#and the only way to turn people around is to actually talk with them

[woniedarlin]

Hi! I actually absolutely love your fic of jungwon being down bad for tsundere reader so I was wondering if you could write something where the roles are reversed and jungwon is the tsundere one 🤍

Chasing a Tsundere

pairing: tsundere! Jungwon x fem! reader

synopsis: You fell for Jungwon—hard. Unfortunately for you, he just had to be the grumpiest, most emotionally unavailable person ever to exist. He pushed you away, rolled his eyes at your persistence, and made it very clear he wasn’t the romantic type.

But giving up? Not an option. Because this is Jungwon we’re talking about.

author's note: Hello, my lovelies! This was so much fun to write. Big thanks to Anonie for the request—I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

caution: cursing and a bit of angst (tell me if there’s more!) , this story contains excessive tsundere behavior and a very persistent main character. Side effects may include secondhand embarrassment. Read at your own risk!

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n

You leaned over Jungwon’s desk with your brightest smile, holding out a bento box wrapped in a pink cloth. “I made this for you. It’s your favorite! I even cut the veggies into stars!”

"Tch," Jungwon dismissed. "I don't want that disgusting slop."

If only he could have tasted that heavenly creation at least once. I mean, imagine turning down a homemade dish made with such effort? Poor you, who only deserved so much more.

He barely glanced up from his textbook as his pen continued to scribble down notes. “Why would I eat food from someone who burns toast?”

You pouted and clutched the bento to your chest. “That was one time, Jungwon. One time! Besides, I didn’t burn this.”

"I don't want your germs. Who knows what kind of gross crap is in there," he said; in which you glanced around the classroom; a few of your friends sent pity looks on your way. No one understood why you were so smitten with him, but they respected it nonetheless.

A few of your classmates looked to be in a similar state of enchantment. Maybe you should try it with them instead of the grinch?

"What do I have to do to make you go away?” Jungwon's words sting a bit.

“I don’t know.’’

You weren't even slightly intimidated or bothered, which was amusing. Most people would have backed off, but you just stood there. It wasn't enjoyable but also somewhat impressive. Not that he'd ever admit that. A long sigh erupted from his lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He slammed his pen down, causing a few heads to turn, but he cared little. “Sit. Down. Go bug someone else.” He gritted out through clenched teeth.

”Please accept?’’ you showed the bento.

You were persistent with your efforts; he had to commend you for that, though he’d never admit it to your face. That would give you too much of an ego boost.

He eyed the bento in your hand, his stomach betraying him by growling quietly. He hadn’t eaten all lunch, so the aroma of the homemade food was almost too tempting to resist. But still, the stubbornness won out. "No. I’m not interested in your food. Why do you insist on wasting your efforts on me?”

“Please?”

Shit. He couldn’t help but think, “How can I say no to someone so sweet?”

He sighed, finally looking at you with that familiar, unimpressed stare. “Just leave it on the desk. I’ll think about it.”

A small victory! You quickly set the box down. “I knew you couldn’t resist. I’ll see you later!” You skipped away before he could respond.

He glanced between the bento and the door you’d disappeared through. His stomach growled once more, begging to be fed. With another sigh, he opened the bento box and slowly ate. “Not bad…”

☔️

The rain fell hard as you stood at the school gates, holding your bag to keep it dry. You sighed and watched the heavy rain, getting ready to run for it. Just as you were about to leave, a familiar voice called out to you.

"You planning on running out in that weather? Do you have a death wish or something?"

Jungwon approached you, umbrella in hand. Before you could even respond, he thrust the umbrella into your hands. “Take it,” he said curtly, glancing at you for only a second before entering the rain, completely unprotected.

“Wait!” you called after him, holding the umbrella out. “What about you?” You extended the umbrella, an offer of protection from the relentless rain. Jungwon paused, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"I don't need it."

His face didn't reveal it, but the gesture touched him. He had been trying to push you away, to make you dislike him, but all you did was offer him shelter from the downpour when you needed it. He couldn't help but admit the irony.

“Don’t catch a cold, idiot.”

☔️

It was another typical day. The hallways were busy with students. But all you could think about was how warm Jungwon’s arm felt as you held onto him.

You had been walking together, but you wanted to be closer. So, you wrapped your arm around his and rested your head on his shoulder. You felt the tension leave your body as you relaxed into him. He was always warm, and being this close to him felt right.

You noticed Jungwon stiffen almost instantly, his eyes widening. “What are you—” he started, his fingers twitching slightly, unsure what to do, before reluctantly relaxing. Slowly, Jungwon’s shoulders relaxed, and the scowl that so often resided on his face faded away. You felt his arm loosen, “Weirdo,” he muttered.

For the rest of the walk, you were quiet. Strangely.

He led you through the crowded school corridors, expertly weaving around the students and making a ruckus. Eventually, he spoke up. " Are you okay?" he asked, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

“More than okay,” you sighed, a dreamy smile forming. “I’m in love.”

Jungwon scoffed. “Love? Seriously?” he retorted. “You fall too hard.”

Suddenly, a girl appeared out of nowhere, walking up to Jungwon and batting her eyelashes at him. “Hey, Jungwon,” she cooed, giving him a flirty smile. “You look so handsome today.”

Oh, the audacity.

You felt your grip on his arm tighten, and without thinking, you made a slight hissing noise under your breath. Like an actual cat. Because that’s totally normal behavior.

Jungwon looked at her blankly. "Uh, thanks," he said, shifting his weight to put some distance between her and himself. After a few moments of awkward silence, the girl caught the hint and excused herself, shooting you a dirty look before sauntering away.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Jungwon noticed and let out a long sigh. He reached over with his free hand, gently touching your arm. "Hey, hey, calm down, alright? I can practically see the green flames of envy raging in your eyes," he says with annoyance. "She means nothing. No one does."

He pauses, "Except you, I guess?" he mumbles under his breath, his voice so low you missed it.

☔️

You were hauling a heavy box of basketball equipment to the gym hours later when a sharp voice stopped you.

"You're an idiot to carry that much all at once. Hand it over before you collapse." Jungwon came out from the corner with a frown on his face. He eyed the box in your arms and rolled his eyes as he took it from you, holding it quickly. “This is what happens when you don’t ask for help.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you replied with a sheepish smile. “The team needed help—”

He shook his head. "There's helpful, and then there's being too nice. You've got to stop saying 'yes' to everyone. That was what? A 40-kilogram box of balls and equipment? Your back would’ve snapped in two by lunch."

Jungwon continued, "Besides, Do they not have arms? If you need help, ask me.”

You opened your mouth to protest but hesitated when you noticed his face, “I’m fine, really,” you reassured him.

"And that's the problem. 'I'm fine.' What happens when, one day, you're not? When you're tired or overwhelmed and still say 'I'm fine' while falling apart inside?" He scolded you, "It's okay to say 'no,' and it's okay to ask for help. Do you not understand? This isn’t a game, and you’re not invincible!"

He turned and walked away, his final words echoing down the hall.

"Don't wait for a mistake to learn."

You didn’t expect this from him.

☔️

For weeks, you did everything. You put in the effort that he rejects, but on rare occasions, he accepts it. Well, you force him to take it. After classes, you were sitting on the rooftop, watching the view. For once, you weren’t seeking Jungwon out; you were trying to gather your thoughts.

Were you tired of chasing someone who always seems to push you away? Absolutely.

Jungwon noticed you perched on the rooftop. He couldn't help but wonder, what's got her so down? He knew he was causing you heartache but he also knew that with every rejection, you came back with more effort. He wanted you to see him as what he truly was. A jerk. Someone not worthy of your devotion... but you never seemed to give up, that determination was something else.

He wondered if he may have gone too far…

“Hey.”

His voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“What are you doing here?” you asked softly.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, walking closer. “You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

You looked away, fidgeting with your hands. “I… I don’t think I should bother you anymore.”

Jungwon froze. “What are you talking about? Bother me? You’re not…” He trailed off, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know I’m an ass. I push people away and make it seem like I don’t want anyone’s company. But you… you never left, even when I wanted you to.” He sat down next to you, keeping a comfortable distance.

“I mean… you’re always annoyed with me. I just figured…” You trailed off, biting your lip.

“Stop saying that,” he interrupted, his tone sharper than usual.

“You think I enjoy acting like a jerk to everyone?“ He let out a humorless laugh, his eyes focusing on the horizon. ”The truth is, I am afraid to open up, to let people in because I know how easily they can break me.” He glanced at you briefly before averting his eyes again. “I’ve seen it happen to my parents and my friends. I don’t want to be another sad soul wandering the world broken.”

You hesitated before whispering, ‘’I’m sorry…’’

“Don’t apologize. Hell, I’m sorry. I’ve been so caught up in pushing you away that I didn’t even realize how much you were trying to get closer to me. I don’t deserve your attention, let alone your kindness.”

He continued, “You’re not… You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met, sure. But if you stopped being around…” He trailed off, looking away as his cheeks turned red. “I’d probably hate it.”

“Jungwon…”

“What? It’s true. I don’t know when or how it happened… but my day feels..lacking if you’re not there.” He shrugged as though admitting that wasn’t a big deal. “So…don’t you dare think about stopping.” He added sternly. “I like you, alright?”

“Thank you…for liking me back’’ you said shyly.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “Don’t get all mushy on me. You make it sound like I’d run into a burning building for you. I like you, but it’s not like I would get matching tattoos or serenade you under your window.”

“But will you?’’

He scoffed. “Really? Of all the things I’ve said, that’s what you focus on?” He shook his head, then looked directly into your eyes. “Fine. Yes, I'd run into a burning building for you. I’ll do anything for you. Happy now?’’

“Very.’’ You giggled, ‘’Come on, walk me home, boyfriend.’’

“Boyfriend?”

He raised an eyebrow at your quick upgrade in the relationship. “You're lucky I like you cause anyone else suggesting that might've been laughed out of the school." He stood up, dusting off his pants and offering you a hand. "Well, come on, girlfriend.“

☔️

Days later…

You sat across from Jungwon at the small restaurant table, your heart doing little flips every time he glanced your way, even though his usual unimpressed expression hadn’t faltered since you arrived. The date wasn’t even bad—just, well, awkward. But awkward in a way that had you wanting to laugh every five seconds because of how seriously Jungwon took things.

Like now.

He's been staring at his menu for ten minutes. It's three pages long, and each item has a picture next to it. How complicated can it be?

"What's taking you so long?" you say, resting your chin in your hand.

"Shut up." He replies, never taking his eyes off the menu. “Do you want water?” he asked, his brows slightly furrowed.

“Uh, sure?” you said, smiling awkwardly.

He waved the waiter over and ordered two glasses of water. After all this careful deliberation, he's just ordering water?

He barely looked at you as he added, “Bring her water. Lemon water.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, which Jungwon noticed.

Jungwon blinked at you, tilting his head slightly. “What? You don’t like lemon?”

He looked a bit hurt at the rejection of his thoughtfulness. This was the same guy who'd throw paper planes at the teacher but couldn’t handle not knowing if you liked lemon in your water? You were so endeared that it took every ounce of self-control not to squeal.

“Oh, no, you’re adorable today,” you assured him, finally letting out a soft laugh.

“Cool,” he managed, cheeks turning pink as he looked down at the table.

“No, I mean—it’s just water,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll live either way.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “It’s not a big deal. Just let me handle it.”

The corner of your lips quirked up. Why is he so serious about water?

The date went on, and the conversation flowed a little more naturally (after you decided to do most of the talking). Jungwon, though, still had his moments. “So, how much do you like me?” you teased halfway through your meal, grinning at him over the rim of your glass.

He choked on his drink.

He coughed, hitting his chest slightly as he cleared his throat. You didn’t think the question warranted that kind of reaction. But then again, you talked to the boy who spent ten minutes deciding whether he should get fries. “W-what kind of question is that?” he asked once he regained composure

You leaned in a little, resting your chin on your palm. “I’m just curious. Am I your type?”

He met your gaze, his eyes softening slightly. It was the first time all evening he'd looked directly at you without an expression of mild annoyance.

“What, you think I’m here for the ambiance?” he replied, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You’re… not that bad a company when you’re not talking about nothing.”

It is a backhanded compliment, but from Jungwon, it might as well be a love confession.

“So,” you continued. “How much do you think I like you?”

Jungwon avoided your gaze, shoving a piece of meat into his mouth to avoid answering. “You’re so annoying,” he muttered, cheeks puffed slightly as he chewed. He ran a hand through his hair, looking quite flustered. His eyes darted around, possibly seeking an escape route. No dice, he’s sitting opposite you in a relatively small restaurant.

He asked again, “What kind of question even is that?”

“A valid one,” you teased, grinning. “But you’ll have to pay me if you want the answer.”

He frowned, confused. “Pay you?”

“Yeah, like—give me, I don’t know... probably 500,000 won, and I’ll tell you all my secrets.” You held up your hands dramatically.

“You said 500,000 won, didn’t you?” he said, pulling out the exact amount and sliding it across the table with an entirely serious expression. “Here. Talk.”

He stared at you expectantly, looking like he expected you to take the money and answer. It was a ridiculous situation. Here you were, in a normal restaurant on a Friday night, with your new boyfriend, who had just put 500,000 won on the table, waiting to know how much you liked him.

It took every ounce of will in your body not to laugh. Oh, he’s so cute…

Your jaw dropped. “Jungwon, I was joking!”

He froze, the faintest flush creeping up his cheeks. “What?”

You could see the cogs turning in his head as if he was contemplating what to do with you now. The situation was getting more absurd, and you pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. It was probably rude to laugh in his face when he just tried to pay you for the information he thinks is valuable.

Still, you laughed.

“I didn’t actually mean it!” you laughed, pushing the money back toward him. “I wouldn’t charge you to know something like that.”

He looked down at the table, “Yeah, well, you started it,” he muttered, returning the money. After a few seconds, he slid a 50,000 won bill across the table, looking slightly embarrassed. “Fine. But this will do?”

He looked up at you, his gaze uncertain. You smiled, tucking this little tidbit of information away for later. The Jungwon is willing to pay you to know you like him. What a night.

“Jungwon, you don’t have to pay me.’’

“Look,” he said, looking at you pointedly. “Just..” He huffed, rubbing a hand across his face. “Just take the damn money, okay? It’s not like I’m breaking the bank here.”

He nudged the money towards you again, his eyes holding a silent plea. Clearly, he didn’t know how else to go about the situation, resorting to his only known means of communication: his wallet.

“Uh…okay?” You accepted it with amusement.

He smiled, nodding in relief. “Good. Now what…what were you saying before?” He asked, trying to hide his embarrassed flush with a cough. “About how much you like me,” he mumbled, his words barely audible.

“You know, you’re too serious,” you teased, poking at his hand lightly. “But I still like you anyway.”

Jungwon looked away, but a smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “Hmph,” he finally said, flicking a sugar packet towards you. “You’re not so bad yourself. In small doses.”

☔️

The date continued similarly. You’d offer to split the bill, but he’d insist on paying. You’d reach for the menu, but he’d swat your hand away, insisting on ordering for you instead.

He was trying hard, and you couldn’t help but adore him even more despite the awkwardness.

Just as you finished teasing Jungwon, music began to play in the restaurant. The lively beat echoed through the room as the servers clapped their hands and started encouraging diners to join them in the center of the floor to dance. You perked up immediately. “Oh my gosh, Jungwon! They’re dancing!”

He glanced at the crowd gathering in the middle of the restaurant and frowned. “Yeah, I can see that. What about it?”

“Let’s go!” you squealed.

His brows shot up. “What? No way.”

“Come on!” You were already out of your seat, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. He barely had time to protest as you dragged him toward the impromptu dance floor.

“I don’t dance,” he muttered, resisting slightly, but you didn’t let go.

“Well, you’re about to learn!” you declared with a grin, already swaying to the music as you pulled him into the crowd.

Jungwon looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, but he sighed in defeat as you started twirling. He awkwardly moved his arms, shuffling his feet in time with yours. “This is embarrassing,” he grumbled, his face heating up.

“You’re doing great!” you cheered, beaming at him as you twirled again, laughing. “Come on, loosen up a little!”

“Loosen up?” he echoed incredulously. “I’m not a dancer!”

“You don’t have to be! Just have fun!” You reached for his hands, placing them on your waist as you guided his movements. “See? Not so bad!”

Jungwon muttered something under his breath, but his steps started to match yours. He tried to keep a scowl on his face, but the way you were laughing so freely made it impossible for him to stay annoyed.

“You’re smiling!” you teased,

“I’m not,” he argued, though the pink tint on his cheeks betrayed him.

“You are! Oh, Jungwon, you’re having fun!”

“I’m not having fun,” he deadpanned; his hands didn’t leave your waist as you swayed together.

“You’re lying,” you sang, twirling yourself and accidentally stepping on his foot.

“Ow—okay, now I’m definitely not having fun!” he groaned, wincing.

You gasped. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, shaking his head. But when you smiled sheepishly up at him, his chest felt lighter despite himself.

As the song ended and the crowd cheered, you clapped your hands excitedly. “That was so much fun!”

He sighed, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” but the faint smile never left his face as you pulled him back to your seats.

☔️

The evening had been fantastic, but it was time to say goodbye. The cool night air surrounded you as you reached your front door. Jungwon walked you home, although he hardly admitted that he liked it. Every second of it.

“Alright,” he said, avoiding your eyes as you stood by your door. “You should lock the door when you get inside. And… don’t forget to check the windows too. It’s late, and you never know.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how concerned he sounded, even though he tried so hard to hide it. “Got it, Jungwon. Thanks,” you said, already knowing how sweet he was, even if he’d never admit it.

He shuffled on his feet, clearly not ready to leave just yet. “I’ll… I’ll call you when I get home, okay? Just in case. And make sure you don’t open the door for anyone unless you’re sure it’s them. You’re… you’re too nice, okay? People could take advantage.” You could hear a slight shake in his voice as he talked on. “And, uh… make sure you stay safe, alright?” He finally looked at you with worry.

You couldn’t help but giggle at how adorable he was being. You stepped a little closer to him, surprising him with a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll be fine, Jungwon,” you said softly. “And thank you. For everything.”

His face turned a deep shade of red, and he immediately turned his head away, muttering something that sounded like, “I-I wasn’t doing this for you to kiss me, okay?” But his voice was quieter now, a little softer than usual.

You laughed, enjoying the moment, but before he could say anything else, you stepped back and smiled at him. “Call me when you get home, okay?”

He nodded quickly, still blushing furiously. “Yeah, I will. You—don’t—don’t worry about me!” he stammered, turning on his heel to leave. But just as he was about to walk away, he stopped and turned back toward you, his face hidden in his hands.

“I-I love you, alright?!” he shouted, his voice cracking. He quickly turned away, clearly embarrassed, and started walking briskly down the street.

You stood there, frozen for a moment, a broad smile slowly spreading. That was all he needed to say, and you knew exactly how much he cared. You couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself, feeling your heart flutter as you watched him walk off.

“Love you too, Jungwon,” you whispered to the night air, knowing he wouldn’t hear. But somehow, it felt like the most perfect moment.

[Extra Scene]

Months later…

Jungwon lay on his bed with his phone resting on a pillow. He looked at you through the screen.

“You miss me, don’t you?”

You scoffed as you shifted under your covers. “We saw each other three hours ago.”

He hummed. “That’s three hours too long.”

“Why are you smiling like that?” you asked while squinting at him through the screen.

He glanced at you and smirked. “What, I can’t smile?”

“Not like that,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You look like you’re up to something.”

Jungwon sighed dramatically as he turned onto his side. “Can’t a guy just admire his girlfriend?”

You scoffed. “You’re so full of it.”

“I’m serious,” he said, resting his chin on his hand. “You look cute today.”

You blinked. “…It’s a video call. You can barely see me properly.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied smoothly. “You’re always cute.”

His door suddenly creaked open before you could even think of a response.

“Mom! He’s at it again!”

Jungwon’s head snapped toward the door, his face instantly turning sour. His older sister stood there, arms crossed, and seemed to be entertained at her brother, who was way out of character.

You burst into laughter.

Jungwon groaned. “Can you not?”

“Oh, wait—” She smirked, peeking at the screen. “Hi! Are you the poor soul who has to listen to his crap every day?”

You bit your lip, trying so hard not to laugh. “Hi…”

“Oh my God.” Jungwon groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow and chucking it toward the door. “OUT!”

His sister dodged effortlessly. “Okay, okay, lover boy! calm down.” She wiggled her fingers at you. “Bye, future sister-in-law!”

“Just saying! You’re embarrassing,” she said to Jungwon while backing out of the room.

‘’GET OUT!’’

The door shut, leaving Jungwon lying there, face buried in his pillow.

You were still giggling. “Lover boy?”

He exhaled sharply as he peeked through the screen. “We’re never talking about this again.”

You grinned. “Sure, lover boy.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“…No, I’m not,” he admitted and groaned.

[charmed-quill]

The Bet// F.W x Reader

authors note at end.

summary: Fred Weasley and y/n make a bet: whoever gets a date to the Yule Ball first wins. But what starts as harmless competition devolves into full-blown war.

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word count: 6.2k

The Yule Ball had been the only thing anyone could talk about for the past few hours. Every conversation in the common room seemed to circle back to it, who was going to ask who, what everyone would wear, and, most importantly, who would end up going alone.

Y/n sat curled up in one of the cushy armchairs by the fire, pretending to be absorbed in her book. The flames flickered, casting a warm glow over the common room, but she wasn’t really reading, she was listening. 

Fred and George were sprawled across the couch nearby, talking in the way they always did: half-serious, half-dramatic, and entirely too loud.

"Everyone’s gonna be in a frenzy tomorrow morning," Fred said, stretching his arms behind his head.

George frowned, his brow furrowing slightly. "How do you mean?"

Fred waved a hand around vaguely. "You know," he said, searching for the right words, "like... everyone’s gonna be scrambling to get a date before all the good ones are taken."

At that, y/n finally glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "Why would they be scrambling?" she asked, feigning ignorance even though she already knew the answer.

Fred let out a sigh, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Because no one wants to be the last one left without a date," he said, like it was some kind of universal truth. "Gotta snatch up the best options before they’re all gone."

Y/n scoffed, closing her book and resting it on her lap. "Define ‘good ones.’"

Her voice had that familiar teasing edge to it, and she narrowed her eyes just slightly, watching as Fred hesitated for a second too long. He always got flustered when she turned her full attention on him, and she found no small amount of amusement in that.

George, of course, was thoroughly entertained, smirking as he watched Fred try to think of a response.

"You know," Fred said eventually, shrugging like it was no big deal. "Fun ones. People you can actually stand being around for an entire night."

Y/n hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against the cover of her book. "So what, if you wait too long, you’re stuck with someone unbearable?"

Fred opened his mouth, then shut it again, realizing too late that anything he said now could get him into trouble. George chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying watching his twin dig himself into a hole.

"That’s not what I meant," Fred tried to backtrack. "Just" He sighed, shaking his head. "You’re twisting my words."

Y/n grinned, leaning back in her chair. "Am I?"

Fred rolled his eyes, but there was no real frustration behind it. It was just how their dynamic worked, Fred talked too much, and y/n made it her mission to make him regret it.

"So," George cut in, glancing between them. "You’ve got a plan, then? Gonna ask someone first thing in the morning?"

Y/n snorted. "Please. I don’t even know who I’d ask."

Fred raised an eyebrow, tilting his head at her. "You’re kidding."

"Dead serious," y/n said, stretching her legs out in front of her. "Haven’t really thought about it."

George let out a low whistle. "Risky move. Someone might snatch up all the ‘good ones’ before you get the chance."

Y/n rolled her eyes but smirked. "Guess I’ll just have to settle for one of you two, then."

Fred and George exchanged a look before Fred gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Merlin’s beard, George, we’re her last resort!"

George sighed, shaking his head. "Tragic, really."

Y/n laughed, nudging Fred’s foot with her own. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. It’s not like either of you have dates yet, either."

Fred opened his mouth to argue, then hesitated. "Alright, fair point."

George grinned. "Maybe we should be scrambling."

Y/n stretched her arms over her head before smirking at the twins, her book long forgotten in her lap. "I won’t be scrambling," she said breezily. "I basically have to beat the guys away with a stick."

Fred scoffed loudly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the couch. "As if." He shot her a challenging grin, that familiar mischievous glint in his eye. "I bet I can get a date before you can even say ‘Yule Ball.’"

Y/n sat up a little straighter, the flicker of competition sparking in her chest. She knew that look, Fred Weasley never backed down from a challenge, and honestly? Neither did she.

"Oh yeah?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "You wanna shake on it?"

Fred’s grin widened, his head tilting slightly. "What are the stakes?"

Y/n paused, tapping a finger against her chin as she considered. It had to be something good, something that would really make losing painful.

"Whoever loses has to be the winner’s personal assistant for a week," she finally declared, a smug smile creeping onto her lips. "Anything they need; carrying books, fetching snacks, covering for them when they’re late to class."

George let out a low whistle. "That’s dangerous," he mused, glancing between them with amusement. "I like it."

Fred, however, didn’t even hesitate. He barely took a second to think before sticking his hand out toward her. "You’re on."

Y/n grinned as she clasped his hand firmly, shaking it once. The deal was set.

As she leaned back in her chair, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement. This wasn’t just about getting a date anymore, this was about winning. And if there was one thing she loved just as much as messing with Fred Weasley, it was beating him at his own game.

—

The next morning, y/n was up before the sun had fully risen, determination settling deep in her chest.

She was going to win this bet.

She was going to win this bet and rub it in Fred’s stupid, smug face.

Her uniform was neat, her tie perfectly knotted, and her shoes freshly shined as she practically bounced down the stairs toward the Great Hall. The air was crisp, and the halls were still relatively empty, most students weren’t quite awake yet, dragging themselves toward breakfast like they were being led to execution.

Not her, though. She had a plan.

Sliding into her usual seat at the Gryffindor table, she ate with purpose, shoveling food into her mouth while her mind worked through her options. She started categorizing potential dates, ranking them from most to least likely to say yes.

She briefly considered asking George, he’d say yes in a heartbeat, if only to reap the benefits of her inevitable victory, but she scrapped the idea just as quickly. Where was the fun in that? No, she wanted to win properly.

By the time the Great Hall had started filling up with groggy students, she had made her decision.

Daniel Scott, a Hufflepuff in her year, was her best shot. It was no secret he fancied her, and she had a feeling he’d jump at the opportunity to go with her. 

Easy.

Just as she was about to finalize her approach, a familiar presence slid into the seat beside her. 

Fred.

He was as casual as ever, hair still slightly tousled from sleep, his tie half done like he couldn’t be bothered to fix it properly. He snatched up her half-full glass of orange juice, finishing it off with a satisfied sigh before turning to her with that lazy, infuriatingly confident smile.

"Are you preparing yourself for defeat?" he asked, setting the glass down with a soft clink. "I take my tea with extra milk, by the way, since you’ll be fetching it for me all next week."

Y/n rolled her eyes. "You’re awfully cocky for someone who hasn’t even secured a date yet."

Fred just grinned wider, leaning in slightly. "Neither have you."

She shot him a smirk, picking up a piece of toast as she stood from the table. "Give it ten minutes."

With that, she sauntered off, feeling Fred’s gaze follow her as she made her way toward the Hufflepuff table. 

Game on.

Daniel," y/n said, her voice sweet as honey as she shot the boy a dazzling smile.

He froze, mid-bite into his toast, eyes widening like a deer caught in wandlight.

This was going to be easy.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go to the ball with me?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, letting just the right amount of charm seep into her voice.

Daniel gulped, his fingers tightening around his fork. His eyes darted around the table, as if searching for an escape.

"I—uh, well—" His face turned an alarming shade of red, and he suddenly found great interest in the surface of the table.

Y/n frowned, confused by his hesitation. This was Daniel Scott. The same Daniel Scott who had stammered through at least three separate compliments about her hair just last week. The same Daniel Scott who could barely meet her eyes without turning pink. There was absolutely no reason he wouldn’t say yes.

Unless

Her stomach dropped as Daniel cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. "I, um, I heard from—uh, someone that you—er—only asked me because you lost a bet."

Y/n blinked, her head jerking back slightly. "What?"

"I just—I mean, it’s fine if you did," Daniel rushed to say, still avoiding her gaze. "I just—Fred Weasley mentioned something about it before breakfast, and—uh—I just don’t want to be anyone’s backup plan."

Her entire body went still.

Fred.

That absolute menace.

Y/n clenched her jaw, inhaling deeply through her nose before forcing a tight-lipped smile. "I see. Well, thanks anyway, Daniel."

Before he could stammer out another apology, she turned on her heel and marched straight back to the Gryffindor table.

Fred was right where she left him, lounging in his seat like he hadn’t just completely sabotaged her. He was halfway through a piece of toast when he caught sight of her storming toward him.

"You," she hissed, planting her hands on the table as she loomed over him. "Sabotage? Really?"

Fred grinned, entirely unbothered as he leaned back. "Oh, come on, love. You didn’t seriously think I’d play fair, did you?"

She narrowed her eyes, fuming. "That was a dirty play, Weasley."

He shrugged. "It was never off the table."

Y/n exhaled sharply, crossing her arms as she reevaluated everything. Clearly, she had underestimated just how far Fred was willing to go to win this bet.

Fine. If that was how he wanted to play, she’d just have to get creative.

And she would win.

—

The Great Hall had been cleared of its usual long tables, the enchanted ceiling above a dull gray as a storm brewed outside. The Gryffindor students, fourth years and above, stood in two separate lines, girls on one side, boys on the other. The air buzzed with hushed conversations, a mix of excitement and dread hanging between them.

Professor McGonagall was saying something about lions and swans, but y/n wasn’t listening.

She was too busy plotting.

Fred’s little stunt with Daniel still had her seething, and if he thought she was just going to take the loss quietly, he had severely underestimated her.

Fred had made his move first, and now it was her turn.

She spotted him cutting across the floor toward Angelina, steps sure and confident. Oh, no. That wouldn’t do at all.

Without hesitation, she swooped in, looping her arms around him and settling his hands on her waist before he could protest.

Fred blinked in surprise before narrowing his eyes. "What are you doing?"

Y/n smiled up at him. "Playing the game."

His fingers twitched against her waist. "And what exactly is your next move?"

She shrugged, shifting slightly as the music picked up. "Haven’t decided yet. But I figured a little sabotage was in order."

Fred let out a huff, his lips quirking. "So, your grand retaliation is stealing me as a dance partner? That’s weak, y/l/n."

"Not stealing," she corrected smugly. "Intercepting."

He chuckled. "Ah, I see. Is that what you were doing with Daniel earlier? Intercepting?"

Her smile tightened as she shot him a glare. "Oh, you mean the boy you so graciously warned about my ulterior motives?"

Fred smirked. "Oh, did I do that? Hm. Must’ve slipped out."

"Sabotage wasn’t part of the deal, Weasley."

"Wasn’t excluded either."

Y/n exhaled sharply, shaking her head as they spun in time with the music. "You really don’t fight fair, do you?"

"Absolutely not," he admitted easily. "And neither should you, if you want to win."

Y/n hummed, as if considering. "Noted."

Fred tilted his head slightly. "So what’s next, then? Surely you didn’t just drag me away from Angelina to lecture me on fair play."

She smiled, slow and deliberate. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Fred eyed her, lips twitching. "Oh, I would."

They moved across the floor smoothly, the space between them filled with unspoken challenges. Y/n glanced at his tie, still barely holding itself together, as if he had done it in a hurry that morning. Typical.

With a smirk, she reached up, fingers deftly undoing the sloppy knot and tightening it properly.

Fred stilled slightly, brow furrowing. "What are you—"

"Fixing it," she muttered, patting his chest once satisfied. "Honestly, Fred, do you even try?"

"Not when I have someone to do it for me," he quipped, grinning.

Y/n rolled her eyes, stepping back as the music faded. "Enjoy the dance, Weasley. I’ve got work to do."

She turned on her heel and strode off, already formulating her next move.

Fred watched her go, adjusting the tie she had just fixed. He shook his head with a quiet chuckle, already anticipating whatever chaos she had planned next.

—-

Fred was feeling good about Amelia Roberts.

Smart, sharp-witted, and completely unaware of his ongoing war with y/n.

She was laughing at something he’d said, her blue eyes twinkling under the candlelight of the courtyard lanterns. Progress.

Fred leaned against the stone railing, flashing his signature smirk. "So, what do you say, Roberts? Yule Ball with me? Best decision you’ll make all year."

Amelia smiled, tilting her head in consideration.

And then

Two warm arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

Fred stiffened.

"Oh, there you are, sweetheart!"

His stomach dropped.

No.

Absolutely not.

Y/n practically melted into his side, resting her head against his shoulder with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before.

Fred didn’t even have time to react before she turned her sweetest, most innocent smile toward Amelia.

"Oh, Amelia!" y/n gushed, gripping Fred’s arm like he was the love of her life. "I love that you and Freddie are such good friends! Ever since we started secretly dating, I was so worried that people would suspect, but you—" she clasped a hand over her heart, voice dripping with sincerity, "you have been so supportive!"

Fred choked. "What—NO—"

Amelia’s entire expression changed in an instant.

Her smile vanished, replaced with suspicion. "Secretly dating?"

Fred tried to pull away from y/n, but she only tightened her grip, shooting him a warning glance that said if you move, I will make this worse.

Her head tilted slightly as she turned to him, eyes suddenly filled with mock devastation.

"Freddie," she whispered, voice breaking just a little. "Are you ashamed of us?"

Fred froze.

Oh.

Oh, this was bad.

He looked back at Amelia, who now had her arms firmly crossed, her gaze icy.

"No," Fred said quickly, "no, I am absolutely NOT dating her—"

"Freddie!" y/n gasped, turning every single pair of eyes in the courtyard onto them. "I cannot believe you would deny me like this! After all we’ve been through?"

Fred was actually speechless. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again—but nothing came out.

Y/n sighed dramatically, looking to Amelia as if she were the only one who could understand her pain.

"You have to forgive him," y/n said solemnly. "It’s just… so difficult for him. The constant attention, the pressure of keeping this a secret… He wanted to tell people" she sniffled, "really, he did"

"Yeah, I don’t do cheaters," Amelia muttered, already stepping away.

Fred’s entire body jerked forward in panic. "Wait—no, I—"

But Amelia had already turned on her heel and walked away.

Fred stood there, still partially trapped in y/n’s grasp, his brain short-circuiting from what had just happened.

Slowly, his head turned toward her.

Y/n beamed up at him, looking immensely pleased with herself.

She patted his shoulder, smiling sweetly. "Oops."

Fred exhaled deeply. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t," y/n said, sing-songing as she walked away.

Fred groaned, slumping against the railing.

He needed a new plan. Immediately.

—

Y/n had spent the entire morning planning her approach. She’d decided that Thomas Greaves, a quiet but friendly Ravenclaw, would be her best shot. He wasn’t the type to make a huge fuss, and she figured she had a pretty solid chance at getting a yes.

She spotted him just outside the Great Hall, standing near the entrance, looking over a rolled-up parchment, probably last-minute homework. Perfect.

Straightening her tie and putting on her most charming smile, she strode toward him with confidence.

"Hey, Thomas!" she greeted brightly, tucking her hands behind her back as she rocked on her heels. "Got a second?"

Thomas looked up, blinking behind his glasses. "Oh—uh, yeah. What’s up?"

Y/n grinned, already sensing victory. "So, I was wondering if you’d like to go to the Yule Ball with me?"

Before Thomas could even process what she was saying, a familiar arm slung itself over his shoulder.

"Oi, Tommy boy!"

Y/n’s stomach dropped.

Fred.

Of course it was Fred.

"Mate, I haven’t seen you all morning," Fred said, giving Thomas a heavy pat on the back, his voice dripping with fake concern. "Are you feeling alright?"

Thomas frowned. "Uh—yeah? I think so?"

Fred gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Oh, thank Merlin! When I heard about your—" he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "condition, I thought you’d still be in the hospital wing!"

Y/n narrowed her eyes. "Fred, don’t you have somewhere else to be?"

Fred ignored her, turning back to Thomas with a solemn nod. "Bravest bloke I know," he said. "I mean, most people wouldn’t even show their face after spotted wandrot."

Thomas froze. "Spotted what?"

Fred sighed, shaking his head sadly. "Oh, mate, no need to be embarrassed. Madam Pomfrey said she’d never seen a case spread so quickly. And to think, you’re walking around like nothing happened." He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "Inspiring, really."

Y/n clenched her jaw. "Fred—"

"Though, of course," Fred continued thoughtfully, stroking his chin, "it is highly contagious. Wouldn’t want to pass that on, right?"

Thomas visibly paled.

"Wait—what? I—I don’t have—"

Fred gasped. "Oh no! Did Pomfrey not tell you? I thought she was supposed to give you the full debrief." He turned to y/n, shaking his head. "You’d think they’d at least warn the poor guy before sending him off to infect the whole school."

Thomas took a full step away from both of them, his expression stricken. "I—I have to go—"

Before y/n could stop him, Thomas bolted into the Great Hall like a man fleeing for his life.

She stood there in stunned silence, processing what had just happened.

Then she turned, eyes blazing, to Fred, who stood beside her looking utterly pleased with himself.

"You," she seethed. "Are the worst."

Fred smirked, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Better luck next time, love."

And with that, he sauntered off, whistling a cheerful tune, leaving y/n fuming on the steps of the Great Hall.

–

Fred had been extra careful this time. He had barely spoken about his next move to anyone, not even George, not even Lee. He was playing this one quietly, which, for him, was practically impossible.

But he wasn’t about to let y/n get the better of him again.

That’s why he’d chosen Lily Carter, a friendly and straightforward ravenclaw who, as far as he could tell, had zero history with y/n and no reason to get caught in the crossfire.

It was the perfect setup.

They sat next to each other in Charms, and just as Flitwick turned his back to demonstrate a wand movement, Fred pulled out a small slip of parchment and wrote, in his best and least-sarcastic handwriting:

Oi, Lily, fancy going to the Ball with me?

He folded the note quickly and, with the smoothest flick of his fingers, slid it onto her desk. He kept his eyes trained on his own parchment, waiting, listening.

A pause.

Then a faint rustling as Lily unfolded it.

Fred smirked. This was too easy.

Until—

"Uh… Fred?" Lily whispered, leaning slightly toward him. "Why did you hand me a blank piece of parchment?"

Fred blinked.

He turned his head, looking down at the note in Lily’s hands.

It was completely empty.

Not a single word.

No ink. No invitation.

Nothing.

Fred sat up straighter, now fully awake. "That’s not—" He grabbed his quill, tested it on his own parchment, yep, worked perfectly fine, then squinted at the blank slip. "I—I wrote something, I swear."

Lily gave him a bemused look. "Right. Well, I appreciate the effort, I guess?"

Fred’s brain was scrambling. This wasn’t possible.

Unless—

Oh, for Merlin’s sake.

Slowly, he turned in his seat, craning his neck toward the back of the classroom.

Sure enough, y/n was there, leaning casually on her elbow, watching him with a very self-satisfied smirk.

She lifted her wand slightly, giving it the tiniest twirl.

Fred groaned.

"Y/L/N," he whispered, barely keeping himself from laughing.

Y/n raised an eyebrow as if she had no idea what he was talking about.

Fred turned back around, taking a deep breath.

—

Y/n had planned this perfectly.

She had finally found someone Fred hadn’t gotten to yet, James Dunmore, a charming and easygoing Hufflepuff who was known for being friendly with just about everyone. He was the type who wouldn’t be put off by rumors or sabotage, which made him the perfect candidate.

It was foolproof.

She caught him outside the Herbology greenhouses between classes, brushing a stray leaf off his robes. "Hey, James," she greeted casually.

He grinned. "Hey, y/n. What’s up?"

She exhaled slightly, steeling herself. "So, I was wondering—"

But just as she was about to ask him, the doors of the castle slammed open.

A chorus of heavily off-key voices rang out across the courtyard.

Y/n froze.

Students turned in confusion as four overly enthusiastic first-years in matching pink suits came marching toward her, led by none other than Lee Jordan.

"FRED WEASLEY SENT US TO DELIVER A MESSAGE OF TRUE LOVE!" Lee bellowed.

James took a slow step backward.

Y/n clenched her fists.

Lee gave an exaggerated wave. "Hit it, lads!"

The first-years immediately burst into song:

"Oh, y/n, my darling true," "Your beauty shines, your wit cuts through," "Fred Weasley dreams of you all day," "So please don’t turn and run away!"

Y/n covered her face with her hands.

James looked deeply uncomfortable. "Uh—"

Fred, watching from the entrance, leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, smirking like he had just orchestrated the greatest act of war in history.

The first-years weren’t done:

"The Yule Ball’s coming, don’t you see?" "So say yes, my love, and dance with me!" "Fred is waiting, don't delay—" "Or he’ll cry himself away!"

The entire courtyard was now watching.

James chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, y/n, this—this seems like a lot. Maybe I’ll just—" He gestured vaguely before retreating into the greenhouses at top speed.

Y/n slowly turned on her heel, rage simmering.

Fred grinned at her from across the courtyard.

"Sabotage is such an ugly word," he said smugly. "I prefer to think of this as… performance art."

Y/n narrowed her eyes.

This wasn’t over.

—

Fred was getting too close to winning.

Y/n had already lost three potential dates thanks to his sabotage, and she refused to let him have the last laugh. So, she pulled out her own bag of tricks.

She waited until dinner, when Fred was at his most comfortable, laughing loudly at something George had said while stuffing his face with mashed potatoes.

Perfect.

Sliding into the seat across from him, she leaned in, her tone light and casual. "Hey, Freddie. Have a drink, yeah?"

She pushed a goblet toward him, freshly poured pumpkin juice.

Fred raised an eyebrow. "Awfully nice of you, y/l/n," he mused. "You wouldn’t happen to be poisoning me, would you?"

Y/n rolled her eyes. "You think way too highly of yourself. Drink."

Fred smirked, not one to turn down a freebie, and took a long sip.

Y/n fought to keep her face neutral.

The effects were instantaneous.

Fred blinked once. Then twice. His smirk faltered.

"Y/n," he said slowly. "Why does my mouth feel weird?"

"Oh, no reason," she said, beaming.

George snorted. "What did you do?"

Fred sat up straighter, his hands gripping the table as if he were trying to physically hold back his next words. His expression shifted from suspicion to horror as his mouth opened against his will.

"I KISSED A MIRROR ONCE TO SEE IF I WAS A GOOD KISSER," he shouted.

The entire Gryffindor table went silent.

Fred clamped his hands over his mouth, eyes wild.

Y/n grinned. "Oh, did I forget to mention? That was a Truth Potion."

Fred shook his head violently. "No. Nope. Not happening."

His hands dropped from his face, and suddenly—

"I USED TO HAVE A NIGHTMARE WHERE PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL WAS A GIANT CAT AND CHASED ME AROUND THE CASTLE."

George fell off the bench.

Fred turned to y/n, betrayed. "THIS IS EVIL."

She rested her chin on her palm, enjoying the spectacle. "You started this war, Weasley. Now, tell me, who’s your next target for the Yule Ball?"

Fred tried to fight it, he really did. His entire body tensed, his lips trembled—

"I WAS GOING TO ASK LUCY AINSLEY AFTER DINNER!"

Lucy Ainsley, sitting two seats away, immediately stood up and walked out of the Great Hall.

Fred groaned. "Oh, come on!"

Y/n popped a grape into her mouth, looking very pleased. "Well. Guess you’ll have to try again tomorrow."

Fred glared at her. "I will get you back for this."

Y/n winked. "Looking forward to it, mirror kisser."

—

Y/n was dangerously close to winning the bet.

She had dodged Fred’s last few sabotage attempts, and now she had one final shot, Clarke Roswell, a smart and charming Ravenclaw who had always been friendly toward her. He wasn’t the type to get easily spooked, and Fred hadn’t had time to get to him first.

At least, that’s what she thought.

She found Clarke in the library after dinner, sitting at one of the quieter tables near the windows, scribbling notes on a long parchment. Taking a deep breath, she sat down across from him, flashing her most confident smile.

"Hey, Clarke," she said smoothly.

He looked up, smiling back. "Hey, y/n. What’s up?"

"Well, I was wondering—"

And suddenly, her mouth wouldn’t stop moving.

"WELL, CLARKE, I WAS WONDERING IF YOU WANTED TO GO TO THE YULE BALL WITH ME BUT ALSO I USED TO SLEEP WITH A STUFFED HIPPGRIFF UNTIL THIRD YEAR AND SOMETIMES I STILL DO BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT—"

Y/n slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified.

Clarke blinked. "...What?"

Her eyes widened in terror as she realised she couldn’t stop talking.

"SORRY I THINK I’VE BEEN HEXED BUT I TOTALLY THINK YOU’RE HANDSOME AND THAT ONE TIME IN POTIONS YOU ROLLED UP YOUR SLEEVES I GOT DISTRACTED AND SPILLED MY INGREDIENTS EVERYWHERE AND PROFESSOR SNAPE GAVE ME DETENTION FOR IT—"

Clarke looked deeply alarmed. "Uh—"

"WAIT NO DON’T LEAVE, I SWEAR I’M NOT A WEIRDO, I JUST THINK YOU HAVE NICE HANDS AND I ALSO ONCE CRIED BECAUSE I DROPPED A SLICE OF PUMPKIN PASTRY ON THE FLOOR AND I STILL THINK ABOUT IT SOMETIMES—"

Clarke was already backing away, his chair screeching against the floor as he practically ran out of the library.

Y/n slammed her forehead onto the table, mortified.

A slow, mocking clap echoed from behind her.

She knew who it was before she even turned around.

Fred Weasley leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed, looking immensely pleased with himself.

"You know," he mused, "I was really hoping you’d start babbling about me, but that was almost just as good."

Y/n lifted her head just enough to glare at him. "You did this?"

Fred smirked, pulling out his wand and twirling it between his fingers. "A little Babbling Curse, just to make things interesting."

"I hate you," she hissed.

Fred grinned. "Nah, you love me. You said so, right before you mentioned that stuffed Hippogriff of yours,"

Y/n grabbed the nearest book and hurled it at his head.

Fred dodged it with ease, laughing as he ran out of the library, while y/n seethed, already plotting her next move.

—

Fred Weasley was in trouble.

It hit him like a rogue Bludger to the chest as he sat at the Gryffindor table, idly pushing peas around his plate. The Great Hall was filled with buzzing conversations, excited chatter about dress robes, last-minute dates, and who was going with whom.

And then, in a single horrifying moment, he realised.

The Yule Ball was two days away.

And he had no date.

His fork clattered against his plate as his brain kicked into overdrive.

He had spent so much time sabotaging y/n that he had completely forgotten to actually secure a date of his own. He quickly ran through his mental list of possible options.

Amelia Roberts? Gave him a withering glare every time they crossed paths after the “secret relationship” stunt.

Fiona Hayes? Still recovering from the boggart catastrophe and actively avoiding him in the hallways.

Sophia Benson? Thought he was in love with Lee Jordan, so that was a firm no.

Lucy Ainsley? Walked out of the Great Hall after his Truth Potion confession and hadn’t spoken to him since.

Clara Whitmore? Witnessed the public marriage proposal and didn’t want to be anywhere near that mess.

Fred groaned, rubbing his hands down his face. He was officially out of options.

But then

His hands froze.

His mind came to a screeching halt.

There was still one person who was available.

Y/n.

He let the thought settle, blinking rapidly.

Technically… technically, she counted.

She was still open. He was still open.

And after everything they had done to ruin each other’s chances? It was almost poetic.

His lips curled into a slow smirk.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

He pushed his plate aside, standing abruptly. George, mid-bite into a chicken leg, raised an eyebrow. "Where are you off to?"

Fred cracked his knuckles, stretching his arms before rolling his shoulders back. "I’ve got business to handle."

George snorted. "That sounds fake, but alright."

—

Y/n was pacing.

She had spent so much time playing defense against Fred that she had completely neglected to actually secure a date for herself. And now, with only two days until the Yule Ball, she was faced with a horrifying truth:

She had no options left.

Leaning against the stone railing of the Grand Staircase, she furiously ran through every possibility.

Thomas Greaves? Avoided her like she carried a deadly curse.

Noah Bell? Would rather transfer schools than interact with her again.

Liam Fletcher? No. Just—no.

Clarke Roswell? Likely in hiding.

James Dunnmore? Won’t even look at her anymore.

Her stomach twisted.

She was completely out of options.

And then, like a lightning strike, it hit her.

Fred.

Her head snapped up.

Fred was still available.

Technically, he counted.

And after everything they had done to ruin each other’s chances? It was almost fitting.

The second she had the thought, she took off down the corridor, pushing past a few startled second-years.

She had to find him.

She sped through the Grand Staircase, dodging a confused first-year, nearly tripping over a moving step.

Where the hell is he?

This was Fred Weasley, he was always around, always loud, always in the way.

But now, when she needed to find him? Now, when it actually mattered?

Gone.

She gritted her teeth, rounding a sharp corner.

He was moving too fast.

His mind was whirling, his options were gone, he was out of time, and his only way out of this mess was y/n.

It was almost poetic.

Almost.

If he had time to dwell on it, he might have thought about how ridiculous it was that they had wasted weeks sabotaging each other, only to end up in the exact same situation.

But he didn’t have time.

Because he was running, and the second he turned the next corner—

CRASH.

It was instant.

One second, they were both charging full speed ahead.

The next

A solid impact, a tangle of limbs, a sharp oof as they collided full-force into each other.

Y/n stumbled back, slamming into the stone wall, hands gripping Fred’s arms to steady herself.

Fred nearly lost his balance, one hand bracing against the wall beside her head to keep from toppling over.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

They were close. Too close.

The impact had sent her stumbling back against the cold stone wall, and Fred, ever so slightly off balance, had caught himself by bracing a hand against the wall right next to her head.

She blinked.

He blinked.

Neither of them moved.

For a long, stretched-out second, the only sound was the distant chatter of students in the corridors, the faint flicker of torchlight casting warm shadows along Fred’s face.

Y/n swallowed. "You ran into me."

Fred exhaled sharply, amused. "I think you’ll find that you ran into me."

She raised an eyebrow. "You were the one running full speed down the hall like a lunatic—"

"You were also running full speed down the hall," he shot back, a slow smirk curling onto his lips. "Where were you headed, anyway?"

Y/n huffed, finally shifting out of his almost-trapped position. "To find you."

Fred blinked. "Oh."

A beat of silence.

Then, realisation flickered across his face.

"You were coming to—"

"You were also coming to—"

They both froze.

Understanding settled between them.

Fred let out a deep groan, rubbing a hand down his face. "Oh, for Merlin’s sake—"

Y/n snorted, crossing her arms. "I hate this."

"I hate this more," Fred muttered.

A charged silence hung between them.

Y/n cleared her throat. "So."

Fred glanced at her, arms still crossed over his chest. "So."

Her fingers drummed against her sleeve. "I suppose there’s really no way around it, then?"

Fred sighed dramatically, as if the very idea of what he was about to say pained him. "Unfortunately, I don’t think so."

She smirked. "Wow. You sound thrilled."

"Oh, absolutely. Overjoyed."

Another silence. This time, it wasn’t quite as combative.

Fred exhaled, tilting his head slightly, studying her. "You know…" he said, more thoughtful this time, "as much as I hate losing, and as much as I hate you thinking you won—"

Y/n grinned. "So much hate in that sentence, Weasley. Sure you don’t have something else to say?"

Fred ignored her. "I don’t think going to the Ball with you will be that bad."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, tilting her chin up slightly. "That bad?"

Fred gave her a slow, lazy smile. "Well. There’s always a chance I might enjoy myself."

Y/n huffed a laugh, shaking her head. "Don’t get your hopes up, Weasley."

"Oh, my hopes are very low, don’t worry."

A pause.

Then, Fred stuck out his hand, looking almost reluctant but also… maybe something else.

Y/n eyed him, amused. "What is this?"

"A truce," he said, though his lips twitched like he was holding back another smirk.

She considered, tapping a finger against her chin like she was actually debating it.

Then, slowly, she took his hand, shaking it once.

The moment stretched just a bit longer than it needed to.

Her palm was warm against his.

Neither of them let go right away.

Y/n arched an eyebrow. "What? Are we having a moment?"

Fred let out a loud groan, instantly pulling his hand back. "Absolutely not—"

"Sounded like a moment to me"

Fred scowled, but his ears were definitely pink. "See you at the Ball, y/l/n."

Y/n smirked, turning to walk away.

"You better dress nicely, Weasley," she called over her shoulder. "Wouldn’t want people thinking I’m dating a total disaster."

Fred scoffed. "Well, lucky for you"

He hesitated.

Y/n slowed, glancing back. "Lucky for me…?"

Fred rolled his shoulders, smirking again, but softer this time.

"Lucky for you, I look good in anything."

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed. i am having some serious writers block at the moment im so upset :(

[aangelinakii]

SAFEHOUSE.

— at least you've got each other.

summary : daughter of the mayor, who'd had an attempt on her life, bruce has tasked his son with protecting her in one of his various safehouses around the city. he's never had to do this before, and it doesn't help that you're sort of cute...

note : fem reader if you cannt tell very sorry znd also they're both teenagers like 16 ish

note 2 : also possibly a little out of charscter ? i haven't consumed a lot of damian media 😪 but i also do think he would behave a little differently when he's older compared to when hés like 9

work for robin was changing.

damian wayne expected to be running across rooftops, kicking bad guys in the face and eavesdropping in vents. not sitting around in a safehouse, protecting the mayor's only child.

for the amount of lying around they did, damian wouldn't really call it protecting. it seemed more like just hanging out.

his knee bounced a mile a minute from where he sat at the empty table in your quite non-descript box of a safehouse, eyes flickering over constantly to your frame in front of the cuboid vhs-playing television — what an old thing it was.

it had been quite difficult trying to harbour a relationship with you; of course it would be, having to go into hiding with a random teenage boy your age after having your life threatened by the usual gotham terrorists.

with a sigh, he got to his feet, and you glanced up from your old black and white movie. he stepped up to the door, fingering the locks to make everything was in place, and then past the curtains, which swayed slightly with movement, but were thick enough to keep out the light from outside.

these days it was difficult to even tell what time it was.

he did this a lot, probably as a way to pass the time, probably cathartically; checking the locks, checking the curtains were still heavy in front of the windows, giving the small apartment you stayed in the impression of being empty.

when he was done he turned your way, stepping boredly toward the back of the couch, where you'd already redirected your attention back to the television.

this was an old hitchcock one from the forties — quite bland, actually, but it wasn't like you didn't have anything else better to do.

when you first got here, neither of you having seen a vhs player before, it took a good hour to figure it out, and, at the time, you'd thought you and damian would get along well, laughing along together when you finally managed to insert the tape. now, after almost two months, you'd found barely anything to share a laugh about.

the cushioning on the back of the couch beside you sunk, and you peered over to see damian leaning against it, eyes glued to the pixel-ridden screen. with a huff and a few more moments passing, he spoke, glancing down at you from the corner of his eye. "i'm sorry i'm... not much help. i'm not really used to this whole protecting thing."

he stepped away, and you craned your neck to follow him. he began to pace from behind the sofa, talking with his hands as he kept his eyes on his feet. "i'm used to protecting people outside, not confined in here. i'll be honest, i'm going a bit mad in here."

an involuntary chuckle brushed past your lips, and he glanced up. "i completely get it," you returned, resting your arm on the back of the couch. "i'm not used to this, either. usually i'd be with my friends, or something — but i'm not even allowed to reach out to them. they probably think i actually did get shot."

you don't miss the way the corner of his mouth turns up as he circles around and continues his pacing.

this might be the most conversation you've had in three weeks.

where you think he might speak again, you can only hear the tinny voices of laurence olivier and joan fontaine, but your eyes continue to follow his movements. he seemed antsy, nervous; all he seemed to be these days.

"hey," you said out of nowhere, grabbing his attention, but he doesn't stop walking or cracking his knuckles. "why don't we do something you'd usually do?"

he considered your words for a moment, but kept pacing. "like what?"

your eyes trailed off, glancing around the room. it consisted of a small kitchen area and a little two-seater table, but you mostly stayed on the couch, getting through the wicker basket of tapes beneath the television. in the corner was a door to the bathroom, and two other doors to each of your miniscule bedrooms.

but in all the limited space within the main room, between the table and the couch, it was empty enough for movement.

"you said you're used to protecting outside," you hummed, looking back at him. by now, he'd stopped his pacing and was eyeing you inquisitively. "what do you ususally do?"

damian gave a shrug. "hit... people?"

with a shrug of your own, you jumped up to your feet. "why don't we do that? hit each other?"

once again, the corner of his mouth perked up. "hit you? i'm supposed to be protecting you, don't you remember?"

a laugh passed your lips as they curved into a smile. "no, no." and you walked around the sofa to face him. "you can just pretend. like, show me your moves. or teach me something."

your teenage bodyguard sized you up for a moment, flesh sinking beneath his mouth as he chewed at his gum pensively. after a few beats, he began to nod slowly. "if you think that will help."

"sure it will," you smiled as you reached out for his hands, palms slightly rough in yours, and dragged him out into the little space between what was supposed to be the dinner table and couch.

once you were out of the way of anything too valuable — like the tv — you let go of his hands and took a few steps back. "so how do we start?"

it seemed when being prompted to do so in a safe environment, damian struggled to get in the headspace of a fight. he'd been raised by assassins, it usually came as second nature.

perhaps it was that he was being watched, where it was only him and you.

sheepishly, eyes focusing on a spot on the wall behind you as opposed to actually you, damian took on a wider stance and carefully bent his legs. he looked agile, lean, and when he brought his forearms up to the sides of his head, his hands didn't curl tightly.

like this, he seemed to morph; from that quiet, almost shy, awkward boy you'd spent the past month and a bit with in, to a viper ready to strike.

instinctively, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set, like he were really about to attack.

with less ease than him, you attempted to match damian's stance, bending your knees slightly and bringing your forearms up to shield the sides of your head. but this only caused damian to let out a huff of a laugh.

"what?" you hummed, unable to stop the corners of your mouth lifting.

before you, damian's shoulders fell lightly. "nothing, it's just... no, it's not funny." although you could still see that smile behind his shielding arms, he made an attempt to compose himself.

your previous casual stance returned, your arms falling to your sides and your back straightening. "hey, i'm trying my best here!" you retorted, but a laugh slipped out. "not everyone is batman's side-kick."

"i know," damian responded, watching as you resumed your mirroring of his stance. "i think i forget not everyone has trained like us sometimes, because i'm constantly immersed in it. usually."

testing the ease of your knees and the weight of your shoulders, you opened your mouth to speak again. "what next?"

after a few beats, damian gave his reply. "well... i suppose you'd attack."

with a gesture of your fingers, you beckoned your opponent forward. "attack, then. give me your worst."

despite his dismissive chuckle, damian edged forward, however uncertainly. "absolutely not," he joked in return.

useless in this position, all you could do was watch damian as he silently made to assess his next move; lid covering eye, your lashes fluttered past with your blink and damian appeared much closer, his slow attacks falling purposely short as he pretended to strike various areas of your torso and up.

after a false kick brushed off your side, you straightened up again. "how could i protect myself? if i ever needed to." and at this moment in your life, it seemed very much that this would be helpful information, just in case your life is tried again.

closer than you'd seen him, damian's hair had messed with his shadow boxing. he had dark hair, the colour he shared with his father, but its untidiness must've been inherited from his mother. he owned a perpetual tan, olive in undertone, darker contrasting freckles dotted once below his left eye and then a smaller one merging into the skin of his lip. he was both boyish and owning feminine qualities; the untidiness of a boy, but the sharpness of a woman you'd never want to cross.

with a soft cough in the back of his throat, he reached out an arm, extending it past your ear. "if i was going for an attack here, you would take your other arm and push me away."

as he spoke, you followed his instruction, bringing your arm up, forearm against forearm, to hit him back and dodge out the way.

"a lot of it is timing," damian spoke again, slowly bringing his other arm up to jab at you throat without actually making contact. "timing, reaction and reading. you need to anticipate the action of your opponent before they even make it; that's what makes a good combatant."

your hand came up to take damian's wrist, stopping it where it had stopped anyway, and pushed it up over your head. "i'm not very good at this," you chuckled sheepishly, feeling a little stupid at this slow-motion combat.

pulling his arm back to his side, twisting it just as carefully as he had been to lose your light grip. "you don't have to be. you're just learning now."

as your fingers fell from his skin, your eyes met.

for a moment, damian stumbled upon his words. "but i could teach you if you wanted; something we could work on while we're holed up in here."

[theodorenmyth]

omg i need a part two of people you know (i loved the angst so much aaaa) where she kinda like moves on and gets two new guy friends and kinda “replaces” theo and mattheo and they only realize like oh shit we want her back after she’s already gone and super close doing all the things they used to do with her new friends PLEASEE

People you know. II

Pairings ; Mattheo R. X GN/reader x Theodore N.

Summary; Mattheo and Theodore realize too late that you’ve moved on without them. When they try to reclaim their place in your life, you remind them they were the ones who left first. As you walk away for good, they’re left with the painful truth—they lost you, and you’re never coming back.

A/N ; HSNSJSJSJ 2 POSTS IN A DAY TAHTS INSANE, enjoy luvse :3

Warnings ; angst, possesiveness, regret

Word count ; 900+

They didn’t think it would ever come to this.

Mattheo and Theodore had convinced themselves that no matter how much damage had been done, no matter how deep the wounds had cut, you would always find your way back to them. You always had before.

But not this time.

This time, you had replaced them.

It wasn’t obvious at first. In fact, they barely noticed your absence, too wrapped up in their own lives to realize that you had stopped waiting for them. That you had stopped looking at them like they hung the stars. That you had stopped caring.

Then one day, they saw you sitting at the Slytherin table with them—Casper Rosier and Elias Avery.

At first, Theo had dismissed it as coincidence. Maybe you were just talking to them for a moment, just passing time before coming back. But then it became routine. You were always with them, always laughing, always giving them the attention that used to belong to Mattheo and Theo.

And it fucking burned.

It burned when Mattheo saw Casper casually slinging an arm around your shoulders in the halls, whispering something in your ear that made you roll your eyes and shove him playfully.

It burned when Theo saw Elias stealing bites of your food at lunch, his smirk widening when you halfheartedly swatted at him.

But the worst was when Mattheo saw you sitting beneath the tree in the courtyard—the one you had claimed with Theo years ago—Casper lounging beside you, flipping through a book as you leaned into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It made Mattheo feel fucking sick.

And yet, they said nothing.

They kept waiting for you to turn back. To realize what you were doing. To miss them.

But you didn’t.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Days passed. Then weeks. And you didn’t spare them a glance.

Even Pansy had noticed.

"You know, you two look pathetic," she remarked one evening in the common room, watching as Mattheo and Theo silently stared across the room where you were curled up in an armchair, listening intently as Casper spoke animatedly beside you.

Mattheo’s jaw twitched. "Shut the fuck up, Pansy."

She snorted, sipping her wine. "You two let them go. What did you expect to happen?"

"We didn’t let them go," Theo muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

Pansy gave him a pitying look. "Yes, you did. And now they’ve found people who actually value them."

Neither of them responded. They just sat there, watching you slip further and further away.

But the breaking point came one evening at the Three Broomsticks.

Theo and Mattheo had been sitting at the far end of the pub, nursing their drinks in silence, when your laugh rang out from across the room.

Mattheo turned, and the moment he saw you—saw you sitting at the bar between Casper and Elias, laughing freely, your head tipped back slightly—something in him snapped.

He didn’t think. He just moved.

In an instant, he was at your table, hands braced against the wood as he loomed over you. "Alright," he said, voice low and sharp. "I think it’s time we talk."

You blinked up at him, your brows raising in something like amusement. "Talk? Now you want to talk?"

Casper leaned back, unimpressed. "Problem, Riddle?"

Mattheo barely spared him a glance, his eyes fixed solely on you. "What the fuck is this?" He gestured vaguely between you, Casper, and Elias. "You’re really just—what? Pretending we never existed?"

Theo was right behind him now, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

You tilted your head, studying them with a detached curiosity. "I don’t know, Mattheo. You tell me. Isn’t that what you two did first?"

Theo exhaled sharply. "We fucked up. We know that. But this? This is—"

"Me moving on?" you interrupted, voice sharp. "Yeah. It is."

Mattheo scoffed. "So that’s it? You’re just done with us?"

You smiled, but it wasn’t kind. It was tired. "I don’t owe you anything, Mattheo. I cried over you. I grieved you. And then I got tired."

Silence fell.

Elias smirked slightly. "Tough break, huh?"

Mattheo clenched his fists. "Stay the fuck out of this, Avery."

Casper chuckled under his breath. "Merlin, no wonder they don’t hang out with you anymore."

Theo stiffened beside him, but before things could escalate, you sighed. "You don’t get to be mad," you said evenly. "You don’t get to storm in here like you were the ones left behind. You chose to betray me."

Mattheo’s jaw tightened. "It wasn’t like that—"

"But it was," you cut him off. "You left me. And I got tired of waiting for you to come back. So, yeah, I moved on."

Your words hit like a knife to the gut.

They had never thought—never even considered—that you might actually move on without them. That you wouldn’t be sitting around, waiting for them to come back.

That realization struck harder than any curse ever could.

You stood up, your eyes meeting theirs with something final. "Go back to your perfect lives. And leave me alone."

And just like that, you were gone.

Mattheo and Theo stood there, frozen, their world tilting on its axis.

For so long, they had been convinced that no matter what, you would always be there. That you would always be theirs.

But now, as they watched you disappear with Casper and Elias at your side, laughing like they had never broken you, one thing became painfully, gut-wrenchingly clear.

They had lost you.

And this time, you weren’t coming back.

[eldizzle69]

“You were a wonderful experience, you were…you were everything..”

masterlist

including :: sho, Romeo, Haru, Haku, Jin, Lyca

Or…. In which, after your curse takes over you, the guys get asked about you(their lover)

—Shohei Haizono

•it purely depends on whose asking really

•if it’s some random person, he’s gonna be like when we first met him and get really defensive.

•but if it’s someone he knows pretty closely then he’ll just smile and say something vague.

•either way, thinking of you would be a fond time for him

•you were everything to him, so he’ll cherish your memory.

The tension was strong, it had been a Simple question, one with no malice. “Hey Sho, who was the honor student?” One of the new freshman ghouls had asked him. And despite it being a harmless question, it filled the room with a deep tension.

“What’s it matter to you?” His words were harsh, aggression evident in his tone. The question was most definitely NOT appreciated.

“W-well,” the ghoul sputtered, “I just— I’ve heard so much about them! All good things!” The freshmen seemed panicked, obviously scared by Sho’s aggressive response.

“Better be..” Sho muttered, turning and walking briskly away from his underclassmen. He didn’t answer the question he didn’t wanna talk about it. He didn’t want to talk about you.

Instead, he would keep your memories in his head, waiting for the day you could be together again

—Romeo Lucci

•immediate fit

•it becomes well known in Sinostra, and other houses, that your name is to not be mentioned near Romeo

•that is unless you want to feel the wrath of Romeo.

•god forbid someone say something bad about you. Bullets will be flying

•your memory just hurts so much he doesn’t know how to process his emotions, so he just gets pissed.

“Who pissed Fico off?,” the Sinostra student asked in a hushed whisper, only to be met his a harsh response. The other student sent him a glare, “Shhh, He’ll hear you! Do you wanna die and take me with you?”

“Sorry…. He just seemed angrier than usual,” was all the student could say as he rubbed the back of his neck. The other student only shook his head before giving a actual response, “some general admission students mention…. Them..”

Shock spread over the students face as he gaped at his coworker, “were they stupid?”

“Had to be, they even called them a gold digg—“

“What are you idiots talking about!” Came a booming voice as the door, Romeo’s door, was kicked open from the inside. The students cursed under their breath but said out a quick “nothing!”

Th irritation on Romeo’s face was evident in his glare, “if all your going to do it talk on the clock, get out of here!” He yelled, doing well to push down the bubbling emotions deep within him.

The turned back into his office with a click of the door. Suddenly, the room felt gloomier, felt lonelier. It had felt this way since you had left him, leaving nothing more than your memory and a strange looking anomaly in your place.

—Haku Kusanagi

•Probably someone who would be a little shocked when he’s asked about you by a randomly student

•I can see Haku giving a small really, nothing too detailed

•he might even ask the student to not ask again, or ask around about you. Kinda like he did when mc mentioned the clash in the Hotarubi episode

•he loves thinking about you, but he also knows your memory hurts him and many others so he doesn’t want people getting too comfortable with your name.

•he loved you more than anything, and it was clear to the other students by the looks in his eyes.

“That’s not the question I was expecting,” Haku did his best to laugh, the sound that came out was strained and semi uncomfortable. The other students seemed to stop and realize they shouldn’t have asked that

“Sorry Haku, i was just told if i wanted to know about who the ‘honor student’ was to ask you,” the student mumbled sheepishly.

Haku waved his hands dismissively, “it’s alright, but you probably shouldn’t go around asking about them,” he said with his usual expression. What was different was his eyes, they were soft and seemed almost far away in thought. Suddenly the student that asked was consumed with guilt, feeling as though they stepped on fragile glass.

“ Alright….i won’t,” came a mutter followed by a swift goodbye as they excused themselves.

Plopping down on the floor Haku couldn’t help but lean back with a groan, “even now, you’re still on everyone’s mind.”

—Haru Sagara

•hella shocked when someone asks about you

•he’s doing his best to pretend your curse taking over you doesn’t bother him, and he thinks he’s done a pretty good job

•maybe that made people a little too comfortable with your name around him

•I’m stuck between him giving a sweet, vague answer, and just changing the subject completely.

•either way, he can’t just keep working and pretending he’s okay forever.

Haru was a busy man, who else would take care of the park? He loved you, he really did, but if he started lacking now what would happen to Jabberwock? Sadly, he hasn’t got time to properly grieve.

So that’s how he found himself entertaining a group of Frostheim girls one evening. They had become regular patrons, ones that he was great full too.

“Hey Haru, I heard you were close with the former honor student,” one of them said. Quickly the other girl responded in his place, “ ahhh no way, if they were close wouldn’t he have taken time off to grieve.?”

He was quick to change the subject, offering them a look at his newest purchase. A new animal he had started taking care of. But their words stuck in his head and vaguely he wondered if maybe he wasn’t doing your memory justice.

Maybe Haru had let things build up, because his emotions took over him later that night as he looked at pictures of the two of you. Maybe a few days off would do him some good? He would,d have to talk to Towa…

—Jin Kamurai

•how tf did they even get close enough to ask him that?

•no matter who it is he’s going to be pissy about it

•either he’ll just silently glare at them or he’ll tell them to leave very roughly.

•of course the Frostheim students are going to gossip about you, but they better not do it near Jin

•he has a large amount of influence, so anything said about you won’t be taken lightly.

Frostheim students was know for their gossip. They spread everything by word of mouth, but there was one thing that everyone knew to keep their mouth shut about. And that was you.

No one remembers when it became an u spoken rule, but one family after another, anyone who mentioned you in a negative light seemed to meet ruin.

But this student really thought she was something. A few small conversations (business conversations Jin was forced to partake in) with Jin and suddenly she thought she was immune and could say whatever she wanted.

Busting into his room the girl sobbed loudly, a sound that gave him a headache. Jin couldn’t make any words out of her sob filled ramble. It seemed her words came to bite her back

“Get out,” he said coldly, not even bothering to get up from his couch. “B-but-“

“Go,” he barked and this time the girl flinched. Looked at Jin one last time she cried herself out the door, and Jin just laid there.

Looking back, he regretted treating you so coldly when you first came to his room, but it was too late for regrets. You weren’t here anymore, and he’d have to live with his actions.

—Lyca Colt

•I see him being kinda like Sho, it really just depends on who’s asking.

•he’s not close with a lot of people so you really only see his standoffish answer

•like he might growl at them and ask what’s it to them

•Lyca is the number one defender of you and he won’t let anyone use your name lightly

•you were a wonderful experience just as much as you were everything to him.

“The honor student?” Lyca said in a questioning manner, almost as if he hadn’t known what the new student was asking him. New students, and new friends, all things Lyca was unfamiliar with. But these were also things you had always wanted him to experience, you had told him as such. So these were things he tried to welcome with open arms.

So why did he feel so upset when he was asked about you? Why was he so upset when this new student asked who you had been? Lyca soon realized he was scared, scared of anyone saying bad things about you. That wasn’t something you deserved. That was something Lyca had done his best to protect you from, even when your not here.

“Right! I’ve heard so much about the honor student, but have no idea who they were!” And with these words all his fear and upset feelings went away. His grin became toothy as a smile spread across his face.

“There were my lover,” Lyca manger out with his grin spreading over his face ever more than it already had.

He used the words you had taught him, the world ‘lover’ now deeply engrained in his brain.

Okay so maybe I didn’t do that well with haru’s but I TRIED

[temis-de-leon]

Look at you, looking at me

Characters: Lucifer x gn!reader

500 followers masterlist

Main Masterlist

Prompts used: Requited unrequited love + first date + stuck in close proximity

.

“Do I want to ask?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t, actually”

A long sigh followed and all MC could do was hang their head in embarrassment and try their best to avoid the eldest brother’s hard stare. They could still feel its weight in their flesh and their bones, but it was better than looking straight at the Lucifer’s rage and irritation, especially when they were part of the cause.  

Desperate for any type of distraction, they pushed the chair backwards and jumped out of the seat, although both had already explored the small space hours ago and none of them had found anything that could help in their escape.

The simulation had placed them in a study room, similar to those in libraries or colleges, with windows where the sunlight passed right through and a simple lockless door that they had been unable to open since the moment they got there. People could be heard walking by, but they spoke gibberish and didn’t seem to hear MC’s pleas or the demon’s threats and curses. In summary, the door wouldn’t break, the bookshelves didn’t have any hidden doors behind and the windows only had views of the sky; which meant that, even if they managed to open them, they would still have to jump straight into nothingness.

By all means, they were trapped together.

Unfortunately, MC knew perfectly well what needed to be done to get out.

“Am I to understand that you have a part in this, then?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that statement”

He fixed his eyes on them once again; they could tell by the way the room turned colder and their muscles stiffened. However, MC was unable to turn around and act normal, let alone lie and tell him to not worry about the situation.

“All I’m saying is that maybe we should keep looking for a way out” they insisted, bending down to inspect the spot at the door where the lock would be. “What if the answer has been staring at us all along?”

“We would’ve seen it already by now if that were the case” Lucifer said as he got up, walking towards them with a lazy stride. The drag of his shoes over the tiled floor gave MC goosebumps, but it was the low tone of his voice what anchored them to the ground. Unable to move and feeling ridiculous wearing the stereotypical Japanese high school uniform, MC did nothing as the Avatar of Pride crossed the small room in a few short steps and stopped right behind them. The warmth of his breath prickled their skin when he talked. “Whatever are you hiding, MC?”

“Hiding? Me?”

“I advise you to choose your next words carefully”

There was a slight edge to his words, but they knew he’d never truly hurt them. As threatening and scary as he could get, MC was completely sure they could trust him with their life. Now, at least. Those times when their heartbeat quickened out of fear and apprehension at the sight of him were long gone, although their heart still beat faster in his presence; just for completely different reasons.

It hadn’t been a sudden change but it felt like so for MC. One day they were tiptoeing around the house trying their best to avoid the door to Lucifer’s office and the next they were staring at themselves in the mirror for hours while carefully choosing an outfit for the day. Like a lovesick teenager, they blushed, stopped thinking and stammered with their own words, melting under the red hue of his gaze and jumping at the slightest of touches. Being around him in tight spaces was pure torture.

Lucifer, on his part, remained the same as always. Always unfazed, if not a bit more prone to teasing.

Digesting his uninterested expressions would be easier if their meaning wasn’t so brutal.

“Well” they started, coughing to ease the dryness in their throat. Lucifer placed a hand on their back and patted lightly, or at least tried to, because that only made MC jump again and get away unceremoniously. “We’re in Levi’s new game, obviously”

“Obviously” he repeated, sounding oddly plain.

“It’s not an escape room, since it’s not giving us any clues… It could have a narrative, but we haven’t seen any of that either. An RPG, point and click… but we don’t have a mouse to click with... do we click with our fingers?”

“MC”

“I mean, it could be an RPG, since we’re dressed as students…”

“MC”

“What do you think we need to do? Pass a test?”

“MC”

A deadly tone. One last chance to come clean.

What were they trying anyway? They knew what had to be done and he knew they knew. The only reason they were still in the simulation was because MC was too weak to accept reality.

Holding a breath, they turned around and briefly looked at Lucifer’s enraged gaze. Part of them expected him to be frowning or even in his demon form, but that wasn’t the case. On the contrary, he was smiling; eyes half closed as he studied MC with sickening interest and a twisted smirk. Somehow, he still carried an overwhelming presence, even with the juvenile clothes and the warmth of the fake sun right behind him, and MC became silent in embarrassment when they realized that, not only they weren’t scared, they were titillated.

“The truth, now. If you please”

It was obvious by the last addition that it wasn’t a suggestion.

Defeated, MC threw their arms in the air and laughed with nervousness as every little piece of control they could’ve had over the situation slipped away. Lucifer’s features relaxed ever so slightly.

“They heard I wanted to take you out for breakfast!”

Which sounded ridiculous.

MC meant the brothers, of course. Who else would spy on them without remorse? What had started as a private confession practice in their room had ended in a family reunion minus the eldest plus Solomon (Why not? Why wouldn’t the sorcerer be there?). For hours they had all listened to their ramblings with eager smiles, like pure sociopaths, probably thinking of ways of screwing Lucifer over instead of trying to help their dear friend get with their brother. By the end of the night, only Asmo and Levi had shown genuine interest in MC’s love life.

And look how it ended.

There was still sunlight in the study room, but MC felt no heat when they placed a hand under the rays, and while they were both silent, the voices outside didn’t sound louder. It was all fake and steady and would remain so until MC decided a change was due.

“You wanted to take me out?” Lucifer said in an indecipherable tone, although he sounded calm. “May I ask for what purpose?”

If there was a moment to open their heart, that would be it.

I’m in love with you and I thought a public setting would help me stay cool.

I can’t keep living with you acting like you don’t matter to me.

Looking at you makes my heart hurt.

Which would be the best?

Back at the desk, the cootie catcher stared right at them, colourful fold wide open to show the letters that had started the whole thing.

TELL HIM <3

“It was an appreciation gift” they eventually murmured, still reticent to let it all out. “For being a good friend”

Behind them, Lucifer hummed in acknowledgement. It sounded as if he was calling them a liar, although that might’ve been because MC felt like one.

“I didn’t want it to get so out of proportion… I’m sorry”

He hummed again before chuckling.

“Leave it to my idiotic brothers to make any course of action unbearable”

His words eased the tension in the room, but MC didn’t feel any better. There was still a tight knot in their stomach and a wave of nausea rushing to take control of their body.

“I do not get what that has to do with Levi’s game, though…”

“It’s a dating simulator” they interrupted him with a heated face.

Unable to stay calm anymore and keep the charade much longer, MC finally let themselves fall on the wooden chair and look at him with great embarrassment. The surprise on his face was noticeable, but it was partially covered by his familiar alluring smile. The mixed expressions made their blood tingle with excitement.

“And I understand we haven’t increased our intimacy points; am I correct?”

His stride was composed, sure on its way to MC until their shoes were touching and it had to stop. The warmth emanating from him was welcoming and it kept them anchored to the uncomfortably hard chair. He was amused, they could tell, but there was no ill intent; behind the sadistic tilt in his smile, MC could see a childish eagerness and a faint blush.

Slowly, his naked hand left his hip to trace the curves of their jaw, red fingernails softly scratching the skin before cupping their whole face with gentleness.

The whole simulation could’ve crushed and MC would’ve been none the wiser.

Not that they cared.

“I accept your invitation” he ended up saying, voice low enough to reach the depths of MC’s heart and alter its rhythm. He frowned for a moment. “Not as a friend, though”

His fingers traced the shape of their lips, touch slowing down as he leaned over them.

“I would never love you as a friend”

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[vinnyvin-thevincent]

I actually love that you're talking about this! Jayce's trauma is very overlooked, especially the long-lasting effects. I wish it was explored more, or that the writers added in a 4th Act to season 2 so that Jayces trauma could be expanded on, as well as his reaction to being around Mel in this new light.

Ultimately, I think he's overlooked BECAUSE people hated him in season 1. I was always an enjoyer and defender of his character and arc, he's actually been my favorite character since season 1 came out, but I think he's been reduced to "Oh traumatized man hot :0" because there's not a lot of critical thought into his story. A lot of people were neutral if not hating him, so people turning it around and saying "he's interesting now" just because he's now suddenly "hot" is the most they're allowing themselves to like him.

The perception of Jayce is that he exists only in reference to Viktor and Mel's plots. "Jayce's time in the cave taught him that he loved Viktor" no, he already did. He put Hextech, his life's work, on the metaphorical backburner FOR Viktor.

His hallucinations of Viktor and Mel didn't seem sweet to me, it didn't seem like a "deciding my boo" moment. He seems sad and angry, and he's realizing that he blames them just as much as he's blaming himself. Though this nuance isn't allowed to see the light of day because "unlikeable pretty boy is now sad and hot" mindset.

It's a shame, honestly. Now I'm not gonna be a hypocrite, I've watched and even made thirst edits of Jayce, back in season 1 and season 2. I personally think men look better with facial hair and beards, so does he look more attractive to me like that? Yes, but that's not the reason I'm obsessed with him. That's not the reason he's my favorite character. His story of building something to better the world, despite how much people wanted to shut it down, he persevered... only for the apocalyptic end of the world to be brought on by his very hands and his very obsession. He is the only one who saw this future, so he must fix it.

It's a tragic story, and one that is very very overlooked because "man look at his boobs" (look, he has a nice rack but be serious).

I dunno, I hope I'm adding good thought here. But his time in the cave/ravine is dehumanizing and breaking. Humans are social pack animals, and isolation is detrimental and can actually cause brain damage. The only reason I genuinely think he was functioning is that he was stuck in survival mode. When he got back to his timeline, he stayed in survival mode. He rushed to the Commune and shot Viktor. He found Caitlyn and hurried to Piltover to prep for the incoming war because he KNEW that wasn't going to be enough. He kept moving, kept moving, kept moving. It was the only way to stop the incoming destruction.

Tldr: You're right, I've noticed this too, and I'm more than HAPPY to discuss and focus on his arc with you

Random Thoughts on the Arcane Fandom about Jayce

this is gonna be a mess but I have nowhere else to talk about this.

I've recently noticed how Jayce Talis has been subjected to all kinds of sexualization since the drop of Act 2 of the second season. People have mentioned many times how trauma has made him "hot". A good and well-known example of this is Danny Motta's reaction to episode 5, where he said, "Holy shit, they made Jayce hot! [...] My dude went from looking like a Muppet to the king of Rohan, and all it took was a little bit of trauma."

This isn't entirely new for him? If people didn't hate Jayce back in S1, they ogled him in the scene where he works on the Forge shirtless, which IS kinda the point because the animators are making him very obviously attractive. But most importantly, he as a character has been reduced to his sexual or romantic relationships since the beginning of time.

It seems that S2 is a response to this in a way. His arc from the ending of S1, where he took responsibility of his actions out of guilt for the child he killed, was slightly set aside for Viktor. Well, ALL of his life, dreams, decisions, everything about him was eclipsed by Viktor's shadow because of the whole "all times, all possibilities" twist. He wasn't expected to show up as a Councilor in any of the meetings, and we must assume he quits at some point, but he surely hasn't resigned from his position by the time Viktor wakes up. Apart from that much needed scene between him and Cait, and the one where he attends the memorial (and is attacked by a vengeful mother), we don't see many of his decisions or what leads him to make them, other than Viktor. This is beautiful in a way because we can SEE how it is a trauma response to losing him. He is obsessive by nature, and he clings to what keeps him and his loved ones safe excessively, but I still had to do a bit of mental gymnastics as to why he went back on the second promise: to not build Hextech weapons again. (Hint: it has to do with the fact that VI saved him with HIS weapon, but it went so fast it's hard to process in the first watch.)

Now back to the sexualization problem. Every time I look up his name and trauma, or PTSD, 95% of the results are thirst edits on Tiktok about how hot he is. No joke. One of the more serious results is my own edit. Of course, a lot of people connect with his suffering without naming it as trauma, and that is great. My concern is that there has been so much focus on Jinx's trauma, Viktor's trauma, even Silco's trauma (which are all valid and fascinating to explore), but there's less attention for other characters who clearly show how their own traumatic experiences has shaped them. Vi, Caitlyn, and Jayce are some of the clearest examples of this, and they've experienced some truly heinous things in the show. Trauma cannot be compared, ever. But why is it that Jayce, who lived through an apocalypse that HE knows HE caused, and lives in complete isolation except the "company" of metal watchers, to the point that he loses touch with reality, and is changed so irrevocably that he loses the naivety and starry-eyed optimism that has always defined him...is seen as hot? And more importantly, why is it that there is very little attention to his experiences on that cave? Every scene between him and Viktor is uploaded in 1080 HD quality, but the scenes of him alone? Fighting to survive? Showing remarkable resilience in the face of his suffering? No, that's not as fun. Not a single one of those scenes is uploaded fully, and I have checked many times. (Some people have actually skipped those scenes to focus on Timebomb. I'm...)

I went online and looked up "why do people sexualize traumatized characters" because let's face it, it's real, it's interesting, and I cannot judge or else I am a hypocrite. Bucky Barnes, Loki, Ellie Williams, Dean Winchester, Vi herself, the list goes on much longer but I can't think of others off the top of my head. We connect with their suffering, and we are pulled by their experiences.

However, Jayce is such a complicated case because he is usually thought of as the greedy himbo that fumbled two baddies, or the confused bisexual, or the guy who lost it because of a situationship (much like Vi, who DID NOT lose it because of a failed romantic endeavor bfr). And then the plot goes and tells us, "Actually, yeah, his life outside of Viktor doesn't matter, he's not even supposed to be alive, because Viktor saved him. All of time is completely inextricable from Viktor." People hate meljay because she manipulated him and "trapped" him in a relationship or something, only to celebrate it when something suspiciously similar happens with the male romantic interest? I initially thought it was beautiful too, bc Soulmates, but man. Mage!Viktor really left the man he loved to rot in complete isolation, eating raw reptiles until throwing up, losing his mind. Say what you want about the allegory for Viktor's life, at least Viktor's isolation was metaphorical up until the Glorious Evolution.

Despite us being shown this, people make thirst edits of him in his black fit, and fighting with sexual tension with Viktor. I fear...that I am the only one who finds this tragic. The man forced to create a larger than life persona to sell his work and be seen as an attractive pawn of the system, has become the attractive pawn of the narrative. Viktor's narrative.

Perhaps Viktor was forgotten by the world. But Jayce's kind heart, and brave soul, were forgotten by us.

Just some thoughts to chew about my favorite character and my wish that more people focused on his arc with me

[melosliving]

im not sure if you did this yet BUT HEAR ME OUTTT, what if reader played in a movie with both aaron and kelvin and they are doing a interview together and they both discreetly see reader fidgeting with her hands and dress and try to secretly stop her and then after the interview is over they talk to her about it because its been going on for a minute…

Let me cook girl 😎 thanks for your request baby ❤️❤️

aaron pierre n kelvin harrison jr x actress!reader

you’re a nervous little thing…

warnings : dissociation

Press days are nothing new. You’ve done this a hundred times before—same routine, different city. Bright lights, velvet chairs, a round of staged laughs and knowing glances. Kelvin cracking jokes, Aaron making effortless comebacks, you sitting between them, playing the perfect balance to their chaos. It’s familiar. Easy.

But today, something feels off.

You’re aware of the cameras, the energy of the room, the way your dress sits against your skin—but it all feels distant, like you’re watching from somewhere outside yourself. Your hands won’t stay still, fingers brushing over the fabric of your dress, tapping against your knee, pressing against your rings. The voices around you sound far away, the world slightly out of sync.

Then you feel something. Aaron shifts beside you, the movement so small it’s barely noticeable, but suddenly his knee is pressed lightly against yours. But it his his hand that makes you aware of what you were doing. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t make a show of it, just lets the warmth of his hand seep into you like an anchor.

A beat later, Kelvin exhales through his nose, almost like a sigh, and leans back in his chair, arms resting on the armrests—but one of them, the one closest to you, brushes against your own. The weight is barely there, just the slightest pressure of skin against skin, but it’s intentional.

You breathe in slowly, focusing on that—on them. On the way their presence feels steady, how they’ve closed in around you just enough to remind you that you’re not drifting alone.

“You good?” Kelvin’s voice is low, casual enough that no one else would catch the concern tucked beneath it.

You nod, just once. He doesn’t push. Neither does Aaron. But they don’t move away either.

The interviewer shifts in her seat, oblivious. “So, let’s talk about the chemistry between you three, because it’s insane in this film,” she says, laughing. “Was that something you had to work on, or was it natural?”

Aaron tilts his head slightly, smirking. “I mean, that’s all her. I think she is what makes us look and feel so real.” He nods in your direction. “She makes it easy.”

Kelvin hums in agreement. “Yeah, don’t let her fool you. She’s got people thinking we were actually in love out here.”

You huff a small laugh, trying to shake the fog in your head. “You two were just as bad.”

Aaron turns toward Kelvin with a knowing look. “I did catch you staring a few times.”

Kelvin scoffs. “Excuse You, you were the one looking at my mouth every other scene.”

Aaron raises a brow. “Because you wouldn’t stop licking your lips.” Kelvin gestures toward you. “Well, she kept whispering in my ear, so how was I supposed to focus?”

You blink at him. “That was literally in the script.”

Aaron exhales dramatically. “Didn’t have to say it like that, though.” Kelvin hums. “Yeah, some of those lines felt… personal.”

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You two are ridiculous.”

Aaron grins, shifting slightly so his elbow just barely nudges against yours. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

Kelvin leans in, voice dropping just enough that only you can hear. “You okay now?” You nod again. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Kelvin holds your gaze for a second longer before leaning back. Aaron doesn’t say anything, just taps his fingers lightly against your knee once—brief, barely noticeable—before returning his hand to his lap.

The conversation moves on, but the weight in your chest feels a little lighter. The moment the cameras stop rolling, Kelvin turns to you.

“You been doing that a lot lately,” he says, voice quieter now, more serious. Aaron is watching you too, brow slightly furrowed. “Spacing out like that.”

You hesitate, fingers grazing over the rings on your hand again. “It’s nothing. Just happens sometimes.”

Kelvin tilts his head. “You telling us that, or yourself?” You sigh, pressing your lips together. “Both ? I’m fine.”

Aaron doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he reaches out, smoothing the fabric of your sleeve, his touch light, absentminded. “You don’t have to go through it alone, you know.”

Kelvin exhales, shaking his head. “Yeah. Next time, just tap one of us or somethin’. Let us bring you back.”

You glance between them, their expressions soft, steady, patient. You nod. “Yeah.”

Aaron studies you for a second longer before giving a small, satisfied nod. Then, because he can’t not do it, he smirks. “Or, you know, you could just sit next to me all the time. Let me hold your hand before you start floating off somewhere.”

Kelvin scoffs. “Here he go.”

Aaron shrugs. “I’m just sayin’, I’m right here—”

Kelvin rolls his eyes. “And I’m right here. Not you trying to steal my shine,”

Aaron smirks, leaning in slightly. “Yeah, but she likes me better.” Kelvin huffs out a laugh, then turns to you, expression playful. “Is that true?”

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. “I’m literally leaving.”

Kelvin grins. “Nah, we’re takin’ you to get food first.” Aaron hums. “Yeah, you definitely need to eat.”

You sigh, but there’s no real protest. “Fine.”

By the time you check your phone, Twitter is already spiraling.

“Kelvin and Aaron subtly closing in around her when she started dissociating… I need a moment.”

“No one’s talking about how Aaron just naturally reached for her hand without even looking? Hello???”

“Kelvin whispering ‘you okay now?’ with that serious look??? SIR, PLEASE.”

“They’re so soft with her but still manage to be the most unserious men alive. It’s unfair.”

@ melosliving 2025

[mysteryanimator]

Breaking down "Even the Iron Still Fears the Rot" (almost) shot by shot!

The fan-animatic can be viewed here!

HEADS UP: This is a fan-made content. I am a fan. I just love Castlevania/animation a lot and I love storyboarding nuances and making people cry over character dynamics. Also apologises for any grammatical/spelling mistakes!

I wasn't planning to do another breakdown of my own work, simply due to imposter syndrome but I genuinely put so much love and care into this animatic! I want to talk about it! Also, people have been really open to hearing about my inspiration and notes, and why I take the directions I do for my work, even if it's fan-made, so here we go!

(Also the reciprocation of my animatics has been so kind and uplifting, and I'm really glad that there's a lot of love for them as much as I love doing them! I learn and grow with every single board I make, it's been really fun! I hope I get to shine this much passion in the future in actual work!)

Since this is also an adaptation of a fan one-shot by Aquila, (which you can read here!) I knew I wanted to evoke what they had written and interject some of my own nuances/personal readings to their story to elevate what they had! In turn, kind of created this monster (positive) of a fan creation haha. There are some changes/rearranging the placement of aspects of the one-shot to strengthen the existing tension going on!

With this out the way, let's begin!

(heads up, for any shots I completely skip over, it is because I'm reaching image limits here)

I wanted to evoke that strong halo light you see in a lot of media. Often than not, this visual is used to depict the character as a divine force of nature and/or when a character is bobbing in and out of death. It can also be a very very terrifying image, as, for example, s02e8, Mizrak is literally all dark with a brightly lit background. It is scary- BUT people will say hot because it's Mizrak but hey, look, all I can say is I fully understand haha. It all depends on your intentionality and what follows before and after to give context to your scene!

Mizrak is dead. Well, undead now. Olrox is the so-called angel giving him life and love and this halo of light gets repeated a few times!

By the end, not only do their literal positions switch, but their roles shift too so I hoped to convey that visually by also giving Mizrak that halo glow for the second last shot. At the start, Olrox consumes Mizrak’s love, and then it ends with Mizrak consuming Olrox’s love. Guh I love blood themes in vamprisim.

This shot honestly took me a bit to do, since I was going a lot cleaner than usual, the expression for Mizrak was super important for me to get right. I wanted him to look like he was about to die- yet still have an unwavering amount of life in him. (Also I hadn't warmed up drawing in this cleaned-up style so it definitely was me messing around). It was important for me for this to feel like a POV shot to contrast the first scene so we can get inside the mind of Olrox!

This too is where I only have sound effects since I can't have voice so I limit my SFX to the only most vital things to elevate things I personally find better elevate the scene with audio. It only happens TWICE. The heartbeat. His wrist is shown and from context clues from not only S01 of Nocturne with Tera's turning, but a whole bunch of other vampire media- the wrist is a place where the dead accept their new life of immortality!

Also, the pulse effect was definitely inspired by the transformation of Sekmet! I'm not sure personally if this went to a further stage I'd want to keep this since I'd personally want something more unique for vampire turning, more specifically for Olrox, HOWEVER, I think it still does a good job conveying the supernatural pull for the time being!

Wow who saw this coming HAHA

Immediately when I saw the line where Olrox said he went to straddle him immediately, my mind went to go and try to parallel this scene again! I don't have much to say about this shot rather than the feet are purposefully cut out for animation convenience's sake HAHA.

Jumpscare for sudden Olrox character layout (even though he's really off model and sketchy here HAHA)

I was again, wanting to depict Olrox BATHED in light and since this animatic is purely in greyscale (with accents of colour), I could really push for dramatic lighting when it called for it! This is also why some of the scenes just do not have backgrounds at all. I wanted to make some of the scenes as "heavenly" as possible and for Mizrak to be embraced by the light because Olrox is giving him a new a life.

If this were to ever be animated (I won't be since it would take too much of my time, but it's still a good thing to note when boarding anything... maybe I'll do cleaned screenshots since those are a breeze, or animate ONE scene from this animatic... we'll see what I have time for. I unfortunately don't have proper time to try and figure out the layout of s02e8 bgs and paint them. I did consider quickly doing a 3d mock-up but no haha), the light in the background can probably be lit with candles since it was already pre-established in s02e8! Also, the windows can reflect light into the room so there's that too since Mizrak was backlit in that episode too!

Fun fact, this entire scene was the first thing I ever thought up and why I started even making it. I thought about how cool of a visual it would be to have Mizrak's eye in the reflection.

I wanted to imbue the fact that Mizrak does not fear Olrox holding a blade, hell, he's not even looking at the blade. He's looking at Olrox. What is described as a relic from a terrifying past, Mizrak is not scared. Mizrak is not scared of Olrox.

This is where the heartbeat occurs AGAIN. This is mostly to signal to the audience what Olrox actually has planned. He's not feeding Mizrak from his wrist but from his actual chest, especially with how gently Olrox runs his hands over it.

I debated a lot on where the initial cut should go. The heart, for sentimentality, under the breast in the same way Christ had been pierced, etc etc- however I landed on just dead set in the middle so it could form a cross that would grow bigger and bigger as the animatic went on. (Fun fact, the blob of blood turns into a little heart as he squeezes his chest)

I wanted to put some weight to the repressed catholic guilt, so I thought a cool visual way to showcase that Mizrak has only known how to love is via worshipping God which has consumed his entire being and self. God has given him faith, a companion in the hardest of times when the world has abandoned him.

Now, once again, his world has abandoned him. The Hospitaller Order of Saint John of God is gone. In the face of death and fearing the devil will be waiting. Olrox has given him love, and he will be a companion in the hardest of times. He will not abandon Mizrak.

This aspect of the cross in the animatic gets expanded upon as time goes on. Both literally as the cross literally turns into a pool of blood more closely to the symbol Mizrak bares, but also it slowly expands upon Mizrak feeding off Olrox's love! I'll add some more of my personal notes when we get there!

Also by far one of my favourite scenes I've drawn. It's still rough but it decidedly made me go a lot cleaner with the rest of the storyboard!

This is supposed to be suddenly jarring because it cuts midway through Olrox in a midshot to a close-up of a hand! We need to see him actively halt Olrox for just a moment, but also to show that even when it's sudden- its not hostile, it's gentle.

This shot does a couple of things!

It showcases how gently Mizrak is reaching out to Olrox

It helps to continually establish Mizrak submission to vampirism. He is constantly placed on the bottom from the composition, or we as an audience, are always looking down at Mizrak! Seeing parts of Olrox here really cements this fact as Olrox towers over him to the point we don't even see him fully!

It helps to lead into the Fallen Angel reference!

This shot makes me sob because it is so gentle. Despite being placed constantly much higher in the composition in the animatic, therefore making him the most powerful in this dynamic- in no way Olrox is intentionally made out to be an intimidating figure. He is comfort. He is a companion. He will not abandon Mizrak. The act of turning Mizrak might be read as selfish. It may be read as cheating the natural cycle of life, it may be everything wrong and doomed as your mind makes it to be, however, it is done out of love. Morals, whether good or bad, no longer matters because Olrox is in love. Love has such a strong chokehold on this series, so I'm shoving as much love into these characters as I can. Both literally make these characters so sickly desiring love that it will be their doom and saving grace, but also me as an artist deeply putting love and thought into this board because care a lot about how to convey these complex emotions! Sure it is quite easy to churn out boards without care, but without putting care into your boards, your characters and stories lack life (in my personal opinion).

Immediately, this animatic shook me and told me to put in a reference to The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabnel!

Also, how does one portray the soul? EYES. Eyes are the window to the soul. Mizrak’s eyes are also considerably the most important/crucial part of his design. His eyes in both seasons ‘glow in the dark’ due to the highlights in his eyes. Mizrak is considerably really emotive too and that was important to me to emphasize. I wanted to capture his essence, his soul if you will, into this shot.

This is also why this shot is done really prettily if you will.

The reflection of Olrox's eye in Mizrak's is important here! Olrox is here to act to comfort Mizrak. Even when Olrox is not on the screen with us, he is majorly present here. He will not abandon Mizrak. Also, since it is coupled with this line, people can choose to infer what they wish with Olrox! It can symbolize Olrox does have a soul, it can symbolize how Olrox and Mizrak are now intertwined together, it can symbolize Mizrak reciprocating Olrox's love. The list can go on! I give that room for open interpretation (same as the rest of the animatic, the only reason I'm going through, breaking down almost shot by shot is that I deeply care about this sort of thing, and I know other people do too!)

This shot, is deceptively simple but it's here to actually initiate a bunch of scenes I wanted to happen after this!

Firstly, I needed a very nonchalant but easy way for Olrox to let go of Mizrak's hand without needing to overcomplicate. I needed something that gave it just enough importance for the hand kiss BUT not too much where it is the sole focus on the shot.

Secondly, I needed a way for Olrox to lean down to Mizrak and initiate him being way closer to him.

Thirdly, it acts to parallel another shot that happens with Mizrak where instead of going diagonally down, he goes diagonally up!

This is one of the points where I visually slightly deviate from the one-shot! I really REALLY wanted to emphasize Olrox's dialogue here so I chopped up and elongated the scene to make it that much more intense and tender. Which is why we get the next two close up shots!

Look it was very VERY important to me to have Olrox cup Mizrak's face and intentionally cut off his eyes. The important part I wanted to focus on solely was his hand and Mizrak looking up because genuinely, Mizrak's eyes are 'distracting' and it would remove the focus on the gesture! Also I am saving Mizrak's eyes for the next shot haha

After this shot too, you may notice the blood from his neck disappears for the rest of the animatic. This is because, after this, it began to take too much of a visual focus away from the blood on Olrox's chest since it is bright red against greys in the shot. We can chalk it up to Olrox wiping the blood off when he goes to cup him.

"The most beautiful soul a vampire can posses."

It was so important to me that we get a BEAUTIFUL shot of Mizrak. I needed the audience to see his entireeee face close up, unobscured by anything. Olrox is holding a beautiful soul in his hands. He's holding Mizrak. Actually makes me sob.

This shot by the way has been repeated 3 times with slight variations by this point. Yes, this is a very pretty shot so how could I not help but repeat it? HOWEVER, I was trying to make a reference to how Mizrak has said Olrox's name only 3 times in the show with a variation of what was said around it. After that, Olrox calls him my love, basically unlocking a new stage in their relationship.

So here, three times when he looks at Olrox, he's mentally calling out his name. After this, Olrox brings him to a new stage in the relationship.

Also in Catholicism, a lot of things are in 3s. One of the major ones is that three times, Christ fell over carrying the cross. On the third hour of that day, he died and on the third day, he was resurrected from the dead. The three sacraments that welcome someone into the Kingdom of God are Baptism, Communion, and Confirmation as they all build off one another! I could go on both those are the main points AND I feel you might get the gist now!

It was very important to me that when Olrox makes this promise, we HAVE to see his full face. This is why it's a close-up.

It lets for no shadow of a doubt that Olrox means what he says here. He's looking AT Mizrak. He's telling the truth to him.

This is a parallel to a much earlier shot of Olrox! He moves closer to Mizrak by going from top right to bottom left, while Mizrak moves closer to Olrox by going from bottom left to top right! You also both see them exit the screen too!

In this shot, we bring back that halo vibe but also this is a reference to S01E04 and S02E08! The curtain! It is BOTH their first-ever shots to establish a new scene, so I wanted to go “Hey this is establishing a new scene- a new life for Mizrak and Olrox.”

The camera is super purposefully cut just below the eyes. You can see them open then closed, but we will never ever get to see the look he had in his eyes, the single decision in his brain that let him indulge. That’s only for Olrox, and only Olrox will know.

From here on out, A LOT of the shots of Mizrak get segmented/have his face hidden for that reason too (except for one shot, also done intentionally).

When Mizrak actually closes his lips around the blood- it’s on the growling sound in the song. Mizrak has turned into the animal that he’s been calling vampires. In this new life, he is now given the choice to be freed from the man-made shackles of shame and guilt. To be untamed and unrestricted. A wild animal so to speak!

Honestly, I spent a lot of my time here (besides the pretty Olrox frames) because I was super particular about how I wanted to portray Mizrak giving into sucking the blood. The way he accepts vampirism is vital because it sets the tone and mood for how the rest of the board feel since his face gets hidden and you now have to infer from when you saw his face last.

If you have seen my analyses or my work before, you will know how much I enjoy having a frame within a frame. I loveeee my boxes! They're in the box! TOGETHER! THE CENTER TOO! There are no real divisions with the exception of Olrox's head which is important because it's not Mizrak we're focused on at this point in time, it's Olrox~

This is because the one-shot, even in third person, is mostly through Olrox's perspective!

Also, the camera is moving around in this shot, and the following subsequent shots! It hopefully gives off the "hand-held" feel, which often is associated with feeling as if you're right there in the moment with them.

Why pillows?

This is me shaking you to say how the blood-drinking is an allusion for sex if that wasn't already obvious enough. So showing pillows coupled with Olrox groaning really goes "Yes they are technically doing it."

Originally this shot (and the previous shot) was supposed to be way more pulled out, but I was saving it for the very last shot of the animatic so I went to pillows with the tinest hint of their body in the frame to make it seem super scandalous. Like what on earth could they be doing for me to cut them mostly out of the frame? Also also, the pillow was supposed to have an embroidery of a painting from 1790s or earlier BUT, for the life of me, I could not decide what I wanted and I did not want to keep reusing the same references I have had in past work. I didn't want to fuss about it for too long since its more of an easter egg rather than adding to the story. The main point is pillow = fucking HAHA.

Side tangent, you can get away with SO MUCH by having blood drinking be an allusion to sex. Like obviously when you have an age rating you must abide by, you must be creative with how you go about mature topics (my age rating is YouTube hahaha)! Not only is blood drinking in vampirism just inherently queer-coded, but the intimacy of it can convey so much more if it was just a regular ol' sex scene! I actually deeply enjoy conveying nsfw topics into art because you can discuss character dynamics at a much more vulnerable, raw state that literally bares them to just their essence and their current desires/needs. However I am getting off-topic, let's get back to it!

This shot was actually heavily inspired by the statue Adoration by Stephen Sinding!

While there are a lot of differences now simply because Mizrak is at Olrox's chest, I still hope that the vibe of that statue is still imbued. It also gives the sense of not only Olrox adoring Mizrak in this very moment, but Mizrak is too despite not seeing his face. Again quite intentional because it's only for Olrox to see.

Also, a lot of people have been telling me how Olrox is breastfeeding him, and in technicality, they're not wrong, he's feeding blood, from his chest. It is the funniest thing ever LOL

This shot was important to really focus in on his throat and how, much like in the one-shot, Mizrak is literally not taking breaths and is just continually consuming Olrox.

Wet sounds fill the room as his throat bobs with each steady gulp...He doesn’t stop, doesn’t take a moment to gasp for breath.

I also just wanted to make this scene feel very slow in order to contrast with a much more passion-filled desire that consumes Mizrak in this animatic! Also hopefully the descent of blood and the descent of the camera helps to strengthen the idea of Mizrak descending into vampirism!

It felt really cheesy to have this close-up shot of his eye HOWEVER at the time, I thought this was by far the clearest way to convey the immediate switch from gentle devotion to devouring devotion and how suddenly rapid it is. In my brain, the stylization for his eyes open would be textured and pulse in the same way Olrox's wrist did, which is why it's just outlined. I'm once again not 100% set on the pulse look and it probably needs some iterations if I ever came back to it again.

Also, the green hearts in his eyes only come through when he's actively consuming blood from his chest! The heart motif comes back later when Mizrak ends up throwing up the blood!

Here's the cross again, except it is growing bigger. This was very important to me that you see how "gentle" the blood-sucking is at first. A gentle devotion despite the "terrifying" shadow of Mizrak. Also, super an excuse to have kiss marks in my animatic, I love painting them in my art because it can say a lot with placement and how aggressively smudged they are!

Also, I thought it would be SO FUN to have Mizrak's turned self literally have his eyes overlay where Olrox's eyes are. It conveys how Mizrak and Olrox are now switching roles in this animatic! For the first half of this animatic, Olrox has been placed pretty high up in the shot composition, or where the camera looks up to put him in a high place of power! It makes him appear way more etheral and otherworldly, while Mizrak was placed lower in the composition, always looking up at him! Which I'm hoping invokes religious imagery of a God and his worshipper/follower!

When Mizrak's transformation is set, the dynamic switches up. For the rest of the animatic, Mizrak is now placed at a more supernatural/otherwordly position, while Olrox is just there passively, letting Mizrak BE in this position. He does not fight it, he embraces it, embraces how Mizrak reciprocates his love, his desire, and all his messy complications, much like how earlier in the animatic, Mizrak embraces vampirism.

Also if you slow it down enough you can see how I accidentally left my perspective grids in it HAHA, but it goes by fast enough it doesn't really matter! (I guess it's also kind of indicative of my natural style when it comes to digital painting too, I genuinely like having my sketch still peek through into the final painting!)

Wow even more shots to cement the new role switch AND how much much of the passionate need to consume is controlling his urges! Free to consume at his leisure, he is no longer bound by human nature (for now)!

This shot and his leg shot help to really strip Mizrak of his humanity. Faces in a shot really help to connect people to the characters because we see the emote, we see them breathe, we see them live. Especially for a character like Mizrak? He's super expressive face-wise and I'm purposefully not showing you the defining features of Mizrak. Here I am basically going "Mizrak is no longer human."

This is why in horror/thrillers with antagonist characters, we don't see their faces much and are saved for only key moments (usually, again your intentionality matters). It doesn't allow us to connect with the character on a much more human level. Think of Count Orlok from Nosferatu (2024). Purposefully a lot of his character is shrouded in darkness, focusing on his hands and other aspects, never his face, and even then it is really hard to make out because so much of him is obscured. It makes him that much of an imposing intimidating character! Otherworldly and something that we cannot fully understand.

This is a flipped version of Mizrak's close-up eye shot much earlier when he asked if his soul would remain. Again to hark on how Mizrak and Olrox are switching roles in this animatic! Olrox is looking at Mizrak's soul as we speak.

Despite us not seeing Mizrak's face, we as an audience noticing how unhuman Mizrak has suddenly become, Olrox looks quite gently at him and that was important to convey!

Woo! Lot's of horizontal lines here! While the camera is moving towards the left, Mizrak is moving right!

Originally this shot was going to have Mizrak's teeth sinking into Olrox like a very cool Olrox throwing his head back and Mizrak's fang reveal HOWEVER, I want to leave the "carnage" and bloodshed of the feeding out of the frame and only have it show up in very specific moments so I can have those moments actually have their proper impacts. I did not want to show any part of the front of his face at all since it would dampen the effect later on, so I opted for this instead. The legs give a sense of "something is happening but we don't know what, but it's to a point where Mizrak's entire body is moving oh jeez." Won't lie, this looks very sexual and I'm purposefully toying with that line again because blood drinking is an allusion to sex.

Also, I'm continuing the concept of having aspects of Mizrak's face only for Olrox's eyes. What does he look like when he's actively consuming him with such passion? Idk, Olrox you tell me.

This is everything I was building up for when I introduced the small crosses! The physical manifestation of how Mizrak reciprocates.

My thought process here was that Mizrak only knows how to love by fully devoting himself because that's all he's done for God. So he applies it here. He is reciprocating love, but it is FULL ON. It is intense. It is all-consuming.

The face once again is obscured for all the reasons I have mentioned before, but also it REALLY helps to really hard cut to Mizrak choking on the blood after because before it seemed like he was doing just fine. He is literally looking DOWN at Olrox, he takes up A LOT of the screen with just his back and head. He literally gets pulled into full focus while Olrox is blurred in the background. He appears like he is in control of the situation, however it could not be further from the truth.

Also, I was mostly inspired by the insane amount of bible verses talking about blood, so I'll drop some of those here!

John 6:53-56 ESV

So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.

Ezekiel 16:6 ESV 

“And when I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your blood, I said to you in your blood, ‘Live!’ I said to you in your blood, ‘Live!’

Matthew 26:28 ESV

"For this is my [Christ's] blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins."

Absolute contrast to most of the other shots, not only because I decided to add way more character acting here, but it's because we actually see his FULL face. It's intentional because Mizrak realizes himself now so we need to see him have this reaction. I wanted to show that he is still a person. He still has a soul. He may not be human, but he does have a mind that can think and a heart that can love. He still retains human qualities.

He's choking on all the blood (a physical manifestation of love) and his body is rejecting it. He's not used to consuming this amount of love and he's not used to being self-indulgent. It's deeply overwhelming.

I wanted to say I LOVED drawing blood it is SO FUN, planning the camera movement, and how Mizrak coughs at specific moments was sooo fun. I wanted this to be MESSY AND INTENSE. I wanted the audience to feel the weight of Mizrak's sudden distraught. I wanted to throw him around and to really hark on this line from the one-shot.

What has he done? What has been done to him? What has he become?

It helps to deeply contrast with how still and gentle the next scene is!

Yes, that is right, Olrox's pupils are DILATED :)

Coupled with the fact that the blood splatters are hearts! They're outlined in cyan! Olrox has a massive heart-shaped blood splatter on his cheek while Mizrak has a few heart-shaped splatters BUT there are gaps in his bloodied mouth that create heart shapes as if Mizrak spewed out those hearts!

Firstly this is because Mizrak literally eats at his chest where the heart is. Secondly, I'm again pushing for Mizrak to consume and throw up his love due to how overwhelming it is. Not only is Olrox's love for him literally beyond his imagination, but Mizrak is trying to love back in with that same amount of passion and utter devotion. A lot is happening for this new-born vampire that is pushing and pulling at him. His emotional state is so overwhelming that it is manifested in physical form.

The green reflections are shown to visually communicate Olrox anchoring Mizrak back, as, throughout the animatic, it is one of the things that ease or calm him down. I could not portray it through voice BUT I can portray it via visual (guys walk with me here, imagine the insane combo of audio and visual, it would be so tasty). The sole reason why I did not have hearts in his eyes here is simply because I reserved the heart motif for when he's actively drinking out of Olrox's chest (so he's literally consuming his love) or when he's spitting out the blood!

Also, the reason why I cut to his eyes rather than pan to them is purely because I wanted the violence of his mouth to be suddenly jarring to the gentleness in his eyes. I didn't want the slow reveal, I wanted the "OMG the blood- aw Mizrak...."

"Lulled into a sense of hazy compliance by Olrox’s voice, the former monk carefully lowers himself and continues though not for long."

This final shot was soooo important to me to include. The “musty inn room” was mentioned much earlier during Mizrak’s transformation but there was a poeticism by having what is considerably the blossoming moment of their complicated relationship be the final shot. With the lyrics also ending with "Take me back to Eden" how could I not? Clearly, both the rooms between s01e4 and s02e8 are parallel to each other. The only difference is that s02e8 has the room be both red AND GREEN, while s01e4 is just earthy/green. Olrox has taken them both back to their earthly paradise. This is their Garden of Eden.

Woo ok and we're done! Also yes I do thumbnails for these, it's half the reason why I'm fast (this entire animatic, cleaned and everything, was done in 3 days good lord. Is that fast? I can't tell) I make the barest of bones chicken scratch of sketches to get a feel of pace/vibe, then I do my roughs/cleans and add/take away shots necessary for the story that needs to be told. I normally would not let this see the light of day because these are AWFUL BUT, this post is also half a documentation of my personal process so I'm going to close my eyes and share this HAHA

If you got this far, thank you for reading me geek out about this! I find a lot of joy in the visual storytelling medium. As much as I do enjoy animating, (wow could you guys tell in the name?) I have a deep love and passion for storyboarding personally and I get sit back, and enjoy crafting the entire picture! I still have a long way to go but I'm having fun and I'm pursuing my passions of storytelling!

I desperately want to make more animatics, dealing with different tones, pace etc, but I genuinely have to go prioritize other things for now that will help me build these skills hahaha. I say this but who knows, seeing my current track record haha, look I can do both. I follow wherever my creativity takes me. I may have missed a few things but I have to wrap this up now!

Thank you again! The final takeaway, go watch Castlevania again and go be inspired by animation <33333

[meo-eiru]

Theo doesn’t talk to her.

Not because he doesn’t want to.

Because he can’t.

Because every time he even thinks about opening his mouth, his throat closes up, and his hands shake, and he feels like he might just throw up on the floor.

She’s right there, inches away, talking to someone else, laughing like it’s nothing, like it’s so easy to be… perfect.

Theo grips the hem of his sweater and looks down, brown curls spilling over his face, hiding what he doesn’t want the world to see. His eye burns, his single, lonely green eye, the one thing that makes him stand out in all the worst ways.

She can’t see it.

She can’t see him.

He wants to be seen, but only by her. Wants her to notice, but not too much. Wants her to hear the words he can’t even say.

"Y/N..."

The name is a fragile thing in his head, something that might shatter if he says it too loud.

He watches from the corner of his eye as she reaches into her bag, fingers brushing against something, a pen maybe, and the thought of how easy it would be to hold that hand makes his chest feel hollow. He knows the shape of her hands better than his own. Knows the way her lips move when she’s lost in thought. Knows how she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s concentrating.

But she doesn’t know him… maybe that’s for the best. Because if she ever really saw him, saw the way his fingers twitch when she’s too close, saw the way he lingers just a second longer in the places she’s been, saw the way his thoughts wrap around her name like thorns, and his eye—

She’d run.

They always do.

(Back with a short fic for my favorite cyclops)

I have to admit I was so immersed in this I actually tried to like it as if it was a post and not an ask in my inbox

My god op you write so beautifully, you really made me feel his loneliness.

Theo is indeed very lonely, he usually doesn't mind it. He made peace with the fact he would probably spend his entire life alone around elementary school. He's alright, it's not like he's jealous of the people who go out with their friends, do romantic stuff with their lovers or just... exist without the fear of the other person finding them disgusting.

But your sheer existence makes all his resolve crumble down. His sweet, beautiful, perfect y/n. Someone who can do wrong. Even if you did hurt someone you probably had your reasons.

He loves you. He loves you so much. For the longest time he couldn't even bring himself to think like that in his head because someone like him doesn't have the right to think of you in such ways.

But even as the monster he is Theo still has emotions. Some too strong for his weak body to handle, so he tries to make it better.

He sketches you as he secretly watches you from a few seats behind, he writes your name over and over again like a prayer, he secretly follows you home and takes you pictures. Sometimes he intentionally skips his lesson to go rummage your locker, if he's lucky he'll find a piece of clothing and will try to relive himself while hugging and smelling it for the next hour or so.

He doesn't want to be seen, but he wants you to see him. He doesn't want to be noticed, but he wants you to notice him. He doesn't want to be touched, but he wants you to touch him.

He often fantasizes about you catching him as he tries to steal one of your belongings. He wants you to make him regret it, but also become aware that he is there. He wants you to talk to him even if it's to call him a creep. Because Theo is a coward, he's a coward who pathetically stalks you instead of actually having to courage to speak up. So he wants you to do it. He wants you to one day turn around and see him, your eyes to meet his.

You noticing him, you knowing him, you insulting him, you loving him.

[katarandaa]

The Augmentor part 1

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Pairing: F! reader x Sevika

Set in season 1 between act 1 & 2.

Augmentor: Someone who specializes in augmenting the human body with mechanical or Shimmer-enhanced parts.

Summary: You’re a well-known augmentor in Zaun who - through your sibling Ran - take on a special commission to make Sevika a mechanical prosthetic after her accident.

CW: alcohol use, swearing, smoking,

Word count: 4.2k

AN: this is my first Arcane fic! It's a bit long, but I'm FINALLY happy with it after working on it slowly for WEEKS. This is basically just my MDD universe lol. (There will probably be a part 2). Hope you enjoy ~

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The music from your speakers was blasting in your workshop, you were bopping your head to the beat while working on a rusty prosthetic leg a customer had dropped off for you to fix. Smoke filled your nostrils as the cigarette you put out in your ashtray didn’t completely extinguish. You didn’t hear the elevator doors open and someone entering your workshop until the volume of your music dropped. You quickly turned around to face the elevator to see Ran through your goggles standing by the speaker.

“Ran!” You propped the goggles you were wearing onto your head and smiled at seeing your sibling dropping by for a surprise visit. “Didn’t expect to see you in here today. Your hand need a fix?”

“Hey, no, I actually have something to ask of you,” Ran said as they made their way down the steps into your shop. You put your tool down and spun around on your stool to face Ran, inviting them to keep talking.

“So, you need to hear me out on this one, YN - I need you to do a commission, -” Ran said and leaned on one of your workbenches.

“I don't know Ran; you know I don't really do commissions anymore. Just doing repairs is so much better,” you said the second you heard them say commission, turning your attention back to fixing the metal leg laid out on your workbench.

You had stopped accepting commissions after overworking yourself, and now you ran your business only doing repairs and occasionally some modifications for people who already had mechanical prosthetics. Doing commissions wasn’t easy work, it took months of work, long hours, loads of people involved and a lot of planning, so you decided to take a step back and work on a much smaller scale.

Ran walked closer to you. “It’s an important request, and I seriously need you to consider doing this job. I told them about your work. We really think you’re the best augmentor in Zaun for this job.” Ran flexed their prosthetic hand, which you had made for them several years ago. You sighed again and glanced at their hand before continuing your work.

“It’s a request from Silco - Sevika needs a mechanical prosthetic,” your heart jumped at the sound of her name. “I know you heard of her accident. They know of your previous work, and they want you to do it; they specifically requested you. The pay is really good, it’s from Silco’s pockets, so you’ll be compensated for your time and hassle, and then some.” Ran really tried to sell you this gig, and you could feel the desperation in their voice. “And I know you have a thing for Sevika, you know-”

“I do not!” you interrupted Ran and snapped your head in their direction. “What makes you say that?!”

 “YN, she’s totally your type, and I’ve noticed the way you look at her and act whenever she’s nearby - you get all stiff and nervous.”

You stayed quiet for a moment. “Is it that obvious?” You almost whispered.

“To me it is,” Ran smirked.

You had met Sevika several times at The Last Drop whenever you were out drinking with Ran or your friends. You had never really spoken, but you knew that she knew who you were; all the shared glances, the drinks sent to your table, thanking her by raising your glass in her direction, your blushing and fiddling. You had always been too nervous to approach her; she seemed to distant, and so unattainable.

“Fuck,” you muttered and couldn’t help but crack a smile. “ I don't know. It’s always too much work doing commissions - the clients always have way too high expectations, they never respect the timeframe I give them, they don't pay what they owe. It’s always such a hassle,” you explained, sliding the goggles off your head and running a hand through your hair. “Plus, if it’s for Sevika I’m gonna be all nervous, what if affects my work and I don't deliver her a good product?”

“YN, it’s gonna be fine. Just do what you’re good at. Please just come meet with them, have a chat about your conditions and the pay. I already told them I would talk to you and bring you in for a meeting tonight.”

You tilted your head back and sighed hard, looking over at Ran. “Ok, fine,” you said, and Ran quickly muttered a quiet “yes”.

Ran came running towards you and wrapped their arms around yours. “You’re gonna do great, I know it.” You wrapped your arms around Ran and squeezed before getting up, both of you disengaging from the hug. “And, maybe you and Sevika can get to know each other a little better-”

“Ran!” You interrupted them and hit them playfully on their arm. “Inappropriate! She’s my customer at this point.”

"Alright, fine,” Ran chuckled. “Just, don't promise them anything you can’t deliver. And don’t let them rush you.” Ran squeezed your arm.

“Don't worry, I won’t. Let’s just go.”

-

The atmosphere at The Last Drop was calmer than usual. The last time you visited was to get a few drinks after work with Ran on a busy night. The same night you had seen Sevika sitting at her usual table, cards in hand and a hefty sum of coins in front of her, the other men around the table looking stressed out with their heads in their hands.

Ran leads the two of you through the bar and up the stairs towards Silco’s office. Outside the door were two guards keeping an eye on the people passing by. They saw Ran and opened the door for the two of you, one of them following you inside.

Inside the office, Silco sat at his desk, and Sevika to your left, sitting on the sofa, a cigarette in her mouth and a whiskey bottle and a glass on the table in front of her. You also noticed that her hair was down, and not in her usual half up half down hairdo; it looked good - maybe even cute.

Ran greeted the two with a nod and closed the door behind you.

“Ran, good to see you,” Silco said from the other side of the room, a cloud of smoke swirled around him from his cigar. “This is the augmentor?”

“Yes, sir. This is YN. She’s agreed to come talk over some terms and hear more about the job.” Ran said and sat down at a round table to the right side of the room. You were stood in the middle of the room as you felt Sevika’s eyes on, leaving your stomach in knots.

Silco looked over at you and stood up from his chair behind the desk and walked in front of it. “Alright. What are these… conditions?” He pointed his hand, which had his cigar resting between his fingers, towards you for you to speak.

“Well, first of all, I’m gonna need to know exactly what you’re commissioning,” you said and put your bag on the floor beside the low table to your left. “I’m assuming it’s not just a mechanical prosthetic.” You crossed your arms over your chest and peeked at Sevika, your eyes met for a brief moment before you looked away, to her left arm, or whatever was left of it, which was covered by her cloak.

Silco quickly took the word: “You’re right. It’s going to be used for fighting, as well as just being a prosthetic. Enhance its strength with shimmer, in a way that makes it more responsive and lethal. Find a way for shimmer to be injected into Sevika’s bloodstream in small doses. Obviously it needs to be sturdy and durable; it needs to withstand blows and return them twice as hard. The attachment needs to be secure - no risk of it coming loose, but make sure it's flexible enough for her to move freely. You’re making a weapon, not an ornament. This sound like something you could do?”

You suddenly felt a little nervous having everyone’s eyes on you, waiting for your response. You looked at Silco.

“Of course, not a problem. But if I am to agree to this, I have a couple of terms. I have my own team of doctors and surgeons who are experienced with installing mechanical prosthetics. And if you want the commission to be done faster, I expect a supply of shimmer. I also want one month pay up front before starting the mech.”

Silco was looking at you as you named your terms, almost threatening. “And a few free drinks from your bar would be nice... Sir,” you added. You heard a light chuckle from Sevika at your last comment.

Silco and Sevika exchanged a look before Sevika broke the silence. “Sounds like reasonable terms to me, sir.” She took a swig from her glass, finishing her drink.

“I can get behind your terms. But I need to know an approximate timeframe,” Silco said as he took a puff of his cigar.

“Usually for mechs like this, the planning and design will take about a week, the manufacturing of the arm itself will take anywhere from three to six weeks. Then there’s the installation, recovery and physical adaptation, which I’m guessing in total will be about three weeks at max, but I’m gonna have to hear with my doctors on that one. So, in total, if everything goes to plan, about two months. But with some shimmer, I will be able to work faster and more efficiently, and Sevika’s healing period will also be sped up.”

A silence grew in the room. You could tell Silco was digesting what you just explained. “I imagine that you probably want this to be done much faster, but good work takes time. I promise you that I will make this commission my top priority moving forward. But I’m not going to rush this to a point where I feel like my craftsmanship gets diminished.”

Another silence fell over the room until Silco broke it. “Alright, you’ve got yourself a job, YN. Don’t disappoint me. I will supply you with shimmer. Don't forget that I want it done as soon as possible.” Silco voice way low, almost threatening. He turned his back to you and sat back down behind his desk. “When will you be able to start?”

“I can have you come over to my workshop tomorrow so I can have a proper look at you,” you said and looked at Sevika - she nodded in agreement.

“Great. You two have a plan. You,” Silco said, pointing at the guard standing behind you by the door. “Get the girl her pay.” The guard nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind you.

“I’m gonna need your address,” Sevika leant forward and looked at you with an intimidating look, taking a long puff of her cigarette and exhaling it through her nose. She looked really good. Fuck. You tried to push your thoughts aside; you had to remain professional.

“Oh! Right, of course!” Your nerves had gotten to you. You grabbed your notebook and pencil from your bag on the floor and scribbled down your name and the address, the name of your workshop, as well drawing a quick silly doodle at the end of it out of habit and handed the note to Sevika.

“You enter through what looks like a tinker’s shop, or a salvage shop, you’ll see a sign that says Junk and Joints and loads of scrap in the windows - can’t miss it. Just tell whoever’s in there you’re there for me and they’ll send you down,” you explained. You thought you saw a slight smile tug at Sevika’s lips as she looked at your note.

The door opened and the guard came back with two pouches in his hands. He walked over to Silco who was sitting at his desk reading over some paperwork. Silco looked at the pouches, squinted and waved his hand before looking back down at his papers. The guard walked over to you and dropped the two heavy pouches on the table in front of you. “Your pay.” The guard said and exited the room again.

“Ooh, thank you…” you muttered and looked inside them. In one of them was your money. In the other, vials of shimmer, looking to be enough to last you about two weeks. You put them in your bag along with your notebook.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she looked up at you and gave you a slight nod, her face back to being stern with her cigarette hanging from her lips.

Your heart fluttered for a second before speaking. “Yeah, I’ll see you.” Ran came up behind you and put their hand on your shoulder and walked towards the door. You quickly flung the now heavier bag over your shoulder and exited the office with Ran.

As you heard the door shut behind you, Ran turned to you. “You did good. They seemed to like you.”

“Were you concern they wouldn’t?” you said playfully as you walked down the metal staircase.

“No, not really, but they don't fuck around. You would know if they didn’t like you.”

“Shit ok, I’m glad you didn’t tell me that beforehand - I wouldn’t be able to keep my cool.” You walked to the front door before stopping and turning to Ran. “I’m gonna head to the shop and get started on some ideas. I’ll see you soon.”

“Good luck,” Ran gave you a quick hug. “See you!” You waved at Ran and headed out.

-

You were sitting at your workbench doodling in your notebook with a cigarette between your lips - your music was playing from your speaker, but this time it didn’t drown out the sound of the elevator arriving at your floor. You felt your heart race as you saw Sevika stepping into your workshop.

“This a good time?” she asked and looked around.

You shot up from your stool and picked your cigarette from your mouth. “P-perfect time! Please, have a seat in my so called - living room,” you stammered and gestured to the other side of the room; an old sofa and two armchairs, and a small run-down coffee table with a few old mugs, an empty wine bottle, a candle and an ashtray.

Sevika walked over and sat down on the sofa against the wall as you hurried over to your speaker to turn the music down, now barely audible.

“Alright, so, I’m gonna ask some questions and I’m gonna need some measurements after,” you walked over to ash your cigarette in the ashtray and took a seat in one of the armchairs, notebook and a pencil in hand.

“I got the whole ‘mechanical shimmer arm that deals possibly fatal blows’ shtick,” you waved your hands in the air as you spoke, “but do you have any other requirements that I should know of before I start?”

“The most important part is functionality. If it can’t win me a fight, it’s useless,” Sevika lit a cigarette, taking a long drag from it before continuing. “It needs to have some sort of buff to it.”

“Shimmer can help enhance the hits by hydraulic force, and as Silco requested, I’ll integrate a shimmer system for both injection, infusion and storage - so I don't think you can get more fit for fight than that.”

She nodded. “It also needs to be durable – I don't want you skimping out on the materials here,” she said in a demanding tone. “Don't have the time to constantly come in for repairs. I need reliability with this thing.”

You nodded your head and smirked. “Of course, only the best.”

Sevika scoffed and took another drag from her cigarette. “And it can’t be too heavy, I’m gonna be wearing it outside of combat as well. So don't go too crazy with your fancy mats.”

“Sure, no problem,” you spent a few minutes jotting down some more ideas in your notebook.

“I made an exception for you, y’know.” You broke the silence.

“That so? Why?”

You shrugged. “I stopped doing commissions, but Ran practically begged me to take this job. And when I heard it was for you, the decision was kind of a no-brainer – it seemed important, so I wanted to help.”

Sevika scoffed, smoke from her cigarette exiting her nostrils. “You and Ran close?”

“You could say that,” you smiled and kept your eyes on your notes. “Alright, if that’s all, I wanna get some measurements of you while you’re here,” you said as you stood up and walked over to your workbench to get some tools, as well as a whiskey bottle you spotted on your shelf.

“You want a drink?” you asked and held up the bottle.

“Sure.” She fumbled with the buckle of her cloak for a few seconds before getting it, she swiftly slid it off and left it on the sofa arm. Under her cloak she was wearing a tank top, revealing her broad shoulders.

You grabbed two clean cups from your shelf. “It’s nothing fancy, just some stuff one of my customers brings along whenever she visits for repairs,” you explained as you walked over to the sofa where Sevika was sitting and put the cups and the bottle on the table. You nervously sat down on her left side and poured the two of you a drink, Sevika immediately finishing hers.

Sevika shrugged. “Not bad. I’ve had worse.”

You took a sip of your drink before turning towards Sevika to finally have a look at her.

It wasn’t the first time you had seen an amputee; you had seen several people having lost anything from legs and arms, to hands, feet, fingers, even noses. Prosthetics was your most common request when you took commissions, and you keep repairing all sorts of prosthetics. But Sevika’s amputee scar looked different. The scar had healed nicely and it looked fine - besides the blue lines going from her healed wound up her shoulder and neck to her cheek, and over her chest, her tank top hiding the full extent of it. They looked like scars, and they almost had a blue shine to them. It kind of looked like she had been struck by lightning. You had never seen anything like it; it looked cool, but you would never dare tell her that.

Sevika leant forward refilling her cup with whiskey as you gently touched her shoulder, she briefly flinched at your touch and gave you a nasty side eye, but didn’t pull away.

“I’m gonna have to touch you, y’know,” you said, your voice almost a whisper.

Sevika scoffed and picked up her cup, bringing it to her lips. “As you please,” she muttered and glanced at you. You felt your cheeks go warm at her comment.

Her shoulder was stiff, but you couldn’t tell if it was because of the amount of muscles this woman had, or her being uncomfortable because she was showing you something vulnerable - or maybe a mix of the two. She probably wore the cloak for a reason.

You got on with the prep work, pulling out your measuring tool to measure her shoulder, jotting down the numbers as well as thoughts and ideas in your notebook, even things you might not even need, just to be sure.

“Could you stand up for me?” you asked and stood up, holding out your measuring tool.

Sevika looked up at you and hesitated for a moment before ashing her cigarette in the ashtray on the table and getting up. You almost gasped at her big frame and height as she stood up in front of you, she glanced down at you, waiting for you to do your thing.

Sevika kept her eyes on you with a stern look as you stepped onto the table to get better access.

“Hold out your arm for me?” you asked quietly. She obeyed, and you measured the length of her arm, as well as the width, quietly muttering the numbers so you would remember.

“How close?” Sevika broke the silence.

“What?”

“You and Ran.”

You chuckled at the fact that Sevika had been thinking about your earlier mention of the two of you being close. “Oh, we grew up together – we’re siblings. Their parents took me in when I was a kid.”

You wrapped the measuring tool around her neck and put your hand behind her to grab onto the tool, looking at the measurement.

“People often think we’re a couple. We don’t quite look alike, but if you know we’re siblings you can tell how our demeanors are similar. And we have the same laugh.”

Standing this close you could smell her; she smelled woody, like cigarettes and whiskey. So hot. You gave her a quick glance and saw that she was looking directly into your eyes, and you couldn’t help but feel a small smile tug at your lips.

You snapped out of the moment and stepped down from the table, grabbed your notebook from the table and wrote down the measurements.

You heard a sigh from Sevika as she sat back down. “What the hell are all these measurements for anyway? Aren’t you just making me an arm?” Sevika asked and grabbed her drink.

“A lot of these are just-in-case-numbers; I don't wanna be running around Zaun trying to find you in case I missed a measurement.” You sat back down and kept your notebook in your lap.

“You don't?” Sevika smirked and took another sip of her drink.

You could feel your cheeks get hot again. “Not really, no,” you chuckled. “But if you’re not running around doing Silco’s dirty work, you’ll probably be at The Last Drop.”

“You might be right about that.”

“But – to answer your question, there are a lot of things that go into making a prosthetic arm. I want to get the size of the mech right; don't want it to be loads smaller or larger than your other arm. And I’m gonna be making you a harness.” You took a swig from your drink.

“What am I gonna be needing a harness for?” Sevika asked, her tone was as sharp as usual.

“When you get your arm surgically attached, you’re gonna have to keep it in a harness for a few weeks while it heals. And the weight and feel of the arm is also gonna take some time to get used to - don't wanna fuck up your shoulder. It’s just for the first few weeks,” you explained, keeping your eyes on your notebook. “I don't doubt your strength, but it will get tiring, no matter your physique,” you pointed towards her with your pencil. “Especially if you’re gonna be fighting with this thing.”

“Guess you have a point,” Sevika muttered. “But I can’t be completely useless for too long. I have shit to do - business to deal with.”

“I know you do, but you have to take the healing period seriously. If it doesn’t heal right you’re just gonna make this take even longer.” Your tone was strict.

Sevika just scoffed and took a swig from her cup. Her hand was so big compared to the cup, her fingers to long and her fingernails pristine, which was kind of surprising. You sat there observing her for a few seconds before snapping out of your trance.

“I-uh, have everything I need from you, at least for now,” you put your notebook on the table. “I want you to come back when the first part of the prototype is done so I can make sure it’s a good fit for your shoulder before we commit to anything. Then you’ll also be able to have a look at the blueprints - see if you like the design and stuff.” You leant back into the sofa, putting one leg up, your knee to your chest.

“Sounds good. When do you think that’ll be?” Sevika dragged her cloak back around her shoulders and fumbled with the buckle for a few seconds.

“I think I’m gonna need about a week to design and plan all of it, and about one or two more weeks to make the first parts of the prototype, depending on how long the shimmer Silco supplied will last me.”

“You know how to reach me?” Sevika turned her head to look at you, her face stern, but not intimidating as usual.

“I’ll find a way, but I’m guessing I’ll find you at your usual spot at The Drop.”

“Oh yeah? My usual spot?” Sevika smirked.

“Yeah, I know where you like to sit. Seen you gamble and put some of those crude old men to shame,” you said and chuckled lightly.

“You calling my men crude?”

“Yeah, I am.” You smiled smugly.

“Hm. You might be right,” she grabbed her cup and finished her drink. “Guess I gotta get back to my crude men.” She stood up from the sofa, the weight of her moving shifting you slightly.

“Alright, you do that. I’ll see you in a few weeks!”

“See you.” Sevika gave you a nod and a smirk as she got into the elevator.

[k1mbe3rly]

Hi :-)

A Request for all of us are death (sorry if its double now somehow my Internet Connection kicked me out)

What about an oneshot or head canons what ever works better for you to work with - Yoon Gwi-nam x shy girlfried who is super loyal to him and stands by his side no matter what?

loveee

Gwi nam dating a shy girl headcannons

warnings: smut, gentle?gwi nam

- Gwi nam is very protective of you especially since your very shy and not that talkative, so when someone is telling/scolding you, he basically talks for you

- He loves your tits so much, he loves teasing your nipple and seeing them get hard against his fingers

- Gwi nam likes to show you off in public, he likes to hold your hand or have a hand around your shoulder just so people can see yall are dating, a few people know not to talk to you especially with Gwi nam on your side

- He would also show you off in many ways, he’ll fuck you in a janitors closet or a empty classroom, he also loves to give you hickeys where he knows people are able to see, he also likes when you give him a few hickeys as well

- Gwi nam gets mad very easily, and sometimes even takes it out on you by yelling at you or just raising a hand up, but he won’t actually hit you maybe just a shove

- He also loves taking his anger out on you in different ways, shoving his cock deep into you and pulling your hair back, slapping your ass as he whispers dirty things into your ear

- Gwi nam absolutely hates when you stop him from beating a kid up, but of course he listens to you since he figured your way to innocent to see him brutally beat some kid up, he gets annoyed and even asks “why the fuck do you care? you like him or something ?” he also makes you hit them sometimes “Go on. Give him a little slap to the face, just do something!”

- If he’s already annoyed at something and you protesting to stop him from beating a kid up, he would fuck you infront of them, forcing them to look at you as you get your insides ruined, he also makes you look up at the person and tell them that only he’s able to stretch you out the way he does and fuck you like the way he does

- Gwi nam who doesn’t show that much affection in public, he makes sure he doesn’t do too much infront of you or have anyone talk to you a lot especially if you don’t talk much and usually quiet, that’s how he noticed you in the first place. Admiring how silent and gorgeous you are focusing on the board and writing down notes

- He’s able to make you loud as well. Your moans filled up the bedroom yall were in, as skin slapping was heard as well as he watched how your mouth was parted open with moans falling out, he loves seeing you so loud for him

- Gwi nam actually tries to change for you, his behavior and how he acts, which was shocking to himself since he used girls and just threw them away, he noticed how he was acting around you like a nervous teenage boy trying to impress his crush, he even tried studying with you which turned out awefully causing him to groan in frustration and leave, he also checks if anyone is around and gives you hugs but than acts like he doesn’t care with a nonchalant face

- He does love you a lot which is why he fucks you a lot, not because he wants you for your body, but because he’s grown used to how tight you were around his cock, he absolutely loved feeling it tighten up even more, he even once tried going gentle but it just doesn’t work out and he even apologized!? “Sorry- but this gentle fucking isn’t working for me, awh- fuck!” he says as he begins thrusting even faster his hands curling into your hair

Apocalypse au

- Gwi nam who absolutely protects you with everything when the apocalypse breaks out. Killing people and beating them up if they ever get in yalls way from running away, but unfortunately you had somehow got separated from him, he was stressing out when he lost you, nowhere to be seen and even got turned into a Hambie

- Gwi nam who finds you hiding in class room shaking and crying and tries to go up to you and finds you backing up from him, he reassures that he’s not gonna bite/hurt you, you told him to just stay where he’s at and he listen, you guys sat separately as finally you gave into him and crawled towards him crying into his chest

- Gwi nam tries to calm you down but obviously he’s not the best at it “It’s okay.. your gonna make it out alive and we’re gonna have the best time together, well that’s if you make it alive..” he says as you cry harder at the thought of being into a zombie

- Gwi nam who makes you follow him and even kills off a few zombies for you, he finds Nayeon in a room with a bag of food, you watched as they interacted until he suddenly bit into her, you flinched at the sight and once he was done, he goes to you hugging you tightly, you were shaking in his arms as he spoke “Your never gonna leave me..okay? i love you so much. I’ll kill anyone for you especially in this state, I’ll help you get out of here, now here, eat this” he said giving you the bag of food

[lesservillain]

strange lights masterlist

summary: everything goes wrong. twice.

cw: sexual tension, fighting, reader breaks their hand

wc: 7.9k

The annoying lack of street lights down on this road, coupled with the fact you haven’t been to Lover’s Lake since you were eight years old was making it near impossible to figure out where the hell you were supposed to be going. Heather told you to pull into Crystal View where the lake houses and vacation cabins were to find a place to park, but she forgot to mention where the party was in proximity to the small subdivision. 

After turning down the radio to see better, you drive for the third, maybe fourth time down the same road in search for a sign of life in the trees. When the almost full moon decides to peak out from behind the clouds you’re able to see smoke above the treeline. Throwing your car into park in front of an empty cabin, you make the trek towards the smoke. Thankfully someone was playing music so loud that you could hear it at the edge of the wood, so you follow it like a siren song until light started breaking through the thicket. Voices could be heard even over the music, yelling and laughter giving away that this party was packed. 

When you finally break through into the clearing you’re instantly overwhelmed. There’s no way that there were only members of Hawkins' young adult scene in attendance with the sheer amount of bodies that were present. And, my god, did it absolutely reek of weed. Not that you care if people partake in a little devil’s lettuce, but damn. Pushing through the crowd of people looking for a familiar face, a hand lands on your shoulder and makes you jump. Turning around, fully prepared to shrug a creep off, you’re relieved to see Jonathan Byers instead.

“Oh, shit, hey,” you say, going in for a quick hug, “I didn’t know you’d be here. Didn’t take you for a party type.”

He gives you a quick pat on the back, nodding his head, “Thanks, call me a loser more subtly next time.”

“No, no that’s not what I meant!” 

He pushes your shoulder, giggling like an idiot. “Nah, man it’s cool I know you’re just joking.”

“Oh my god, Jonathan Byers are you fucking high right now,” you laugh, pushing his shoulder back.

“Pfft, no you’re high right now,” his slur makes you think he might actually be cross faded. Little shy Jonathan Byers who used to sit by himself at recess was high as a kite in front of you right now. It looks like he’s about to say something else, but a guy standing behind him gets his attention. His brown curls and soft features seem familiar to you, but you can’t place who you’re looking at. 

You don’t get to ponder on it much more when your name is called from across the party. Heather is jumping and waving from where she’s mingling with a small group of people, Barb being one of them as she stands behind her. You give Jonathan a quick see you later and make your way over to Heather’s waiting arms.

Immediately she brings you in for a tight hug, and you can smell the Smirnoff Ice on her breath when she squeals in your ear. “Oh my god, I’m so glad you came!” She pulls away, grabbing your arms to turn you towards her circle of friends. “Guys, this is my new coworker that I’ve been talking about!”

Doing a quick scan of the circle, you don’t seem to know anyone. However, when you look past the guy directly in front of you, you pick up on the other three that you saw at the diner that say. Steve Harrington talking to -- or rather being talked to by some super sloppy drunk frat bro as Tommy and Carol make out at the bench they're sitting at. Even from where you stand you can tell that he’s completely checked out.

“This is Tammy,” Heather places a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You introduce yourself to Tammy, her southern accent reminding you of your neighbors in Arizona that had moved in from Texas. The three of you talk for a bit. Well, you stand there listening to them talk about whatever came to mind. They both have so much energy that you can barely get a word in anyway. 

A cup being placed in your hands pulls you out of the conversation. Barb stood next to you, a knowing expression on her face as she takes a sip of her own drink. “You know you’re being stared at right,” she says after a moment, her eyes looking behind you. 

Following her line of vision, you’re surprised to find a pair of hazel eyes staring you down. No longer being entertained by the belligerent college student, Steve leans against the bench, annoyance written all over his face. You expected him to look away when he realized he’d been caught, pretending that he was looking at anything else but you. Instead he pushes off the bench and makes his way straight to you. You watched as some of the party goers moved out of the way as he walked, anticipating his approach and cowering away.

Between his behavior at Benny’s back at the beginning of the summer and the way his presence seems to instill a fear in those around him made you wish he would just walk past you right now. Maybe you could make a break for it before he got to you, if you just pushed through the crowd--

Oh. What’s that smell? 

It’s strong, musk maybe, with a hint of sweetness that reminded you of the natural smell of mint or maybe eucalyptus. It made your head feel fuzzy.

“Hey.”

He was so close. You could faintly smell the beer on his breath as he spoke in your ear. His voice was slightly fried and it sent little sparks throughout your body. With his close proximity you realized that the smell was coming from him as it flooded your nostrils. It didn’t have that chemical smell that you’d gotten used to from men’s cologne over the years, so whatever he was wearing must be expensive. It made sense, Heather always referred to him as King Steve with the way he ruled the high school when he was in attendance leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him with every girl (and guy according to some rumors) that fell under his spell. Another reason why you should be trying to run away, but your body wasn’t cooperating with your brain at the moment.

“Hi,” you didn’t recognize the voice that came out of your mouth, “Can I help you?”

His smile made your heart flutter, and his laugh made you feel weak at the knees. He towered over you, his solid athletic frame silhouetted as he blocked the light from the fire behind him. He ran a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck. When he says your name it makes you straighten up. You realize he’s asking you a question.

“Yes, yeah, that’s my name,” you stutter, dying inside from embarrassment. He nods, “I thought so. It’s a pretty name, fitting for a pretty girl.” His words hit you in the face like a brick, and suddenly you could turn into a puddle at his feet. You mutter a thanks, eyes looking anywhere but his face in an attempt to regain your composure.

“I wanted to, uh, apologize for the other day. At Benny’s. I’m sorry if I came off as a jerk.” You look up at him again, his expression soft, sincere. 

“It’s okay, I understand,” you place a hand on his arm, “Jonathan said you had a rough morning. Something about your breakfast not agreeing with you. Don’t worry about it.” 

“My breakfast…” You watch as he turns towards the party, neck craning to a stop where you can see Jonathan sitting in a circle with the guy he was talking to earlier and a couple others. He looks over in your direction, clearly high out of his mind as he waves at the two of you. You let out a snort, and Steve shakes his head as he turns back to you.

“Either way, I should have introduced myself better,” he looks you up and down. It made your clothes feel tight the way his eyes wandered over your body. You started to second guess your choice of attire for the evening.

“Well, maybe we can start over?” you suggested, looking up at him through your lashes. He crosses his arms, the sleeves of his polo squeezing his biceps. He leans into you, bodies almost touching as he takes up your entire vision. “I think I’d like that,” he says, eyes looking at your lips.

“Hey, Steve!” Both of you turn as his name is called, Tommy and Carol pushing their way through the crowd towards you. “We got trouble. Leech at 10 o’clock.” Steve takes a couple steps back, looking between you and something off in the distance. Tommy and Carol stand behind him, and suddenly Jonathan and his group are there as well. Slowly you turn, eyes on the tree line with theirs. You start to feel uneasy, unsure of what they’re waiting on to emerge from the cover of the trees.

Not a moment later you watched movement coming from the brush as a body became illuminated by the moonlight. You had to do a double take when you saw who it was, brown curls bouncing in as he fought his way through a bush. He came.

“Eddie!” You called out for him. You could see his smile from where you stood when he heard you. As you went to go to him a hand grabbed you by the arm stopping you. Steve stepped in front of you, eyes locked on Eddie in a fierce scowl. Eddie stopped just a few feet short, smile reaching his eyes.

“Hey, there, princess,” he addressed you, ignoring Steve’s presence, “Sorry I’m late. Had some stuff to take care of.”

Steve huffed a laugh, “Stuff? Can’t even come up with a proper excuse, huh?”

Eddie finally looks to Steve, eyeing him up and down. “Sorry, when I said princess I was referring to her,” he nods his head to you, “But if you want me to call you princess, too…I think we could make that happen.” 

Jonathan and his crew let out little giggles at Eddie’s words, and Carol swats at them to stop. When you look at Steve, you are expecting him to be furious, but his expression reads almost flustered for a moment before shaking it off. “S-shut up, freak. What the hell are you doing here, anyway? You know you’re not welcome here.”

You step in front of Steve now, facing him as you stand between him and Eddie, “What? Why isn’t he allowed to be here?” Steve’s mouth opens slightly, looking between your eyes as he tries to conjure the words to say. 

“H-he’s…he’s just not.” Unsatisfied with his excuse, you turn on your heel with a humph, walking over to join Eddie. You stand next to him, grabbing his hand. It’s cold to the touch, like it could melt from the heat of your palm. Eddie looks to your hands, then to your face, but you don’t react, keeping your attention on Steve. 

“Well, he came here to see me,” you state, standing your ground. Eddie’s eyes light up, and he looks at Steve smugly.

“Yeah, she invited me.”

You watch as Tommy, Carol and the rest all look at Steve, the party around them completely oblivious to anything happening. Steve shakes his head, puffing out his chest, “You know the rules. No leeches on this side of the lake.”

You scoff, pulling Eddie closer to you, “Fine then. Let’s go, Eddie.” He lets you guide him, waving his free hand over his shoulder as you head back towards the brush. Steve’s panicked voice calls for you to stop, but you ignore him, the two of you pushing further into the woods until the sound of the party starts to sound far away. 

When you come to a stop, you drop Eddie’s hand and grumble in frustration. “Ugh, what a fucking ass hole.” You turn to look at Eddie to find he’s looking very intently at the hand you were holding, a goofy grin plastered on his face. You hold your own hand, feeling the slight chill that lingered from his touch. “I’m sorry,” you say, and he finally looks up at you, “I’m sorry he was being such a jerk to you.”

Eddie dismisses you, waving a hand flippantly, “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m used to it by now.” He takes a few wide steps, closing the gap between you. Big, honey brown eyes look down at you, almost glowing with the way the moon light hits them through the cracks in the trees. 

Standing with him like this, just the two of you alone in the woods, you think about how many times you’ve been told to stay away. That the man standing in front of you is dangerous, a monster. And from what you’ve seen, what you’ve felt…maybe he is. But, in this moment, you’ve never felt more safe. 

“I do appreciate you stepping in to save me from the big bad wolf.”

“It’s no big deal,” you say with a shrug, “I guess…that makes us even for the car thing…”

He goes quiet for a moment, just looking at you like he’s trying to find something written on your face. It starts to worry you, you hope you didn’t take things too far. You didn’t want him to run away from you again. 

“Can I show you something?” His question surprises you, but you nod with excitement. He takes your hand in his, and you take notice that it feels warmer than before. He doesn’t give you much time to think about it before he’s leading you along through the woods. As the two of you bob and weave through the trees, you decide to take advantage of the situation and try and crack open his shell.

“So, what beef do you have with Steve that you’re banned from Loch Nora parties?”

He chuckles, tilting his head a bit, “It’s not anything personal with Steve. He pretends to hate me more than he actually does…” He trails off for a moment. You watch the way he sticks his tongue out as he thinks and laugh to yourself. “Remember how I told you this town doesn’t like my family?” You nod, he smiles, “Well, it’s mostly because the top dogs that stay in Loch Nora are the ones who hate us the most. There are other people who hate us without the assistance of the House Wives of the Loch spreading rumors at their little club meetings and in line at the grocery store. But, the majority of this town looooooves to gossip.” You’re not sure if it’s purposeful, but he keeps squeezing your hand as he talks.

“That’s not a good enough excuse for me,” you shake your head in frustration, “He was being a dick because, what, someone else told him he should not like you? Stupid.”

“It is stupid in most circumstances,” he shrugs, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “But, you never know. Maybe some of the rumors are true?” 

Your mind immediately goes to your conversation with Heather and Barb. “Well, there’s no way the rumors I’ve heard about you are true.”

“Oh, really? Well now I want to know what you’ve heard,” he says, eyebrows lifting into his bangs. There are times where he’s walking so fast you feel like he’s going to start dragging you, but he slows down when he notices you struggling to keep up. 

“Funny thing, Heather is convinced that you’re, like, a vampire or something,” you try to say as nonchalantly as possible. He’s quiet for a moment, but you hear him covering his mouth with his hand as he laughs. “Whaaaat,” you start to laugh with him.

“I’m sorry that’s just so stupid,” his hand runs over his curls. He looks at you with that million dollar smile and you feel your knees get weak. 

“Yeah, I know, right?” You say, trying to cover up that you may have believed it a little bit. The two of you walk a little bit further until you see trees starting to clear at the top of a small hill. Once you reach the top, you take in the sight of a huge rock with strange shaping to it. It sits amongst smaller rocks, creating a small gap underneath. He lets go of your hand, much to your dismay, and approaches the structure. 

“This is skull rock,” he says as he pats the side of the largest rock. You walk closer to it, the size of it only seems to grow as you approach it like an optical illusion. 

“Wooooow, it’s huge,” you say in awe. He lets out a snort, trying to stifle a laugh. “Oh my god, you are so immature,” you say as you try to fight your own laughter.

“Sorry, sorry,” he clears his throat, “that, uh, that's probably not the first time someone has said that here, though.”

“Really,” you say with curiosity. You take a step towards him. 

“Oh, yeah. Kids back in the 80’s used to come out here to mess around all the time. You know they call it Lover’s Lake out here for a reason.”

You take another step closer. “So you’re saying that, hypothetically, if someone were to bring another person out here…” You’re directly in front of him now, practically pressing into his chest with your own. You don’t miss the way he swallows. His eyes aren’t on your face, but just below it. He doesn’t back away. “That they might have a ‘motive’?”

His eyes jump to yours, and you swear you see the ring of honey disappearing as melted dark chocolate takes over his irises. It’s tense, the staredown between the two of you. Like a game of chicken to see who would make the first move. But the moment you let your eyes wander down to his lips, he’s on you. 

Faster than you can comprehend, his hands are cupping your face and his lips crash into yours. You gasp at his quick movements, but immediately reciprocate once you get your bearings. Your hands are on the lapels of his vest, trying to pull him even closer to you as you lick his bottom lip. There’s a slight hesitation on his end, but he obliges, parting his lips and letting his tongue mingle with yours. 

Eventually you need to pull away for air. You expect him to do the same, but instead he moves to kiss down your neck. Not hard enough to leave marks, but with just enough pressure to make the heat start to spread in your body. Your fingers tangle in his curls, eliciting a low groan against your neck from him. Slowly, you let your free hand wander down his chest, surprised to be able to feel a chill through the fabric. It’s only when you reach the waistband of his jeans that his skin feels normal again. You can’t even begin to describe how badly you want to ask about what you’re feeling, but you don’t want to risk ruining this moment with him. 

Suddenly his hands are only your waist, pulling you back with him into the shadow of the rock. He’s looking around, and you’re not sure what he’s trying to find. Not liking his attention being off of you, you push against him, guiding him down to sit on the ground below you. His eyes are almost black now, glazed over watching you as you lower yourself in his lap.

“Hi,” you whisper, fluttering your lashes at him. 

“Hi,” he says back, a goofy grin spreading across his face. You lean in, letting your lips collide with him, picking up the pace to get back to the mood you were in before. In your new position you’re able to grind down on his lap, his hands flying to your hips as you do with a tight grip. As you roll your hips, you feel the hardness of his cock in his jeans through the swimsuit bottoms under your dress. There’s a moment in your mind where you think about how hard it is, almost like rubbing against a rock, but brush past it as his teeth scrape against your neck. A whine escapes you, feeling yourself getting wetter as his hands start to guide you with an iron grip across his length. He nips at your skin just below your ear, and your hands go flying to his hair, breathing out his name as his tongue rolls over the spot. You can feel your heart beating in your chest as you’re getting closer and closer to tipping over the edge.

Everything happens all at once. One second you’re about to reach your peak, the next you’re flying backwards and landing on your side, letting out a shriek of pain when you hit your bruised rib. You roll over onto your back and put your hand on your side to try and soothe the pain. When you finally look at Eddie, he looks like a wild animal. Eyes wide, fingers digging into the ground on either side of him. As his chest heaves, you think that this may be the first time you’ve seen him breathe.

“What the fuck was that,” you finally bark out after a moment, a strain in your voice from the pain. He doesn’t say anything, scrambling backwards further away from you under the rock. You wait a moment to see if he will respond, but his silence only makes you furious. Slowly you stand up, hand still on your side as you brush the dirt and leaves off you with the other. 

You give him one last chance to speak up, waiting for him to say anything to explain himself. But when he covers his mouth with his hand you know you’re wasting your time. “Fuck you, Eddie,” you say as you turn on your heels, walking back into the woods.

“W-wait,” you hear him choke out, but you ignore him letting yourself disappear into the treeline. Pulling out your phone, you look at your location on the maps to see that he’s taken you way out from where your car was parked. “What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself. You knew that you had followed him for a bit, but it would probably take you more than 30 minutes to get to your car. You sigh and begin your trek, keeping an eye on your location dot to make sure you’re going in the right direction. You don’t want to let it bother you, but you can’t help but feel like a pair of eyes are on you the whole way. “Eddie, you better not be following me,” you shout out into the woods, but you get no response. For good measure you grab your keys from your dress pocket and position them between your fingers.

By the time you make it back to civilization your feet are aching. And when you finally get to your car, you could almost cry as you slide into the driver’s seat. You plug your phone in and find something to listen to as you pull off of the street. Even with the music turned up and your speedometer reading over 60 miles an hour, you still can’t shake the feeling of eyes on you. The feeling follows you all the way home, only going away once you walk through the front door of the cabin, closing it behind you.

“You’re home early.” You turn away from the door to see your dad sitting on the couch, the light from the tv illuminating his frame where he had clearly fallen asleep.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, dad,” you say with a quiet voice.

“No, no I wasn’t sleeping. Just resting my eyes,” he says as he sits up. You just roll your eyes as you walk to your room. You grab your shower stuff and your night clothes, making your way to the bathroom to wash the total shit show of a night from your skin. As you begin to undress, you notice something on the skin of your neck. Getting a closer look, you see right below your ear a little blood trail that’s recently dried up just above a hickey.

It’s a bleak and uneventful day. You’re by yourself all morning now that Eden is back in school, left to unload a truck that came in at the start of the day on your own. You couldn’t complain, though, because it at least gave you something to do. Most of the foot traffic had been in the Starbucks, Barb and Heather busting ass to make coffee for all of Hawkins since the store in town was closed for renovations or something. 

The door chime rings for the millionth time, and you shout an annoyed greeting over the bookshelves as you put away a box of action figures on a shelf.

“Rough day,” a familiar voice calls. You turn, eyes landing on Steve as he makes his way towards you, hands tucked into his jeans pockets. If you weren’t annoyed before you were now, especially when the smell of his cologne grows stronger as he approaches you. Damn it, he smells good.

“Not until you showed up,” you place a Darth Vadar figure on the shelf before crossing your arms, “I’m surprised to see you here. Didn’t expect you to be the type who can read.”

“I’m not,” he stops a few feet in front of you. “I mean,” he closes his eyes as he realizes what you said, “I can read. I just don’t do it, like, often, I guess.”

You hum, nodding slowly. “Well, maybe you should. I’m sure we have a book on manners in the For Dummies section.” His head drops, shoulders slumping at your insult. You hear him mumble something to himself and you step closer to him. “Sorry, what was that?”

He looks up at you with a grin, “I said you’re lucky you’re so cute, or else that might have hurt my feelings.” You can’t help the heat you feel in your cheeks at his compliment, but you’re set on being mad at him so you opt to give him a dirty look in response. It doesn’t seem to phase him though as he takes a few steps towards you. Your back hits the shelf as he closes in on you, his body towering over you as his arm leans against the bookshelf. That fuzzy feeling you got when you talked to him the other night comes back as his smell fills your nostrils.

“Listen, I know I was a jerk the other day, but I want to make it up to you. We’re having another party, it’s at the same place, but it’s a Locha Nora exclusive party. Invite only. And we know if someone isn’t invited.” He looks between your eyes as he waits for your response. 

“Seems like your last party was exclusive in a way, don’t you think?” 

He nods, biting on his lower lip, “Yeah, you got me. Again, I’m really sorry about that. But, the thing with Eddie, it’s…something bigger than you think it is.” 

“Really?” You look at him dubiously, scoffing at his attempt to make things more complicated than they needed to be. “Because Eddie seemed to explain it to me pretty well. All of you stuck up Loch Nora residents have beef with his family because they don’t want to be part of your drama bullshit. Seems to make sense to me.”

“That’s what he told you,” Steve asks with a brow raised. “That’s hilarious. Sure, if that’s what you want to believe then go for it. But, you’re only getting one side of the story if you do.” He pushes off of the wall, standing straight in front of you. “Or, if you want to hear my side-- our side of the story, then my invitation still stands.” 

As much as you don’t want to admit it, you probably should talk to him about what happened. If the party is as low key as he’s making it sound, then you might be able to get more perspective on this whole confusing situation. The fact that you’re mad at Eddie right now totally isn’t having an influence on your decision.

“Will Jonathan be there,” you ask, giving in on your attitude a bit. The look he gives you makes you think he’s not super fond of Jonathan, but he nods reluctantly anyway. You uncross your arms, smiling up at him, “Are you asking me to go as a date, Harrington?”

“God, yes,” he says without hesitation.

You pull out your phone from your pocket, “Put your number in my phone so you can give me the details later. I think I’m about to have a customer.”

To say he was excited was an understatement. He made himself a contact in your phone, sending himself a text to make sure it went through. He handed it back with a smile, giving you a goodbye before leaving the store.

After you ring out your customer, Heather slams her hands on the counter, her expression wide with excitement. “Oh, em, gee, what was that earlier? Was he flirting with you? Did he give you his number? Are you going on a date? Details, I need details!”

You laugh at her desperation. You hadn’t gotten the chance to tell her about what happened that night, so you fill her in on what happened when you left. Leaving out the details with Eddie, telling her that he just walked you to your car and talked for a bit. 

“That explains what happened then,” she says with her head in her hands as she leans on your counter.

“What do you mean? What happened?” you asked.

“Oh you didn’t hear,” she straightens up, “It must have been right after you left, because I saw him talking with Tommy and Carol and the Byers guy and he seemed super heated. Then all the sudden he started like, thrashing around and acting like he was going to take off or something. It took Tommy, Carol, Byers and his little group to hold him down. They ended up carrying him off and the party kinda died down after that. It was a total bummer.”

You look at her blinking in disbelief. You start to second guess your decision to go to this party with Steve, having to tell yourself that you still want to hear his side of the story with everything. Jonathan being there made you feel a little better, giving you  an out in case you want to get away from Steve.

“Wow, you look-”

“Watch it, Harrington,” your dad shouts from the kitchen where he’s packing his lunch for his overnight shift. 

“Don't mind him,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “Now what were you going to say?”

He laughs, running a hand through his hair before gesturing at you, “I was just going to say you look beautiful. I hope that’s not too explicit of a compliment.” There he goes again making you feel all fuzzy. You’re not even dressed up really, maybe a step above casual. But he makes you feel like you stepped out in an evening gown on the red carpet. Your dad grunts.

“Okay, well I’m going now,” you call back to him, “I’ll be back later tonight. Have a good night at work, pops.” He gives you a quick “be safe” as you step out, closing the door behind you. Steve walks you to his car, a shiny new BMW that looks out of place next to your beater truck and your dads cop car. He opens the door and helps you in, buckling your seatbelt for you.

“You don’t have to be so formal, Steve,” you say as he slides into the driver’s seat, “It’s not like you’re taking me to Enzo’s.”

“Do I have to take you to Enzo’s just to treat you like you deserve?” He does that thing where he has one hand on the wheel, the other on the back of your seat, and his neck craning to look out the back window as he backs out of your driveway. Why that’s hot, you have no idea.

“No, I guess not.” 

You notice that the more you drive, the more his car smells like his cologne as if he sprayed it inside. Not that you’re complaining, but it is a little overwhelming and it makes your body feel warm. “Hey, what cologne do you use?”

He looks at your confused, “I don’t wear cologne? Why do you ask?”

“You don’t?” You question. “But every time I’m around you, you smell like a fancy cologne.” 

“Really?” He asks with a curious chuckle. “What, uh, what do I smell like to you?”

“Um, like, woodsy? With a mint or something…” You feel stupid for even bringing it up. But he seems to be enjoying the way you describe his scent.

“And you like those smells, yeah?”

“Well, yeah, I do,” you look out the window to hide your face at your admittance. 

“Good…” 

When Steve pulls into the Loch Nora entrance, you’re in awe at some of the houses hidden away from the street the further you go in. Why anyone with this level of money would want to stay in small town Hawkins rather than a state, or even just another city without the perpetual overcast was beyond you.

After a few turns, getting deeper into the wealth of Hawkins, Steve eventually pulls into a roundabout driveway to what you assume to be his house. From the outside you could see that it was huge,so you could only imagine what the inside must look like. 

Your door opening ceases your gawking on the house, Steve offering you a hand as you slide out of the beemer. You think he’s going to lead you to his home, but as he takes you past the house and through his back yard you realize the house is quiet, dark with no signs of life inside. 

“We just have to go past this bit of brush. It’s a bit of a walk, so if it gets to be too much for you let me know, I don’t mind carrying you.” He sends a wink your way, and you roll your eyes at him. 

“I’m stronger than you think I am, Harrington,” you say as you flex your arm at him. He ducks his head, pulling you close so that he can talk lowly directly into your ear, “So am I.” Goosebumps rise on your neck where his breath fanned the skin. You want to say something snarky back, but the tight patterning of the trees took over your attention as you walked deeper into the woods. It was a miracle that you hadn’t ran into any scary wildlife with how much you’ve been in the woods lately. You kept your grip on Steve’s hand tight just in case.

After walking for maybe 15 minutes or so, Steve lifted a branch of the way for you as you passed into the opening. The large branch snapped off, and you just looked at him as he held the heavy wood in his hand. He looked at you with a funny smile. “Whoops,” he says as he shrugs, “Hey, guys, I got some more firewood.”

His free arm wraps around your shoulder, waving the branch with the other as he leads you over to the fire. It was much more tame compared to the last party here. Only a handful of people sat around the fire, some familiar, but a majority of them were strangers. You wave when you spot Jonathan, his little group from the last party sitting around him, you give him an enthusiastic wave. He ducks his head, eyes shifting from you to Steve before he gives you a sheepish wave back. 

Steve stops in front of a set of empty folding chairs, like the ones you see people sitting in at sport games and tells you to get comfortable. You plop down awkwardly in the chair, everyone either staring at you or talking quietly to each other with shifting glances. The heavy thump of the tree limb hitting the ground had you whipping your head around. Low laughter rises from the circle, and you hear a low “show off” in Jonathan’s group’s direction. You don’t really understand how no one is freaking out over Steve carrying a heavy ass branch that looks more like a log the more you stare at it. But the chatter quiets as he takes his seat next to you.

“Hey, do you want a beer,” Carol asks from her seat next to you with an unopened bottle in her hand. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you say as you take it. “Oh shit, anyone got a bottle opener?”

“Sorry, my bad,” she says, taking the bottle back from you. You’re fully expecting her to grab a bottle opener from the cooler, but instead she pops it off like a twist top. She hands it back to you, and you want nothing more than to ask how the hell she did that, but you’re interrupted by the sounds of laughter across the fire. 

“What the hell is so funny over there,” Steve yells. The laughter lets up only a bit, some of the boys barely holding it together.

“Patrick said he saw two of the leeches at the store today,” one of the boys says. 

“Don’t know why they bother going out in public,” another one says.

“What were they even there for?” Your head snaps to Jonathan, shocked to hear him speak up.

“It looked like balloons and shit. Like for a birthday or something,” the one you assume to be Patrick says.

“You can’t be serious,” one of the girls laughs, “What are they celebrating, their deaths?”

You look up at Steve, who seems to be just as confused as the rest of the group. You nudge your elbow against his arm, and he looks over to you with his full attention. “Sorry, uh, hey guys. No more leech talk,” he yells, nodding his head towards you. 

“Oh, no, don’t stop on account of me,” you say as you wave your hands, “I was just going to ask who you guys were talking about. Who are the leeches?” You had an idea of who they were talking about, recalling the confrontation at the last party where “leech” was thrown around when Eddie showed up, but you wanted the confirmation before you assume anything.

Everyone’s eyes are on Steve now. You feel embarrassed for even saying anything now. Steve takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “I guess you can get our side of the story now,” he says as he straightens up in his seat. “The leeches are the Brenner’s. I think you know by now that we, uh, don’t exactly get along with their kind.”

“Their kind,” you ask confused, “What do you mean by that?”

Steve breathes out through his nose, “It’s hard to explain because of…reasons. But, you have to trust me when I say that they’re no good.”

“They’re dangerous,” one of the boys in Jonathan’s group chimes in.

“Yeah,” another girl adds, “They can’t be trusted.”

Carol leans into you, “We can’t explain much…yet,” she gives Steve a knowing smile before looking back to you, “but trust me, when we can tell you, you’ll totally understand where we’re coming from. For now, it would just be better for you not to get involved with them.”

“Well, it’s really hard to believe you guys when you won’t tell me anything. Eddie was at least up front with everything when I asked him about it.”

The air went cold around the fire. There was an uneasiness amongst the group; seats shifting and glances being shared. “Relax, relax,” Steve says in an attempt to ease the party, “He didn’t tell her the truth. He told her, what,” he looks over to you, “that we just start rumors about them because they don’t want to be in our drama or something, right? That all the little housewives of Loch Nora have nothing better to do than hate a family of freaks over not wanting to join their book club.”

“I mean, my mom did say something about trying to get one of the girl ones to join her book club.”

“Shut up, Garreth,” Tommy says, throwing a bottle cap at the boy's shaggy curls.

“Hey,” Jonathan turns in his seat, fully facing Tommy with his full chest.

“What,” Tommy laughs at Jonathan’s bravery, “got something to say, reject?”

Jonathan’s fists flex, and you silently root for him to just deck Tommy in the face, but he moves back in his seat, arms crossing and sight set on the fire. It makes your blood boil to see Jonathan back down so easily. Standing from your seat, you walk your happy ass right in front of Tommy, who looks up at you with more fear than is probably warranted.

“Don’t call him a fucking reject,” you speak down to him. He flinches as you speak, but it pisses you off more that he keeps looking over to Steve. So you shift your body to block his view. “Don’t look at him. Steve isn’t going to save you.”

“Believe me, I know,” he says quietly. 

“Tommy,” Carol urges, eyes avoiding yours as she looks at him with wide eyes. He gives her a look back, breathing in before standing up in his seat, almost chest to chest with you. “D-don’t tell me what I can or can’t do, outsider-”

Your fist collides with his face, his head only moving slightly from the impact. And, unfortunately for you, it felt like you had just full force punched a brick wall. 

“What the FUCK,” you squeal, grabbing your hand and pulling it close, doubling over in pain. There’s commotion from behind you, a flurry of movement as everyone is getting up from their seats. When you look behind you, almost every single person is holding Steve back, his name being repeated over and over in hopes to get his attention. Tommy falls back over his chair, and Carol is moving to help him up as he backs away from you. It happens so quickly, but the pain in your hand is preventing you from really taking in the sight before you. 

And before you can really register anything else, you feel your body lifting off the ground as your body is thrown over the shoulder of one of Jonathan’s friends. Him and the rest of Jonathan’s friends start to take off with you, heading straight into the brush.

“Hey, man, let me see your hand,” Jonathan says as he trails behind the man carrying you. When you show him, the look on his face makes you feel like you’ll be making another trip to the ER. “Jeff, can we take your car to the hospital?” Jonathan asks his other friend, who nods his head. “Garreth-”

“Already on it,” Garreth says with his phone against his ear. “Hello? Hey, Mrs. Byers, you have the chief’s number, right? Yeah, um,” he looks back towards the direction you came from. Suddenly the sound of coyotes fighting can be heard in the distance. It makes you jump, and Grant’s pace picks up. “I think everyone will be okay?”

Jonathan grabs Garreth’s phone from him. “Mom, she punched Tommy in the face.” A pause. “Yeah. Yeah. We’re about to take her to the hospital. Yeah I think her hand is broken. Okay, I’ll tell her. Love you, too, bye.” He hands Garreth his phone back and looks to you, “Mom is calling your dad on his cell.”

“Fuck,” you sigh, “I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

“Why the hell did you think it would be a good idea to punch Tommy Hagan in the face?” Your dad paced back and forth in your hospital room. 

“He called Jonathan a reject,” you shrug, rubbing your hand over the cast on your dominant hand, tired from all the pain medicine that you’ve been given. 

He hesitates for a moment, but continues on anyway. “Even if he did say that, you still didn’t need to resort to breaking your hand on his jaw.”

“You make it sound like I knew his jaw was made of titanium or something. It felt like hitting solid rock, dad. And he barely flinched.”

“Well…maybe we need to check to see if you have a vitamin deficiency. Or maybe you need to start hitting the bag I left in your room.”

There was a pause between the two of you, smiles creeping on both of your faces before you both burst into laughter.

“I only hit him because he stepped up to me,” you defend, “I couldn’t let them think that the police chief’s daughter was going to let some bully talk down on her.”

“Ah, yes, because the two of you are still in high school and not adults in their early twenties,” he looks at you with a raised brow. “Next time, just call me. I think I could do a little more damage.”

The curtain to your room opens and Dr.Brenner walks in with his clipboard, eliciting a moment of deja vu. “Alrighty, I think we’ve got all your discharge paperwork here. Just make sure you look at this very important part right here.” He walks over you you, handing you the packet of papers, where on the bottom of the page in pen “I promise not to come back again in 6 more weeks with another injury” is written with a little “x” and a line drawn for you to sign on. You take the pen with a smile and sloppily sign with your non-dominant hand. “Good, now that includes punching any more dogs in the face,” Brenner says with a chuckle.

“Dogs?” You look at him confused. He looks at you like a deer in headlights. 

“Sorry, I meant boys. Slip of the tongue.”

“There won’t be any more of that,” your dad says as he pats your back, “Thanks again, Martin. I appreciate you always being available. Now, go home and get some rest, you’re looking a little pale in this lighting.”

Brenner looks at you, then nods. “Of course, Hop. Will do.”

When you finally get home you quickly get ready for bed, beat from all the events of the evening. When you crawl into the bed, you plug your phone in and see that Steve had texted you. You go to open it, but decide that you’d rather deal with him later. 

That night you have another dream.

thank you for reading!

[pushspacetocontinue]

"Heh, you should see what what some of us would say back in the day," Travis said, smirking, "At least now we can save it for the game nights."

"Yep. We need to actually make an effort to see each other again more often," Simon agreed, "And I can only imagine we'll be saying a whole bunch of rude or cursed things again during our monthly game nights now."

That had been an agreed thing since the elevator crash. Even if they couldn't visit or talk to each other, they could at least have that. It had been a harsh reminder that anything could happen.

"You'll get there, Rook," Simon then said, "It won't be long before you're matching each other."

"Heh, that sounds like something Truman would say," Travis said then, in response to Lucien's comment, before chuckling at Rook holding the ball, "Well, that's definitely a new strat. I like it."

"That's, that's real sweet," Russell said, before turning his attention back to the Twins, "Do, do as he says! I'm, I'm not paying you to, to stand, stand around."

"You'll see why," Antonio said. The smirk on his face indicated that there was something he knew that they didn't, "But I'm going to come along, just to make sure you actually do it. I know sometimes people are foolish to think the pay's not good enough."

Leofric tilted his head briefly. Something beyond the fourth wall had changed with how the Twins would be referred to. Interesting.

With that, he made his way back towards the room Ratchet was in, beckoning the Twins to follow. When they got to the door, Antonio unlocked it and then stood aside for them to go in.

"Make sure he gets a really good look at the cover now."

"Don't make the appearances fool you. Most of what is said during game night isn't suitable for sensible audiences." Rook said with a grin.

"It's barely suitable for the most of us." Lucien smirked again as he got off the table and went around again. Hopefully Russell didn't mind him showing off too much.

"Stop putting them in! I want to play!"

"I'm afraid you'll simply have to get good." Lucien stopped mid shot right before the white ball started floating. He glared at Rook, who smiled right back at him.

"I'll keep it on the shelf in my room." Willow confirmed. She retrieved her weapons, then moved to stand by, eyeing the Twins. They had noticed Travis, but there was nothing wrong in reminding them he wasn't the only obstacle between them and freedom.

The brothers had the feeling their pay wasn't going to be enough for whatever they would be forced to do the moment the magazine was presented to them.

"Fuck's sake-"

"-Why are you encouraging him?"

And there was no way they were going to go by those cutesy nicknames.

"You will all comply." Willow stated. She held up the phones and Tommy and Timmy took them, pausing just a moment when they noticed the payment had gone through. Tommy snatched the magazine.

"Fine."

"Whatever."

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Arguments:

Yue Qingyuan: he's sect leader so he has enough authority and respect for the junior disciples not to giggle too much to his face. Uses very elegant and veiled language, lots of euphemisms. Qi Qingqi heard him refer to vaginas as "flowers" once and she nearly qi deviated. He keeps it brief and vague and doesn't take more than two questions which he usually redirects to Mu Qingfang because he's a doctor and not because Yue Qingyuan is too flustered. He focuses a lot on being respectful and gentle, as well as ready to take responsibility if accidents happen. There's a rumor in CQM for a week that YQY is boringly vanilla in bed if his flowery lesson is anything to go by (it isnt).

Qi Qingqi: very thorough, with a focus on why it's important to be safe, sane and consensual. She teaches a very detailed class on women's health and bodies and everybody has to attend and take notes. There will be a test at the end. No, it doesnt matter if youre gay or ace. You take the test. Extra lesson on sexual harrassment because she has seen the way men ogle her female disciples and she made it a point to remind everyone that her peak disciples are taught a secret technique to emergency castrate men if so needed (nobody knows if this is actually true but nobody wants to find out).

Shang Qinghua: goes into way too much detail. It somehow feels like an engineering lesson, he is very focused on the logistics of things and what goes where. Use lube and don't beat your partner up unless it's been negotiated before are his main lessons and everyone can tell it's from personal experience. He's very open to talk about kinks and fetishes, though. Recommends buying his own bad smut as guide for sex. Sales dont skyrocket, go figure. His disciples are pretty sure that their peak lord isnt having sex the right way.

Liu Qingge: "if you have sex you will die." is how he starts the lesson. He lists out all the possible bad consequences of sex, from UTIs and pregnancies, to deadly STDs and qi deviation. He doesn't believe in dual cultivation, if you want to improve your core you have to train like a normal person. The lesson is mostly about how to defend oneself in case of a non-consensual situation. The whole CQM decides nobody fucks on Bai Zhan peak because they are too scared of Liu Qingge.

Shen Qingqiu (as Shen Yuan): he is very flustered about it, with his thin face and all, so he mostly focuses on the emotional side of it, how it should be with someone trustworthy and enthusiastically consensual. He also drops the more uncomfortable questions on to Mu Qingfang. If you mention the Song of Bingqiu to him, you receive 57 laps around the mountain precisely. Makes it a point to say that, if accidents do happen, he is open to help out with any unexpected children. His disciples are even more flushed than he is because he didnt turn off the wife beam.

Shen Qingqiu (as Shen Jiu): no. He wont do it. They can read about it in books or ask Mu Qingfang or whatever other alternative, Shen Jiu isn't teaching them anything about that. He isnt doing this full stop. Its bad enough people look down on him for visiting brothels, like hell will he talk about it to a bunch of horny teenagers. They'll figure it out eventually. He drops something like "make sure you dont force anyone into it including yourself" and doesnt elaborate.

Mu Qingfang: everyone just expects him to do it so he's the CQM's Aunt Flo whether he likes it or not. He's the most normal about it, explaining everything in medical terms and presenting possible negative comsequences rationally, without fearmongering. The only one open to answering all questions, no matter how wild. Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe also sneakily attend the lesson for...additional information. He is very calm and relaxed about it. Everyone thinks Mu Qingfang gets mad hole in his free time because he knows everything about everything.

[mischievous-piltovan]

The Undying Oath (NSFW)

Chapter 4: The Emberlift Alley Workshop (NSFW)

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader

Summary: Ralph takes the Reader to see the mysterious engineer building prosthetic parts for people in Zaun for free. It turns out the requiem was deafened.

A/N: This is a tough read. The NSFW part is not gonna be what you expect for a lovers reunion. 

Warnings: The loss of a loved one, but not for death. Very angsty. Weird sexual consent.

Word Count: 5.2K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 (In Progress)

Also on AO3

The next day, Ralph led the Healer out of the Firelight's Hideout and into the Undercity proper (which she learned people have been calling it the Nation of Zaun - or just Zaun - as of late). She hadn't left the Hideout ever since becoming their resident medic, facing again the decaying reality that the conflict between the sister cities brought to Zaun's doorstep felt jarring. Most neon signs peppering the underground were off, the streets were eerily empty and the few people out and about walked with haste, looking over their shoulders in skittish apprehension. The only sounds were the constant humming of machinery and clanking of pipework.

Lucky for her, Ralph had been on scavenging missions for the Firelights for a while, his experience navigating this new oppressive Zaun proved worthy. They reached the Entresol level without a hitch.

“The workshop is down this alleyway.”

As they ventured forth, it wasn’t long before dissonant sounds began to emerge, mingling with the industrial noises of the underground. Voices. A cacophony of conversations. 

As the voices grew louder, signs of inhabitancy started appearing, becoming less scattered as they went. Tents with people inside, laundry poles filled with clothing, small groupings of people talking among themselves. It wouldn't be so weird to see such things in Zaun, had the rest of the underground not been so empty. A spark of light in the darkness.

“They’re all patients, waiting for their turn.” Ralph commented. And that's when she noticed - all these people either had missing limbs or busted prosthetics. “Most of them are victims of the conflict.”

Ralph led them towards the core of the settlement - a narrow building slotted between two others. Here's where the number of tents were much denser. It's also where a woman stood, leaning with her back to the building's wall, right next to the entrance door. She had her arms crossed over her torso, one of them a prosthetic similar to Ralph's. She smirked upon noticing them.

“So you brought Little Miss Magic, huh,” she sneered. “Come right in, the Herald's expecting you.”

Without another word, the woman held the door open for them. Ralph nodded at her, going in first. The girl hesitated a bit before  taking a deep breath and venturing inside after him. 

The first noticeable characteristic of the place was the smell - moldy and dusty with hints of motor oil, battery acid and a distinguished metallic scent. The second was how dimly lit the place was, enough that her eyes took a second to adjust to the new surroundings. 

As her vision got accustomed, she saw what could only be described as a very messy living room. Almost every surface was full of tools, books, trinkets and rolls of parchment paper, but you could clearly see a tattered carpet on the floor, a beaten sofa on a corner and even a small dinner table with some wooden chairs on the other. This was a home made into a workshop.

Before she could register anything else, Ralph whistled at her as he disappeared around a corner.

“C’mon, the actual workshop is this way.” 

With a nod, she followed Ralph, taking caution not to step on anything. 

The threshold to where he disappeared to took her to a stairway leading down, presumably to the basement. The crackling noises of welding carried all the way up to the top of the stairs, where she stood. Light shone from the basement entrance every time the tool made contact with the metal and said whirring took place, outlining a tall silhouette on the wall facing the doorway downstairs.

Ralph was already halfway down, carelessly making his way to the ominous lair of the Herald. She brought her hands together for a moment, caressing her marble palm in a grounding motion. Everything since leaving the Hideout felt ominous, oppressive. And this dark workshop where this mysterious Herald resided was almost comically villainous - in the basement of a suspiciously dark, damp and empty house. 

She very much missed the verdant nature of the Firelight's Hideout.

With a resolute exhale, she ventured downwards. Whatever waited for her here, she could face it. If anything, her arm could save her like it did before. Hopefully.

As they stepped through the wooden archway that framed the workshop entrance, they were faced with the source of the welding. At the opposite side of the room, a tall, distinguished figure stood with their back turned to them. The glint of metal caught her eyes immediately - the Herald seemed to wear some sort of full plate armor. His right leg and right hand were both prosthetics, a sign they at least knew their craft intimately. But the most prominent aspect of the Herald was an articulated claw-like welding tool, reminiscent of a thin third arm, that sprung from a bulky shoulder pad.

The Herald worked on a prosthetic leg. Sat beside him, on the same table he worked on, was a middle-aged man whose leg was missing. It wasn't hard to guess he was the owner of the metal limb currently being welded.

Ralph cleared his throat. “I brought her.”

The Herald stopped what he was doing, turning around to face them. Yellow glowing orbs met them through the slits of a metal mask.

“Ah, impeccable timing.” The Herald spoke in a thick accented voice, seemingly modulated by the mask, giving him a robotic lilt. His tone was mechanical, plain - the flexion between each syllable almost non-existent. “Come forth, aid me.”

She glanced at Ralph, who in turn simply nodded. Gathering courage, she stepped forward, towards the table and into the Herald's space.

The metal man proceeded to attach the prosthetic leg to the patient's body, who in turn groaned in pain as the nerves connected to the machinery. The metallurgist then moved to the side and waited, observing the girl in silence.

She turned to the patient. “Sir, I'll perform some quick first-aid. Is that OK?”

The man nodded in response, his breathing still a bit labored from the procedure. She brought the marbled arm up to the man's leg, placing her palm right at the seam between metal and flesh. Closing her eyes, she began the maneuver. In the dim light of the basement, the glow of her veins bathed her surroundings in golden light as she channeled her magic. The patient's eye widened at the sight, but quickly fell shut as a long sigh of relief escaped his lips.

Once the glow died down, she shuddered. “There,” she breathed out, taking a step back. “It's done.”

“Mr. Castro, experiment walking with the prosthetic.” The Herald instructed.

The man - Mr. Castro - hesitated at the request. He brought his hands to his new leg, rolling his foot around, seemingly just trying to get a feel of it. He then slid the leg off of the table, sitting at the edge without touching the floor. With a resolute exhale, he dropped down.

He blinked a few times, a knot in his brow. Once he felt secure enough, he took a tentative step with the prosthetic, putting his full weight on it. 

His eyes widened. 

Then he took another step.

And another.

And another.

He was soon walking around normally, like he had never lost a limb in the first place.

“Fascinating.” She heard the modulated robotic voice of The Herald say. But she paid no mind as she watched Mr. Castro taking a stroll around the workshop. There was a swell inside her chest, a giddiness she hadn't felt in forever.

It was hope.

“I wish to speak with her in private.” The Herald spoke again, breaking the spell she was in. “Take Mr. Castro and tell the guardI won't be seeing anyone else today.”

“What? Why?” She argued, but Ralph quickly cut her off.

“Sure.” 

She blinked a few times at him, her brows knit together. An unspoken interjection in her open mouth. Ralph just patted her on the shoulder, the corners of his mouth turned up in a reassuring smile. She held his gaze, but quickly let her shoulders drop with an exhale. If Ralph trusted the Herald, she'd give him a chance.

She watched Ralph and Mr. Castro as they left the workshop until they disappeared into the staircase. Nor her or the Herald spoke, but there was a growing tension in the pit of her stomach. She caressed the wrist of her marbled arm, acutely aware of the metallurgist's movements through the corner of her eyes.

Once the telltale sound of the door closing rang out, the Herald spoke again.

“I was going to offer you a new arm,” he said, the same modulated monotone voice. “But it seems that this is no longer necessary.”

She snapped her head to his direction and watched as he brought his hands to the back of his head, gently unclasping the mask. 

As he lowered it down, the world froze.

A chill swiftly ran down her spine, slotting itself in her chest. It felt tight, compressed, ready to burst. She needed to run, but was unsure if away from here or aggressively towards the Herald. Fight or flight.

Because she was seeing ghosts. 

Honey-glazed eyes sat atop sharp cheekbones on the pale face that both haunted her dreams and guided her path. But it couldn't be him, could it? This Herald Must be playing tricks on her. He was dead. There was no cure for death.

“Hello, Woodpecker.”

And yet... 

She threw herself onto him, wrapping her arms around his torso. The metal plates felt cold pressed against her cheeks, highly contrasting with the warm tears running down her face. She tried speaking his name, but only sobs came out.

Relief.

Months of unrelenting sorrow washed away in an instant. With every wail escaping her lips she felt another amount of weight being lifted off of her shoulders. He was alive. Gods, her Owl was alive! 

Once the initial shock ebbed, with her breathing still ragged, she tilted her head up to face him. He stared down at her, his face neutral, saved for a slight arch of one of his eyebrows.  

His reaction - or lack thereof - gave her pause.

“I- I'm  sorry.” She took a step back, letting her arms fall to her sides. 

“Don't be, it was an expected reaction.” The Herald, no, Viktor. Her Viktor. Her fiancé Viktor spoke. “I have something for that.”

The mechanical third arm that sprung from his shoulder moved, the claw-like extremity of it reaching for a nearby shelf. It grabbed a small transparent glass vial, the pearlescent liquid sloshing from side to side as the arm moved back towards the girl, offering her the item.

She hesitated for a second, but took the vial nonetheless. 

“Drink it.”

She turned the unlabeled vial in her hands. 

“It will make you feel better.” Viktor encouraged again.

Wiping the tears off of her face, she uncorked the bottle with a pop. She glanced up at Viktor again, looking for something - anything -, but he kept quiet, waiting for her next actions. With a low exhale, she brought the vial to her lips and drank up its contents. Her face instinctively scrunched up at the bitterness of the liquid, as she felt it burn down her gullet, reminiscent of a distilled spirit. 

The burning died down, leaving a warm and fuzzy feeling in its wake. Like the cozy warmth of a hearth. Her ragged breathing subsided, the tears stopped and she felt her eyelids a bit heavier. Whatever turmoil the shock of seeing him sparked within her vanished, leaving a warm numbness in its stead. 

On the other hand, her mind felt impossibly sharp. 

“What did I drink?”

“A concoction I developed. I give it to patients when they are not being particularly cooperative.”

With this new presence of mind, she carefully analyzed Viktor, taking note of every little detail she failed to capture before. First of all, he was bigger. Not taller, bigger. As if someone had scaled him up proportionally - although still thin and lanky, he was at least half a foot taller, but his whole torso was also wider. His irises were still golden, but his sclera was very dark, almost black. He was still the same, but different.

Just like her.

“How are you alive?” She asked, tilting her head slightly. “Jayce said you were dead. He had a statue in your honor!”

“Did he, now,” he muttered. “And how, pray tell, did he say I died?”

A pause. She furrowed her brows, eyes flickering to the floor as she mentally recounted her conversations with Jayce.

“He didn't say.”

Viktor hummed. “He was never good at lying.”

There was something off with the way Viktor spoke, she noticed. Although the words he used and the phrases he constructed were full of mirth, the way in which he delivered them were dull, monotonous. Like he didn't believe in the sentiment behind them. 

Or worse, he was hiding something from her.

It didn't deter her though.

“Then tell me the truth, how are you alive? Why would Jayce omit this from me?”

“I was supposed to die. No doctor in Piltover had the knowledge necessary to cure me.” He started, turning his attention to the tools on the table. “So Jayce breached the barriers between Piltover and Zaun to bring me to an old acquaintance. An alchemist.”

“The doctor?” She asked. Viktor had told her once about an old mentor of his, an hermit-like man whose laboratory was set inside a cave in the upper levels of the Fissures.

“Precisely,” he noted. “He theorized he could use a combination of his own research with the Hexcore for a solution. So Jayce retrieved it for him.”

“And his theory was correct.”

“Indeed,” he continued. “But it exposed Jayce to new knowledge regarding the Hexcore.”

He looked at his prosthetic hand, opening and closing his fingers. 

“He learned about how I experimented altering my own physiology with it,” he said. “And about Sky…”

Her chest tightened. She still remembered how Sky’s accidental death had impacted Viktor. How they vowed to keep it a secret. How they held a funeral for her, just the two of them, and scattered her ashes around the place she and Viktor used to play as kids. 

If Jayce had learned all that… 

“He reported you,” she concluded. “And you were banished.”

“The Hexcore is still part of Hextech,” Viktor responded.”If the Council knew of its use for human experimentation and the subsequent death of a person, right under Jayce’s supervision, it would sully our work forever. No, he didn't report on me.”

She frowned again. “So he just… fabricated that you died to protect HexTech?”

He turned towards her. “You and I both know HexTech would continue being used while it was profitable to Piltover, ethos or no ethos.”

She studied his features, contemplating his words. “Then why…?”

“Jayce wished to protect our legacies.”

She paused. Viktor fought all his life to make a name for himself. To climb from the pits of Zaun all the way to the top of Piltover, using both his intellect and unrelenting force of will to do so. He defied every expectation set upon him, took a major risk when he decided to bet on Jayce and his research, succeeded with HexTech and had so much more to give to the world.

Only to be forced to face his own mortality.

And when he decided to use the technology he created to defy his fate, an unfortunate casualty took place. There was no ill-intention behind his actions, it was a misfortune. And for that Piltover could snatch all his accomplishments from him, erasing his name from the impact HexTech created.

“It was an accident,” she murmured, looking down. “The very nature of HexTech is risky, we are dealing with magic!”

She huffed, crossing her arms over her torso.

“And the only reason you were experimenting with your body was for desperation, not ambition,” the grip she had on her biceps  grew tighter. Whatever the concoction she drank was, it damped her feelings but didn't mute them. “To cure a condition imposed on you by Piltover, when they decided to prioritize progress and profit over the lives of the people responsible for that.”

“You fail to consider I'm a Zaunite,” Viktor spoke, unfazed by her reaction. “The accident with Sky, the human transmutation, none of it would sully a Piltovan’s name. My crime is being born on the wrong side of the bridge.”

She looked him in the eyes, brows knitted together.

“And you are fine with that? Having to be dead to uphold your legacy?”

“It was the only solution, my feelings regarding that are irrelevant.” Viktor responded. “It's better to die as one of HexTech's creators than to live as the banished trencher, is it not?”

She took a step forward. “No! It's better to live as one of HexTech creators, despite everything that happened,” she spat back at him.”And the trencher part should be irrelevant to begin with!”

He searched her eyes, his own gaze still neutral. He pressed his lips together in a thin line before speaking.

“Is it better to understand the logical choice of a loved one,” he spoke, his tone still flattened, but with a tinge of softness. “Or to spiral in sorrow at her betrayal?” 

Her eyes widened. Viktor's words tore her insides like a knife slicing through her sternum. This conversation was bound to happen sooner or later. She took a deep breath before speaking again.

“Not enough words exist… For me to properly convey how sorry I am for leaving you.”

She felt a lump already forming on her throat. Her eyes searched his features for possible ill-reactions to her words. But he simply stared blankly at her. “I can't imagine the pain you must have felt, being betrayed and abandoned at such a delicate time,” she dropped her gaze to the floor. “And you were cured without my help, my actions served only to bring you pain.”

Tears formed between her lids. No concoction could deter the weight of her remorse it seemed. 

The sound of metal hitting the ground foretold his approach. She felt his hand cupping her chin and tilting her head upward to meet his eyes. 

“You misunderstand,” he spoked, his tone unchanged. “I believe you made the right choice.”

“What?” She whispered back. “But I betrayed your trust, I left you to die alone.”

“What made more sense? Going after a possible solution based on information, or staying put waiting for the inevitable outcome?” He let go of her. “I saw your research, you had a strong foundation.”

She grasped his hand with both of hers.

“But you asked me to stay,” she cried. “And I left, even after promising to not do so!”

He straightened his back, looking down at her.

“I was simply emotional, clouded by my plight. I don't blame you, quite the contrary. Your choices made the most logical sense.”

She watched with knitted brows as he made his way back to his workbench. Something about his response just didn't sit right with her. This aloofness felt… Uncanny. As if he behaved as a mere caricature of his former self. But before she could dive more into it, he spoke again.

“I have a proposal to offer you.”

She blinked. “A proposal?”

He turned around to face her again. “Yes, I would like to propose a partnership. To collaborate in aiding those in need, like we did today. My prosthetics and your healing.”

“Oh! Ah, I-  yes!” The whole rollercoaster of a conversation made the ordeal from earlier feel like it had happened a century ago. The shift astonished her.

“Is that so? I am glad to hear it.” But his tone didn't convey that. He turned around again, sorting tools on the bench before continuing. “Let me know how you would prefer to coordinate this endeavor, what days and times would you be available to come over.”

She blinked a few times. “I thought… I was going to move in with you?”

“Ah,” he said, halting his movements for a second. Without looking back at her, he continued. “Yes, that could be arranged.”

—-------------------

It was well into the late hours of the night when she came back to the Workshop. 

After their reunion, she bid Viktor farewell and went back to the Firelight’s Hideout with Ralph. She notified Ekko of her decision, telling him to send those in need her way at the Entresol Workshop, assuring him she'd tend to all of them. She grabbed her bag, bid everyone good-bye and made her way back.

Along the way, a million synapses were firing simultaneously inside her head, creating an almost overwhelming cacophony of thought. Viktor being alive still felt surreal, so much that there was a part of her which suspected the whole ordeal up until now was but an elaborate ruse orchestrated by the Celestials in Targon. Worse yet - that she was still suspended in time and everything was just a dream, or some sort of purgatory. 

She thought of Jayce, how he'd lied about Viktor's fate, adding it to the list of wrongs he caused her since she came back. But also about the circumstances he was put through to reach those decisions. She left him all by himself to tend to the HexTech lab, a city on the brink of civil war, and his dying partner. It was easy to point fingers at him now from her safe distance, easier yet to scapegoat her frustrations on him.

There was also something about Viktor’s behavior. She always admired his intellect, his capacity to solve a myriad of complex problems with astonishing ease. Yet it was in his fiery disposition, paired with his genius, that lied who he was at his core: a witty, passionate, snarky, and sometimes insufferable man. To see him act as coldly as he had felt almost offensive - like the personification of a vague idea of him. A pale imitation of the Zaunite inventor.

And yet, she couldn’t hold it against him. Not only because of the guilt she felt, even if he seemed fine with it. He still went through so much - from the days he'd slave away to find a cure for his ailment while he could feel his time running out, to the betrayal she'd bestowed upon him, to his unofficial banishment to Zaun by someone he held dear. He was collecting life-altering events like postcards, wearing traumas as badges. Of course he'd be different.

She just hoped there was a chance for her to bridge that rift between them.

Finally, she arrived at the workshop. Once inside, she made her way down the basement, spotting Viktor still at his bench, tinkering away at a prosthetic arm. 

“I'm back.”  

He turned around at the sound of her voice, and she was met with his maskless face.

“I will show you to your bed.”

He made quick work to put away his tools, grabbing his cane and taking the lead up the staircase afterwards. She followed behind with a low ‘ok’. They climbed another set of stairs, stopping at a floor above the entrance. 

She observed his movements with quiet amusement. Although he still needed aid to walk, his stride felt much firmer than before. It was almost like his body regained the vigor it had at the time they first met. Something akin to warmth bloomed inside her at the sight.

Viktor led her to a room at the end of the corridor. He opens the door and she is met with a simple bedroom; worn-out wallpaper adorns all walls, there's a small wardrobe next to the entrance, leaning against the wall adjacent to the door. Journals, tools and rolled-up parchment papers are scattered around the room as well, but in smaller numbers than in the rest of the workshop. Finally, two beds are located on each side of a window, one by each remaining wall of the room, parallel to each other. The one near the door had clear signs of having been slept on, the other was neatly made.

“You may use that bed,” Viktor said, pointing to the latter. “Feel free to store your belongings in the wardrobe, or as you seem fit.”

She murmured an “OK” and made her way to the bed, taking the bag off of her shoulder in the process. Placing it on the floor next to the bed, she began to unpack quietly, but a question kept tugging at her mind, trying to overtake the forefront.

What was even their relationship anymore?

To be allowed to share a bedroom with Viktor once again, but in an ill-imitation of what they once had felt like a bad joke. It served only to emphasize the distance between them, to dangle what she desired right in front of her, but just out of reach. 

Did he plan this? Was this him punishing her for her transgressions? Or was this him also being unsure on where they were as a couple? Were they even a couple anymore? Maybe she should try to talk to him about it…

Does she even deserve to discuss this with him?

The sound of fabric shuffling and the clanging of metal snapped her out of her thoughts. Instinctively, she turned her head to the source and took a sharp breath at the sight. Viktor was in the middle of shedding all layers of both clothes and armor off of him, facing away from her. 

She was stunned, torn between turning around and giving him some privacy, or allowing herself a glance at the body she once knew so intimately. But the second it took for her mind to process what she was seeing solidified her decision on the latter.

He was more different than she anticipated.

Now with the outer parts of the armor off from his torso, she could see his back bare - or as bare as it could be. His whole spine seemed to be metallic, its outline protruding out from his skin. The brace he used to wear was substituted by a series of rubbery cylinders around his ribcage, connecting the new spine to his sternum, now also metallic and protruding in a similar fashion. The whole contraption felt like an exoskeleton. Where his alabaster skin was visible - his pectorals and abdomen -, bright purple veins shone from underneath.

She fought back a sigh, as to not alert him. In this candid moment, the only word that came to mind was beautiful. Still so, so beautiful. Warmth blossomed on her face as the urge to touch him emerged, to trace the seams between metal and flesh with her fingers. To embrace him from behind and learn what his scent was like, if it changed at all. But she shoved it all down with as much force as she could muster. 

He was not her fianceé anymore.

This was as good of a time as any to turn around and resume unpacking. But a last glance at him made her audibly gasp as she saw him in the middle of dropping the lower half of his armor, his underwear in full display.

That's when he noticed her staring.

She turned around as quickly as possible, getting back to her bag in a feeble attempt to cover for her perverted misdeeds. But it was futile, the sound of footsteps - alternating between metallic and soft ones -, alerted her of his approach. His hand touches her shoulder and she flinches.

She turned around crestfallen, meeting two pools of molten gold swimming in dark sclera staring back at her. The same dull, indecipherable look on them.

“You're agitated,” he declared, rather than asked. “I can provide you with more of the calming serum, the effects of the one you took earlier already wore off.”

“I, ah-... No,” she blabbered, more than responded. His naked torso so close wasn't helping either. “No, that is not necessary. Thank you, though.”

“Are you certain? You're clearly troubled.”

She sighed, taking a deep inhale right after. She turned around completely, her whole body facing him. “I'm sorry, I was watching you undress. The sight of you bare took me back, is all.”

It was a subtle change, but something sparked behind Viktor’s eyes. The gears turning in his head almost made a sound.

“We were a couple. I understand now, you are in need of intimacy.”

Viktor shrunk the gap between them in an instant, his hands dropping directly to the hem of her shirt. He pulled it, the fabric riding up her torso, getting caught under her armpits. She was stunned, his sudden initiation took a few seconds to register, but she allowed him when it did, putting her arms in the air to let him remove her shirt all the way. This was more than she had hoped for.

Without a moment to spare, his hands go around her, reaching for the clasp on her bra. His finger swiftly unhooks it, and he removes it all the way, leaving her chest bare. A shudder escapes her as the sensitive skin comes into contact with the frigid air.

Viktor doesn't react, opting instead to carry on with the task, dropping his hands to the clasp of her pants. His movements were quick, but not desperate. They were swift and precise like an assembly line.

Her pulse drummed inside her ears, making her dizzy. Instinctively, she brought her hands to his chest to steady herself. And through the soft touch of her palm to his skin she felt the thumping of his heart. The steady thumping of his heart. 

Her eyes shot open, searching his face. His eyes were focused on the task at hand, his mouth closed, his lips relaxed against each other, and his breath coming in steady intervals.

He was unbothered. 

She grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away from her. He drops his hands, searching her face in confusion.

“Do you want this?”

She muttered, her gaze piercing his. It takes a second for the question to register.

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like you're not here,” she says, her brows arching in a pinch. “You're just going through the motions.”

He blinks twice, his brow furrowed.“Is this not to your liking?”

“That 's not…,” she looks down, taking a second to gather her thoughts. When her face turns back up, there's resignation in her eyes. “Look, time might not have passed for me, but it had for you. And I left you on such a sour note…, “ she trailed off, unsure if she really wanted to say her next words out loud. 

But she had to.

“You had two years to let those feelings fester. It'd make sense for you not to want this.” Her eyes drop to a corner of the room, avoiding his gaze. She exhales. “Or me.”

The silence that lingered next felt like an eternity. She wanted nothing more than for him to dismiss her worries, to say he wanted her the same way he did before. That nothing that transpired negatively affected how he saw her, that he missed her every day since she left. That he is as happy to see her, to hold her again, that she is about him. But deep down she knows that such a naive scenario is completely unreasonable.

Yet nothing prepares her for the words that leave his mouth next.

“I might have failed to disclose,” he says, tone unchanged. “That I do not possess the ability to feel any longer.”

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Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 (In Progress) Also on AO3