissing you. You felt yourself give in, melting into his touch, and his lips parted against yours, deepening the kiss as if he was trying to savor every second of it. You gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed closer, the coolness of his hand on your waist in sharp contrast to the warmth of his kiss.

Your hands slid down, gripping the lapels of his coat, holding onto him as he kissed you with a passion that left you dizzy. You could feel the way his body responded to yours, the tension in his muscles as he held himself against you, the feeling of his heartbeat echoing your own. He pulled back slightly and took a deep breath, as if gathering himself, then leaned in, trailing kisses along your jawline, down to your neck. His lips were warm against your skin, each kiss soft yet lingering. His voice, low and teasing, made a shiver run through you. “And to think,” he murmured between each kiss, “you really wanted to break up with me tonight.” He chuckled softly, his tone gentle but knowing. “I wouldn’t have let you either way.”

A flush crept up your cheeks, partly at the thought of how close you’d come to pushing him away, partly because of the way he was looking at you now — intense, entirely focused. He tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin on your neck in a way that left your heart racing. His hand slid around your waist, pulling you against him, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, feeling a mix of excitement and embarrassment.

“Viktor…” you started, a little unsteady, but he didn’t let you finish. His mouth was at your neck again, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss just below your ear, and his knee slid between your legs with an ease that made you weak. That familiar, insistent pressure sent a spark through you, and you shot him a knowing, playful glare.

“Oh, so you’re using that move now?” you managed, the words barely audible as he continued his trail of kisses.

He gave a half-smile, clearly amused, but didn’t answer, his hands slipping lower, tracing along your sides, pressing you back against the wall. His fingers skimmed the curve of your waist, moving with a confidence and sureness that was new but not unwelcome. You felt his hand starting to drift downward, his fingers barely brushing against you, and your breath caught in your throat. You caught his hand, and he thankfully stopped, pulling back slightly, and for a moment you both just looked at each other, caught in a mix of surprise and something much more intense.

You could see the glint of amusement in his eyes, and his voice was soft, almost teasing. “Let me work.”

“Oh, I’ll let you work… when we’re not in public.” You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone stern, but the effect was spoiled by the smile pulling at your lips.

He scoffed, clearly unbothered, but he didn’t stop. His hand continued to slide down, his touch sending a thrill through you, and he seemed completely unfazed by your attempt to keep things under control. His fingers grazed along the small of your back, lingering just enough to make your heart pound. His other hand traced slow circles against your hip, his touch maddeningly light, as if testing the boundaries of your resolve.

You could feel your face growing warmer, a mix of amusement and slight embarrassment, but he only gave you a slight smirk, his gaze intent and unwavering. “You’re blushing,” he murmured, almost teasingly, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I wonder why?” you managed to stammer, though the words came out weaker than you’d intended.

But Viktor only chuckled, leaning in, and for a second you thought he was about to kiss you again. Just then, the unmistakable sound of voices drifted into your haven beneath the awning. A few people rushed over to join you, seeking refuge from the downpour, their laughter and chatter filling the small space with an energy that felt intrusive.

Startled, you pulled back slightly, the flush of the moment still lingering, and Viktor straightened up, glancing around. A couple of people shot curious looks in your direction, and you felt a rush of embarrassment, realizing that the both of you had been far more absorbed in each other than you’d realized. Viktor, too, looked a bit sheepish, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. He cleared his throat, clearly trying to compose himself, and his hand found yours, lacing his fingers with yours in a quiet, grounding gesture.

—

Jayce adjusted the hextech core, watching as its soft blue glow pulsed steadily. He wasn’t particularly focused on the task, though, and he could sense Mel’s eyes on him, her presence quiet but intense. She hadn’t said much all morning, but Jayce could feel the tension building, the way she was holding herself back, waiting for the right moment to speak. Finally, after a long pause, she stepped forward.

“We’ve already talked about it,” Jayce said, not even looking up, trying to preempt the conversation he could feel brewing.

“But I feel like it wasn’t really discussed.” Her voice was steady, but there was a sharp edge to it, a tension that she couldn’t quite hide. “There’s more to this than we admitted to, Jayce.”

Jayce sighed, turning to face her, knowing exactly where this was going. He met her gaze, seeing the concern etched in her expression. “Mel,” he started, his tone soft but firm. “You let Viktor live. You can’t just feel bad about it now.”

Mel crossed her arms, shifting her weight slightly as she continued to stare him down. “Jayce, I let him live because of you.” Her words came out quieter, almost as if she were confessing something to herself. “But I’m not sure now it was the right thing to do. I’ve bent rules too much already, and it was a decision that went against every protocol we have.”

“Viktor isn’t a threat,” Jayce replied, his voice steady as he defended his friend. “He’s been adapting, learning to control it. He hasn’t hurt anyone.”

“Yet,” Mel said, her eyes darkening with the weight of the words. “He’s in control now, Jayce. But we have no idea how long that will last. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The protocols were clear: any transformed vampire is to be eliminated to avoid any further incidents.”

Jayce’s jaw tightened, a mixture of anger and frustration bubbling up. “He’s not like that vampire who attacked the performance hall, Mel. He didn’t choose this, and he’s fighting every day to stay the person he was.”

Mel shook her head, her expression grim. “You’re right; he didn’t choose this. But that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. Did you ever stop to wonder why the vampire who turned him did it in the first place?”

Jayce opened his mouth to respond, but she continued before he could say a word. “That vampire didn’t attack out of some rogue impulse. He was grieving, Jayce. He lost his partner, and that’s why he lashed out. That’s why he turned Viktor — it was an act of defiance, an act of desperation.”

Jayce’s face fell slightly as the weight of her words settled in. He hadn’t thought about it that way, hadn’t considered the motivations behind the attack. He’d been so focused on Viktor, on protecting him, that he hadn’t given much thought to the vampire who had set this all into motion.

“What happens when she dies, Jayce?” Mel asked, her voice softer now, almost gentle. “Or when you die? You know that’s inevitable.”

Jayce swallowed, his gaze dropping. The implications of her words were clear, hitting him harder than he’d expected. Viktor had found a measure of peace with his new existence, but it was an uneasy one, built on the fragile foundation of the people he cared about still being there, still grounding him.

“I just fear that Viktor won’t accept that,” Mel continued. “He’s still clinging to the remnants of his old life, of the people who matter to him. But we’re all… mortal. There will come a day when he’ll be left alone, and then what?”

Jayce rubbed a hand over his face, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “I don’t have all the answers, Mel. But I know Viktor. He’s stronger than you think.”

“He’s stronger physically,” Mel replied, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “But emotionally? Jayce, this kind of life requires a certain detachment, a willingness to let go. I’ve seen how he looks at her, how he’s desperately trying to keep things the same.”

Jayce bit his lip, feeling a pang of guilt. Viktor had only just found happiness, had finally started to build a life for himself. And now, because of a choice he hadn’t even made, he was being forced to confront a future that seemed both endless and empty.

“Mel, he loves her,” Jayce said quietly, almost as if he was trying to convince himself as much as her. “And I can’t fault him for that.”

Mel’s expression softened, but there was still a sadness in her eyes, a look that spoke of hard-earned wisdom and harsh truths. “I know he loves her, Jayce. But love doesn’t change what he’s become. It doesn’t change what he’ll have to face when the people he loves start to slip away, one by one.”

They stood in silence, the only sound the faint hum of the hextech core still glowing in the background. Jayce’s mind raced, grappling with the enormity of what Viktor’s future might hold.

After a moment, Mel spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know this is hard for you. You care about him, and so do I. But we can’t ignore the reality of his situation just because it’s painful to face.”

Jayce’s gaze was distant, fixed on the core’s glow, but his mind was far away, lost in memories of Viktor — the friend he’d known for so many years, the brilliant mind who had dreamed of making the world a better place, the man who had fought so hard against his own failing body. And now, even with his body stronger than ever, Viktor was fighting a different battle, one against time, against loss, against the inevitability of watching the people he loved slip away.

“I know,” Jayce finally murmured, his voice tinged with sadness. “I know. But I can’t turn my back on him. Not now, not ever.”

Mel reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “No one’s asking you to, Jayce. But we have to be realistic about what lies ahead, for his sake as much as ours.”

Jayce nodded slowly, the weight of her words settling heavily on him. It was a hard truth to face, but he couldn’t ignore it any longer. “I know..you’re right.”

Just then Viktor entered the lab, his footsteps echoing slightly in the quiet space. He had intended to come in early to get a jump start on the hextech work, and both Mel and Jayce looked up, visibly startled to see him.

“Viktor,” Jayce said, quickly composing himself, though a flicker of something — guilt, perhaps — lingered in his eyes. “I thought you weren’t coming today.”

“I didn’t plan to,” Viktor replied, a casual shrug masking the tightness in his chest. “But she had to go to rehearsal, and I didn’t want to waste precious time when I could be working on our project.”

Mel and Jayce exchanged a look, subtle but telling. Viktor noted it with a sharp eye, aware that they didn’t know if he’d overheard their discussion moments ago. Truthfully, he had — every word. The conversation echoed in his mind, and although he was trying to brush it off, an undercurrent of irritation simmered beneath his calm facade.

Jayce cleared his throat, attempting to steer the conversation into safer territory. “So…I’m sorry if I embarrassed you last night” There was an awkward pause, and then he added, “but congratulations on the engagement.”

Viktor’s lips lifted in a small smile, though his tone was measured. “Thank you, Jayce.” He shifted his gaze to Mel, who met his eyes briefly before looking away. A flicker of something — doubt, perhaps? — crossed her face, but Viktor pressed on. “It’s funny. I didn’t expect things to fall into place so well. But here we are.”

The pleasant words felt somewhat hollow as he said them. While he was genuinely happy, the recent conversation he’d overheard left him feeling as if his happiness was somehow misplaced, or at the very least questioned. Still, he wasn’t here to argue or defend his choices. He had work to do, and his mind latched onto the hextech project as a welcome distraction.

He moved toward the table, where their equipment lay neatly arranged. “Shall we get started?” he suggested, and Jayce nodded, visibly relieved to focus on their work.

For the past week, they had been toying with ideas for hextech applications, primarily in agriculture. If they could enhance plants, increase growth, yield, and resilience, then the possibilities were endless. But, in Viktor’s mind, the true potential lay not in plants but in humanity itself. The idea of using hextech to augment humans, to overcome their limitations, had been consuming him, gnawing at the edges of his mind. Jayce, however, had been more cautious, even resistant.

Jayce shot Mel a meaningful look as she lingered by the lab bench, and she seemed to take the hint. “I’ll leave you two to it,” she said, though her tone was wary. Viktor nodded politely, watching as she exited the lab, the door clicking shut behind her. The second she was gone, he felt the tension ease, though Jayce seemed a bit uneasy still.

“So,” Viktor said, rolling up his sleeves and setting his focus on the machinery. “How has the hextech’s efficiency been, now that we’ve increased the crystal output? Any issues with stability?”

Jayce shrugged, adjusting his own equipment. “It’s stable, but we’re still running into limits with the plant augmentation. I think we’re close to something big, though.”

Viktor nodded, though his attention was elsewhere. He had already calculated the maximum efficiency with plants and knew it was far from reaching hextech’s full potential. “If we can optimize the output further,” he began, his tone nonchalant, “we might be able to do more than just enhance crops.” He glanced at Jayce, letting the idea linger in the air, watching his friend’s reaction.

Jayce immediately frowned, catching Viktor’s implication. “Viktor, we’ve discussed this,” he said, his voice tinged with impatience. “Hextech wasn’t meant for human enhancement.”

Viktor let out a quiet sigh, though his expression remained composed. “I know, Jayce. You’ve made that point clear.” He picked up a crystal, studying its facets as he spoke. “But there’s so much untapped potential here. You’ve seen it too.”

“We agreed to focus on agriculture,” Jayce replied firmly, though Viktor noted a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “There’s a lot we can do within those boundaries.”

“For now, perhaps,” Viktor said smoothly, turning back to the table. “But boundaries are meant to be pushed. Why limit ourselves when we could be transforming lives?” He kept his tone light, as if merely musing aloud, but he saw Jayce’s jaw tighten slightly.

Enhancing humans had been his true vision for hextech all along, a vision he knew was shared to some extent by Jayce, even if his friend was reluctant to admit it. Jayce sighed, leaning back and crossing his arms, clearly bracing himself for another debate. “Yes, but there’s a line, Viktor. A line we can’t just cross without thinking of the consequences.”

“Consequences,” Viktor echoed, his voice barely hiding his frustration. “Jayce, I’ve spent most of my life facing consequences I had no control over. My own body was a prison, and now, we have the means to set people like me free.”

Jayce hesitated, caught between sympathy and caution. “I understand that. But this technology… it’s unpredictable. We don’t fully understand the risks yet.”

Viktor’s gaze darkened slightly as he held Jayce’s gaze. “And yet, you’re willing to let fear hold us back? I thought you believed in progress.”

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I do, Viktor. But progress without restraint is dangerous. Just look at what happened with —”

He stopped, catching himself, but Viktor’s lips curved into a tight smile. He knew exactly where Jayce’s mind had gone. “Are we really going to let fear dictate what we can achieve?” Viktor asked, his tone almost mocking. “Or is it just that you don’t trust me with this power?”

Jayce stiffened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You know that’s not it.”

“Do I?” Viktor’s voice was soft, but the challenge was clear. He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Because from what I overheard earlier, it seems like trust might be in short supply.”

Jayce froze, his face paling slightly as the words sank in. He glanced toward the door, as if expecting Mel to reappear at any moment. “Viktor, I…”

“Don’t worry, I’m not upset.” His smile was sharp, edged with a hint of bitterness. “I know that some people are always going to see me as a threat.”

“That’s not—look, I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t sorry moments ago,” Viktor replied, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with the hurt he was holding back. He straightened, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze burning with frustration and pain.

Jayce took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of Viktor’s words press down on him. “It’s not that simple,” he tried, almost pleadingly. “There are things… situations I can’t control, Viktor. People I have to answer to.”

Viktor’s eyes flashed. “And I’m one of those situations, am I not?” He bit the words out, a bitterness to his tone that Jayce had rarely heard. “A ‘situation’ that you have to manage, keep in check. Is that all I am to you now, Jayce?”

Jayce winced, his mouth opening, then closing as he struggled to find the right words. But nothing he could say seemed enough. Finally, he just shook his head. “No, Viktor, it’s not like that. You know it isn’t.”

Viktor scoffed, and a hollow laugh escaped him, sharp and filled with a bitterness that left Jayce feeling like he’d been punched in the gut. “Don’t I? Because from where I stand, it’s starting to look like that’s exactly how you see me.” He looked down, clenching his fists, his body taut with barely contained frustration. “After everything we’ve been through together… you’re willing to let doubt poison everything between us?”

“It’s not doubt,” Jayce replied, his voice trembling slightly. “It’s fear. Not of you, Viktor — but for you. This isn’t just about us, or Mel, or even hextech. It’s… complicated.”

“Oh, yes. Complicated,” Viktor said, a bitter edge in his voice as he echoed the word, throwing it back at Jayce like an accusation. “The perfect excuse when you don’t want to face the truth.” He shook his head, glancing away as if to steady himself. “I always believed we shared the same vision, Jayce. I thought you saw me, truly saw me. And yet here you are, talking to me like I’m some… anomaly.”

Jayce took a step forward, his hands outstretched in a desperate attempt to reach across the gulf that had grown between them. “Viktor, please, don’t misunderstand me. This isn’t easy for me either. I’m just trying to protect you.”

Viktor’s face crumpled, his eyes filling with a deep sorrow that made Jayce’s heart ache. “Protect me?” he whispered, shaking his head. “From what, exactly? From the very thing that has given me a new chance at life?” He looked down, his voice growing softer, more broken. “I thought you trusted me, Jayce. I thought… I thought you saw my worth beyond the label others have slapped on me.”

“I do trust you,” Jayce insisted, but his voice wavered. “It’s just… the council, Mel — they’re all waiting for a mistake. If I lose control of this situation—”

“There you go again,” Viktor interrupted, his tone hardening. “Calling me a ‘situation.’ As if I’m some dangerous variable, something to be managed rather than… someone you’ve known for years.” He met Jayce’s gaze, eyes blazing with intensity, and Jayce could see the tears welling there, a storm of emotions that Viktor was struggling to contain. “I’m not your project, Jayce. I’m your friend.”

Jayce fell silent, the weight of Viktor’s words settling heavily over him. For a moment, he was transported back to the early days, when they were just two young men with a shared vision and a boundless hope for what hextech could become. They had trusted each other implicitly, no need for words or assurances, just an unbreakable belief in one another. But now…

Viktor turned abruptly, his hand reaching for the shelf where several thick books lay stacked. He snatched one of the books—a hefty volume on plant biochemistry they’d been using for their latest hextech research—and thrust it forward, shoving it hard into Jayce’s chest.

“Here,” Viktor spat, his voice laced with a bitterness Jayce had never heard from him before. “Please, by all means, continue your precious research on plants.”

The force of the book hitting his chest knocked Jayce a step back, and he instinctively caught it, staring down at the leather-bound cover. He looked up to see Viktor’s eyes gleaming, his pupils narrowed, his fangs bared in a flash of anger that felt as raw as it did sudden.

Jayce took a shaky step back, swallowing as he tried to process the sight before him, this version of Viktor he had rarely seen. “What…?” he stammered, voice barely a whisper. “What’s gotten into you, Viktor?”

Viktor’s laughter was harsh, echoing through the lab with a coldness that made Jayce’s skin prickle. “What’s gotten into me?” he repeated, his voice full of mockery. “What indeed, Jayce. I’m the same person I’ve always been… only now, apparently, you’re afraid of me.”

Jayce instinctively flinched, a flash of fear crossing his face as he processed the words. He hadn’t meant to react that way—it was just that seeing Viktor like this, seeing the fangs, the fury, everything he’d tried so hard to ignore or downplay… It was all hitting him at once, too much to take in.

Viktor caught the flinch and scoffed, a bitter, humorless sound that filled the space between them. “Ah,” he said, voice dripping with disdain, “so now you think I’m some wild animal, about to sink my fangs into you?”

Jayce’s eyes widened, his mouth opening as he struggled to find the words to deny it. “Viktor… no, that’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me, Jayce,” Viktor interrupted, his voice low and venomous. He took a step forward, and Jayce couldn’t help but tense, his pulse racing. Viktor’s eyes, normally filled with a quiet, reserved kindness, were now sharp and cutting, filled with a bitterness that felt like it could pierce right through him. “You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about me,” Viktor continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m a ‘situation’ to you now, an obstacle. An inconvenience.”

“Viktor, please,” Jayce tried, his voice breaking. “It’s not… it’s not like that. I never wanted you to feel like—”

“Oh, save it,” Viktor spat, cutting him off again. “I don’t need your pity, Jayce. I don’t need your empty reassurances.” He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. “Do you have any idea how it feels to stand here, knowing that the one person I trusted, the one person I thought understood me, is terrified of what I’ve become?”

Jayce shook his head, feeling helpless, trapped in a moment he couldn’t control. “It’s not fear, Viktor,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m worried for you, for what this might do to you.”

Viktor let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head as he looked away, the bitterness in his expression deepening. “Worried for me,” he echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “How noble of you, Jayce. How utterly self-sacrificing.” He took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking with barely-contained rage. “You’re so blinded by your need to control everything, to manage everything, that you can’t even see me anymore.”

Jayce felt his heart sink, his throat tightening with a mix of guilt and shame. “Viktor, please,” he murmured, taking a tentative step forward. “You’re my bestfriend. I just… I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step back, his expression filled with a quiet, simmering fury. “Your bestfriend?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “If this is what friendship looks like, then maybe I was better off alone.”

The words hit Jayce like a punch to the gut, leaving him momentarily speechless.

Viktor shook his head, his expression hardening as he turned away. “I’m done, Jayce,” he said, his voice cold and final. “I’m done with this… with you. I’ll continue our work, but don’t expect anything more from me.” He glanced back one last time, his eyes filled with a sadness that cut deeper than any anger ever could. “Because I can’t keep doing this. Not if you’re going to look at me like I’m some kind of monster.”

And with that, Viktor turned on his heel and walked out of the lab, leaving Jayce standing there, alone, the book still clutched in his hands, the weight of Viktor’s words echoing in his mind long after he was gone.

—

The echo of the rehearsal’s last notes lingered in your mind as you walked out into the cool afternoon air. It was one of those rare afternoons where you felt both content and restless—relieved to have finished another day of practice, yet craving the quiet satisfaction of some time alone. Viktor was at the lab, probably absorbed in his work, and you knew he’d likely stay there for hours, as he usually did—you figured you could afford a leisurely detour.

The idea struck you out of nowhere: why not make something sweet, something simple that might surprise him? A cake, perhaps—something comforting that would welcome him home and, in some small way, bring both of you back to a semblance of normalcy. As you made your way to the small produce stand tucked into a side street, a faint nostalgia warmed your heart. You hadn’t baked in a long time, and somehow, the thought of it felt right tonight.

The scent of fresh fruits filled the air as you approached the stand. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you looked over the plump berries, glistening apples, and golden pears. Reaching out, you picked up a few ripe peaches, their sweet, soft smell filling your senses as you added them to your basket. Strawberries would be perfect too, you thought, absently reaching for the freshest-looking bunch.

Just as you were about to pay, a sudden commotion nearby caught your attention. The shop owner was grumbling, waving a broom at something small and dark huddled beside a stack of crates. “Stupid cat!” he muttered, shooing it away. “Get out of here, pest!”

Your heart gave a soft pang as you noticed the tiny creature—a scruffy little kitten, thin and trembling, with matted fur and wide, frightened eyes. It looked barely old enough to be away from its mother. You could see it was trying to find a safe spot, scurrying away from the broom in desperate little bursts, its tiny meows piercing the night air. You weren’t particularly planning on adopting a stray today, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore it.

“Wait, wait,” you said gently, putting your cane aside as you moved closer to the kitten, who had now found temporary refuge behind a barrel. The owner looked at you skeptically, his face still wrinkled with frustration.

“Miss, that thing’s a nuisance,” he said, shaking his head. “All it’ll do is scratch and bite, and it’s probably covered in fleas. Best to leave it.”

Ignoring him, you knelt slowly, keeping your voice soft as you extended a hand toward the kitten. “Hey there, little one,” you murmured, noticing how its ears perked up ever so slightly at the sound of your voice. It huddled against the wall, watching you with wide, wary eyes, as though unsure whether to trust you.

You waited a moment, letting the kitten study you, and then, very slowly, it crept forward. Inch by inch, it drew closer until, finally, it rubbed its tiny, scruffy head against your outstretched fingers. The texture of its matted fur and its bony frame under your hand made your heart ache. This little one had clearly been fending for itself for a while.

“See? Not so bad,” you murmured softly, scratching the kitten’s head as it began to purr—a soft, barely audible sound that grew louder with each gentle stroke. The shop owner huffed, clearly not pleased with your decision, but you ignored him. Pulling an old handkerchief from your bag, you carefully lifted the kitten, who looked up at you with round, trusting eyes. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” you whispered. “Can’t leave you out here all alone, can we?”

Balancing the kitten carefully against your chest, you handed the owner a few coins to pay for your fruits. He gave you a wry look, but took the money without further comment.

As you walked home, the kitten snuggled closer, its small frame warm against you. You tried to ignore the nagging thought that it might indeed have fleas or other issues, but you were already too attached to consider leaving it behind.

—

Viktor moved quickly through the halls, his thoughts still a whirlwind from the argument with Jayce. The lab was a place he’d once considered a haven—a space where he and Jayce could dream up ways to better the world, where he’d built hope from metal and gears. But now, the very air seemed to suffocate him, every moment in that place filled with painful reminders of all the trust that had unraveled.

He finally arrived at Esma’s department. The lights were dim, casting long shadows over shelves packed with vials, blueprints, and mysterious gadgets. Esma herself was seated at a table, hunched over a series of schematics. She glanced up as Viktor entered, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Viktor began, his voice quieter than usual, still tinged with lingering tension from earlier.

“Oh, Viktor—of course not.” Esma rose gracefully, her movements as smooth and fluid as always, a quiet elegance that only someone who’d lived centuries seemed to master. She gestured toward a seat opposite her. “Please, sit. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

As Viktor settled into the chair, Esma offered him a vial of blood, as was customary. He shook his head politely, a faint smile gracing his lips. “No, thank you. I’ve… already taken care of it.”

Esma raised a brow, tucking the vial back with a knowing look. “Suit yourself.” She returned her attention to her work but shot him a sideways glance. Viktor hesitated, looking down as he gathered his thoughts. “I wanted to discuss the synthetic tissues you’ve been working on,” he began, his voice low. “Have you ever… tried to revitalize them with hextech?”

Esma’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, though a small, knowing smile touched her lips. “With hextech? No… I haven’t, at least not directly,” she admitted. “I did try using Shimmer once, though.”

At the mention of Shimmer, Viktor’s curiosity flared. “Shimmer? Where did you get that?” he asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

Esma chuckled softly. “Oh, Viktor… I’ve been around long enough to know how to find what I need,” she replied, her smile hinting at the centuries of experience she carried. “And, besides,” she continued, her gaze piercing as she looked at him, “it’s not like you’re a stranger to it, either.”

Viktor felt his stomach drop. "I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, though the hesitation in his voice betrayed him.

“Oh, Viktor,” Esma replied, her eyes glinting with a mix of sympathy and amusement. “I know the scent of Shimmer in someone’s blood. You can’t hide that from me.” She tilted her head slightly, observing his reaction. “I can tell it’s been a while, but it’s still there, faintly—stained in you.”

The words sank in, and Viktor felt a wave of discomfort wash over him. His mind drifted back to the time when his body had been on the verge of collapse, when his determination to continue his work had driven him to take desperate measures. Then Singed, the near-fatal deterioration, the Shimmer—it was all true. He hadn’t thought about it in so long, had pushed those memories aside, buried them under layers of focus and innovation.

Esma seemed to notice his discomfort and shifted the conversation. “Anyway, as I said, I used Shimmer on synthetic tissue once. It did bring it to life for a short period—allowed it to function almost as if it were real. But eventually, it became unstable and… well, destroyed itself.”

Viktor’s interest was piqued. “Destroyed itself?”

She nodded. “Yes. Shimmer has a volatility to it that doesn’t lend well to permanence. It’s effective, powerful even, but unreliable for sustaining life. Hextech, however…” She let the words hang in the air, her eyes gleaming with curiosity as she studied Viktor’s expression.

He nodded thoughtfully, feeling the weight of her words but unable to shake the feeling that he was on the verge of something groundbreaking. “Hypothetically, if it did work… if hextech could sustain the tissue indefinitely… it could mean…” He hesitated, the implications almost too vast to put into words.

Esma watched him carefully, her gaze sharp. “Immortality,” she finished for him, a hint of warning in her tone.

He looked down at the tissue under the microscope, his mind racing. “If we could somehow stabilize it, keep it from overloading…” His voice trailed off as Esma’s smile widened, and she leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand as she watched him intently. “You sound like a man on a mission.”

He hesitated, feeling a familiar conflict rising within him. His motivations had always been driven by a desire to improve the world, to give people a chance to live without the constraints of illness or decay. But now, with his transformation, there was a part of him that yearned for something more—a chance to unlock the secrets of longevity, to give others the gift he had inadvertently received.

“Congratulations, by the way,” she added suddenly, a sly smile on her lips.

The change in subject caught him off guard. “Sorry?”

“Your engagement,” she clarified “It’s a rare thing for one of our kind. Commitment, I mean. To a mortal.”

He rose slowly from his chair, looking down at Esma with a sharp intensity in his gaze. "If you could help me with this,” he began, each word deliberate, “it won’t be rare anymore.”

Esma’s mouth twisted into an amused smile, one eyebrow arching as if she found his words naive. “As if the council would let us,” she scoffed. “You’re dreaming, Viktor. Even if you could figure it out… they’d shut you down the moment they caught wind of it. Vampires and humans aren’t meant to mix, you know that.” She reached out, her fingertips brushing against his chest, lingering there a moment too long.

Viktor’s face hardened as he brushed her hand off, his movements sharp, almost instinctive. He forced himself to ignore the urge to push her away more aggressively. “You look so frustrated, Viktor. And I can’t blame you. A life like this isn’t for the faint of heart. You think you can create a perfect union between humans and vampires? Trust me; you’d be the first.” She tilted her head, her voice low and suggestive. “But… if you’re really that desperate, I could offer some assistance, for a price.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Esma’s smirk faltered, and she shrugged as if his rejection didn’t sting. “Fine, Viktor. If you want to go it alone, suit yourself.

He turned on his heel, not even offering her a parting word. He could feel her gaze on him as he walked out of her office, the cool, unbothered presence of someone who believed herself untouchable. But she wasn’t perfect. None of them were. Vampires, with all their power, were still bound by limitations they chose to ignore. They may have gained immortality, but they’d sacrificed so much in the process. Not to mention the hunger…

He’d thought of biting you, of sharing his immortality in the only way he could. He’d wrestled with the idea for months, tempted by the promise that you would never suffer the slow decay of time, never be at risk of slipping away from him. But he knew that turning you against your will would be unthinkable; you’d made it clear that you had no desire to live like he did, tethered to a life that could stretch into eternity with unending hunger. And even if he ignored your wishes, there was no guarantee that Piltover would allow you both to survive the decision. Mel would rally the council against him, citing every rule he had already bent, every line he had crossed. You would both be hunted—an inevitability he couldn’t ignore. So, as much as the thought crossed his mind, he kept it buried, waiting for the right moment, for a solution that didn’t involve turning you.

If Esma was going to stand by idly, and if Jayce wouldn’t support his vision, then he’d find another way. He’d always found a way, even when the odds were against him.

—

As you opened the door to your apartment, balancing the grocery bags with one arm and cradling the kitten against your chest with the other, you felt a wave of surprise. Viktor was home. The sight of him—slumped over a mess of notes and calculations spread across the table—made you pause in the doorway. One of his old canes leaned against the table, and it seemed odd to see it there, considering he no longer needed it. For a brief moment, you wondered why he’d brought it out.

He looked up as you entered, narrowing his eyes at the small bundle in your arms before his gaze shifted to meet yours. A slight arch of his brow was the only clue to his thoughts as he set down his pen and pushed back from the table.

“I didn’t expect you to be home so early,” you said, smiling as you balanced yourself with the cane, holding the kitten protectively. “Did something happen?”

“Just needed a break from the lab,” he replied, his eyes flicking back down to the kitten. Viktor’s expression turned wary, like he was assessing whether the little creature was a threat to his carefully organized world. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, making it clear he had no intention of humoring you.

You knew exactly what he was about to say, and a small laugh escaped you even before he spoke.

“I hope you know,” he said, his voice dry and measured as he approached to take the bags from you, “this—” he gestured to the kitten with a sweep of his hand, “is not staying with us.”

As he turned toward the kitchen, you protested, quickening your pace to keep up with him. “But, Viktor—”

“No,” he replied firmly, without even looking back. His tone was clipped, like he was trying to cut the conversation short before it could escalate.

“But it’s just a little kitty,” you tried again, voice edging toward pleading. You caught up to him as he set the bags down on the counter, only for him to turn his attention fully to unpacking, meticulously ignoring you and the kitten in your arms.

“Nope,” he said resolutely, taking out the peaches and strawberries you’d bought. “It smells like garbage, and it probably has fleas.”

You opened your mouth to counter his argument, but he was focused, jaw set in that stubborn way you’d seen a thousand times before. Clearly, he was already committed to resisting the little stray, which made you all the more determined to convince him otherwise.

“I wanted to get shampoo for it and give it a bath before you got back,” you said softly. You could see the tiniest flicker of doubt cross his features, and for a split second, you felt victory within reach. All you needed was for him to look at the kitten, to really look at it. He’d give in; you knew he would. But he pointedly refused to glance in your direction, focusing instead on putting away the groceries with exaggerated precision, organizing everything as if to make a statement. You saw right through him—if he looked, he’d crumble.

The kitten mewed quietly, and you felt it shift in your arms, tiny paws kneading your chest as it settled in. You tried another angle, hoping to tug at his heartstrings just a little. “Viktor,” you murmured, taking a careful step forward. “It’s been through so much, and it’s all alone.” The kitten’s small, pleading gaze, paired with its soft purr, felt like the final weapon in your arsenal.

Still, Viktor held firm, refusing to look at you, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “It’s not staying,” he muttered under his breath, his voice holding the slightest waver. You were almost certain you’d won until you took one step too far, misjudging your footing as your cane slipped slightly, and you nearly stumbled.

In an instant, Viktor’s entire demeanor shifted. He moved toward you, one hand steadying your arm while the other cupped your shoulder. Concern flickered across his features as he kept you steady, his eyes softening as he took in your unsteady stance. That was all the kitten needed. It wriggled between the two of you, nudging Viktor’s chest with its tiny head as it settled, looking up at him with round, hopeful eyes. You barely contained a smile as Viktor’s gaze shifted down at last, his resistance crumbling as he took in the sight of the little creature nestled so trustingly against him.

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” you said softly, watching his expression carefully.

Viktor’s jaw tightened, and he tried to avert his eyes, but you could see the faintest flicker of softness there. His fingers twitched, as though he was fighting the urge to reach out and pet the kitten. “I’m…not getting attached to this,” he said, though even he didn’t seem convinced by his own words.

“Just look at it,” you urged gently. The kitten mewed again, reaching out one tiny paw toward him, and you could practically see his resolve shatter.

Finally, with a sigh of defeat, Viktor reached out, letting the kitten bat playfully at his fingers. It was hesitant at first, but his expression softened further with every gentle tap of its tiny paw. “Okay, fine,” he muttered, clearly already regretting his decision. “But if it’s staying, we’re taking it to the vet first thing in the morning. You might’ve already caught some disease from it.”

“It’s just a kitten, Viktor!” you laughed, thrilled he’d given in. He rolled his eyes, trying to hold onto a last shred of resistance.

“Yes, a kitten that probably picked up every germ imaginable from the streets,” he replied dryly. “So, yes, you can give it a bath, but for the love of God, make sure it’s…decontaminated first.”

You leaned in and kissed him quickly, barely able to contain your excitement. He softened under your touch, though he tried to keep his firm exterior, scoffing as he watched you disappear into the bathroom with the kitten in your arms.

“Viktor,” you called from the doorway, holding the kitten against your shoulder. “I don’t actually have shampoo for kittens...or flea shampoo.” You gestured to the little creature, who looked up at Viktor with an innocent gaze that only amplified its cuteness.

He sighed, glancing around the apartment like he was making a mental list of everything he’d need to do now. “Of course. Why would we have any?” He rubbed his forehead as if this was the biggest inconvenience he’d faced all week, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. His expression softened further as he saw you shifting uncomfortably, resting more weight on your good leg. “I’ll go get it. In the meantime, don’t let it destroy something,”

You gave him a grateful smile, and as he turned to grab his coat, you glanced down at the kitten, which looked up at you with wide eyes. “Now what are we going to call you?” you murmured, scratching under its chin.

Viktor paused in the doorway, seemingly lost in thought. “If it’s going to stay, it needs a proper name. How about…Hippocrates?” His lips twitched, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “After all, it’s a sickly little thing.”

You laughed, glancing back at the kitten. “Hippocrates, huh?” you repeated, testing the name aloud. The kitten meowed softly, its head tilting slightly as if considering the suggestion.

“Or perhaps Galen, if that suits it better,” Viktor continued, watching you both. His teasing softened into something almost affectionate as he watched you gently stroke the kitten’s head.

“Galen?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “We’re not naming a kitten after a physicist or medic, Viktor.”

He shrugged, trying to act indifferent. “It’s fitting. Cats are clever. Plus, he’d have a namesake in someone who actually contributed something.”

“Of course you’d think that,” you teased. “But I think something softer might be better. He’s just a baby, after all.” The kitten nestled against your chest, and, overcome with affection, you leaned down to kiss it. But Viktor’s hand shot out, stopping you mid-gesture. “Oh my God, please don’t.” His voice was filled with exasperation, but his smile gave him away. “Just—no, not until it’s had a bath.”

Rolling your eyes with a smirk, you relented. “Fine, fine.” You set the kitten down for a moment, rummaging in the kitchen for a bowl. You filled it with a bit of milk, placing it carefully on the floor for the kitten. As it took a few tentative laps, you watched with an amused smile. “See? Perfectly harmless.”

But Viktor only shook his head and muttered, “Harmless until it brings half the city’s fleas into our home.”

After he left for the store, you found yourself alone with it, who had finished the milk and was now wandering around the apartment, taking in its new surroundings with wide, curious eyes. You chuckled as it stumbled over its own feet, scurrying from one corner of the room to the other. It barely stayed still for a second before darting off in a different direction, its tiny paws pattering across the floor.

It was small but feisty, its little legs carrying it in wild circles across the floor, making you laugh as it zigzagged around the table legs and even launched itself up onto the couch.

Soon, though, its darting turned into a full-on sprint. The kitten, barely the size of one of Viktor’s books, dashed around the room, bouncing off furniture in a flurry of energy. It dashed toward the corner, where Viktor’s old cane rested against the wall by the table. Just as you turned to stop it, the kitten collided with the cane in a sudden burst of motion, and you winced, hoping it hadn’t hurt itself. But the kitten sprang back unharmed, while the cane wobbled, tilted, and then fell to the floor with a clatter.

To your surprise, the small metal cap rolled off the cane, clinking as it spun away. It was followed by several small vials that scattered across the floor, their faint glow unmistakable even in the dim light of the room. You froze, staring at the small glass vials, recognizing the vibrant, unmistakable hue of Shimmer.

For a second, you couldn’t move.

You crouched down, heart pounding, to get a better look, wondering if you’d somehow imagined it. But no; there they were and the kitten, oblivious, had already moved on, pouncing at a stray piece of paper on the floor.

#vampire au #fanfiction #arcane #vampire viktor #viktor league of legends #viktor x reader #viktor x you #arcane jayce #viktor arcane #jayce x mel #jayce talis #jayce league of legends #viktor lol #caitlyn arcane

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fleurietty · 3 months ago

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i’m never finishing this so have this silly little sunghoon drabble lol

p. sunghoon x jays sister!fem reader, sfw lol, cw for cheating and drinking ?? i think that’s it, not proofread at all

“Dude,” your brother says into his phone, 7:42 PM on a Monday, his irritation clear in his tone. “Don’t you know that it’s a cardinal sin to go after a bro’s sister?”

You sigh, the walls in your home thin enough that you can hear him from your room. You told Sunghoon not to let Jay know, he had said it came out as an accident— but you didn’t know if you believed him.

The reason you don’t want Jay to know about your relationship with Sunghoon is that you know how protective he can get, and he’s also vehement in telling you that all his friends are players, so don’t go after them.

But you didn’t believe him- He’s been friends with Sunghoon (the rest, too) since they were little kids— meaning you knew them since they were kids, too.

You don’t think they’re the type of guys to do that, to be players.

Especially not Sunghoon. He does figure skating— and has a little sister, for Christ’s sake, how could he be that type of person?

“Oh- No, haha, it’s not cheating,” you hear Sunghoon say to his friends, the purple LEDs in your friend’s house glaringly bright as you sipped on whatever drink was on the table you got it from.

You’re basically sobered up by what he says, the drunken vibes the party had given leaving your mind in a few seconds.

What isn’t cheating? You discreetly hide yourself behind a blond guy on the couch as you continue to listen.

“It’s just a.. casual relationship, y��know?” Sunghoon continues, his speech slurred by the drinks he had earlier on, “it isn’t anything exclusive.. It isn’t that serious of a relationship.”

You blink. Once, twice, thrice. What did he just say?

You hear Jake laugh— the sound too distinct to not recognize—, “Hah, dude, no way, right?”. He gets no response from Sunghoon.

“Dude,” Jake says, the worry in his voice evident, “that’s Jay’s sister.. Aren’t you worried about what he’ll think? When he finds out you’re cheating on his little sister?”

You hear Sunghoon laugh again. “I already said, it’s not a real, serious relationship- And, anyways, it’s not like I went on dates with those girls, it doesn’t mean anything, it’s okay if I—“

You stop listening at that point.

What the..? No way, right? It’s been a long night- and it’s a party, too, he’s just drunk. He wouldn’t actually say that.

(A drunk mind speaks a sober heart, a voice nags in the back of your mind.

You ignore it.)

Your last year of high school, Sunghoon confessed to you.

“I like you,” Sunghoon said, sitting on the secluded bench at the park. “If I- Or, well, if you- or, uhm..” He awkwardly stumbles over his words, and you have to hold back an endeared laugh.

“I’d, like, actually give up heaven if you’d let me date you.” And at that point, you couldn’t hold back a flustered cackle, your cheeks flushing with heat.

“Don’t laugh! I really do like you!” Sunghoon rushed, making you laugh even harder, giddy with the fact your long-time crush (since you two had met, basically) was confessing that he liked you too.

You don’t remember the exact response you gave, the memory filtered in your mind, but you remember that whatever you said made him grin, and the oranges and pinks of the sunset paled in comparison to the brightness of his smile.

You remember hugging him, and for a second, it felt like you held the world in your hands.

So, after that, though you two never officialised it, you were basically in a relationship.

You went on dates, he gave you gifts, and you..

Well, you don’t want to go into detail. All that to say that you two definitely did things that two just-friends do not do after finding out they both like each other.

You were a couple. Or, well, you thought you were a couple. But now, you’re starting to realize that.. It's pretty one-sided. He’s never really acted like you were a couple.

You thought he was just trying to hide it from your brother, but you’ve come to notice that even when Jay was away and you two were just with friends, Sunghoon never talked or acted like you two were together.

He may say that he loves you, but.. You’re kind of curious about whether he even likes you.

You don’t know what to think when you find out from the grapevine that Sunghoon was sleeping around with different girls.

You’re obviously upset. But you can’t even find it within yourself to say that you’re surprised, because deep down, you know you aren’t.

In fact, a part of you expected it.

But the part of you that loved him (read: 99.9% of you) wanted to chuck itself off of a cliff and into an activated furnace.

For how long has he been cheating? What happened to him loving you since you were kids? What would your brother think? A multitude of thoughts rush through your mind as you listen to one of your friends tell you about it, but the one thing blaring through all of them is the reminder about what he had said at the party, about your relationship being casual.

You excuse yourself from class (mostly to avoid hearing more about Sunghoon’s.. situation), walking tiredly to the bathroom. To sulk, to scream, to cry— you haven’t really decided yet.

All you know, sitting on the toilet (with the toilet lid closed, of course), is that you’ve never felt more lonely in your whole life.

There’s only one person you can hope to find solace in- your brother.

You check your phone, and cough in shock (and to be honest, some fright) at the notifications on the screen. Six or so missed calls, and many, many texts, all from your brother.

Wow, so that was definitely helpful, you internally scoff. What deluded you, thinking that Jay would be of any help? You’re pretty sure the guy had been in one relationship his entire life, and it was the relationship between him and the voices in his head.

You sigh, burying your face in your hands- how were you supposed to feel now? You were forced to accept the fact that you were so deep in denial that you denied the fact he was cheating when he said it so straightforwardly- you feel like an actual fool.

On the scale of stupidity, there was 12 year old you, Jay, and then you right now. It wasn’t just flags or signs, it was an actual billboard with the words HE’S CHEATING!!!!! written straight on it multiple times, and for some reason you need glasses more than ever.

The worst part of this all- the part that made you feel the most stupid-

You, after everything, do not feel any less love for Sunghoon. Maybe it’s because you’ve loved him for so long, maybe it’s because you love a little too hard, or maybe it’s just because you don’t want to lose the love that, on some days, reminded you that you were a good person.

Maybe it’s all of those factors combined that make it so that love is unforgettable, even (especially) for you.

The seeds of doubt and realization had long been planted in your mind.

Since you were a child, you knew that it was hard, loving everyone to the extent that the love reached its soft fingers into your body, clawing your flesh open and nestling itself in-between your ribs. You knew that nobody loved you quite the way you loved them.

Since you were a child, you also knew it would be hard to get rid of it.

Now, an adult, your solution is this: try to forget, try to forgive. Try to let it go. There’s one obstacle: how?

You have loved Sunghoon for at least more than a decade- you still, painfully, love him-, can that be forgotten easily? Can it be forgotten at all?

You stayed silent about what you knew for a month.

Even you don’t know why- He was probably screwing around with even more girls, and you sat there knowing and not saying anything.

Jay had already prompted you at least 30 times to confront Sunghoon at the threat of him doing it himself, to which you were only able to convince him otherwise with food, doing his chores, and a warning that you’d tell your parents if he did so.

You loved Sunghoon.

You really did— really do.

But day by day, second by second, as the rumors got worse and more girls came out saying that yes, they did sleep with Sunghoon, you felt your love for him rot.

The love you held dear, forever in your flesh, decayed slowly in your rattling bones, quiet and a so very strong feeling of death permeating inside you, your body was a cemetery and your heart was a grave.

You didn’t talk to him for another two months.

Three months without him, three months soaking in the grief of a loss you could only compare to death, because for the two decades of your life, you’d loved him so much and for so long it was a part of you you couldn’t imagine a life without.

When you thought of your future, it was always along his side. Sitting at the dinner table and going over the grocery list, him leaning over you to reach for and turn off the lamp on the bedside table. That’s the future you always saw for yourself without a doubt.

Now.. Now you aren’t so sure. He was the only person you could really, like, really imagine a life with. He was the only person you wanted to fold the clothes for after he washed them, the only person you wanted to set the table after you cooked.

It had been that way your whole life. You don’t think you’re ready for a change.

that’s it lol

#enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x you #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon x y/n #enhypen #enhypen ff #sunghoon x reader

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spaceorphan18 · 5 months ago

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So apparently the glee writers loved to bring in aspects of the actor’s personality and give them to the characters, as well as their personal lives and interests. What do you think they brought to Kurt and Blaine from Chris and Darren? There is some obvious stuff, well to me it is from what I’ve seen of them in interviews etc.

They brought some negative stuff for some of the other actors, but I don’t think they did so for them??

You know, it's funny - we used to say that as the show went on - Kurt became more like Chris and Blaine became less like Darren.

Kurt is the more complicated answer. When the show started, Kurt was much more Ryan Murphy -- this weird, effeminate, overly dramatic kid. Kurt became more toned down as the show went on, because Chris was (is) not an overly effeminate, dramatic guy.

They tried to bring in Kurt writing (Chris really did not want this - but there are elements of it in his character anyway). There are also smaller things -- like Kurt's penchant for twirling things, that's a Chris-ism. There are more -- but I'm kind of blanking, I'd know it if I saw it. But they're peppered in. You can sometimes tell when Chris improv'd a Kurt line, because Chris as a sharp sense of humor and a certain cadence to it that is slightly off from the rest of the writing.

Also, I do believe Kurt's independence was definitely a push from Chris, as Chris values individual independence very much.

Unfortunately, there were some negative things that did filter through for Chris/Kurt, mostly in the last few seasons. They started commenting on his looks more (which Naya confirmed Chris felt uncomfortable with). They also make a lot of jokes about Kurt liking old people -- and part of that stems from Chris having older friends/enjoying older people, but I've always wondered if Walter stemmed (every so slightly - there are definitely other factors going on here) from the fact that Chris's partner Will is a good deal older than him. (I mean, not that much older, but Will is older than I am!)

Of course, The Hurt Locker episodes were commentary on itself, and part of that commentary was Chris (and possibly Darren)'s wanting to not be linked together. Also, I've always wondered about the line from Isabelle about 'Chris' and 'Darren' not wanting to sit together. And I always wondered if it was commentary on Chris not wanting to be public with Darren because of the tinhatters.

Darren/Blaine is a little bit harder to define in some ways. The character just was incredibly under developed in the first few seasons, and especially in Season 2, Darren brought a lot more of himself to the role? the voice change is the big one - Darren changed Blaine's voice, and once he settled on it, he never looked back.

I don't know how much they wrote Darren into Blaine, though. There were little nods here and there -- The glitter rock vampire stuff is all Darren, and probably improvised. Blaine put on pink sunglasses in season 2, which was a nod to Darren (at the time). But I don't know that they took too much of Darren's life and put it in the show.

I think, ultimately, that Darren had one of the better relationships with the creators/writers/etc of the show, and thus was not given the same treatment that those on the outs with them often got, unfortunately.

Jane Lynch once said - you could always tell who was in and who was out with Ryan Murphy based on how the character was treated. And I do think she was pretty accurate on that one.

#that's how s.o. sees it #klaine #glee #i'm sure i'm forgetting lots of things #if anyone remembers - feel free to share!

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leonawriter · 2 years ago

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I’m sure we’ve all seen the ideas that go around every so often of “Akira just spends most of the interrogation rambling about Goro Akechi” which I don’t think are even fully viable given how out of it he was and how short of a time he had with Sae, but-

I give to you:

Sae brings up Akechi and knows they know each other somehow, asks for Akira’s opinions on him, and when Akira remembers Akechi and brings him to mind, instead of rambling on, this bruised and battered boy just gives a kind of goofy smile and mumbles out something about how “pretty” Akechi is that’s mostly just him not realising he’s thinking aloud.

Akira having the drugs make him not ever give blatant details, but sometimes his filter just goes out the nonexistent underground window and in the middle of trying to explain an Akechi-related incident just goes “...which was actually kind of hot of him” and an interjection of “stupid sexy Akechi” at another time, because she’s keeping him on track but his brain is still fuzzy.

Those sorts of comments get scarcer and fewer and further between the closer they get to the present day, the more Akira remembers, the less time they have, the more he seems to hurt as he’s trying to just remember.

It’s hard to forget that first smile he’d had about her erstwhile assistant, though, which had made him look like a normal kid with a normal crush. Harder still when she realises with a cold shiver down her spine that Akechi, the same Akechi she’d worked with and that Akira had smiled about, was the perpetrator of the crimes she’d been after so long, who was perfectly wiling to kill Akira.

Even harder still to forget when Akechi just disappears, and they tell her he’s dead, and she can still remember that smile when she looks Akira in the eye and sees grief reflected back at her, even if the only Akechi she’d known had been a fake thing he’d put on for her.

She worries, in so many ways, wondering if Akira hasn’t just been remembering the cute face he met, but forgetting the real self underneath. Looking back on the past with rose-tinted glasses.

And then almost a year later, she’s sat in a café with Goro Akechi, who is very much alive, but also appears to be more the kid she’d remembered than she’d expected and at the same time something else that she didn’t know how to handle all of the time. Sometimes he’s a different person entirely to her. A stranger. But then he’ll use the exact same mannerisms, have the exact same logic to reason out a problem, and the exact same...

Ah, she thinks. She’d been used to looking for weaknesses in suspects as a prosecutor. She’s likewise become used to looking for the truth in her clients, and in witnesses. The two sometimes coincide. Right now, she's seeing how Akechi is avoiding one topic in particular.

She isn't sure what, exactly, spurs her on to tell him about the way Akira had smiled and talked about him, but the fact remains that his face turns several shades of pink she’d never thought it could go. He outright squeaks.

The next time she sees Akira, he’s got that same smile on his face. It looks a lot better when he isn’t drugged up or bruised.

#persona 5 #p5r #p5 stuff #shuake #akeshu #sae niijima #leona fic #whoops I accidentally went from idea post to 'practically a fic'

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the-s1lly-corner · 1 year ago

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Hello! Merry Chirtmas ! İ just love your blog and can't stop thinking about it ! So, how would tadc react to a female kid reader ? That little girl is cheerful elegant little lady and wear nice Pink dress with bows! She comforted Gangle by saying "don't be sad ! İ love you !" And put some sticker on her mask ! Oh and saying i love you to them before leaving. When Jax is doing something bad she says "Don't be mean! you silly rabbit!"

Caine, Gangle, Zooble, Pomni w/ sweet!kid!reader (platonic)

doing these characters since the wheel chose it (ominously) not sure how much i'll write today but i got a little more in the inbox compared to these past few days so i plan on working that down

CAINE:

basically treats you like his own kid but hes never been a dad before so hes still learning; torn between him being over protective of you or thinking you're indestructible (which... technically you are as long as youre in the digital world). i think he finds your sweetness adorable, though if theres someone in the circus being mean to you (surprisingly i dont think jax would be too mean. a little bit of a butt? yeah but its not much different than an older brother picking on their younger sibling) i think he would pipe up and not shut up until you get an apology. starts watching IHAs more now that you're here, both to see how youre doing but also to make sure its not too crazy for you.. cant help but let the big scary monster/trial pass when you run up to it being nice. literally just snaps the thing out of existence/away/wherever. loves seeing the look of triumph on your face afterwards

POMNI:

nice towards you and probably over time keeps a closer eye on you but in the beginning i think its more like. you following her like a duckling since shes busy trying to find an exit. honestly i think pomni would have a hard time when it sinks in that theres a little kid here in the circus. how did you get here? when did you get here? i think thats what would prompt her in trying to connect with you, thus you gain another guardian figure! sticking true my idea of pomni being uneasy around kids because they can be gross and have no filter and be unpredictable i think at first she would be a little... tense around you, but overtime becomes more comfortable when she realizes youre not like that. definitely going to take a while, though.. shrugs

GANGLE:

definitely finds you sweet, lets you hang around in her room and mess with her art supplies. probably cries harder when you try to make her feel better after jax does something, usually something that leaves her with a broken comedy mask. i dont think she would let you confront jax about it, though... she appreciates the sentiment but shes not about to make it look like she sent a little kid to defend her, thats only going to give jax even more ammo even if you stood up for her on your own. sometimes lets you put stickers on her mask or glitter... ponders.. i think she reads stories to you too, every night

ZOOBLE:

i think ive already said this before but zooble gives off such older sibling energy, and i cant really explain it other than its just the personality and looks... but i guess that doesnt explain much. shrugs. sweet younger sibling, cool but indifferent older sibling. or at least you think theyre cool. and you tell them every chance you guy. i think they would just give a weird "thaaanks.." the first few times before fully leaning into the older sibling role. dont get me wrong like before they wouldnt just leave you wandering around alone during an IHA, hell i dont think they would there wasnt one going on.. but they wouldnt go out of their way to hang out with you.. but eventually they just kind of keep a closer eye on you. check in on you. ask what youre up to. theyre not attached to you by the hip but theyre definitely present in your life as a role model. tries to make you be less nice, gives you the talk that not everyone is nice and sometimes some people fake being nice in order to get what they want. but in kid terms, obviously... well not little kid terms i still think zooble would be blunt but they wouldnt be harsh

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #caine x you #pomni x reader #pomni x you #gangle x reader #gangle x you #zooble x reader #zooble x you

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amywritesthings · 2 years ago

Text

SEEING YOU, SEEING ME. (1/7)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: After handling a life-or-death favor for Tess, you're in deep shit. Until she can make things right, she suggests you lay low at her place for the week. The issue? It's also Joel Miller's place, and you're pretty sure he hates you.

Warnings: Mentions of death and violence, Age gap/difference, Slow burn, Angry!Joel, Eventual Smut, Enemies to Fuckers, Before the events of TLOU 1.01

( Read on AO3 )

Next Chapter / Masterlist

CHAPTER ONE: THERE, EVERYWHERE

“Where are we going?”

The scoff from the woman stalking ahead tells you it's a stupid question to ask, if not already one too many.

Head down, hood up — in the cover of night, you have managed to slide in and out of alleyways unscathed and unseen. With every darkened hour, curfew gets that much more dangerous. Risky; the gallows are a recent addition to the zone to make an example out of deserters, rule breakers, and degenerates alike.

One false move, and it'll be two additional necks tomorrow morning.

None of this running around, however, is by your own doing: Tess Servopoulos is the thing that goes bump in the night. The smuggler that knows her way around the quarantine zone with little error.

The person that gets shit done around here.

You’re only by her side because you happened to be at the wrong place, wrong time — or, in her instance, the exact spot she needed in order for Tess herself to avoid that miniscule margin of error from increasing.

A lucky fuck-up, she calls it, except the concept of luck is all for her.

For you? It’s a matter of life and death — Fedra, the gallows, are only a drop in the bucket compared to having your fate at the hands of one Robert's underlings in a domino chain of petty fights and turf wars.

Tess swears on an eye for an eye: if she can clear your name and settle a deal, then no blood will have to be shed.

(A luck fuck-up, indeed.)

“You want to live?” she asks under her breath, a pace ahead. The hallway is empty at this time of night, wrapped tightly in militant fear. “Then you stay here.”

You shove your freezing hands in your pockets. “And where is here?”

“Just a place.”

“Yours?”

The woman finally halts at a door, glancing once at you as she fishes for her keys with an irritated boredom; a Tess classic.

“Did I say you could ask so many fucking questions?”

Bingo.

You were right: one too many.

With one quick shove of her shoulder, you’re met with a sea of earth tone pinks engulfed a low light hue. Sun-stained curtains billow against the open air. The dilapidated floral wallpaper brings an uncomfortable Deja vu of a not-so distant world that's still rapidly decaying. The furniture seems well kept, sturdy, with a dining table set and a half-sunken couch. Eerie is the sound of a soft seventies ballad crooning Looks Like We Made It by Barry Manilow from a static-filtered FM radio between the windows.

But someone is already there.

Hunched over the small, square table for two sits a broad-shouldered man with salt and pepper hair. His shoulders lurch protectively over what seems to be paper and pen. The back of the jean-clad torso tightens at the sound of Tess's boisterous entrance, and their chin turns at break-neck speed to assess the intrusion. The person's eyes do not meet yours, but your certainly meet his face.

Shit.

You know that scowl.

It never leaves his damn face.

Here, Tess has conveniently left unconfirmed, is not only her place but Joel Miller’s place. Joel Miller — the guy who will take any hardened zone job no one wants so long as no one speaks or looks his way. The person who, at the end of the day, wants to be handed what he’s owed and to be left the fuck alone.

It's the guy you have spent dozens of shifts working alongside, desperate to make rationed ends meet, without so much as an introduction or a hello.

And you're fairly certain he hates you.

While it's rumor that Joel hates everyone, it's the way he hits your shoulder as he passes by to pick up the next dead body that's festered a full-blown fabricated story like a virus in your mind. You swear his gaze hardens every time he shows up at six a.m. sharp, only to find you waiting at the dig site.

With intimidating urgency he stands, slamming the notepad closed with an open palm.

“What’s all this?” the southern drawl is unamused. Gruff.

Angry.

Tess doesn’t look at you when Joel steps once, twice, meeting her in the middle. “A favor.”

Joel’s eyes narrow a fraction of an inch. “We don’t do favors.”

“No, we don’t,” Tess confirms with an air of aloofness, “but she did one for me.”

“And that’s my problem, how?”

Tess looks him dead in the eye, unblinking. Joel stares back with the same intensity, nostrils flaring. Mentally they continue to argue while you stand at the mouth of the apartment. An unspoken language, fit for the two of them and leaving you clear out in the cold.

Regardless, you’re no fool. You're not a face he wants to see.

(Goddamnit, Tess.)

Joel relents, shifting his weight from one leg to another as he places his hands on his hips. The movement is followed by a hefty, exhausted sigh.

“So then what’s your plan? Since you're suddenly feeling all sorts of generous today, Tess."

Not an outright refusal. Not a threat to turn you in.

Just like that, your not-so-lucky day has turned around.

Tess nods her chin once in appreciation of this acceptance, only to gesture to you.

“Let her lay low.”

His fiery eyes flicker to you, finally, and your fingers instinctually tighten against the strap of your pack slung loosely over your shoulder.

“I assume you mean lay low here.”

“Yes.” Tess tenses, if only a little, as if to brace for the oncoming storm. “For a few days.”

His expression shifts instantly, brows knit tight to blink back at Tess. Joel starts with a bite, louder than before.

“A few—?”

“Days. Until I can sort shit out and make everything even.”

Joel pauses for a moment, taking a much needed breath to level the rage rolling off of him in waves. You shift your bag, attempting to make no noise. Prey meet predator; God forbid you provoke him.

Then he speaks between gritted teeth.

“That’s a big fucking ask, Tess.”

Tess nods, though it's a contrast softer this time around.

“You know I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important. I gotta make it right before shit hits the fan. You know how Robert gets.”

And he does know, it seems, by the way he backs off with a miniscule step. His shoe scuffs at the floor, creaking the wooden boards.

Joel lands his eyes on you for a second time. It's lessened in intensity, but it's unforgiving all the same.

You nervously shrug one shoulder, turning into a counterpoint. “If this… is an issue, I can just—”

“Go back out there until someone kills you?” Tess interrupts, craning her chin to watch you, too. “No. It’s just a few days. We can make this work.”

“And where will you be, during all this?” Joel asks, but it’s gentler this time. Worried, even if it’s laced with sarcasm.

Tess keeps her eyes on you as she fixes her coat. “Out, but safe. It’s better to do this shit at night sometimes, as stupid as that sounds.”

"You're right, it does sound mighty fucking stupid," Joel gripes in the midst of Tess crossing the threshold between the two of you towards the door.

You almost want to beg her to stay, just for the night, but you know it'll be for nothing.

"Besides," when Tess reaches the door, she turns her head and smirks at the older man, "you could use a friend that isn’t me every once in a while.”

Joel's face drops in time with the boot taking one step ahead.

“But we don’t—”

Tess doesn't wait.

The door closes behind her faster than Joel can finish his statement.

(We don’t do friends.)

Now it’s just you, the white noise from the radio, and Joel Miller in his apartment.

Great.

Dropping his chin to his chest, Joel emits a drawn out groan and shuts his eyes. Yours wander, uncomfortable with staring, until they land on a half-full glass of amber liquid on the table with two white circular tablets.

Oxy.

Oh.

When you blink back to him, however, he notices you noticing all of this — the room, what he’s been up to, what his vices are. No explanation is read on the tip of his tongue.

Instinctually your head shakes, gentle and non-threatening.

“We all cope with whatever we have, right?” you ask despite yourself. “Not gonna… try to steal your shit or anything.”

“Good,” Joel responds, gruff yet almost uncertain. After a beat passes, the man clears his throat and gestures to the emerald couch in the corner. “I’ll, uh… I only got one bed.”

The statement makes you squint, confused, before it hits you:

“Oh.”

“It’s a small apartment,” he reasons more like a hotheaded apology than anything else, but you wave your hands in front of you.

“No, no, it’s fine. I can take the couch. I don’t even mind the floor. I really don't care.”

“I don't give a shit either, but Tess’d have my head if she found out I was good with letting you sleep on the goddamn floor,” Joel laments, sulking back over to the kitchen table to pick up his whiskey glass. You remain standing where you are in the middle of this makeshift living room as he flops down on the couch, denim-covered knees spread apart. “You take the bed. Got mostly fresh sheets put on yesterday.”

You want to ask — are you sure — but decide it’s best not to make more waves in the tsunami you’ve brought to his doorstep this late Tuesday night. You nod wordlessly, not even sure if he’s looking, before shuffling towards the open floor bedroom.

A mattress sits stacked on top of cement blocks in a makeshift frame. At first you reach out towards the pale salmon-colored sheets, gingerly pressing down on the mattress to test its give.

The bed doesn’t move.

Safe, for now.

From here you cannot see him, but you can feel him. There is a very suffocating air about this apartment; a sense of displacement. This is not home, but neither is this quarantine zone. Some people could make it as such, but it appears Joel Miller is about as unwilling to get comfortable as you are.

“Goodnight,” he chimes out of the blue from the other room.

Your eyes widen, following the creaks of the couch as Joel situates himself on the other side of the wall — until the room goes silent.

You don’t say it back. Instead you slowly lower to the mattress that isn’t yours, afraid to contaminate his safe space with your germs. You sit with your back against the wall, fearful to touch the pillows that smell too much like a man you barely know.

For twenty minutes you wait at the left side edge, stirring in the silence, until incoherent mumbles fill the apartment.

It’s Joel, gone from the lull of an alcohol-induced slumber.

Author's Note: It's officially begun! Thank you so much for reading. This series is tied to my one shot reckless. Chapter Two is quickly on the horizon, so never you fret on the wait. As most of my works are, this is a slow burn. This will also not be the most lovey-dovey Joel, so I warn you all ahead of time. As always, comments and reblogs mean the world to me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support and enthusiasm over my first fic of 2023.