#lab/golden cross

[wyrddogs]

You’re legally obligated to show us pictures of Pele

I raised three puppies for Guide Dogs for the Blind. Pele was my third one, and he graduated to become a working guide dog. He was a lab/golden cross and was something special.

[anghraine]

My best friend was like, "It's kind of funny that Trump's son has the same name as your dog."

I very indignantly defended the honor of my dog's name and insisted it might be pronounced the same but is totally different.

Best friend: the dog's name is Baron, right? B-A-R-O-N? Pretty close.

Me: It's Beren, with two E's, like the Tolkien character. My dog was named for the coolest man in the Silmarillion.

[misswynters]

Broken and whole

pairing | Viktor x gn!reader

no warnings just passionate kissing

a short drabble until we wait for the next three episodes with jesus viktor <3 (he’s always been so fine)

– let me know if you would like to get tagged in arcane fics

[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned <3

In the night sky as the moonlight shines through the windows, the lab was filled with the low hum of machinery. It had a faint metallic scent of Viktor’s latest work. You leaned against the wall, watching him from across the room as he worked, utterly engrossed in his latest project. He had changed so much recently, both in body and spirit. The hextech augmentation now coursing through his leg gave him a powerful, refined look, yet you sensed a hidden struggle behind his carefully guarded gaze. You knew how he was. His mind was only half here, the other was lost somewhere between ambition and uncertainty.

He hadn’t noticed your arrival yet, too focused on the delicate mechanisms of the device in front of him. You admired him, his steady hand, his unwavering concentration, the way his golden eyes seemed to burn with a fire that was part passion, part burden. Yet you could see the toll it took, even if he would never admit it.

“Viktor,” you spoke softly, not wanting to startle him.

His head lifted, and his intense gaze softened slightly as he saw you. “Ah,” he said, letting out a breath, “I didn’t realize you were here.” There was a hint of relief in his voice, as if your presence offered him a reprieve from the depths of his mind.

You approached him slowly, your fingers brushing the edge of the table. “I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself,” you said, giving him a gentle smile. “It’s been days, Viktor. You need to rest.”

A flicker of defensiveness crossed his face, but it melted quickly, replaced by something almost vulnerable. “Rest,” he echoed, his voice laced with exhaustion. “It feels like a luxury I cannot afford.”

You stepped closer, your heart aching at the sight of him so worn down, so caught between his dreams and the demands of his body. “Even visionaries need a break,” you murmured, reaching up to gently place a hand on his shoulder. He was warmer than you expected, his skin cool to the touch from the metal but still unmistakably him.

Viktor looked down at your hand, as if surprised by the intimacy of the gesture. His gaze softened, and he let out a soft, reluctant sigh. “Perhaps… perhaps you’re right,” he admitted, a slight smile breaking through the intensity of his features. “You always have been, haven’t you?”

There was a warmth in his voice that pulled you closer, and for a moment, you forgot the cold metal and complex machinery that surrounded you. You reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders under your touch.

“Viktor…” you murmured, your voice almost trembling with the unspoken words you had held back for so long. He looked at you, truly looked, his golden eyes reflecting something vulnerable, something raw that he rarely let show. “Yes?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Without thinking, you leaned in, your fingers tracing along his jawline, feeling the softness of his skin against the hardness of his prosthetic. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he tilted his head toward you, his gaze focused solely on your face, as if you were the only thing grounding him in this moment.

“I worry about you,” you whispered, your voice almost lost in the quiet hum of the lab. “You give so much of yourself, but you leave so little room for…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “For someone to care for you.”

Viktor’s expression softened, his hand lifting slowly to touch yours, his fingers tentative but warm. “I… I hadn’t realized,” he murmured, his gaze dropping for a moment before he met your eyes again. “But with you, it feels… different.”

A moment of silence passed between you, and in that silence, the unspoken words lingered, the weight of everything you had both held back coming to the surface. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Viktor leaned forward, his face mere inches from yours.

“Different how?” you asked, your heart pounding as you felt his breath against your lips.

“Like I could… lose myself in you,” he whispered, a vulnerability in his voice that shook you to your core.

Before you could respond, his lips brushed yours, soft at first, testing, as if he was afraid you might pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned into him, your hands moving to cup his face as he deepened the kiss, his fingers threading through your hair, pulling you closer. There was a hunger in his kiss, a desperation that spoke of the weeks, months, maybe even years he had spent holding back, afraid to want this, to want you.

The passion between you ignited, his lips pressing against yours with a fervor that surprised you both. Viktor’s hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, as if he needed to feel every inch of you, as if he were afraid you might vanish. His breath was ragged, each exhale a confession of how long he had kept himself from this moment.

He pulled back, only slightly, his golden eyes searching yours, his face open in a way you had never seen. “You…” he whispered, as if the words failed him, his hand brushing against your cheek. “You are the one thing that makes me feel whole.”

You could see the storm of emotions in his gaze. Desire and hope. They were all woven together, vulnerable and unguarded. You wrapped your arms around him, letting yourself sink into the feeling of him holding you, his heartbeat quickening against yours.

“You don’t have to carry everything alone, Viktor,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his, your fingers trailing down his arm, feeling the cool metal beneath your fingertips. “I’m here. Let me carry some of it with you.”

He closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath as he held you close, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangled in your hair. “I never thought…” His voice cracked, and he took a moment to steady himself. “I never thought anyone could love someone like me.”

Your heart ached at the words, at the quiet self-doubt that he kept buried so deep. You tilted his chin up, meeting his gaze with all the strength you could muster. “I don’t love you despite anything, Viktor,” you said, your voice steady. “I love you because of who you are, all of you.”

For a moment, he simply looked at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable, and then he kissed you again, harder this time, as if pouring everything he couldn’t say into the kiss. His hand moved to your waist, pulling you even closer, his fingers pressing into you as though you were his anchor, the one steady point in the storm that was his mind.

The two of you stayed like that, tangled together in the quiet of the lab, lost in each other. Viktor’s hand traced gentle patterns along your back, his touch tender, almost reverent, as if he was memorizing every detail of this moment. And in that embrace, in the warmth of his kiss, you felt him let go of the weight he carried, just a little, as he allowed himself to surrender to you, even if only for this fleeting, stolen moment.

banner by. @cafekitsune

[lovebugism]

I love your ones with shy x king steve could you write more with lots of angst lolll

ty for requesting !! — the trials and tribulations of dating hawkins' golden boy (shy!reader, secret relationship, hurt/comfort, king!steve universe | 1.6k)

Gravel crunches under your feet, digging into the bottoms of your shoes with every step. You storm through the empty alleyway between the gymnasium and the chemistry lab despite that. Despite the whipping wind that threatens to pull you back. Despite the calls of your name from an achingly familiar voice.

“Hey! Hey, wait up!” Steve shouts at the back of you, laughing like it’s funny. 

You hear his footsteps kicking up gravel as he rushes to catch up with you. It takes little effort on his part — legs long and mostly bare in his Hawkins Tigers basketball shorts. He towers over you accordingly, when he slides ahead of you to stop you suddenly in your tracks. 

“Hey. What’s going on?” the boy pants with a crooked smile. His cheeks, freshly shaven, are now flushed from a merciless practice. The shirt clinging just perfectly to his torso, too, is damp at the neckline with sweat. “Why are you avoiding me, huh?”

He’s met with an emotionless scowl from you, which is strange, ‘cause you’re usually all smiles around him. But you keep your arms crossed over tight your chest, adamant in revealing nothing to him. 

Steve’s smile wavers at the edges as he forces a breathy, unsure laugh. “Oh, you’re not— you’re not talking to me? Shit, I must have some serious groveling to do, don’t I?”

His wide hands settle warm on the outsides of your elbows, just before he ducks down to kiss you. You catch a smirk pulling at his pink mouth when the tip of his nose traces the bridge of yours — like it’s still so funny to him. 

He frowns when you flinch back from him, boyish features twisting like a puppy’s might. “You okay?” he wonders, suddenly solemn.

“No, Steve,” you snap. “I’m not.”

He stammers hopelessly. “Well, what— What happened? Did I… Did I do something, or…?”

“No. You didn’t do anything,” you bite. “Because you never do anything.”

You try to walk past him, but Steve sidesteps to block you, his hands spread awkwardly before him in surrender. “Okay, well, now I’m confused,” he murmurs, face swirled with uncertainty. “‘Cause you’re saying I didn’t do anything, but… it kinda sounds like I did do something…”

His disregard sets you aflame from the inside. 

“Tommy made fun of me in front of all your friends. In front of you—” You dig your finger into the center of his chest. “—And what did you do? Nothing, Steve… Nothing.”

Your voice breaks. You clear your throat when emotion starts to strangle you. 

The memory of earlier that day pangs your chest like it just happened — like it’s still happening. And it’s not so much what Tommy said to you, but what Steve didn’t have the courage to say.

The boy sighs, swiping a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. “He’s a dick, babe. You know that. Don’t let him get to you—”

“That’s really easy for you to say, isn’t it?”

He flinches at your foreignly sharp tone. “Well, what was I supposed to do?”

Now, you can’t tell if he’s oblivious or just a coward. Neither is particularly attractive.

“Anything,” you spit. “Literally anything.”

“I just didn’t want them to find out about us, alright?” Steve argues, harsher now. “That was the agreement, wasn’t it? That we stay a secret—”

“‘Cause you’re ashamed of me,” you choke, eyes going glassy.

“‘Cause I didn’t want this shit to get any worse for you!”

“It can’t get any worse, Steve! I’m fucking— I’m fish bait!”

“What?!”

“Every day, I’m terrified of what your friends are gonna say to me,” you confess, despite the cracks in your voice and the tears blurring your vision. “I’m self-conscious, all the time, ‘cause they always have something to say. About my hair, my clothes, my makeup—”

Steve’s chest burns with a palpable ache. Every inch of your heartbreak is his own. His arms cross over his chest in a feeble attempt to quell the flame. “Really?”

You scoff a bitter laugh. “God, you’re so oblivious…”

“I didn’t know it was that bad, babe, I swear,” Steve says, voice suddenly fragile as he takes a step closer to you. His sneaker scuffs the gravel with hesitancy. “I thought Tommy was just being a prick, you know? He’s like that with everyone. I had no idea it was like that, okay?”

Your tight chest deflates with a sigh. “The point is, Steve… That Tommy shouldn’t be doing anything to be at all. You should be protecting me— Not even as my boyfriend, but as a decent fucking human being.”

“I’ll talk to him,” the boy says with a firm nod.

“Steve—”

“I will. I-I’ll sort it out, okay? I promise.”

Even though the look of hurt twisting his features makes your eyes sting, you smack your lips indifferently against your teeth. “No. Don’t worry about it. I’d hate for him to find out about us—”

“Babe—”

“Or, god forbid, you lose any shot of being prom king,” you laugh cynically. “Wouldn’t that be a bite?”

Steve huffs, though it’s hard with the leaden weight on his chest. “Okay. Now you’re just being mean.”

You know you are. You wanted to be — wanted to hurt him like he hurt you. But you’re questioning if he deserves it now, so you shrink into yourself all over again. “I have to go. Me and Robin are going to the library.” When you walk past him this time, he makes no effort to stop you. 

It hurts only slightly.

“Let me drive you,” he calls to you, anyway.

“So you can be seen with a bunch of dweebs at the library?” you scoff, not looking back at him. “I’d hate to see what that would do to your reputation.” 

“Please, don’t,” Steve sighs, with his hands on his hips and his head tossed back like he’s talking to the sky. “Don’t leave when you’re mad at me. Please.”

His words are carried to you on an early fall breeze, which stills suddenly when you spin around to face him. The sight of you takes his breath in a similar way — eyes teary, chin quivering, face twisted with the hurt he caused.

“Do you know how humiliating it is?” you ask him, voice trembling. “To watch your boyfriend stay silent when all of his friends are making fun of you?”

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s fucking humiliating.”

His jaw clenches. So hard his temples shift. “I thought I was helping,” Steve explains, gesturing wildly with his hands. “I thought if I said something, then everyone would find out, and you said you didn’t want that—”

“Because you’re King Steve,” you retort, agonizing the point he seems to be forgetting. Your voice breaks like splintered glass. “And I’m— I’m nothing—”

“That’s not true—”

“—And I thought the only way I’d get to be with you was if no one else knew. So you could keep being Hawkins Royalty while dating the… the local fucking prude.”

An emotionless laugh sputters from your lips. It cuts through Steve like a knife. 

“I didn’t… I didn’t know you felt that way,” the boy confesses, closing the short distance between you. The snapping gravel under his sneakers fills the silence. You duck your gaze when he towers over you again.

“Well… now you do,” you murmur.

“I’ll make it better, okay? I’ll fix it,” Steve assures. Unsure of what to do with his hands when they’re not holding you, he sticks the trembling limbs in the pockets of his short shorts. He shifts on his feet and kicks a rock with his sneaker. “You just… You just have to let me.”

He flashes you a look then, a pleading sort of glance from beneath his lashes, glimmering with a darkened honey. It makes your chest sparkle in a similar way. But still slightly hurt, you only shrug in response.

“Can I have a kiss, at least?”

You shrug again with eyes wide and pleading, shining now with a surer answer you hope he can hear in your silence. 

Steve leans in slowly, testing the waters. His gaze darts from your eyes, to your mouth, and to your eyes again. When you don’t flinch away by the time his nose grazes yours, he finally kisses you — a chaste peck that makes your tense shoulders slowly relax. You fight the urge to chase him when he pulls back from you. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Really,” Steve says in a pained murmur. He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “‘Cause you mean— You mean a lot to me, you know?”

It’s the closest he’s ever gotten to telling you he loves you, which is saying something, ‘cause he thinks he almost tells you every day. 

“You mean a lot to me, too,” you mutter shyly in response.

Steve tries and fails to bite back a grin. He ducks down for another kiss –– the long and languid one he’s been dreaming about all day. The kind that tastes like strawberry chapstick and nicotine and yearning. The kind that pains you to pull away from.

Your kissed mouths smack apart in protest. You try hard to conceal a lovesick smile. “I really do have to meet Robin, though…” you confess in a mousy voice.

His rosy mouth falls softly agape. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, uh,” he clears his throat. “Call me later?”

You step back from him and shrug, still smiling. “We’ll see,” you lilt beneath the gravel crunching under your feet. Only when you’re at the edge of the alleyway do you glance at him over your shoulder. The puppy-like hurt on his face returns.

“You’re breakin’ my heart!” he calls to you, only partly serious.

“Just like seeing you grovel,” you joke. “That’s all.”

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

50 / 820 words / for @keegansshark who converted me to the cult of Hesh <3

...

"Anyone sitting here?"

"Uh, no. Knock yourself out."

You sit down across from Hesh. The mess hall isn’t crowded yet. You have plenty of space. "So. About yesterday."

"Remind me,” he says. “It's been a long week."

You roll an orange in your palms. "I was just wondering. Do you want to?"

"Want to what?"

You stare at him, brows raised, curving your thumbnail into the rind until it dawns on him.

"Oh. That."

You've never seen him nervous, and most people wouldn't peg him as nervous right now. You can see it, though.

"I think so. Yeah. I mean, yeah." Hesh looks down at his tray. "I want to."

You begin peeling the skin off in one long strip. "Haven't had time?"

"I haven't, no. I've... you know... been focused on other things." Hesh takes a long swallow of water. “Military stuff."

"Dad stuff."

"Yeah. Dad stuff."

"You looking to change that?"

"Eventually."

"Hm." You dig your nail into a stubborn bit of orange skin. "But not yet?"

Hesh falters. His eyes flicker down to your hands. "The issue isn’t when I want to. It’s how.”

“Ah.”

“I've never actually dated. Or had a girlfriend. I don't know where to start."

"If you want to give it a shot, I can help you out."

Hesh blinks like he's not sure you meant what you just said. "You? Help me out with women?"

You snort. "Not with women. With sex."

Hesh's brow furrows. "What?"

"You said you’re interested in sex. I'll have sex with you if you want."

For several seconds, Hesh doesn't respond. Then he asks, "Why?"

You shrug and tilt your gaze to the side, glancing at the other soldiers in the cafeteria. They don't pay your conversation much attention. "Because this is No Man's Land. If you're waiting for a golden opportunity, you'll probably die before it comes along."

"No, I mean-- why not one of the other guys in our unit?"

"Pretty sure you could get one of them to do it for you if you prefer that. Keegan once told me about this one time when he--"

"No. No, I mean," Hesh says hastily, "why me? Why are you offering me, uh... what you're offering me?"

You peer at him. He doesn't look nervous, but the tips of his ears turn a darker shade of pink. You lean back and bite an orange slice in half. "Because you've never done it."

"Right. But, I mean, that's not a reason." Hesh pauses, searching for the right words. "You can't possibly be interested in me."

"We're friends, aren't we?"

Hesh glances away again. Friends is strong language for it. "Still."

"You want to know what's in it for me," you guess.

"Yes. I do." Hesh crosses his arms, waiting for you to speak. You pop an orange slice in your mouth and chew slowly. Then you peel away another two slices and begin stripping them of their stringy pulp. "Yeah, what is in it for you?"

"I mean, I’m no golden opportunity, but I’d feel sad if you died tomorrow never having known the touch of another person or whatever. Life sucks out here. We have to take small pleasures where we can get them." You pull a piece of rind out of your teeth and flick it into the pile of orange skins. "Something like that."

"So, out of pity."

At his deadpan look, a smirk spreads across your face. "If that's what you wanna call it. I don't make this offer to everyone, if that's what you're asking. It's Merrick's job to fuck the newbies, not mine."

Hesh's eyebrows shoot up.

"I'm kidding."

“Uh huh.” He's not sure how to feel. It's almost a relief that it's not about him, personally. It's not about him at all. Just No Man's Land. "Aren't there rules about that? Fraternizing, or... or whatever."

You tilt your head at him. It's a little funny to see him flustered. He has the whole act down, usually—refined, quiet, confident strength. Almost a perfect soldier. Lab-grown for the Ghosts.

“It's fine, Hesh, really. No big deal either way. You know where my bunk is if you change your mind.” You scoop orange peel scraps off the table. “You've got a night if you want it."

"Wait," Hesh says as you rise. "It's not that, it’s…”

As you walk away, Hesh barely quashes the sudden urge to stand up, back straight, like the goddamn president is leaving the mess hall. He's not even sure what he wants to say. There’s a strange desperation in his gut to keep the conversation from ending yet.

Instead, he watches you go and his stomach flips sideways.

You dump your orange peel into the compost and head for your bunk. Merrick sits at the fringe of the cafeteria. He looks at you, then at Hesh, and his brow creases in confusion. You shake your head as if to say nah, don't ask.

...

more call of duty: ghosts / masterlist tag

[animatronicabundance-archived]

The chicken softly gasps, eyes getting all sparkly and slightly vibrating with excitement now.

“Really? Oooooh you're a life-saver…mmm Life Savers.” 

Chica lightly shakes her head and pats her own cheeks to try and get back on track because that’s not the point. An excited bawk as she gives Dandelion a big ol hug because Chica was very much a hugger.

“ Thank you!”

" i am so sorry, chica. if i find any leftover candy in the daycare, after halloween, i will save it for you. "

she might not be able to eat, but she does have a huge front pocket on her overalls. perfect for smuggling sweets and treats. dandelion knows the importance of girl dinner.

[yoursweetwife]

hi i’m absolutely brain rottimg about dr ratio while trying to complete a lab report

just thinking about his partner complaining about statistics and about how they despise statistical analysis. they’ve got this report to do (i wonder where this idea is coming from…) and they’re dreading it

he notices them furrowing their brows as they input data into this analysis program, cursing under their breath.

“aeons, why is this so confusing…? the graphs they use… why can’t i tell if…” they’re mumbling under their breath, absolutely confused. they’ve actually been at it for a while, and ratio *hates* to admit that he’s beginning to miss their presence…

so he goes up and pries the laptop out of their hands, with a soft mumble of ‘you’re an idiot’ under his breath.

“i’ll help you out. it’s better than watching you fumble with the data like an idiot.” he says softly, but he really is too embarrassed to admit he would literally do their whole lab report for them if they asked him.

just thinking of soft fluffy dr ratio begrudgingly helping his partner suffer through their lab work. as a reward they smother him in kisses and he hates to admit he enjoys seeing them so happy and thankful…

GET HIM OUT OF MY BRAIN!!! IM BRAINROTTING!! I WANT HIM DEAD /J

Sorry, it took me a long time to respond to your request. Since you didn't specify gender, I decided to take a female reader

synopsis: [name] was tired and Ratio decided to help his lover

frmale!reader

Sitting on the flock sofa, Ratio looked up from his book from time to time to look at his watch. From the outside it may seem that he is completely calm, but inside the scientist was trying to overcome his own anxiety. Only the rapid tapping of his fingers on the pages of the book betrayed his irritation.

Ratio ran his hand through his disheveled hair and sighed irritably. How long he's been sitting here? Ever since you told him to go to bed alone because you had a lab report to fill out, and Ratio knew how much you hated that, but you hated asking him for help even more. And no matter how much Veritas respected you for this, your absence began to bother him.

And Ratio hates this feeling, now even being alone in the room seems like some kind of torture, he’s used to your more physical displays of affection, cuddling against his side, resting your head on his shoulder..

Quiet rustling noises made Ratio glance displeasedly towards the kitchen. He put the book on the coffee table and headed into the next room, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Already at the door frame, his golden eyes met your tired figure. He could hear you irritably whispering curses under your breath while writing something down, and Ratio began to fear that you were about to cry, seeing your completely confused face and futile attempts to fill out the table.

You didn't even notice his bulky figure standing right in front of you, and his worried expression never reached your eyes. For a couple of seconds, he had the urge to throw the ill-fated laptop out the window.

"Oh, I don't understand...what.."

Here again, Ratio rubbed the bridge of his nose, and with light steps walked straight to the table, before you even had time to come to your senses, as the gadget slammed shut in front of your face, making you flinch.

Veritas stands at the side of the table, keeping his hand on the computer and staring irritably straight into your tired eyes. His whole body was tense, as evidenced by the bulging veins on his strong arms and twitching muscles, you almost thought that he was going to scold you for your idiocy, as if you were one of his students.

"Veritas, what are you doing?"

He interrupted your question and leaned closer to your face, and you involuntarily held your breath, avoiding his assessing gaze and waiting for the next words.

“Idiot, how long are you going to rack your brain over such basic things? If you continue to stare mindlessly at the screen, knowledge will not appear in your head automatically.”

Ratio crossed his arms over his chest and looked at you expectantly. You laughed awkwardly and leaned back in your chair, relaxing for the first time in hours.

“What else could I do but stare mindlessly?”

You decided to joke to diffuse the tension. But your lover seemed to take it seriously and pointed to himself proudly.

"For example, asking me for help."

The look of surprise your face did not go unnoticed, but almost immediately it was replaced by a slight smile. Ratio's face relaxed a little, and his cheeks turned a light crimson shade.He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

"I'll help you. It's better than watching you fiddle with data like an idiot."

In just a second he was sitting next to you, opening laptop to see what he had to work with. For aeons, he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible and be in a soft bed with you in his arms.

You silently watched Veritas’s actions, listening to his explanations, but your thoughts constantly went somewhere else. Contrary to popular belief, Ratio is quite a cute lover, especially in the mornings when he is too sleepy to try to act cool and confident. And his attempts to hide his need for you are adorable.

Soon the work was almost finished, and you even learned something during this time and helped Veritas, for which you received a dry “not bad,” but pride was visible in his eyes.

You couldn't help but yawn, causing tears to form in your eyes. Your lover shook his head softly. His sweet troubled woman.

"Time for bed, you look like you might faint from exhaustion."

“Thank you, Veritas, now I’ll clean everything up and we’ll go...”

Just as you reached for the mess on the table, Veritas stopped your hand, gently grabbing your wrist, and looked at you sternly.

"I'm pretty sure it can wait until tomorrow."

"But..."

With his free hand, Veritas lifted your chin while the other rested on your waist.

"No "but", we're going to the room now and you won't get out of bed until the next morning."

Ratio said, draw out each word. A deep blush filled your cheeks, for the first time Veritas looked so...needy, and he also seemed surprised by his own words.

Veritas let go of you almost immediately and turned away, trying to hide his red face, but you prevented him by grabbing both of his hands.

“It seems like I never thanked you for your help, does it?”

Your soft hands came to rest on his face, pulling him closer to place a light but passionate kiss on his lips. And Veritas wasted no time in deepening the kiss, leaning into your soothing touch.

If you always thank him like that, then he is ready to fill out thousands of such reports.

You soon broke contact and a few more quick kisses landed on his cheeks, forehead and nose, causing him to protest, but despite the outward hostility, Veritas clearly wanted more, and you were going to give it to him.

[bluesylveon2]

To the Most Handsome of Them All (800 Follower Special ft the third years)

Again, this is late but thank you for 800 followers!!

Summary: The third years fight over an apple (not clickbait)

Note: platonic third years x Yuu/reader (there is a hint of romance, but you have to squint), crack, chaos, humor, some second years cameo, and the third years being ready to fight each other.

Warning: fem Yuu/reader, not beta read, some cursing, Ortho threatening Idia, and possible ooc characters

Word Count: 4.5k

Masterlist: here

Somewhere within Pomefiore's lab was a short, feminine-looking-

"Hey! I can hear ya!"

(Sorry. Ahem. Where was I?)

A lavender-haired boy wearing a lab coat and stirring a suspicious liquid in a pot. 

"Mwahaha, you will pay for all the trouble you give me, Vil Schoenheit." The boy pulled out his laddle with a shiny golden apple in it. He carefully picked up the apple with one hand and whispered a charm into its glossy skin. 

"Let's give NRC a taste of drama." The boy picked up a knife and smiled sinisterly. 

"MWAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Trey and Cater rested in the courtyard under a tree, finally free from their classes. The area was quiet, and there were a few lingering students. Cater hummed a popular song as he scrolled through Magicam. Trey was coming up with the following experiment for the science club. 

"So I heard Vil's film about the sleeping princess was a hit. Everybody is talking about it!" Cater said, showing Trey the latest Magicam post. 

"Let's hope that Yuu uses her share of the profit on things she needs," Trey smiled, proud of his underclassman's hard work. 

"Like premium tuna cans?" Cater snickered before bursting out into laughter. "OW! What was that?" He exclaimed and held on to his sore head. 

"What do you mean?" Trey asked with concern, and then he saw it. From the corner of his eye, there was a golden apple lying not far from them. Trey picked it up to examine. "To the most handsome third year? What a weird thing to carve into an apple."

"Let me see that!" Cater swiped the apple and held it at eye level. "Hmm. Yep, that's what it says." His eyes lit up like a light, and he held the fruit close to his face. 

"Cater, what are you-" 

Snap

"Who is the handsomest of them all? #handsome #thirdyear #apple #golden #totallyme," Cater typed away on his phone until he hit send. 

Trey's eyes widen in alarm. "Cater, why are you posting that?"

Cater dramatically rolled his eyes. "C'mon, and think about it! Our class is filled with princes, models, heirs, you name it! Wouldn't you want to know who is the best-looking?"

Trey rubbed the back of his neck in confusion. "I guess? But that makes us look like chopped liver. We don't fit under that criteria."

"I wouldn't underestimate your looks, Chevalier of Rose. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, like the pomme in Monsieur Magicam's hands." A smooth voice chuckled. Cater and Trey looked up to find Rook sitting on a branch and smirking at them. The blonde swiftly jumped down and landed next to Trey. 

"I agree with Rook," The sound of heels alerted the trio of the newcomer. "Don't underestimate yourself, potatoes."

Cater sweatdropped. "I don't know if I should take that as a compliment."

Vil ignored the comment and walked up to Cater instead. "I saw your post, Cater, and I believe that apple belongs to me."

"What makes you say that?" a smug voice asked, causing Vil to roll his eyes. "Herbivore's post said it was for the most 'handsomest third year.' What makes you the one who deserves the apple?"

Vil smirked and crossed his arms. "I am the embodiment of being the fairest, and unlike you, Leona, I have many fans. Therefore, that apple belongs to me."

Leona put a hand on his hips. "Being fair has nothing to do with looks." He and Vil glared at each other like rivals, leaving the others to watch. 

"I feel like we are watching a drama show," Trey whispered to Cater. 

"Totally."

"Tres bien! Roi du Poison is so beautiful even when he is mad!"

"ORTHO PUT ME DOWN! I DO NOT WANT TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH THESE NORMIES!" Idia's screams caused everyone to watch as Ortho carried his older brother like he was a wet cat. The humanoid's eyes sparkled as his eyes landed on the group of third-years. 

"There they are!" He flew to the group and dropped his brother on the ground. "Big Brother, you are going to prove to your friends that you are handsome, and you cannot return to Ignihyde until you prove yourself!" 

"B-B-B-BWAH?! Do you not see me compared to them?" He pointed at Leona and Vil. "I am literally an R card compared to the SSRs! I am not qualified for this! Can I go-" Ortho's glare caused Idia to stop rambling. The others didn't hold back their smirks as the younger Shroud placed a finger on Idia's chest. 

"You are going to stay here and spend time with your friends. Do I make myself clear?" For a cute and innocent-looking humanoid, Ortho was more than his looks.

"They aren't really my friends…" Idia mumbled and fiddled with his fingers.

"Big Brother."

"EEP!"

"Fufufufu. Don't worry, Ortho. I can help keep an eye on him," Lilia's mischievous voice sent chills down Idia's spine. The bat fae floated down from the sky and rested a hand on Ortho's shoulder. To Idia's horror, Ortho smiled with glee. 

"I assure you, younger Shroud. Your brother will participate in this contest," Malleus, the final third year of the ragtag group, said as he joined in and patted Ortho on his blue fire head. 

"Looks like it is time for me to go. Have fun with your friends, Big Brother!" Ortho flew off, leaving Idia to fend for himself.

"WAIT ORTHO! DON'T LEAVE ME!" Idia jumped up, only to be grabbed by the hoodie by Malleus. Idia blushed in embarrassment as Malleus held him up like a cat. 

"Honestly, it is like leaving a child in daycare," Vil sighed and turned to the group. "Alright, boys. How shall we settle this?"

"I propose we FIGHT TO THE DEATH!" Lilia exclaimed. Everyone's eyes widened except for Malleus, who was unfazed by it. 

"Not bad, Lilia. I can get behind that idea," Leona smirked, his eyes trained on Malleus as he spoke. 

"Oo la la! That would be a marvelous sight to see. A fight between Roi du Dragons and Roi du Leon would bless my eyes!"

"Lils' idea is cool and all, but can we not do something that can get us killed?" Cater popped in, and Idia eagerly nodded in agreement. 

"As much as I would like to see Leona and Malleus ruin each other's looks with bloodshed, someone who looks the most desirable deserves the apple." Vil picked up his magical pen and summoned a small jeweled box with a heart on it. He swished his pen. The apple floated out of Cater's hands and landed on the box's cushion. "This apple will remain here until a winner is determined."

"Can I be the judge of that?" Idia raised his hand. Lilia and Malleus looked at him, confused. "What? I'm not going to win anyway. Take me out of the running by making me the judge." 

Malleus sighed and dropped Idia to the ground. "Honestly, Shroud. You self-deprecate yourself, yet you are handsome already."

"Yeah, even the Ghost Bride thought so!" Lilia joined in.

Idia had never felt more embarrassed in his life. "That woman was delulu!"

"What we need-" Leona interrupted. "Is somebody besides Radish Sprout to judge this?"

Vil, watching the whole exchange, nodded in agreement. The staff would be a good idea, but they might confiscate the apple before he could get his hands on it. They needed somebody else. A lightbulb lit up in his head. Vil cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. 

"Gather around, potatoes. I have an idea."

"How kind of you to consult with me. My benevolence shall decide who deserves this apple."

"Cut the crap, Azul, and pick somebody," Jamil said with irritation. A vein began to pop out of his forehead. The poor vice housewarden could feel his stress building already. 

Vil's great plan led the group (along with a few second years) to Mostro Lounge. The group had managed to squeeze into one booth. On the other end of the table were the second years. The Octotrio didn't mind the company, Jamil looked pissed, and Kalim was just happy to be there. 

Floyd sat up straighter from his spot on the Lounge's leather sofa. "So let me get this straight. You guys want us to pick the most handsome to get an apple?"

Trey chuckled nervously. "As ridiculous as it sounds, yes." 

Floyd did not look convinced. "That's a dumb idea. Why should we be helping you out?"

Vil sighed. He did not need to sigh anymore, or he might get wrinkles. "You five are the only dorms without third years in this group. So, as neutral parties, you should decide who gets it."

Kalim's mouth opened in an o, "You know, I always wondered why that was…" 

"Fine, I'll start," Floyd rolled his eyes and pointed at the third years. eenie, meenie, minie, you-— His finger landed on Leona, causing the beastman to smirk at everyone. 

"A vote is a vote," Leona said, looking at Malleus, who was frowning. Meanwhile, Floyd unceremoniously flopped back down on the sofa. He closed his eyes, drowning out the incoming argument between the two princes. 

"That is not how it should be done, Kingscholar," Malleus said through gritted teeth. It surprised Lilia how his son was not blasting Leona into oblivion. Probably to not ruin his chances. "You were voted by chance."

"Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it?"

"If I may," Jade interrupted and faced the third years. "I would like to cast my vote." The third years watched with curiosity as Jade's heterochromatic eyes scanned them. "Trey."

The lounge was quiet, minus the sounds of a clock ticking nearby. 

"WHAT" Everyone's eyes widen, and they turn to the man who looks as confused as they do. 

"Why are you confused, Trey? You're in the lead with Leona right now!" Cater exclaimed as he took selfies with Trey to post later. 

"I was expecting someone like Leona or Vil," Trey chuckled while ignoring glares from the two. 

Jade smiled. "Let me explain. According to a questionnaire from the East, most females prefer guys who fit Trey's description over others, hence my decision to pick him."

"Okay, so that's one point for Trey," Cater said while typing on his phone. "What about you, Azul?" 

Azul smirked and stood up. He let out a dramatic sigh. "Well, my decision is based on who would bring me the most money if I were to put them as the face of the Lounge." 

"Thank Sevens, that's not me," Idia muttered. He quietly tiptoed towards the door, only to be stopped by someone grabbing his hoodie.

"You're not leaving under my watch, Shroud," Malleus said sternly and dragged the poor boy back to his spot. His grip remained on the hoodie. 

Luckily for them, Azul did not seem to notice. "That leaves someone with beauty. Not someone rough and brutal." He glared at Leona before continuing. "Therefore, I would pick Vil."

Vil smirked and had an 'I told you so' look as he looked at the others. Leona felt the urge to wipe off the smug look on Vil's face. 

"And what about you?" He gestured to Jamil. "Let me also remind you who saved your ass from Radish Sprout over here." 

Idia rolled his eyes. "Yet the normies made it out alive in the end. Field trip with me was 7/10 tops." 

The overblot boys shuddered at the memory, unaware of the last member's internal crisis. 

Malleus leaned towards Lilia, a frown etched on his face. "The others got invited on a trip with Shroud? Why didn't I get one?"

Lilia smiled and patted Malleus on the back. "Soon, I promise you that. Now look, Jamil is going to make his choice."

The vice housewarden felt a headache coming on. After this monstrosity, a nap after tending Kalim was needed. "I would have to pick Cater. He is decent in my eyes." 

"Really?!" Cater's eyes went wide. "I knew I could always count on you!" He exclaimed and pulled Jamil in for a side to take a selfie. "This has to go on Magicam!"

Lilia wiped a pretend tear out of his eye. "Oh, poor me. What did a cute and young boy like me do to deserve this? Wah…” 

"I can think of many," Leona muttered.

Lilia ignored Leona's statement and turned to Kalim with puppy dog eyes. "Kalim, my dear friend, you must pick me to heal my fragile heart."

"What you need to see is a doctor before your back breaks too," Malleus added, but Lilia also ignored that. 

"Do I have to?" Kalim wailed. "This is too hard, and you are all my friends."

"Magnifique! What beautiful words!" Rook sighed and held his chest where his heart was.

"Asim thinks I'm his friend…" Malleus whispered to himself, a giddy feeling in his chest. 

"HECK NO! I refuse to befriend a cheerful guy like him! Not happening!" Idia exclaimed, causing Vil to elbow him out of irritation. 

"I know! I'll pick Malleus, Idia, Lilia, and Rook! That way, you all get a point," Kalim said cheerfully, his face bright like the sun. 

"That has to be the most wholesome thing I have ever heard," Rook wiped a tear from his eye. "Beaute!" 

The others did not share the same sentiment. Leona's ears perked up when he heard thunder booming at a distance. 

"Gentlemen," Azul stepped in casually or stupidly, depending on how Malleus will react. "It seems like you are going to need another person to seal the deal. Someone from a neutral party."

The thunder stopped, and Malleus turned to Azul with interest. "Oh? Do tell, Ashengrotto.”

Azul smirked. Oh, how his dear friend is in for a wonderful surprise. 

It was a peaceful day in Ramshakle, and Yuu spent it the best way she knew, ordering pizza and spending it with Grim. No ADeuce. No Sebek screaming her ear off. No Octotrio trying to scam her. 

(You get the picture)

Yuu was preparing the snacks just as the doorbell rang. 

"It's probably the pizza! I'll get it, Grim. You pick a show to watch," she yelled. Two tall figures were standing at the door. That looked different from the pizza delivery guy. Yuu opened the door to find the two Heartslabyul third years. 

"Hello, Yuu," Trey smiled. 

"Hey, bestie!" Cater grinned and pulled Yuu in for a hug. 

"Hey…" Her eyes wandered to their outfits. Both guys were not wearing their dorm or school uniform. Instead, Trey wore his Camp Vargas outfit, and Cater wore his Pop Music Club clothes. "Guys, is there an event going on?" 

"No, silly!" Cater said as he guided Yuu inside. "Though you have to agree that these fits just go with us, right?"

Yuu sweatdropped. She opened her mouth, but Grim's screeching stopped her. 

"YUU, I THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO BE JUST US TODAY!"

Yuu stepped away and pulled Grim into a hug. "Oh, Grim. It will be once these two leave," she glared at Trey and Cater. This was supposed to be a relaxing day—not this.

"It will be very quick, and then you can get back to your show," Trey said, causing Yuu to relax a little. 

"Fine," Yuu sighed. "Spill."

Cater grinned. "If you had to pick who is the most Cammable, out of me or Trey, who would you pick?"

Yuu blinked and tilted her head. "Can you repeat that?"

"Which one of us looks the best," Trey sighed. 

Yuu looked at her friends in confusion. Sure, she had heard weirder things since coming to Twisted Wonderland, but this was something she did not expect to hear. "I mean, you both have your own type of charms. I guess I would pick-"

"Oi," a familiar voice said, widening Trey and Cater's eyes. You can't make the herbivore choose when it is in your favor." Leona smirked as he entered the dorm. He scanned the area like he was hunting prey. "I almost missed the show."

Yuu did not hear Cater and Trey curse under their breaths as she took in what Leona wore. Leona wore the outfit from the Fairy Gala instead of his usual school uniform. He even went all out, from the makeup on his face to flowers decorating his hair. "Is there a fashion show Dad did not tell me about?" Yuu mumbled to herself. Maybe Crewel was too busy handling the guys to tell her?

"Hey, what is with the fancy getup?" Grim's voice broke Yuu's thoughts. The cat monster jumped onto Yuu's arms and glared at the third years. "You are ruining my night."

Leona rolled his eyes. "Look, furball. Herbivore has to pick which one of us she likes, and then we will be out of your way." His eyes flickered up to Yuu's. "Remember who was kind enough to share a room with you"?

"HOLD IT!" Vil yelled, causing Yuu to turn her attention to the newcomers. He strutted into the room with Rook trailing behind. 

"Is there a fashion event going on because why are you guys dressed up?!" Yuu exclaimed. Sure, the Pomefiore guys dressed nicely, but Scalding Sands and Halloween vampire outfits Vil and Rook wore respectively were too much. 

Vil sighed. "I wish, Potato. Then I could show them who is truly the most good-looking of them all." He smirked in the direction of the other third years. 

"Beaute! But a vampire has an allure you cannot resist, no? They are very good-looking." Rook winked at Yuu, causing the others to glare at him. 

Yuu frowned and whispered to Grim. "Good looking? What do you think they are talking about?"

Grim shrugged. "These guys are always spouting nonsense. What's important is our movie night."

"NOO I DON'T WANT TO BE NEAR THOSE PEOPLE!" Idia's voice cried out. The others turned to see said boy being dragged into Ramshackle by Malleus.

"Tsuntarou? What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like you're going to the City of Flowers?" Yuu asked Malleus as he let go of Idia, causing the housewarden to fall with a small "oof." 

Malleus only smiled. "I came here to settle some personal matters. You are one of my most precious friends, Child of Man."

"Great, looks like the star of the show has arrived," Leona said in disdain. 

"Why do you have to be like this?" Vil shook his head disapprovingly.

"Don't forget about me!" Lilia said as he popped out from behind Malleus. Yuu only frowned in confusion. She was used to Ace or Deuce showing up randomly, but seven guys? Something was not adding up. 

"What's with the fancy outfit? Halloween is over." Grim asked Malleus and then turned to Lilia. "How did you get that outfit? I thought that was from the past."

Lilia chuckled and flexed his muscles under his armor. "I have my ways."

The others in the room looked at Grim, confused. 

"Long story," Lilia answered vaguely and turned to Yuu. "But can't you see how cool I look in this? Like a knight in shining armor!"

"No way!" Cater intervened. "Lils is cool, but that fit is so outdated. Yuu, can't you see that Trey and I look the best?"

Yuu glanced at Grim in confusion. "The best?"

Grim eyed the group wearily. "These guys are more koo koo than normal."

"Clearly, you potatoes do not get fashion. I have a very unique taste, no Yuu?" 

"Uhhh…"

"Roi du Poison has excellent taste! Look at how the fabric goes well with his skin," Rook gushed and turned to Trey. "Great fabric choice, Chevalier of Rose!"

Trey chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "Let's not talk about me…"

Leona jumped into Yuu's view. "Forget that wannabe. Clearly, I am better than him." Yuu was mesmerized by the fairy dust that followed Leona's movements. Until she was pulled away by someone else. 

"Child of Man, are you alright?" Malleus gently held onto Yuu's arm. 

"I'm just confused about why you all barged in here."

"I understand." Malleus smiled. "Although, would you agree that this outfit suits me?"

Yuu looked over Malleus's outfit before responding, "It does. The other students at the other schools would not stop talking about how mysterious you looked, either. I wonder if Rollo felt the same?"

"Yeah, well, I would rather not see that guy ever again," Idia muttered to himself. Malleus and Yuu turned to him, causing him to look up in shock. "Oh no! I'm caught! I need to get away before I have to socialize with the extroverts."

"Idia."

"EEP!" Idia stopped moving. 

"Why are you wearing that suit? Eliza is not here anymore." 

The others stopped to watch as Idia's hair turned slightly pink, and he struggled to speak. 

"I-uhh…It's for a cosplay convention."

"Yeah, you would never wear that unless-" Grim gasped. "You are getting married!"

Idia's face fell in horror and his hair turned fully pink. "NO!"

"Ohoho. I remember those days."

Everyone turned to the Ramshackle ghosts, watching the group as if it were a drama.

"Yeah, I remember fighting other guys in favor of a girl's hand."

The others froze as Yuu began to connect the dots. Luck was not on their side as the smallest ghost began to speak. 

"I heard from one of the chefs that these boys were arguing about who was the most handsome of them all."

"And you needed a girl like me to pick someone." Yuu finished aloud. A dark aura came out of her, and a vein popped out of her forehead. 

It was at that moment the third years knew they fucked up.

"AND STAY OUT OF MY DORM UNTIL YOU SOLVE YOUR CHILDISH GAME WITHOUT ME!" 

The school could hear the local therapist yell as the third years landed on the ground one by one.

"Ow, that totally is going to bruise later!" Cater whined as he assessed the damages with his phone. 

Trey chuckled from next to the redhead. "At least she did not make us bleed,"

"Who knew the Child of Man could kick so hard?" Malleus said, stunned while gently hovering to the ground. 

"I thought I was back home for a second," Leona said as he rubbed his head. 

"There goes my cute face!" 

"Enough, Lilia." Vil groaned as the bat fae lay on top of him. His hair was definitely a mess now. "Rook, remind me to hire Yuu to do stunts for my next movie."

"Oui. Madame Trickster has good form."

Idia rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you normies let yourselves get kicked out by a girl. That was like an arcade game where you're spamming the A button." He huffed, causing Leona to glare at him. 

"Speak for yourself. You got kicked out as well, Radish Sprout." 

"Monsieurs," Rook stepped towards the group with a gentle smile on his face and his hands up. "We should not focus on how we hurt Madame Trickster. Think about each other. Maybe the important thing was the friendships we made along the way?"

….

…..

"Don't ever say that again, Rook." Trey chuckled awkwardly. 

Vil sighed and shook his head. "I feel like that was something Neige would say," the model felt as like he was going to vomit at the thought. 

"I think I puked inside," Idia visibly cringed.

"Guys, we have important things to worry about, such as Rook's cheesy lines," Cater said. "Who is going to get the apple?"

"Monsieur Magicam has a point, although I have a suggestion," Rook said as the third years watched expectantly. "No one should get the apple since Madame Trickster chose no one."

"I agree. I can feel wrinkles forming on my youthful face." Lilia cried as Vil took out the apple from its box. 

"How do we get rid of it?" Idia eyed the apple suspiciously. If only Ortho were here, then he could shoot it with a laser. 

"I have an idea," Malleus said. He grabbed the apple with one hand, and instantly, the fruit lit up in green flames. "There. All gone." He looked up to see the other third years, minus Lilia, watching with their jaws dropped. Malleus wiped the charred bits off his gloves and turned to the group. "Should we all prepare for later?"

Rollo stood tall and walked through Night Raven College, his student council members trailing behind. As the Noble Bell student council president, it was his job to remain diligent and make a good impression on NRC, even if he had opinions about the institution. A twinkle caught his eye as he made his way down the path to the gates of NRC.

"Where are you going, Rollo?" His vice president asked as Rollo stepped out of the path. 

"I'm just inspecting something. You can go ahead without me," Rollo said until he was in front of the item. There, lying on the ground, was a golden apple that did not have a speck of dirt despite being on the ground. Rollo picked up the apple and inspected it. "Disgusting," he said, sensing the magic embedded in it. Rollo turned the apple to find something written on it. "To the most handsome third year…" the boy muttered. Suddenly, the apple was plucked out of his grasp and was floating in the air. 

Wait a minute.

"Reveal yourself!" Rollo pointed his staff at the apple. 

"Ooo, you caught me~," a voice said with glee. Rollo held his stance as legs magically appeared, followed by a torso and a head. "Long time no see, Rollo."

Rollo clicked his tongue. "It has, Chenya. Now, hand me that apple so I can dispose of it properly."

"Heh, heh, this thing?" Chenya threw the apple in the air like it was a ball. "I think I'm gonna keep it for myself. You know what they say? Cats like shiny things," he said as he began to disappear again. 

"Why you!" Rollo yelled, and his staff glowed. "I'll take it by force then."

"WAIT!" A girlish voice yelled. Neige Leblanche ran into the scene, huffing and puffing. Rollo froze and put his magic away. Meanwhile, Chenya revealed his whole body. 

"Purrfect timing, Neige. I almost got burned to a crisp." Chenya cried in glee. Rollo rolled his eyes. Dramatic much?

Neige ran between the two. "Guys, let's all stop fighting and be friends! We should not create a commotion while visiting another school. Think about friendship and world peace!" 

Chenya and Rollo remained quiet as if processing Neige's speech. Neither reacted until Chenya's infamous Cheshire grin graced his face.

"Nah." His attention turned back to Rollo. "This apple is clearly made for me. Who cannot resist these purrfect looks."

Rollo scoffed and crossed his arms. "A fool, really. Now give me that apple. I need to dispose of it." He lunged forward, but Chenya moved too quickly. The beastman grinned mischivously. 

"You gotta catch me first!” Chenya stuck his tongue out and laughed as his body disappeared again, leaving a floating apple running across campus. 

Rollo gritted his teeth, and his face turned red. "Stop hiding, Chenya!" he yelled, losing all composure as he chased after the Cheshire cat. 

"Guys! Let’s talk about friendship!" Neige exclaimed as he followed Rollo, leaving the Noble Bell vice president, who came to check on Rollo, confused. 

Meanwhile, the NRC third years watched the goose chase pass by them while returning to their dorms. 

"Was Chenya holding the apple Malleus just incinerated?" Cater asked randomly. The others thought for moment before shaking their heads.

"Let's just keep moving," Vil responded. "Before Crowley sends out a search party for us."

Just a typical day at Night Raven College.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

©: This story belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-24. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.

[lovezbrownies]

Julie with a golden retriever reader

oomf i wrote half of this half asleep i am going to be busy for the next two days so i needed to post it, if you see any mistakes or shitty writing just ignore it for now ><

Soft on you. (Yandere!Mad Scientist x GN!Reader.)

Julie's Masterlist - General Masterlist

Synopsis: A nice fluffy time with your cold calculating girlfriend!

Julie McCanister x GN!Reader

Warnings: Julie acts cold but actually is warm

Julie’s office was a sanctuary of silence, where the relentless hum of the computer and the rustling of papers created a symphony of productivity. In this controlled environment, Julie found solace. Her mind operated with a precision akin to the algorithms she worked with—logical, detached, and almost robotic in its efficiency. Each piece of data, each variable, fell into place with a calculated inevitability. This was her domain, her world where chaos was meticulously tamed and where emotions had little room to disrupt the order she had carefully constructed.

Yet, despite the serene predictability of her scientific realm, there was an unpredictable element that frequently disrupted her meticulously ordered life. That element was you.

You entered her world with a boundless, almost reckless energy, a stark contrast to the calm, controlled atmosphere of her lab. Your presence was like a vibrant splash of color on a monochromatic canvas, and Julie often found herself both bemused and captivated by your ceaseless enthusiasm. Your energy was a whirlwind that swept through her world, leaving a trail of laughter and lightness in its wake. Today, as you burst into the room, it was no different. The door swung open with a cheerful push, and there you were, radiating excitement as though you were a sunbeam breaking through a cloudy day.

“Jules!” you called out, your voice a musical lilt that cut through the ambient hum of the office like a knife. You skipped into the room, an infectious grin plastered across your face. The sheer vibrancy of your presence seemed to ripple through the air, a stark contrast to the sterile environment. Your arms were hidden behind your back, adding an element of playful suspense to your appearance. “Guess what I brought you!”

Julie’s fingers paused mid-type, her eyes flicking away from the screen to regard you with a mixture of curiosity and mild irritation. Her sharp, analytical gaze met your effervescent one, and she struggled to reconcile the dissonance between your vibrant energy and her own more restrained demeanor. But there was an undercurrent of something deeper in her gaze—an obsessive attention to every detail of you that she couldn’t quite hide, despite her best efforts to maintain her composure. “I’m not in the mood for guessing games,” she replied, her tone clipped but not unkind. There was an underlying softness in her words, a reluctant acknowledgment of the warmth you brought into her otherwise orderly world.

You, however, were undeterred. If anything, your grin widened, fueled by the challenge of drawing her out of her shell. “Oh, come on,” you persisted, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just one guess! I promise it’s something you’ll love.”

Julie sighed, her lips twitching with the barest hint of a smile. “If it’s something I’ll love, then it’s probably coffee,” she surmised, her tone carrying a hint of resigned amusement. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a practiced air of nonchalance, though her gaze betrayed a flicker of anticipation. Her mind was already racing ahead, fixated on the idea of what might be hidden behind your back. The prospect of you surprising her, of you bringing something into her life that she hadn't meticulously planned for, intrigued her deeply.

You shook your head, an exaggerated gasp escaping your lips. “Nope! Well, I did get you coffee too, but that’s not the surprise.” With a flourish, you revealed the small box of chocolates, its golden foil shimmering under the office lights. “Ta-da!”

Julie’s eyebrow arched in an almost imperceptible show of amusement as she took in the sight of the chocolates. The box was elegant, its packaging a testament to the thought you’d put into choosing it. She had always been a creature of habit, preferring practicality over indulgence, but there was something undeniably charming about the way you had gone out of your way to select a treat that you knew would bring her joy. The meticulous care with which you chose the chocolates was a detail she fixated on with an intensity that belied her usual demeanor.

“Chocolates,” she stated, her voice flat but not devoid of warmth. Her fingers reached out to take the box from you, brushing against yours in the process. The contact was brief but electric, a momentary connection that spoke volumes more than words could convey. She was acutely aware of every nuance of the touch, a testament to her obsessive nature. “I suppose you think this will somehow improve my productivity.”

You laughed, the sound a bright, melodic chime that filled the room with its infectious joy. “Well, I thought it might provide a little boost. Plus, I know you like these,” you said, your eyes alight with a mixture of mischief and affection. “Even if you pretend not to be obsessed with them.”

Julie’s gaze softened as she examined the box of chocolates, her usually stoic expression giving way to a rare, fleeting smile. It was a smile that rarely appeared outside the confines of your company, a testament to the subtle impact you had on her otherwise meticulously controlled emotions. Her fingers lingered on the box, an indication of how thoroughly she was savoring the moment. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, though there was no real edge to her words. The fondness in her voice was unmistakable, even if she tried to disguise it behind her usual veneer of detachment. Her obsessive fixation on you and the little things you did for her was a side of her she seldom allowed to show.

“Only for you,” you replied, your tone light and playful as you reached over to gently nudge her with your shoulder. The contact was casual, yet it conveyed an intimacy that spoke of the deep bond between you. “I thought you could use a break. And, you know, who doesn’t love a little sugar?”

Julie rolled her eyes with a barely concealed smirk, though she took the chocolate box with a more genuine gesture of appreciation. She selected a piece, savoring the rich flavor with an almost begrudging acknowledgment of its merits. The treat was as delicious as she had expected, a small indulgence that offered a brief respite from the relentless grind of her work. The way she savored each bite spoke of her intense attention to detail and her obsessive nature, even when it came to the smallest pleasures.

“You’re ridiculous,” Julie said, though the words lacked their usual bite. There was a softness in her tone, a quiet gratitude that she rarely expressed so openly. She met your gaze with an unspoken message—a message that said she was thankful, even if she didn’t always know how to express it in the conventional ways.

You beamed at her, your eyes sparkling with genuine delight. “Anytime, Jules. I’m always here for you.”

Julie’s gaze softened, her eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something more vulnerable. She leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken emotions, of a connection that transcended the boundaries of her usually controlled demeanor. It was a kiss that said more than words ever could, a silent affirmation of the love and appreciation that lay beneath her stoic exterior.

As you pulled away, your eyes met hers, and in that fleeting moment, there was a shared understanding—a recognition of the quiet, profound bond that existed between you. It was a bond that didn’t require grand gestures or elaborate declarations, but rather a simple, honest connection that was evident in every touch, every glance, and every shared moment of intimacy.

With a contented sigh, Julie settled back into the cushions, her arm slipping around you in a protective embrace. The movie might have ended, but the warmth of the evening lingered, a gentle reminder of the love and affection that defined your relationship. And as you snuggled closer, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the quiet comfort of each other’s presence—a presence that was both grounding and uplifting, a perfect balance of logic and love, science and spontaneity.

In the dim light of the living room, as the last echoes of the film faded into silence, you and Julie remained nestled together, a perfect harmony of contrasts. The night was still young, and in the sanctuary of your shared space, there was a profound sense of peace, a quiet contentment that spoke of the deep, unspoken connection you shared.

The evening’s warmth had settled around the two of you like a comforting blanket, the soft glow of the living room lights casting a gentle aura over the space. The movie had ended, its final credits rolling silently on the screen, leaving behind the lingering echoes of laughter and the rustle of popcorn. The room was now filled with the soothing sound of your soft breaths and the occasional flicker of a nearby candle.

As you nestled closer into the cushions, the gentle rhythm of your breathing creating a steady, calming backdrop, Julie’s fingers traced idle patterns on your arm. Her touch was deliberate and tender, a stark contrast to the otherwise calculated precision with which she approached her work. Each caress was a reflection of her deep-seated affection, a silent acknowledgment of the way your presence brought an unexpected warmth into her meticulously controlled life.

Your head rested against her chest, your eyes half-closed in contentment as you basked in the afterglow of the evening. You could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest, a soothing reminder of her presence. It was moments like these that you cherished—the quiet, intimate spaces where words were unnecessary, and emotions spoke through simple gestures.

Julie’s gaze shifted from the flickering candlelight to you, her eyes softening with a blend of admiration and affection. She took a deep breath, allowing herself to savor the serene moment before her. With an almost imperceptible shift, she tilted her head slightly, her lips brushing against your temple in a soft, fleeting kiss, as though she'd become addicted to kissing you as of late—like the multiple times she'd peppered your skin in kisses when you're dead asleep. The contact was tender, a gentle press of warmth and affection that spoke volumes more than any elaborate declaration could.

The kiss was brief but full of meaning, a quiet declaration of her feelings in a way that felt both natural and deeply sincere. Julie’s lips lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, her touch lingering with a tenderness that contrasted with her usual reserved demeanor. It was a moment of vulnerability and connection, a soft, unspoken acknowledgment of the deep bond that existed between you.

As she pulled back, her eyes met yours with a silent, affectionate promise. There was no need for words; the kiss had conveyed everything that needed to be said. You smiled up at her, the warmth of the moment reflected in your eyes. Julie’s gaze softened further, her usual composure giving way to a rare, genuine smile that spoke of the profound affection she held for you.

In the quiet of the evening, the gentle embrace of the kiss lingered, a small but significant testament to the love and connection that defined your relationship. It was a reminder that even in the most ordinary moments, the depth of your bond was always present, a quiet, unspoken truth that provided a comforting anchor in the midst of life’s complexities.

[redsrooftopprincess]

Kintsugi

200 Followers Thank You Fic!

Winning prompt: “Christ on a fucking bike, I could kiss you right now.”

Raphael x GN!Reader

No warnings

"Kintsugi (golden joinery) is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, a method similar to the maki-e technique. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise. Lacquerware is a longstanding tradition in Japan, at some point it may have been combined with maki-e as a replacement for other ceramic repair techniques."

— Christy Bartlett, Flickwerk: The Aesthetics of Mended Japanese Ceramics

"Shit!"

The sound of ceramic hitting cement rang through the lair like discordant bells.

"Fuck! No! Damn it!"

You make your way out of the lab where you'd been helping Donnie with one of his latest projects.

You'd excused yourself when you heard his exclamation ricochet against the cement in the open space, and follow the now near constant stream of expletives to the kitchen, where you find the biggest of the Hamato brothers on hands and knees, gathering the shattered pieces of what was once his father's favorite teapot.

Black pottery with white calligraphy and white and pink cherry blossom boughs. It belonged to Yoshi, and is one of the few remaining pieces of his Master's old life.

Raphael hisses and rips his hand from the floor. "Fuck! Damn it!" his voice is thick with barely leashed emotion. Crossing the kitchen quietly, you snatch a paper towel off the roll on the kitchen table, and make your way to him. You crouch down in front of him, grateful that you started the evening in the lab, and are currently wearing thick jeans and boots.

He's maneuvered himself to sitting, and is pulling a triangular piece of the lid from his palm. He stares at the piece for a moment, jaw tight. This means so much more to Splinter than just tea. It isn't usually even kept in the kitchen, but the calligraphy had chipped, and Splinter had taken great care to repair it. The kitchen is the room with the best light, second only to Donnie's lab, and the constant buzzing of electronics gives the old rat a headache.

Raphael bumped the table with his shell, that's all. He swallows hard, clenching his teeth. He's too big even for his own damn home. How the hell is he going to tell his dad?

A sting in his palm brings him back to himself, and he looks up at you ashamed and at a loss. You're pressing the paper towel to his palm, looking down at it, unseeing. He can see the crease in between your eyebrows which usually means the gears are turning. And he's never been more grateful you were so much like Donnie.

You're running through options in your head. It'll have to be repaired and there are a number of ways that would still keep it food safe. Then you think about Master Splinter, and what he will think when he finds out about the mishap.

Hope blossoms in his eyes when he sees your look of concentration soften into a smile and you pull the bloody paper towel away from the now closed wound. You're glad it wasn't too bad, but gripping his sai will be uncomfortable for a few days.

You squeeze his good hand, "We can fix it."

....

You never had a dad, but if you did, you'd want him to be like Splinter. Patient, kind, and always ready with a pricked ear and a warm cup of tea to talk through your bullshit, especially when you don't want to. He has a way of pulling those pesky truths out of people, and probably knows more about you now than anyone else on the planet.

He also has a habit of taking in strays. Yourself included. Of finding the scattered and the broken and bringing them together into this beautiful amalgamation of functional chaos.

Kintsugi, was really the only option.

The traditional method would take too long, the breakage was complex and you didn't have a year to complete the project. But you managed to find a food safe alternative using modern materials.

You take your time setting out the powders and epoxies you'd spent the morning gathering, and pull up a tutorial video on Raph's tablet. It's the middle of the day and Splinter is asleep, which gives the two of you the perfect opportunity to put the teapot back together.

It takes hours, there are so many pieces, and Raphael is meticulous. At one point going back into the kitchen to spend twenty minutes searching for a missing piece no more than 3mm wide, eventually finding it under the fridge.

When you are finished, you both take a step back to look at your work. He's nervous. It's a big change to something that's been the same for as long as he can remember. It looks like it's made of lightning or leaves, veins of flashing gold, as thin as stands of hair, spiderweb through matte black and gloss white, seeming to make the blossoms on the sakura branch glow.

No going back now.

...

Every evening, after waking up, Raphael has coffee with his dad before starting the "day." Most nights, Splinter starts the kettle, so he's surprised to smell coffee before even opening his eyes.

When he makes his way to the kitchen, Raphael is already waiting for him, holding the teapot in his hands. You're at his elbow for support.

"Dad..." He starts, before pausing to take a deep breath as his father crosses the kitchen toward him, "I broke it... I'm sorry. I hit the table and it just fell off. I tried to fix it..." he trails off when Splinter holds out his hands to receive the heirloom.

The old rat's eyes look over his Master's teapot. It was old, possibly older even than Yoshi, and had survived so much. He runs his fingers over the smooth surface, tracing the veins of gold, bright and warm against the cold black, and tears sting his eyes.

A beloved relic broken by fate or circumstance, put back together with time and care by his progeny, to continue it's new life, shining.

His father's wet eyes catch the light and Raph panics, "I know it's not exactly like it was. I'm sorry, I tried to-" he quiets when Splinter holds up a hand.

"My son, it's perfect, and more lovely than ever. Thank you, Raphael," he says, His voice warm with gratitude for this and so much more, "Please join me for tea. Both of you."

You spend the evening learning about the history of the Hamato clan, and listening to stories of life in Japan. He tells you about Tang Shen, his Master, Yoshi, and the love they shared. You can't help glancing at Raphael when he's not looking, and he can't resist doing the same. You miss each other by seconds. His father doesn't.

Once the teapot runs dry, Master Splinter excuses himself for meditation and you and Raph make your way to the living room.

Once the door latches, Raphael's knees almost give out with the rush of relief.

“Christ on a fucking bike, I could kiss you right now.” he laughs, gratefully, before it occurs to him what he said, and then it's a very different kind of laughter, "I, uh... I mean..."

You laugh, you hope casually, as roses bloom in your cheeks. "Hey, no problem," you say, "I'm just glad it worked."

His heart is pounding, as he chuckles uncomfortably, and looks in your eyes. It was a slip up. Just a turn of phrase, but he glances down at your mouth for just a second anyway, and there's a moment that feels heavy with... something.

You'd spent the day working closely beside each other, and the evening drinking tea and hearing stories about a love whose ripples are still moving through time, and as his eyes meet yours again, you can't help but feel the itch of empty hands wanting to pull him closer.

But then he's called away by Leo to his nightly duties, and the moment is over. You're left in the warm comfort of the lair and eventually fall asleep on the couch waiting for the boys to get back.

He finds you there upon his return, and stops for a moment just to look at you. *Really* look at you. Something he wouldn't even attempt if you were awake to ask him why he's acting like a fucking creep.

The whole time his father was talking about his Master's love story, the persistent what if's that tend to follow in your wake were whispering false hopes. He was still trying desperately to ignore them, but some of the gold powder had ended up in your hair, and it sparkles in the colored lights, making you look ethereal. He brushes some of your hair from your cheek, and the dust wisps into the air like starlight.

His guardian fucking angel. Not only did you save his ass, but his father actually seemed more pleased with the result than he was upset that the teapot broke in the first place. Somehow, you have a way of always fixing things and making them so much better. Even him. Especially him.

Somehow, you have a way of always knowing exactly how to put him back together.

.....

A/N:

Currently putting myself back together. Thank you, everyone, for all the love and validation that is helping me so much with that. ❤️

.....

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

May 13th

~*~

1. I really need help finding a fic! It's either ABO or the Chinese equivalent kunze/qianyuan. It's got some sort of arranged marriage, as Madam Yu(?) marries WWX off to LWJ. In this universe Alphas often do not allow their Omegas to bite them back and create a reciprocated bond, as it gives them power and status in society. LWJ lets WWX bite him back (because he's a romantic and a sap), and the Jiang's are salty because JYL wasn't given a reciprocal bond when she married JZY, so WWX is technically of a higher status than she is now. @star-whatevers

FOUND!🔒Alliance AU by Ilona22 (E, 21k, WangXian, JYL/OC, Arranged Marriage, A/B/O Dynamics, PWP, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Intersex Omegas, Not JC Friendly, Matchmaking, canon Jiang family dynamics, Family time, Night Hunts, Mention of male omega pregnancy, Intrigue at Jinlintai, Mentions of Prostitution, War, Conflict between characters)

~*~

2. Hi! Fic finder plz. Looking for a fic where wwx is "sacrificed" by the other great sects to the gusu lan (in exchange for something? Don't remember). He is given to lwj and all the sects assume wwx is going to be a concubine (so much so that when they present wwx to lwj they dress him up like a concubine). Wwx also expects this and is very surprised when Iwj treats him nicely and everything. You can tell that lwj has fallen for wwx but is holding himself back. Wwx gradually falls for him too. I remember there was a part where the great sects came to visit and were surprised that wwx wasn't treated like a concubine. Tysm!!

FOUND? golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not rated, 95k, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light, angst, fluff, developing relationship, eventual smut, WIP)

~*~

3. Hiii!!!

I'm looking for a fic where Lan Zhan is de-aged and the juniors take care of him while on a night hunt. Wei Ying is still away and has not returned and they have not confessed yet. Baby LZ just wants his WY so the junior quartet takes him to Qinghe to a discussion conference or smth. Wei Ying is also called there and LZ just goes and hugs him.

That's all I can remember. I think he was cursed to be more open and vulnerable so that he could confess.

Thanks! @ffaddictsrn

FOUND! Send Me Your Earnest Love by goneforthestars (T, 13k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Curses, Attempt at Humor, Light Angst, baby LWJ, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Post-Canon)

~*~

4. I hope you can help, fingers crossed! I've tried everything on this one... Jin sibs murder JGS? sort of along the lines of Qin Su and the boys, but I can't even remember if it was a full fic on Ao3 or maybe even a ficlet/snippet on Tumblr? I think JZX was very shocked/normal reaction but siding with his siblings and JGY/MXY/QS were all stab-happy gremlins? I think JGY and QS might have found out much earlier that they were related and planned revenge together? Any help would be great, thank you! @katonahottinroof

I read #4 a few weeks ago😭 I believe lan zhan was a courtesan/prostitute who was supposed to assassinate wei ying, and lan zhan was beholden to meng yao for saving him. lab zhan ends up going to wei yings home in the burial mounds and gets poisoned I think ? does this sound familiar? the story may be tagged under courtesan lan zhan or prostitute lan zhan

NOT FOUND! out to get you (to get you) by iliacquer (E, 41k, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, switching, top/bottom LWJ, top/bottom WWX, power play, courtesan LWJ, assassin LWJ, dark lord WWX, bondage, happy ending, past slavery)

FOUND! 🔒Something is Rotten in the State of Lanling by East_Of_Akkala (T, 42k, XuanLi, 3Zun, LQY/QS, Fix-It, Character Death, Angst, Family Feels, Black Comedy, Except for chapter 1, MDZS SPOILERS, Canon Divergence, Jin Siblings Dynamics, QS Deserves Better, Humor, Fluff, Background Relationships, Warning: JGS, POV Multiple, POV QS, POV MXY, POV JGY, Murder, Attempted Murder, Illustrated Fic)

~*~

5. Good afternoon! I hope everyone has had a pleasant day.

Can’t say how many of my favorite stories have been found through you guys!

For the next fic finder.

I’m looking for a fic that has both a/b/o in it but also the lan clan were dragons and wwx was a fox, I think. Either one or both, I can’t quite recall.

Oh and it’s set in study arch.

Wwx and Lwj were already a couple or courting at the very least.

Anyway what I remember the clearest was a part where wwx was walking some stairs, might have been the stars to cloud recesses.

Anyway a spiritual dog suddenly appears and I think starts chasing or just barking at wwx.

Anyway twin jades to the save.

It is later revealed that the dog belonged to Jin Zixun which was confirmed by Zixuan who recognized the dog.

That’s all I remember.

Have a nice day and keep up the fantastic work! @ravenwithwings

FOUND! Jades' Lotus by keela_1221 (E, 125k, LXC/WWX/LWJ, Jadecest, Incest, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Fluff, Smut, True Mates, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, WWX Has a Breeding Kink, Male Lactation, Marriage Contracts, Polyamory, Pining, thirst, Mpreg, They Experiment a Little, Cum Marking, switch everyone, Double Penetration, graphic description of childbirth, Sprinklings of angst for flavor)

~*~

6. There's this wangxian fanfic I know I've read more than once, but I can't seem to find it anymore! Ok, so it's a modern world with cultivation fic, and in it the 5 Great Sects are like big crime syndicates or something similar. Wei Ying has his own territory in Yiling where he is known, of course, as the Yiling Laozu. The story uses specific terms to refer to some characters' status. Ex: Lan Wangji is the Red Pole of the Lan Sect, and Meng Yao is, I think, the Straw Sandal. Pls help me find it? @dreammaiden21

FOUND? 🔒 Words are Gonna Bleed from Me by GravityWinsAgain (E, 173k, WangXian, WIP, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Triad AU, Blood and Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, warnings in the notes, Modern with Magic, Dark Magic, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Murder Husbands, POV WWX, Organized Crime, lovers to enemies to estranged lovers and back to lovers, it gets weird when somebody dies but not really, Angst, Feels, BDSM Switch WangXian, Ghosts, Body Horror)

~*~

7. Hi there! I hope you can help me figure out which fic I have just remembered. I think it might have been an ABO fic, but I'm not sure. All I remember is one scene. There was some kind of trial, and WWX was seated in some kind of special alcove where nobody could see or hear him, so that he could watch without encountering the Jiangs. I think he made some kind of comment about the type of court drama that would necessitate such a feature being built. Does anyone else remember this? Thank you!! @balleyboley

FOUND! 🔒 Crossing Paths by Ilona22 (M, 21k, wangxian, shapeshifter au, graphic depictions of violence, war between sects, war crimes, not JC friendly, happy ending)

~*~

8. hi! potentially very long shot, but I'm looking for a fic with this quote "Besides, no one ‘was good,’ in some isolated way. Good was a relation between people. Good was a thing you did." I saved this quote then, and sadly can't remember any other details about this fic... I'd love find it to reread again, thank you! @potatokunst

FOUND? I Started From the Bottom/And Now I’m Rich by x_los (E, 57k, WWX/WRH, WWX/JGS, wangxian, JYL/JZX, time travel fix-it, Pining, Marriage of Convenience, Arranged Marriage, No Sunshot Campaign, WQ Lives, Transmigration, Weddings, Sugar Daddy au, Sugar Daddy, Black Widow, Protective Siblings, Family, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Sugar Baby, consort, Politics, Demonic Cultivation, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Canon-typical domestic dysfunction, Canon-Typical Gore, Ballad 39: Tam Lin, YLLZ, Crack Treated Seriously) did a search for the quote and it came up -- ch 3, specifically

~*~

9. Fic finder request: there's a fic I only recall some details of. In this fic, dual cultivation in the Cold Pond Cave contributes to the security of the Cloud Recesses, but it has to be done by powerful cultivators with a member of the main family. MY and LXC are married in this fic, but they are unable to use this method of boosting security because MY's cultivation level is not high enough. Wangxian do it eventually, and when they leave the Cold Pond Cave, they are congratulated (?) by the Lans, who were waiting outside. WWX is also welcomed into the sect as one of their own. I think JC comments at some point that it's really weird for him to be safe in Cloud Recesses because of this reason. Please help me find this fic!

FOUND? The Ritual by nightwalker (E, 12k, WangXian, Sex Magic, Post-Canon, Fluff and Smut)

~*~

10. Hello! I am looking for a fic that might have been canon-esque, but also could have been modern, where Mama Lan calls Lan Zhan her little bird. Only I think for a while the author gave us the Chinese word for it, which I don't recall what it was. It's translated later in the story. Thank you!

~*~

11. Looking for a longfic I read a while back. The elements I remember are that the Lan figured out that WWX wasn't being properly compensated/treated as a head disciple of the Jiang and the deliberate stunting of his academic education was a violation of (handwavy) Jianghu high academia codes of conduct. As a result the Lan got WWX his backpay and the Jiang teachers got shunned by their academic peers. Had similar vibes to Stunted, Starving Juvenility, but I did a reread of that recently and I'm pretty sure it was a different fic. Thanks! @alychelms

Love this one and recently read it, but not it. The fic I'm looking for was definitely in canon-setting

NOT FOUND sounds like part of the story for 🧡🔒Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 178k, WangXian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war)

FOUND!🔒 the language of flowers and silent things series by Reverie (cl410) (M, 107k, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, LWJ & Madam Lan, NHS & LWJ, LWJ & LXC, LWJ & NMJ, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the YZY warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric, Politics, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, Cultivation Sect Politics, Protective WWX) I don't recall if backpay was a part of it, but 11 reminds me of this

~*~

12. Hi, I really need help finding a fic I read on ao3 some time ago. It was a modern day fic, I believe set in America, where wei ying and lan zhan meet again at jiang yanli’s wedding. They both act awkward around each other and don’t really interact until they are all in the hotel lobby and wei ying is trying to leave because LZ…but yanli tells lan zhan to give him a ride because it’s suppose to be a long ride home (to a different state I believe and lan zhan will be driving by it either way so it’s ideal) Wei ying tries to reject the idea but LXC gets involved too and he’s like it’s a good idea. It’s like a long drive/road trip fic where they are forced to interact and make up. Thank you for your time and effort.

Hi, I wrote to you asking for fic #12 on your may 13th post. I ended up finding it. It was a wlw fic 7:15 from Chicago by milesofheart. I’m sorry for the inconvenience but thank you for this platform, allowing me to ask in the first place.

FOUND! 7:15 from Chicago by milesofheart (T, 24k, WangXian, F/F, Modern, Rule 63, Road Trip, Getting Together, Female WangXian, matchmaking siblings, recovering from traumatic childhoods, spiritual trauma, Lan Disciplines as modern religious fundamentalism, LWJ's defiance of the Lan Disciplines, activist LWJ, the universal rage of women in a sexist world, Estranged Friends to Lovers, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, brief references to sexual violence, references to past alcohol abuse, mention of spiking a drink as a bad practical joke but in a safe environment, mentions of real American political and social issues, brief mention of physical child abuse, past experiences of homophobia)

~*~

13. I need help finding a fic. I've looked through my AO3 history and had no luck. Here's what I remember: Its a modern AU (I dont recall if its modern Cultivation or modern without magic) WWX is on the outs the Jiangs but is close to the Nies. There is a scene where NHS puts put Nie braids into WWX hair, and LWJ is jealous and takes them out. WWX developed a software that the Nies distribute and the Jiangs use. When WWX does online tech support for the Jiangs he uses the alias MXY.

FOUND! Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, WangXian, NieLan, Slow Burn, Kid Fic, Found Family, Modern AU, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, PTSD, Blood and Injury, Dissociation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Musicals, POV Alternating, Baking, Yunmeng reconciliation (eventually), Friend Zoning, Literal Sleeping Together, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks)

~*~

14. Hello, how are you doing? 👋

I am looking for a fic which i found on this blog i think, i am not sure. It's where wwx breaks up with lwj as a dare but they're actually meeting for the first time. I thought i had it bookmarked but unfortunately i was wrong, please help me find it. 🫰

~*~

15. Heya bros!! Got a request for the ficfinder? I read it a while back but accidentally closed the tab.

It was Wen Ning and Nis Huaisang centric. Chapter one was Wen Ning helping NHS escape qishan, chap 2 was NHS helping WN break outta the Jin dungeon and I think chap 3 was them talking about it??

I think Hua Cheng and Xie Lian made a very brief cameo in the third chapter?

FOUND? Jailbreaking by CullenBlue (T, 21k, WN & NHS, Canon Compliant, POV NHS, NHS Is A Little Shit, Cinnamon Roll WN, Fierce Corpse WN, Ghost General WN, References to Heavens Official’s Blessing, References to The Scum Villain’s Self Saving System, NHS insulting the Wen Clan’s taste in interior Decorating, Mentions of Murder, WN made a friend by talking about his childhood trauma, BAMF WN, Panic Attacks, mentions of gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Violence in the Name of Comedy, Trauma, Is NHS taking anything seriously? who knows, Bromance)

~*~

16. Hi...

I am looking for this fic that I read a long time ago. It's a modern au and mpreg, where at the airport Wei ying went to the toilet and left a yuan with strangers (Mr & Madam Lan). Both of them thought twin jade especially lan zhan had a secret child as a yuan share similarities with the lan gene. If I'm not mistaken, Wei ying works together with lan zhan before leaving the country because of pregnancy and lan zhan doesn't even know about it. I don't remember why...🤔

Please help me find it. Thank you for your time 😊 @hazeylove89 //

Hi. I would hope to find this fic I read a long time ago. It's modern au where Wei ying leaving a yuan with stranger in airport for toilet break however the stranger is Mr &Mrs lan. Both of them thought a yuan is lan zhan child as a yuan share similarities with lan zhan. Btw this fic is mpreg n lan zhan don't know that Wei ying is pregnant.

Sorry if it's a difficult request. Thank you.

~*~

17. hello! trying to find a specific tumblr post (not here but out in the wild) about yllz wwx actually being a fairly solid ghost who died in the burial mounds and knows he's dead but expects the ones he loves to also pick up on that and mourn him/give offerings? but none of them do; they see solid and assume alive, so he's feeling hurt about it. pretty sure it's here on tumblr somewhere but will accept fic recs

~*~

18. this for fic finder <3 i remember reading a fic where WWX is a paperman and is spying on LWJ bathing. and then paperman wwx gets a cut and lwj gets angry or sulking at him for disregarding his safety @notdaniee

FOUND! I don't know about a fic but there's a comic by @moobiess like that

~*~

19. hello, thank you for your help!

i was looking for this fic where wwx and mianmian are dating (?) and wwx accidentally moans lwj's name while making out/intercourse. i am unable to find it anymore. could you please help?

thank you again.

hello! #19 from the latest fic finder (may 13th). yes! it does! wwx goes to lwj's and they 'talk' about whatever happened and then they end up having sex.

bummer that they made it private, thank you for the help though!

sounds like a fic that has been privated/hidden by Pancho I believe , in the story does wei ying end up going over to Lan zhan and they have sex?

~*~

20. hiii, i need help finding a fic on ao3 where lan wangji and wei wuxian time travel to the past and tell the sect leaders some form of info. the sect leaders are then nosy and weird about it so they end up using something to spy on them? lan xichen feels guilty but joins in anyway. in the scene that the sects see wwx and lwj are sitting and wwx is combing lwj's hair i think ? the two are aware that they're being watched as well. i don't remember much else, but i hope that's accurate enough. thank you so much.

FOUND? lan xichen is very concerned (and confused) by theninjacat (T, 3k, WangXian, POV Outsider, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Sunshot Campaign)

~*~

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 13: One Of Us

prev | masterlist | next

🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: Jungkook doesn’t seem to be angry for the reasons you expected.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 5.7k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, swearing, injuries, blood, more guilt and self-doubt, past parental death

a/n: something about jungkook skidding a 180 to stop his bike and just running into the storm.... yeah🥵

A faint knock disturbed Jungkook.

Half-standing from where he had been sat rigid on his bed, he found himself facing Jimin. The other man peeped sheepishly around the door, head dipped apologetically.

Although Jungkook didn’t want to scare his hyung, it was impossible to shake the tension from his frame. The venomous exchange with you still ran hot through his veins. He did feel somewhat responsible for dispelling the group with his foul mood when he had returned upstairs. Maybe they had gathered up and saw fit to invite him again?

It was probably what he needed, even if he didn’t feel particularly sociable right now – so long as you weren’t there. He could do without a reminder…

“Have you seen Y/N?”

Eyes snapping back to Jimin, Jungkook’s brows twitched irritably.

“No,” he shot, incredulous.

At Jimin’s slight wince, Jungkook did feel a bit guilty and swallowed away some of his attitude.

“Okay, I didn’t think so…”

Still, Jimin hovered there biting his lip instead of leaving. He took a breath and eyed Jungkook carefully again.

“But you guys… spoke, right?” Jungkook’s brow raised. That was a generous way to put it. Jimin pressed on, “where did she go after?”

Jungkook straightened up fully.

“I don’t know…” he blinked, confused, frown rapidly clearing to be replaced with apprehension. “Why?”

Jimin’s hand curled tighter around the door. He dropped his eyes before speaking.

“We just… can’t find her right now.”

Jungkook’s face screwed up, uncomprehending.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?”

“Yah, Jimin-ah,” a call stole both men’s attention.

Stepping further into Jungkook’s room, Jimin made way for Yoongi to stride in. The older man stopped, looking to Jungkook.

“Do you know where she is?”

“No!”

Yoongi breathed out steadily, then turned to Jimin. Dipping his chin, his next tone was quieter, making Jungkook strain to catch it.

“The training rooms are clear. Jin’s lab, too.”

Huffing quietly, Jimin shifted on restless feet. Suddenly looking up, he decided to keep questioning Jungkook.

“What did you guys even talk about? What did you say to her?”

Jungkook’s head was spinning. Had you seriously gone missing? Would you have left? He thought his heart dropped enough at the notion that he could have driven you out with his words-

Until the next thought crossed his mind with terrifying clarity.

Oh. Oh.

“Shit.”

All eyes snapped to Jungkook, who stared ahead without seeing. For a moment, they held their breath with him.

Then he blinked rapidly, shutting his gaping mouth.

“She’s gone after him.”

It was Jimin and Yoongi’s turn to gape.

“What?” Jimin shook his head, blinking.

“She’s really not here?” Jungkook reiterated.

Yoongi shook his head.

Jungkook’s only response was a decisive step forwards, walking between the others, who backed out of his way, startled.

“She’s gone after Monsoon?” Jimin echoed as he passed, his voice a hollow whisper.

Equally horrified, Yoongi stared at Jungkook.

“Is she mental?”

Jungkook cocked his head but didn’t stop, only looking over his shoulder in the doorway.

“You hadn’t noticed?”

Carving a beeline through the space, Jungkook drew the eyes of the rest of the group that stood nervously around the space. Even Namjoon was there. Hobi was still looking around, as if he might find you under one of the sofa cushions if he just looked hard enough.

Scurrying after him, Jimin offered an explanation after Jungkook stayed stubbornly quiet.

“He says she’s run off to… to Monsoon.”

Namjoon’s head snapped around to Jungkook.

“She told you that?”

“You think she would tell any of us if that was her plan?” Jungkook retorted, without looking around. He was bending down to observe something below the counter.

“What-? she wouldn’t,” Jin insisted.

“Then why are there keys missing?” Jungkook straightened up.

Namjoon cursed.

“She’s walking to her death,” he then muttered, marching to the door, “we need to find her. Now.”

And so it was all action for the second time that day.

Jungkook was close behind his leader, already swinging a set of keys from his fingers. Tugging a hand roughly through his hair, his feet flew down the steps to the garage.

“And where are we meant to look?” Jin asked, rushing to catch up.

Pausing in the entrance, Namjoon locked eyes with Jungkook.

“Wherever we might find Monsoon.”

Jungkook gave a single nod.

“Alright. Hope, Jimin, with me,” Namjoon jabbed his thumb towards a car and they were off.

Jin peeled away with V and Yoongi while Jungkook forced his legs not to break into a sprint. He hot-footed it to his bike, threw a leg over and was away before any of the others.

Whizzing into the night, rain whipped about his face. Speeding through the buffeting wind forced his mind outwards, on squinting through the storm and not on you. Wherever you had got to. He prayed he wasn't right – but picturing the way you had never quit when he fought you, how you had recklessly trained even at the risk of losing control of your powers… he couldn’t see another explanation for your disappearance.

He couldn’t explain the certainty he felt about it. Didn’t want to.

So he urged his bike faster, the engine roaring below him the only comfort as it ate up the road between you.

The radio crackled through the storm, the others coordinating their destinations. Needless to say, you would be somewhere along the docks, but that didn’t narrow it down much. Jin was heading north, the others central.

Jungkook never responded, his original intentions unchanged.

At the first opportunity, he turned towards the river. He ditched his bike right at the end of the docks, where the concrete became earth banks again. Hardly caring to park it, he only left it upright by sheer luck as he took off running the moment the engine cut.

The storm was thicker here, rain slicing his vision. Blundering on, frustration knotted tighter within him at each stretch of empty paving. Dark shapes loomed, but each was just a piece of machinery, or another container dotted about between the floodlighting.

His heart jolted dangerously at a sound from the radio.

“We’re definitely on the right track,” Namjoon spoke, “the car’s here.”

Somehow that didn’t make Jungkook feel any better. An abandoned car, an abandoned dockyard… where were you?

One more look back, just in case, before he rounded the next large container, impatient eyes roving the desolate scene. It was as he stepped into the light on the other side that a rogue wave was thrown against the bank some way ahead. The slap of water and fountain of spray drew his eyes. Flecks caught the floodlight and rained back to earth in a shower of gold, before the wave was beaten back by the same wind that coaxed it up.

A gust pushed damp hair into Jungkook’s eyes. He brushed it back, eyes fixed on the same spot.

Where the river retreated, something remained.

Heart plummeting like a stone, his vision tunnelled, only seeing the path to you.

His feet moved before his thoughts. Racing towards the body slumped on the ground. No, no, no…

Then, movement. Slowly, you brought your elbows up, palms pushing you from the ground. One hand stayed there, steadying, as you clumsily got your legs below you.

Standing with trepidation, you hardly had time to look around before Jungkook was on you.

He ran to you without slowing, grabbed you, his rough hands finding your arms, wide eyes scanning you intensely. One hand held you steady, but the other shifted instantly to your face.

“Have you lost your mind?!”

Breathless, you simply stared at the man in front of you. No answer found its way to your lips even when his eyes flicked up to meet yours. They burned, but not in a way you were used to. Fear and disbelief blazed brightest in his gaze.

The fingertips at your jaw shook. His thumb hovered on your cheekbone, where blood wept from the cut, diluted in spots by the rain.

His gaze swooped back down to eye it, thumb finally making careful contact with your cold skin. Next, he found the gash above your eye. His jaw tightened, but his severe grip eased to a something gentler at your shoulder.

After the last hellish moments, it felt all too good to be held within his hands.

Meeting your eyes again, he suddenly blinked. Pulled back minutely, as if startled.

As mild mortification took over his features, his touch lightened on your arm, but didn’t disappear. His hand lifted from your face, and for a moment he stared in horror at the bloodied digits.

Then he dropped it, looking sharply back up at you.

Before he could make his last ditch effort to save face and step back completely, he felt you sag into his hand. With the shock of your most blatant injuries wearing off, he tuned into the way you shivered, out of breath, and cradled one arm closer to you.

“What the hell were you thinking-? What did he do to you?”

Jungkook’s heated tone wore off halfway through the questions.

Giving in, he stepped closer, raising a hesitant arm on your other side. Still breathing a little too fast, you latched onto it without a thought, grasping his elbow to lean on, panting.

Even through your exhaustion, cold shame permeated you. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I couldn’t get it back,” you admitted.

Jungkook frowned down at you incredulously, even though you didn’t see.

“And you’re insane for trying,” he muttered, already twisting to scan the area you found yourselves in.

Releasing the hand on your shoulder but keeping the arm which bore your weight, he steered you both towards the nearest shipping container.

“We’re going home, alright?”

It hardly sounded like a question.

More wobbly on your feet than you were ready to admit, you followed without protest despite your confusion. Jungkook should be throwing you to the curb! This was your second failure of the day. Your whiplash only increased when you stopped in the relative shelter of a container and Jungkook shook one arm from his jacket.

The river had chilled you, but it wasn’t only the temperature difference that burned when his hand touched yours. He eased your fingers from him for a moment, just long enough to slip off his other sleeve.

It was only then that he hesitated, glancing at the jacket in his hand, and then at you, a little shaken.

He didn’t look you in the eyes as he slung it around you at last. But his pretence at concentrating on fixing it around your shoulders was disrupted at a hiss from you.

You bit your lip, but it was too late. Jungkook pulled back, eyes zeroing in on the slash through your sodden top, hanging away from the bloody cut beneath. Then to the wrist you hurriedly shielded with your other hand.

“Hey,” he murmured, “let me see.”

Before you could convince yourself to object, tentative fingertips were gingerly sliding up your waterlogged sleeve to reveal the deep bruising there, patterned by the sole of Monsoon's boot.

Pure worry filled Jungkook's eyes and he gulped. It was too much for you to look at.

“Thank you,” you murmured, tugging at the heavenly warm jacket and ignoring the sting.

Jungkook nodded absently.

“We’ll wait here… Do you need to sit down?”

Neither of you were meeting the other’s eyes. You chewed your cheek. As much as you wished you could stand strong and prove to Jungkook that you had any respectability left, your legs were not on the same page.

You sank to the ground, grip on Jungkook slipping away. Your frozen hands retreated to the warmth inside his jacket instead.

Only letting his eyes linger on you for a moment, Jungkook forced his gaze to the churning river as he finally remembered his radio. It was hopeless really; he only got as far as lifting the device to his mouth before his eyes were back on you. You were too static, hunched into yourself. The only movement was the creeping of droplets from your hair down his jacket.

This was not what you were. Quiet and surrender were not things that went together with the girl he knew.

Had he done this?

“Hey, hyungs–” so lost in thought, he surprised himself when he spoke “–I found her.”

The response was instant.

“Thank fu-”

“Hey, you really got her?”

“Where are you guys?”

Quickly sending over the location, Jungkook eyed you again. You hadn’t reacted to anything going on around you.

“Hey, I think she needs to go back in the car,” he added quietly.

He pocketed his radio. Then instantly regretted it. Now he was at a loss for what to do with his hands, and he hesitated between staying standing or sitting beside you. Opting for the latter, he purposely tore his eyes from you to lessen the effect.

Stiffening as he lowered himself to your side, you glanced over at him. The floodlighting looked gold on his cheeks, his skin glowing with the sheen of rain coating his face. It only made you feel duller in comparison.

Unable to resist the insistent feeling of your eyes on him, Jungkook finally glanced back.

You sucked in a breath, shoulders raising. Your gaze was all too nervous, watching him warily. And though you were clearly soaked to the bone, he wasn’t sure all the water on your face was from the river and not your own eyes.

The strength of your remorse removed all words you could have used to express it.

I’m so sorry… You sounded pathetic even in your head. Was there anything you could say to Jungkook to make what you had done better?

The warmth of him beside you was already more than you deserved.

Jungkook’s hands were sandwiched between his knees, carefully leaving a space between the two of you. But the longer he looked, his limbs acted almost by themselves. He pinched his lip between his teeth, but didn’t falter. Pulling one hand free, he crossed the no-man’s land. Towards the blood he couldn’t bear to see there, where it cascaded into your eye, one drop outlining your jaw.

The back of his fingers drew closer. When they met your cheek, running steadily upwards to wipe the bleeding, you could have cried. Holding your breath, you gave in and closed your eyes. It shouldn’t feel so… intimate, but the drag of his hand was too visceral to ignore.

Light behind your eyelids made you snap them open again. And then squint.

Blaring headlights swung around, illuminating your momentary hiding spot.

Jungkook’s warmth retreated, leaving you with only the heat of your own blood spilling over your face.

Straightening up, you heard an engine cut out and doors slam. You were still struggling up from the floor when the guys reached you.

“Are you okay?” Hope was the first to ask.

Then Jimin’s hand was on your shoulder. Namjoon emerged behind them.

“Glad we found you,” he said.

Blinking uselessly at each of them gathering around you, your throat was totally uncooperative. You parted your lips, but gave up just as Jin completed your group. Looking you up and down, he tried to ease the tension with a chuckle.

“Wow, you look like you came from the river!” he joked, until his face fell a second later. “…wait- did you-?”

All you could do was stare, too distracted to answer him. What were they all doing here? After what you had done, they came after you?

You should have hated it. You were sorely ashamed, bowing your head under the weight of their concern. But somewhere deep down, you weren’t surprised. Back there in the river, you had dared to hope they would come for you, like they always did. Like you would for them.

But you felt incredibly small for having to count on them nonetheless.

Unconsciously, your feet took you a step back, closer to Jungkook. Shrinking away from the overwhelming tide of emotions you weren’t prepared to face yet.

“I think we all just want to get home,” Jimin smiled softly.

Namjoon nodded, the first to turn away, lessening the glare of the spotlight you felt on you in the centre.

“Yoongi’s going to take the other car,” he said.

Good – you had completely forgotten you had driven here at all. Everything was a blur between your consecutive fights with Jungkook and Monsoon.

Just as you were beginning to debate which one had stung more, a soft hand in yours tugged you from your mind again. Looking up, you found V quietly pulling you along towards a car. He didn’t meet your eyes. Your throat felt tight again at such a simple act guiding you when you needed it.

Blindly following your friend, you glanced back once more. Jungkook’s eyes were already on you, unreadable.

“See you back home.”

Then he dipped his head, slipping past you into the storm.

Your tired body had clearly clocked out on the drive home, finally able to sink into yourself in the silence of the car. You had to admit you felt a bit bad for Jin, who loved to talk. Being stuck in a car with you while you were practically too ashamed to speak, and V who was always quiet, must have made it a long journey.

He got a few words out of you. Honestly, you felt obliged to answer his questions. You owed him – owed them all – some honesty.

If you had to say anything unprompted, though, you were sure all you would muster up was repeated apologies. You felt the heat of them frenetic beneath your skin. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

When you arrived, pulling in just after the other cars, only Jungkook still to follow on his bike, you realised just how drained you were. Each step felt like a balancing act as you climbed the stairs, like your legs weren’t quite attached to you.

“So you remembered Monsoon’s base just from seeing the maps way back?” Jin carried on the conversation you hardly registered having, “no wonder Kuyang had you as his secretary. Too bad, we’ve got you now!”

Those words cracked through your distracted haze. As he left you with a pat on the back, you stared after him.

Had he not seen what had happened all day? A treacherous glimmer of hope sparked in you, as if they could still want you on the team. He must be pretending.

“Any dinner requests?” Yoongi asked from the table.

“Uh, um, I don’t mind,” you spoke quietly, “anything is good… thanks.”

Stopping in front of a chair, you never sat. The lot of them filled up the house like always, thankfully not all staring at you, but the appreciation you normally felt for the buzz of people only made you feel far away right now.

Eyes darting to your feet, you noticed the water clinging to your shoes, miniature pools left in your footsteps. Everyone was damp from the rain, but you were a different story. Your clothes clung uncomfortably, and you were suddenly aware of the constricting fabric now it pressed against your skin like this.

“I’ll just… go clean up,” you muttered, finally taking the chance to flee from the people you had wronged. The people who shouldn’t have cared enough to come pick you up from a death wish of an escapade in the middle of a storm.

Falling against the bathroom door at last, you put up with the soggy clothing for a moment longer, needing a pause. Head resting back against the wood, you breathed. Closed your eyes, felt your hands shaking.

Then you pushed away. A spurt of energy had you ridding yourself of your clothes in a hurry, tugging free of the fabric weighted down with cursed water.

Hurling them into the bathtub, you grabbed a towel next and sunk into it. The soft fabric felt like a dream, from somewhere warm where you hadn’t made such a terrible mistake.

When you pulled away, it was bloodstained.

Shoulders drooping, you continued to dry yourself without looking at it. Nor did you want to look at yourself in the mirror. Somehow, you would have to attempt a fix for the wounds you had just acquired, which pulled and stung as you twisted to dry your back. Gritting your teeth, you kept at it. You didn’t really know what you should do, and were mainly counting on your powers to heal them up fast, but you weren’t about to trouble any of the others for help. They had done enough.

You turned next to a stack of dry clothes.

It was as a sweater dropped over your eyes that someone knocked.

The sound wasn’t soft. Only hesitating for a moment, you gave in and found the person on the other side just as decisive as his knock.

Jungkook stood with his arms folded. Expectant.

Your poked your head out, looked at him warily.

He had enough of your waiting and tugged his arms free, pulling the door open and marching inside.

The breath caught in your chest as you backed up, bracing yourself. He would be right to chew you out right now. He had been right earlier too, you saw that now-

“We could have lost you!”

Your eyes were fixed on him. Couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink.

You thought you had been prepared, but the fierceness of his tone took even you off-guard. Not to mention the words it was paired with. You hadn’t expected that. But as they sunk in, they brought your heart down with them.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” your voice was quiet, but perfectly clear in the confined space.

His eyes only hardened.

“Don’t talk like that.”

While his eyes pierced you, his tone was less abrasive. If you hadn’t known better, it would almost have sounded like begging.

It even succeeded in making you shut up for a short time. But you forced your jaw to cooperate, breathed in.

“But… but I-” sighing roughly, you dropped your gaze to the side. Glared at yourself in the mirror. “I fucked up. I ruined it, I let Monsoon get what he-”

An abrupt step forwards cut you off. Startled, you looked up to find Jungkook snatching the first aid box from the side and stalking towards you.

“Sit down,” he instructed.

Struck dumb for the second time, you did.

He followed. He knelt down right in front of you, and started unpacking stuff from the medical kit as if this was completely normal. Or perhaps to avoid having to face that it wasn’t.

“I would say you should’ve known he would do a number on you-” Jungkook began, to which you sighed.

“I’m lucky I even made it out alive, I know, I know-”

“Hardly,” Jungkook scoffed, turning back to you with a small cloth in hand, “if it was luck, yours would have run out by now.”

You blinked. And then tried hard to avoid blinking, because he leaned forward to press the wipe above your eye.

You swallowed against the sting. Swallowed harder when his other hand lightly steadied your temple on the opposite side.

“You really think I’m good luck, after today?”

A self-depreciating downward tilt dragged at your lips.

Jungkook, on the other hand, chuckled. It was brief, but it was there, a joyful quirk of his mouth.

“No.”

Your heart shouldn’t have sunk at his agreement.

His eyes flicked to yours, then away again as he focussed on his task. But he surprised you, and spoke again.

“I thought you were good luck before today.”

Though your mouth opened, you found all words had been robbed from you. Now, with your staring, he refused to catch your gaze again.

Resigned to not understanding him at all, you shut your mouth and sat in the silence for another minute. He changed cloths, chucking a now-red one away and moving on to swipe at the stickier blood that lingered on your cheek and jaw.

Somehow, in the peaceful bathroom, with his light touches on your skin, you could finally look over the recent whirlwind of events with clarity. Unfortunately, your embarrassment only burned brighter when you examined it through such a magnifying lens.

Looking hesitantly up at Jungkook as he worked, you cleared your throat.

“How did you find me?”

He spent a second longer, one more long swipe over your cheekbone, before sitting back.

“Because that’s what I would have done. If I wanted to make things right.”

“But I didn’t manage to.”

Jungkook just shrugged.

“That depends. What were you trying to prove?”

“I-I- nothing! I don’t know” – you fell forwards, elbows on knees – “I wanted to get the gun back... that’s what we lost. What you were mad about, before.”

Jungkook didn’t move away, even when you slumped closer. His face looked a little pinched.

“Sure,” he spoke, voice only loud enough to travel the short distance to you, and no further. “But it was also… I was afraid. Because I had started- no, I trusted you. I didn’t want you to throw it back in my face now that I care-”

The end of his sentence snapped into silence like bone china, but the silence after the break was deafening. Reeling from what was thrown. The echoes rang in your skull.

He removed his gaze, staring somewhere to the side.

When you finally recovered your voice your words were simple, quiet.

“I’m sorry.”

Another moment passed. You couldn’t even hear your own breathing. Only saw his chest rise as he inhaled.

Then he levelled you with a gaze. His eyes sharpened as you observed each other.

“What for?”

You swallowed, shoulders sagging, but forced yourself not to look away.

“I’ve broken it. Our trust.”

“You showed me how badly you didn’t want it to break,” he pointed out.

Slowly, your mouth opened, something leaping perilously in your chest. Denying it, you frowned.

“Does that make a difference? I still didn’t fix anything…”

Letting out a breath through his nose, Jungkook dropped his cloth into the first aid bag and folded his arms loosely.

“If you still need to prove it to me, you can tell me why, then. Why you fight.”

His head raised as he cocked his chin up. Face blank, save for the challenging glint of his eye.

Shocked, you straightened up without thinking. Drew your arms back to your sides. This may have been the first time he had given you the chance to explain yourself. The first time he had offered himself to listen.

It took you a moment to gather yourself. Or rather, to wait until you were sure he wasn’t joking. What you had to say was already there, waiting on your tongue.

“I was just a spare… I was in the way, and that was all he needed to dispose of me. And other people… aren’t so lucky. I was given another chance, somehow. I needed to do something with it. I wasn’t part of Bolt’s plot, but that shouldn’t mean I’m not allowed to have my own.”

“You’re right.”

You could only stare, a curious frown shifting your face imperceptibly when Jungkook responded so promptly.

“Other people aren’t so lucky,” he carried on, slower now. His eyes shone under the bathroom lights. “My dad–” his voice unexpectedly gave out on him. His eyes darted down, only for a second, tongue briefly wetting his lips “–my dad was a guard. We didn’t have much money, he didn’t have much choice. So he worked for the first guy who would pay him a steady salary. Then Bolt-”

Horror had well and truly sunk into your bones before Jungkook even had to stop for the second time, choking on the word. Your body felt far away again. All you could see was Jungkook’s face as he staunchly forced his lips into an even line.

“He left the boss alive,” something bitter edged Jungkook’s voice. “He’s in prison. Bolt got his trophy. He has the kind of power that means people will overlook the cost.

“I was thirteen.”

You were stunned. You could only stare at him, lips parted stupidly as what he just told you sunk in. All this time, he had looked at you the way he did because… because you were exactly what he and his dad never got. Not only did you survive Bolt, you then basically became him.

You weren’t Bolt, not by a long shot. Jungkook had made sure of that, all while trying to prove to himself that you were.

But even trying to imagine what he must have thought of you was making your head spin. It would have been easier on him to hate you.

You could hardly breathe, but words were tumbling from your mouth anyway.

“I’m so sorry. Fuck, Jungkook…”

Jungkook was looking at you again. His eyes glistened, yes, but on the surface he held it together, the depth of his sadness flowing beneath.

Bending your head under the weight of understanding, your eyes rested on your hands. Lifting them, you turned them over. The same lightning that ran through your palms had torn his life apart long before Bolt ever turned his sights to you.

You had lived. Why you?

“I’m sorry he never got the chance I did.” Your sentences landed far apart, sparing. What could you say? “It should have been him.”

“I’m glad you got them.”

Time slowed down as Jungkook’s words made impact. You nearly choked on them.

You stared back at him, not breathing. The gaze he returned was level, totally serious. Had you heard him right?

“You’re good, Y/N-”

He dipped his head at last, but didn’t break the eye contact for long. He eyed you as if waiting for you to laugh in his face. Like he couldn’t believe he was saying this, either.

“And you do the right thing. So when you screwed up… I know you never meant for that to happen. You know what went wrong, and you won’t do it again. I know that. So I shouldn’t have-”

Huffing, he looked roughly to one side, jamming a hand into his hair. Glowered into the counter as he kept speaking.

“But it hurt more because it was you. I want you to be with… us. The-the boys all love you a lot, okay? You’re one of us now.”

Jungkook was distracted from his determination to avoid looking at you by a sniffle. You had already pushed the back of your hand against your mouth.

Though you tried for a glare, the awe in it did weaken the effect. You shook your head.

“I hate you, Jeon Jungkook.”

The look that flashed over his face was almost comically hurt.

“I-I thought I was done,” you rambled, “all I want is to be part of this team, I thought I had blown it- and now you’ve made me cry!”

Swiping at the couple of escaped tears with one hand, you jabbed the other one accusingly towards Jungkook. But you only meant a fraction of the venom, and he knew it. His lips tightened the way they did when he tried to suppress a smile.

When he held his hands up as if in surrender, you lowered yours. A watery sigh escaped you.

“You say this now, after you made me think I had to prove it to you all over again-”

Deflating, his stance softened. Dropping his hands, one of them hovered before landing on the closed toilet lid an inch from your knee.

“I never meant that. About you needing to suffer… I know you already have.” He chewed his lip for a moment before something sparked behind his eyes. “But hey, you ran off and did exactly that! I thought your whole point was that you didn’t want to-!”

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help the grin breaking out. Shifting, your leg dislodged Jungkook’s hand. His fingertips stilled where they now found themselves grazing your leg.

“We’re both idiots,” you concluded.

“Hey, don’t tell the others!”

With a breathy laugh, you gratefully felt some weight dissolve from your shoulders. Even after the laughter wore off, you felt yourself smiling faintly at your lap and took the chance to blink back your tears.

One was knocked free, shooting down your cheek-

Only to be intercepted by a finger.

Jungkook froze, hand still on your face, and gulped. A second too late to look natural, he glanced down with a gesturing nod.

“That’ll hurt like a bitch in that cut.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”

The pad of his thumb dragged away the salty water while you tried very hard not to look too hard at anything. Or to close your eyes. Would that be worse?

Then he moved backwards again, reaching for something new. The wound on your cheek was a cleaner cut, easier to deal with. As he wiped it a few times with a fresh gauze, his hand finally placed itself steadily over your knee.

A new kind of silence settled as he pressed two strips over each gash.

“You, um…” he withdrew his hand, “you should rest. And eat. Yeah. Eat, and rest.”

You nodded.

“Yeah, I should.”

Looking over to the door, you dragged your lip between your teeth. In fairness, Jungkook had been your biggest concern. But you had still royally fucked up today. Twice. You had the rest of your group to make it up to.

Maybe braving it sooner would be easiest. As much as you didn’t have the energy for it, they could recharge you. You all gave back to each other in the end.

Sensing your reservation, Jungkook stood.

“Hey,” he called your attention back to him, “they were just worried.”

“I guess they’ll be a piece of cake now, after you,” you couldn’t help smiling, “you’re the most obstinate one, after all.”

As you finished speaking, you followed him to stand, shooting a smirk into his affronted face. It looked as though he couldn’t decide whether to be offended or amused – until all that was erased as you crossed closer to him on your way to the door.

Your expression, too, faded. Your steps fell too sluggishly, but his gravity slowed them without your meaning to. It left you locked in his eyes for too long.

With your breath trapped in your throat, you had no idea how you managed it. Your voice sounded without premeditation, low but clear with your sincerity.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

And then you turned, leaving him trying to recover his own racing heart behind you.

Thank you for reading!!💜💜

<prev | masterlist | next>

taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @written-in-flowers @taegularities @dvalities

@parapiop7 @taiwan0618 @11thenightwemet11 @junniesoleilkth @doctorquack

@oddinary4bts @svnbangtansworld @ktownshizzle @minisugakoobies @jksusawife

@kokoandkookie @veemegatron @kookxin @seokout @jkayy

@peaaachpit @stxrrielle @welcometomyworld13 @ssexsellls @ramicherie

@jk5t4r @purplebeebs @nanjeonlangakook @wifflepuff1344 @ot7stansthings

@thesmeraldogirl

[nicomoon69]

dc x marvel cross over but it’s just bernard as spiderman

he is studying physics and biology and has a superhero obsession. he was definitely fucking around in a lab, got bitten and then decided it would be a golden opportunity to become a vigilante

I also imagine that bernard unlike tim is pretty decent at hiding his double life and is 100% fucking with tim as spiderman when patrolling

[atlasthegreatest]

Alchemy of Minds / Mel Merdada x Male Reader

Mel Medarda, ever the calculating and composed Piltover leader, unexpectedly finds herself drawn to Y/n Tenwick, a bold Zaunite scientist brought to the city as an apprentice under Professor Heimerdinger. Drawn to his bold ideas and unguarded kindness, Mel begins visiting his lab, finding an unexpected companionship. Yet, she’s haunted by the dangers of this attachment in Piltover’s cutthroat society, leaving her torn between duty and a desire for something genuine.

Warning: soft angst (?)

Word count: 3791

A/n: Any grammar mistakes will be fixed later

The morning light that bathed Piltover’s marble streets was crisp, cutting through the chill of the early hours. On the balcony of a towering estate, Mel Medarda sat alone with a goblet of honeyed wine, her golden eyes sharp and calculating, as always.

Mel enjoyed being alone. Silence gave her room to think—strategize, analyze, and dismantle obstacles before they even arose. But the morning’s peace was interrupted by a sharp knock at the entrance to her estate, followed by a servant informing her of a peculiar invitation.

“Professor Heimerdinger requested that you attend today’s symposium at the Academy, Madam. He said there would be… interesting minds.” The servant bowed low, sensing Mel’s irritation, though she allowed none of it to touch her face.

Mel exhaled through her nose. Heimerdinger, with his endless optimism, had a knack for making promises about “interesting minds.” Most of those minds, however, were stuffy bureaucrats clinging to outdated ideas of order. But Mel was bored, and boredom was dangerous—dangerous for her and anyone caught in her path.

“Tell the Professor I’ll be attending,” she said, rising from her seat.

She didn’t know, not yet, that today would be the beginning of her undoing.

The symposium buzzed with the usual self-importance that Mel had grown to despise, but her entrance commanded attention as it always did. Draped in silk and gold, she glided through the hall like a queen surveying her court. Most eyes followed her—except for one.

In a far corner of the room, a young man sat with his head bent over a complex schematic, completely absorbed in his work. His unkempt hair and stained gloves marked him as out of place among the pristine scholars of Piltover. His clothes, though freshly pressed, bore the lingering smell of smoke and strange chemicals—a scent familiar to anyone who had been to Zaun.

Mel’s lips curled into a smirk. A Zaunite apprentice, here in Piltover, under Heimerdinger’s tutelage? Intriguing.

She moved closer, intrigued not just by the novelty of him but by his sheer lack of awareness of his surroundings. His focus was magnetic, a sharp contrast to the superficiality she saw in most Piltover elites. The man looked like someone who had never cared for politics, only precision.

“You seem determined to solve the mysteries of the universe without bothering to attend the actual lecture,” Mel said, her voice smooth as silk.

The man's eyes. A brief flash of panic crossed his face, but it faded into something softer—curiosity.

“I—sorry. Didn’t realize it started,” he murmured, his Zaunite accent faint but unmistakable. He straightened, pulling off his gloves and offering his hand. “I’m Y/n. Y/n Tenwick. Apprentice to Professor Heimerdinger.”

Mel studied his hand for a beat longer than necessary as if considering what kind of man would offer a handshake without realizing who she was. She took it, feeling the slight roughness of his palm. A worker’s hand. A builder’s hand.

“Mel Medarda,” she replied, watching his expression closely for a flicker of recognition. There was none. He didn’t know who she was, and somehow, that thrilled her.

“Ah. Nice to meet you, Miss Medarda,” he said, oblivious to the weight her name carried in Piltover. “Sorry about earlier. It’s just—there’s this problem I’ve been trying to solve with stabilizing Hextech particles, and I guess I lost track of time.” He chuckled nervously, brushing a streak of grease off his cheek.

Mel raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. Most men she met tried to impress her with wealth or power. Y/n, it seemed, had no such pretense. His passion lay elsewhere, somewhere genuine, raw, and entirely untouched by the delicate webs of politics that Mel wove daily.

“And have you solved it?” she asked, her voice carrying a playful challenge.

“Almost.” He grinned, the nervousness in him easing slightly. “But it keeps slipping. Like… like trying to catch smoke in a bottle. I think I’m missing something—some variable I haven’t accounted for.”

Mel tilted her head, resting her chin delicately on her fingers. “Or perhaps you’re overthinking it. Sometimes the solution is simpler than we want it to be.”

Y/n blinked at her, surprised by the comment, but instead of brushing it off, he seemed to consider it. It was a rare thing, Mel thought—someone who didn’t dismiss her out of fear or ego, but who genuinely listened.

“Maybe,” he said thoughtfully. “Or maybe the solution’s just… waiting in the right place.” He looked at her then, and for the first time, Mel saw the flicker of something unexpected—interest. Not in the way most men looked at her, as if she were a prize to be won, but as if he were seeing her for the first time, as a person rather than a political tool.

It was disarming. And dangerous.

“Tell me, Y/n,” she said, her voice softening just a fraction. “How does a Zaunite find himself under Heimerdinger’s wing? That’s no small feat.”

Y/n scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. “Bit of a long story. But… the short version? I built something dangerous back in Zaun. Heimerdinger found out and thought I might do less harm if I had proper guidance.”

Mel laughed—truly laughed—and it caught Y/n off guard. “And here you are, in the heart of Piltover, still building dangerous things.”

“Old habits die hard,” he admitted with a grin, his eyes alight with mischief.

For a moment, the world outside this strange conversation faded away. Mel forgot about the political games she played and the alliances she had to maintain. In Y/n’s unpolished charm, there was no hidden agenda, no expectations—just a man who looked at the world through the lens of what could be instead of what should be.

It was a dangerous feeling, this lightness in her chest. Mel knew better than to let her guard down. She knew the risks of attaching herself to someone so far removed from her world. And yet, as she watched Y/n return to his schematic, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, she found herself wanting to stay just a little longer.

Maybe, just maybe, not every connection had to be calculated.

And for the first time in a long while, Mel Medarda felt something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.

Hope.

That evening, as she returned to her estate, Mel stood on the same balcony where her day had begun. Below her, the city glittered with light and life. But her thoughts were not on Piltover tonight.

They were on a Zaunite with ink-stained hands and a mind full of impossible ideas.

And though she knew it was foolish—knew it could lead to ruin—Mel allowed herself the smallest flicker of something dangerously close to longing.

The fractures in her golden armor were beginning to form. And she didn’t know if she wanted to stop them.

——————————

Over the next few weeks, Mel Medarda found herself drawn back to the Academy more than she would have cared to admit. Meetings and state dinners were rearranged, political allies left waiting. Each time she promised herself it would be the last visit—just a passing curiosity, nothing more—but each time she ended up in the same place: the lab tucked into the far corner of the Academy’s west wing, where Y/n Tenwick worked tirelessly under dim lantern light.

To her surprise, Y/n never seemed fazed by her sudden appearances. In a city full of people eager to curry favor or steal glances at her, Y/n treated her like a familiar shadow, neither unwelcome nor remarkable. He greeted her with an easy smile, even when his hands were buried in some strange contraption or his face was smeared with soot.

“You’re back,” Y/n would say with a lopsided grin, as if she were a colleague stopping by to chat rather than a Medarda.

And each time, Mel found herself lingering just a little longer, fascinated by the way his mind worked—so unlike the polished aristocrats she dealt with every day. His ideas were messy, chaotic even, but underneath the disorder lay brilliance. Y/n thought not in rules and limits, but in endless possibilities.

One evening, long after the sun had set, she found herself sitting on a workbench in his lab as Y/n fidgeted with a delicate device in his hands—a small sphere of polished brass, etched with intricate runes.

“It’s supposed to detect anomalies in Hextech crystals,” he explained, turning the sphere slowly, his brow furrowed in concentration. “But it keeps shorting out the second it gets near anything remotely unstable.”

Mel leaned closer, watching the way his hands moved—deft and precise, despite the chaos of his surroundings. “So what you’re saying is it works too well. It’s not detecting failure. It’s… anticipating it.”

Y/n looked up, his eyes widening slightly in realization. “Exactly!” he exclaimed, his grin spreading. “It’s rejecting anything it thinks might destabilize, even if it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Sounds like the people of Piltover,” Mel murmured with a smirk. “Refusing anything unfamiliar before it even has a chance to prove itself.”

Y/n laughed, a warm, unguarded sound that filled the small lab. “And here I thought Piltover was all about progress.”

“Progress at a carefully calculated pace,” Mel replied, a sharp edge beneath her smile. “One that doesn’t upset the delicate balance of power.”

Y/n gave her a curious look, as if seeing her for the first time in a new light. “You sound like someone who knows a lot about power.”

“Maybe.” She met his gaze, unflinching. “And you sound like someone who doesn’t care about it at all.”

He shrugged, turning the brass sphere over in his hands. “I care more about discovery than control. Power doesn’t build things—ideas do.”

Mel’s heart skipped, just for a moment. It was a dangerous way to think in a world like theirs, but it was also… intoxicating. Y/n wasn’t weighed down by ambition or fear, and that made him unlike anyone she had ever known.

“That’s a bold philosophy,” she said softly, as if testing the words on her tongue. “Not many people think that way.”

“Maybe that’s why the world’s so broken,” Y/n replied with a grin.

Mel shook her head, amused. “And here I thought it was because people keep building dangerous things in secret labs.”

Y/n laughed again, the sound rumbling low in his chest. “Fair point.”

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, the quiet hum of machinery filling the space between them. Mel found herself strangely at ease here, in a room cluttered with strange inventions and half-finished projects. There were no expectations, no masks to wear. Just the quiet companionship of two people from different worlds, drawn together by the alchemy of shared curiosity.

At some point, Y/n handed her a set of blueprints, his fingers brushing hers briefly. “Here,” he said, almost shyly. “Take a look at this. I could use another pair of eyes.”

Mel arched an eyebrow, bemused. “You want my help?”

“Why not?” he asked with a grin. “You seem like someone who knows how to spot a flaw.”

She laughed, surprised by his boldness. “Careful, Y/n. I’m not known for going easy on people.”

“Good.” He winked. “I don’t want easy.”

Mel stared at him, caught off guard by the simplicity of his honesty. There was no pretense in Y/n, no ulterior motive. Just a man who wanted to build something better, no matter the cost. And for the first time in years, Mel felt the walls she had built around herself begin to shift, the cracks widening just a little more.

It was foolish to let herself care, she knew. Dangerous, even. Y/n was a distraction—one she couldn’t afford in a city as treacherous as Piltover. But some part of her, the part that longed for something real amid the artifice, refused to let go.

“Alright, Y/n,” she said quietly, tracing a finger along the edge of the blueprints. “Let’s see what kind of trouble we can build together.”

And as their eyes met across the cluttered workbench, Mel Medarda realized she was in more trouble than she had ever anticipated.

——————————

Days turned into weeks, and Mel Medarda found herself entangled in something she had not prepared for: late-night conversations over prototypes that wouldn’t work, laughter shared over failures, and moments of unexpected silence where the air felt heavy with something unspoken. Piltover’s glittering society faded into the background whenever she was with Y/n. It was a dangerous kind of indulgence, one she knew she couldn’t afford—but she kept coming back.

Y/n was a puzzle she couldn’t resist solving. His mind danced between chaos and brilliance, never fully constrained by rules or fear of failure. Where Piltover’s scientists worked within lines, Y/n thrived in breaking them. He was building something more than inventions—he was creating possibilities.

And Mel, for the first time, didn’t feel like she was playing a game. Here, in Y/n’s lab, there were no Medardas to live up to, no political alliances to manage. She wasn’t a strategist. She was just Mel.

But that freedom came with a price, and it wasn’t long before the weight of reality began to creep back in.

It was another late evening, and the two of them stood over a table littered with gears, diagrams, and shattered crystals—casualties of their latest attempt to stabilize Y/n’s anomaly detector. A thin trail of smoke curled from a busted component, and Y/n rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing at the mess.

“Well,” he said with a lopsided grin, “another brilliant failure.”

Mel smirked, watching as he absentmindedly smeared a streak of oil across his cheek. “Not every failure is a loss,” she said. “Besides, it’s not the first.”

Y/n shot her a playful glance. “Is that your polite way of saying I’m terrible at this?”

“No,” she replied, leaning in just slightly. “It’s my way of saying you’re reckless.”

He laughed, that easy, open laugh that seemed to come so naturally to him. “And you like that, don’t you?”

Mel raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth lifting in amusement. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just waiting for you to blow something up.”

“Careful. You say things like that, and I might take it as encouragement.”

They were close—closer than they had been before. The air between them felt charged, like the moment just before a storm. Mel could feel the heat radiating from Y/n, smell the faint scent of smoke and copper that always clung to him.

She should have pulled away. She knew better. She had always known better. But Y/n wasn’t like the others who wanted something from her. He wasn’t looking for an alliance or trying to worm his way into her family’s power. All he wanted was her, just as she was.

And that, more than anything, terrified her.

“You know,” Y/n murmured, his voice softer now, “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Mel’s heart stuttered in her chest, but she kept her expression carefully neutral. “I could say the same.”

For a moment, it felt as though the entire world had shrunk to the space between them. And then Y/n took a step closer, hesitating for just a breath, as if waiting for her to pull away. When she didn’t, he reached up and gently tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear.

His touch was light, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down her spine. Mel wasn’t used to tenderness—she was used to power, to control. But there was no calculation in Y/n’s gaze, no hidden agenda. Just quiet, unspoken affection.

“I think you’re dangerous,” Y/n whispered, his eyes locking onto hers. “And I don’t care.”

Mel swallowed, her throat tight. She had always known how to handle ambition, betrayal, manipulation. But this—this quiet honesty—was something else entirely. It was disarming in a way she hadn’t expected.

Before she could stop herself, she leaned in, closing the distance between them. Their lips met, slow and tentative at first, as if neither of them quite believed it was happening. But the moment their mouths touched, something inside Mel shattered—something she hadn’t even realized she was holding onto.

The kiss deepened, and for a few fleeting seconds, there were no politics, no families, no cities divided by wealth and desperation. There was only the two of them, caught in a moment that felt both inevitable and impossible.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Y/n rested his forehead against hers, his hands still cradling her face.

“That was… unexpected,” he said, a breathless laugh escaping him.

Mel smiled, feeling lighter than she had in years. “You Zaunites do have a talent for disruption.”

Y/n grinned, brushing his thumb gently along her jawline. “Maybe Piltover could use a little disruption.”

Mel laughed softly, but the sound was tinged with something bittersweet. As much as she wanted to believe in this fragile thing between them, she knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

Nothing ever was.

——————————

The next day, Mel’s carefully constructed world began to close in on her.

It started with a meeting—an innocuous summons from her mother, Ambessa Medarda. But nothing involving her mother was ever innocuous.

“You’ve been distracted,” Ambessa said, her voice cold and sharp as a blade. She sat with perfect poise, her gaze as piercing as ever. “And that’s dangerous, Mel.”

Mel kept her expression impassive, though her heart hammered in her chest. “I’m handling everything.”

“Are you?” Ambessa arched a brow. “Because I hear whispers. Whispers of you spending time with a Zaunite.”

Mel’s stomach tightened, but she didn’t flinch. “He’s an apprentice to Heimerdinger. A scientist. Nothing more.”

“Nothing is ever ‘nothing’ in Piltover,” her mother snapped. “You know that better than anyone.”

Mel clenched her jaw, her mind racing. She had always known that her relationship with Y/n would be dangerous—not just for her, but for him. Zaunites were not welcome in the circles Mel moved in, no matter how brilliant they were. And a Medarda could not afford to be seen consorting with someone so far beneath their station.

“This is not a game, Mel,” Ambessa continued, her voice low and deadly. “The council is watching. Your enemies are watching. One wrong move, and they will destroy you—and him along with you.”

Mel’s hands curled into fists at her sides, but she kept her voice steady. “I know what I’m doing.”

Ambessa gave her a long, assessing look. “I hope you do. For his sake.”

As her mother’s words echoed in her mind, Mel felt the weight of reality settle over her like a shroud. What had started as a reckless indulgence was spiraling into something far more dangerous.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she could control it.

But as she stood on the edge of ruin, one thought remained clear:

She would not let Y/n be another casualty of Piltover’s games.

Even if it meant risking everything.

Bonus Chapter:

The rain was falling softly over Piltover, turning the cobblestone streets slick under the warm glow of gas lamps. From the balcony of her estate, Mel Medarda watched as the drops slid off the iron railing, lost in the night below. The world outside her doors was peaceful for once, yet her thoughts were a tempest she couldn’t escape.

Y/n had become something she could no longer ignore. What began as curiosity had grown into an ache—persistent, unrelenting, and far more dangerous than any political alliance or council negotiation. She knew she should walk away. She should shut it down before the inevitable fallout began.

But that wasn’t what her heart wanted.

A knock at the balcony door interrupted her thoughts, and before she could call out, it creaked open. Y/n stepped through, rainwater glistening on his coat. He wasn’t supposed to be here—he knew it, and so did she. But the sight of him, soaked and wind-tousled, was enough to shatter her resolve.

“Y/n,” Mel whispered, half in warning, half in relief.

He grinned as he pulled off his coat, draping it over the back of a chair. “I figured you could use some company tonight.”

She should have scolded him, reminded him of how reckless this was. If anyone caught him here—

But Y/n had a way of making her forget the rules, forget the consequences.

He crossed the balcony to stand beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke, content to listen to the patter of rain against the rooftops.

“You don’t belong here,” Mel said finally, her voice barely audible over the storm.

“I know.” Y/n’s gaze was steady, unwavering. “But I came anyway.”

Her heart twisted painfully at the simplicity of his words. Y/n never fought to earn a place in her world—he had simply shown up, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And somehow, that made it harder to resist him.

“You should leave before someone sees you,” she whispered, though the words felt hollow.

Y/n turned toward her, his expression soft. “Do you really want me to go?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the scar along his wrist—an old wound from an experiment gone wrong, a reminder of the risks he took for knowledge. For discovery.

“No,” she admitted at last, her voice breaking like the first crack in a dam. “I don’t.”

Y/n exhaled slowly, as if the weight of her confession had lifted something inside him. He took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. “Then let’s stop pretending we’re not in this together.”

Mel squeezed his hand, a mixture of fear and relief swelling in her chest. For so long, she had lived with caution, every move calculated, every relationship a step toward something greater. But with Y/n, there was no strategy. There was just the raw, messy truth of it.

And it terrified her.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n smiled, brushing a damp curl from her face. “Neither do I. But we’ll figure it out.”

For the first time in years, Mel felt something unfamiliar—hope. A fragile, dangerous hope that maybe, just maybe, they could make something real in a city built on lies.

They stood there for a long time, wrapped in the quiet rhythm of the rain, two souls from opposite worlds daring to believe in each other.

And in that stolen moment, beneath the shimmering veil of Piltover’s storm, Mel Medarda allowed herself to believe that some things—no matter how dangerous—were worth the risk.

[babyrunsforfanfic]

Mom & Dad | s.h.

summary: in which you and steve talk about what the future holds for the two of you

steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings/tags: established relationship, FLUFF, i just wanted to write a really fluffy fluff piece ok ok, talk about babies like reader and steve cheesy go in depth about babies and their life ok, picture that one convo where steve is talking about his future 6 little nuggets but it’s with someone who wants that too, no bad things happened everyone is alive and well and no one is unalived my house my rules everybody, the reader is kind of golden retriever-esque and yeah, CASUAL DOMINANCE from steve bc uh have y’all seen him ik you have

wc: 1325ish

•••

steve harrington hummed as he rubbed his cheek against the top of your hand, a faint smile curved on his cheek. he peppered a couple of kisses on your knuckles, before you squealed as he nipped at one of your rings.

“you’re gonna crack a tooth!” you whined, leaning to jab at his side with your freed hand. steve let out a huff, before he pressed a soft kiss to your ring, and then dropping your joined hands to rest against your leg “stevie? ‘m love you.”

“i love you, pretty girl.” steve leaned across the center console of his car to press a soft kiss to your forehead, before he took to tapping on your knee. “was thinking about you today, when i took the gremlins to school this morning.”

“yeah?” you turned, eyes bright as you batted your eyelashes toward your boyfriend. “thinking of how pretty i am? how i so deserve a neopolitan milkshake?”

“you want to go to benny’s later don’t you?” steve quirked his brow, and you nodded with a grin as he let out a laugh. steve continued to laugh as he pulled out of your driveway. “god you’re so lucky you are ridiculously adorable.”

steve watched from the corner of his eye as you playfully huffed, dropping his hand and crossing your arms over your chest. it was only for a bit though, as you perked up seeing a yellow labrador retriever being walked along the sidewalk. steve came to a stop at the stop light, barely biting his smile back as you craned your neck behind you to keep an eye on the dog.

“can we get one when we live together?” your question fell so easily from your lips, that steve barely felt his heart skip. a car honking made steve move again, and he pressed back onto the gas as he started driving again.

“what, you want a lab?” steve questioned, and you nodded quickly, shyly smiling. “surprised you don’t want a golden retriever.”

“want one of those too.” you giggled, and steve watched from his peripheral as you folded one of your knees to your chest.

“put that down, not safe.” steve pressed his left hand firmly to the steering wheel, before flicking his thumb and pointer against your knee. “if we got into a wreck that’d hurt you, put your pretty leg down.”

you listened almost instantly, and instead grappled for steve’s hand, entwining his fingers with your own.

“figured maybe when we moved into a house, y’know?” you explained, tapping a finger against steve’s hand. “little yard, white picket fence that way our dogs could run around.”

“thought about this a lot, huh?” steve teased, and you nodded as he pulled into the parking lot of hawkins high school.

“yeah.” you shrugged, fiddling with the sleeve of the sweater steve had let you borrow. “figured we’d get settled down, i mean one day this’ll be us.”

you gestured around you, smiling as you looked to the middle school and high school buildings.

“we’ll be ugly brick buildings?” steve teased, and he grinned as he listened to you groan and throw your head against the headrest with a small thud.

“no!” you whined, waving your hands around in front of you. “one day we’ll have kids, y’know?”

“oh.” steve swallowed, before he sent you a faint smile. “and what’ll these kids be like?”

“oh my god- so, they’ll honestly be such nerds it won’t even be funny.” you giggled, eyes wide as you unrolled steve’s passenger side window. “but it’ll be okay because they might be little jocks- i mean they’ll be ours so they’ll be good, y’know?”

“like the party?” steve asked softly, and steve just watched as you let out a fond little sigh.

“of course like the party!” you grinned, an ear to ear thing that made steve’s heart ache. “they’ll be such smart asses, but our little smart asses! and they’ll have your hair-”

“but your eyes.” steve smoothly cut in, and he turned in his seat to be able to face you more.

“my eyes?” you repeated, and steve grinned wide as he propped his elbow on his center console so he could watch you. “really?”

“oh yeah.” steve leaned forward and pinched your nose playfully, reveling in the shy way you dipped your chin and batted your eyes at him. “and we’ll have a shitty camper van, travel every summer when they’re out of school and see the world.”

“how many?” you squealed, eyes wide, turning even more in your seat, barely noticing that steve undid your seatbelt so it wouldn’t bite into your neck. “like three boys and-”

“three girls.” steve grinned, leaning closer to you. “you, me, all of them loaded into a camper. drive around and see the rockies and the grand canyon, maybe even yellowstone.”

“end up in california!” you added, squealing as you grinned widely up at steve. steve hummed, a fond smile spread on his face as he wiggled his fingers into your side so you’d laugh again. “all of us harringtons could end up in a little beach-side town, learn how to surf and catch sand dollars.”

“yes!” steve grinned, leaning his head against his headrest so he could still look at you. “us and our little brood of harringtons.”

“i’d like that.” you nodded, tapping your fingertips against the back of steve’s hand. “oh my god us being on the pta and doing scouts!”

“you just want an excuse to keep boxes of girl scout cookies in the freezer.” steve teased, and he laughed when you didn’t make a move to deny it.

“oh my god, and we’d have a dog-” you grinned, thinking for a moment. “probably a fish.”

“a fish our kids begged us to get, but we end up taking care of.” steve joked and you nodded, a wide smile on your face. “and we’d gripe about us having to take care of it, but we really wouldn’t mind.”

“and we’d pay the neighbor’s kids to go and take care of them when we’re out of town.” you added, voice shy as you blinked up toward steve. “yeah?”

steve hummed leaning forward to curl one of his hands against your cheek. his thumb soothed gently across your cheekbone, following the swell of it as he nodded. he used his fingers to tilt your face up, his eyes focused on yours.

steve said nothing as he leaned forward and let out a soft sigh, before he brushed his lips across yours. you tasted sweet, like the bubblegum he kept specifically for you in his center console. you keened into his kiss, and steve couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped as he slid his free hand up so it could rest against the nape of your neck.

when you both pulled away, steve couldn’t help but smile at your kiss swollen pout. he leaned forward again and planted a softer kiss against your mouth, just in time to hear the school bell ring. you smiled shyly, pulling away from steve as you flipped the sun visor down. steve watched fondly as you used the mirror to right your hair, sliding a thumb under your lip to wipe away any smudged chapstick.

steve flipped the radio on, and sent you a wide smile as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. he smiled even wider somehow when you entwined the fingers of one of your hands with his, and he couldn’t help but pepper a couple more kisses along your knuckles.

yeah, he could see himself having a whole brood of harringtons.

ones with his hair, your eyes.

them calling you, mom and him, dad.

steve shook his head, unlocking the car as the party came into view. he listened to your squeal as you leaned out the car’s window- waving at the group of high school students frantically with your free hand.

yeah, he could definitely imagine that.

[ggjunkie]

Chained

A look on different anecdotes involving your developing relationship with Adam.

(College AU)

Everyone on campus knew Adam, and everyone knew about his necklace. It was a constant presence around his neck, an accessory as essential to him as the air he breathed. Legends whispered that he once ended a relationship because his girlfriend dared suggest he remove it. Some said it was a matter of principle for him, a line he wouldn't let anyone cross.

Personally, you believed he broke up with her because of the fact that he caught her cheating on him with some blond twink… but to each their own. Gossip was a staple of campus life, and stories had a way of morphing over time.

The necklace itself was a curious thing. One of his guitar picks, golden and shimmering like a tiny beacon of light. The chain, sleek and black, provided a stark contrast against the metallic glow. You, being Adam's science lab partner, had spent enough time around him to notice its significance. Yet, despite your proximity, you couldn't understand why it held such importance for him. But then again, you weren't exactly eager to strike up a conversation with him to find out.

Adam was, for lack of a better word, a dick. He had a way of rubbing people the wrong way, and you had little interest in getting on his bad side. But despite his less-than-endearing personality traits, you prided yourself on being a decent person. So, when you noticed his necklace lying abandoned on his desk with Adam nowhere to be seen, a sense of obligation stirred within you.

As you carefully lift the necklace, the broken chain confirms your suspicions. Adam's infamous temper must have flared, leading to an outburst that resulted in the necklace being flung aside in frustration. It's a familiar scenario, one that you've witnessed in passing before.

Yet, despite your less-than-favorable opinion of Adam, or at least the opinion you try to convince yourself of, the image of his meltdown tugs at your heartstrings. Beneath his prickly exterior lies a person with vulnerabilities and struggles, just like anyone else. And in this moment, imagining him upset over this piece of jewelry stirs a surprising wave of empathy within you. Your thumb glides over the smooth surface of the guitar pick, the golden hue catching the light in a mesmerizing display.

But now comes the dilemma: do you intervene, stepping beyond the boundaries of your relationship with Adam, or do you respect his privacy and simply return the necklace back to the desk without delving deeper into the situation like a normal person would?

—

You winded up going through with it.

And what is “it”, you may ask?

Well, repairing Adam’s necklace, of course. It might not have been the most conventional move, but you've never been one to follow the crowd. Some might call it foolish, but you prefer to think of it as being true to yourself, even if that means taking idiotic risks.

Sure, you and Adam have your differences. Okay, maybe more than just differences. You practically exist on opposite ends of the spectrum. He likes to piss you off by making crude comments catered towards your body, and you like to piss him off by threatening to spill chemicals down his shitty band t-shirts. Your dynamic is more like oil and water than anything resembling friendship.

But beneath the surface, there's a tension—a spark of something that neither of you quite understands. Maybe it's the adrenaline of sparring with someone who matches your wit, or maybe it's something deeper, something you're not quite ready to acknowledge.

And maybe, just maybe, you've entertained the thought that fixing his necklace could be your way of extending an olive branch. A peace offering in the form of a repaired chain, a silent plea for a truce between two sworn enemies. Or maybe, if you dare to entertain the idea, it could be your ticket to something more—a chance to explore the uncharted territory of a potential romance.

Of course, you're not naive. You're well aware that your fantasies might be nothing more than wishful thinking. Adam might not even appreciate the gesture, let alone reciprocate your feelings. But hey, a little delusion never hurt anyone, right? And who knows, maybe—just maybe—there's a glimmer of hope buried beneath all the snark and sarcasm.

Relief washed over you when your crafty friend finally returned with the fixed necklace. It had taken a few days, but their skillful hands had worked wonders, restoring Adam's prized possession to its former glory.

As your friend handed over the repaired necklace, you couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude mixed with embarrassment. Their knowing look spoke volumes, and you quickly averted your eyes, feeling your cheeks flush with heat. It was as if they could see right through you, understanding the significance of this seemingly simple gesture.

"Thanks," you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rush of emotions. "I owe you one. Seriously."

Your friend just smiled, a knowing glint in their eyes, before waving off your gratitude. "No need to thank me. Just make sure you-know-who appreciates the effort, okay?"

You nodded, swallowing hard as you pocketed the repaired necklace. With a silent promise to repay your friend's kindness, you made your way out of their workshop, the repaired necklace burning a hole in your pocket. Now all that was left was to track down Adam and deliver it to him, a task that suddenly felt much more daunting than you had anticipated. But you were determined to see it through, come hell or high water. After all, you had come this far. There was no turning back now.

As you approached the Music Hall, you couldn't shake off the sense of anticipation that tingles through your veins. Each step brought you closer to Adam, to the moment when you would finally hand over his repaired necklace and, perhaps, put an end to the tension that had simmered between you for far too long.

The familiar sight of the Music Hall greeted you as you pushed open the door, the air thick with the scent of wood polish and old instruments. You nodded in greeting to a passing friend, their smile barely registering as you focused on the task at hand.

With determined steps, you made your way down the narrow hallway towards the practice rooms, your ears straining for any sign of Adam's presence. But to your surprise, the practice rooms appeared deserted, the usually bustling space eerily quiet.

Frowning in confusion, you peered into each room as you passed, your heart sinking with each empty space you encountered. Where could Adam be? Had you missed him somehow, or had he found some secluded spot to escape the chaos of campus life?

Just as you were about to give up hope, a faint sound caught your attention—a soft melody drifting from one of the rooms at the end of the hallway. With renewed determination, you quickened your pace, following the sound until you reached the door of the practice room.

Peeking in, you were greeted by the sight of Adam, alone in the dimly lit space, his guitar cradled in his arms as he strummed gently. The absence of an amp gave his music an intimate quality, as if you were witnessing a private moment meant for his ears alone.

For a moment, you hesitated, struck by the vulnerability in Adam's posture, the way his eyes were closed in concentration and his lips moved silently with the lyrics. It was a rare glimpse into a side of him you had never seen before, a reminder that beneath the tough exterior lay a regular person.

Adam's eyes snapped open at the sound of your knock, the irritation evident in his furrowed brow. With a few muttered curses, he carefully leaned his guitar against the wall before wrenching the door open.

The moment the door swung open, you were met with a wave of his frustration, the tension in the air almost palpable. His scowl deepened as he glared at you, clearly not in the mood for any interruptions.

“No I’m not doing that stupid fucking evaluation. Mrs. Farring can suck it if she thinks I will. Fuck off—“

“That’s not why I’m here.” Your hands raised in a placating manner, a silent plea for him to lower his guard.Your voice was steady despite the rising tension. Adam's temper was like a simmering pot threatening to boil over, and you desperately hoped to prevent it from spilling into a full-blown confrontation.

At your words, he doesn’t seem to calm down though. “Then again, fuck off. Get the fuck out. Adios, sayonara, goodbye. Now leave!”

“Adam, chill out—“

“Chill out??” Adam bristled at your words. “I’m gonna bite off your fucking nipple if you think I’m gonna just roll over for you, you fucking bitch. I am not some kind of fucking dog or pug or fucking whatever else.”

Despite Adam's continued hostility, you refused to let his insults affect you. With a roll of your eyes, you brushed off his aggression, determined to stay focused on the task at hand.

You reached into your pocket and retrieved the repaired necklace, holding it out to him with a flourished gesture. His eyebrow raised in skepticism, but he extended his hand nonetheless, allowing you to drop the jewelry into his waiting palm.

The necklace landed with a soft clatter, the sound echoing in the tense silence that hung between you. Adam hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between you and the necklace in his hand. It was clear that he was surprised by your gesture, his guard momentarily lowered by the unexpected act of kindness.

“What the fuck is this?”

You blinked at Adam's sudden change in demeanor, his aggression giving way to bewilderment. His reaction caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but furrow your brows in response.

"Wait, what do you mean?" you asked, your confusion evident in your voice. You really hope you didn’t fuck upl. "Isn't this your necklace?"

Adam's lip curled in a snarl as he scrutinized the jewelry in his hand, his intense gaze never leaving the gleaming surface of the necklace. "No, no it is," he admitted, his tone begrudgingly acknowledging the truth. "It's just... not broken."

“Yeah, there’s a thing called ‘fixing it’”

He stares at you, his expression suddenly unreadable. This was unusual, as Adam was an open book. That, and he had two default emotions: angry, and horny. There’s this weird vulnerability in his eyes and it’s freaking you out.

“You fixed my necklace.” It’s not a question, but you nod anyway. “Why?”

“It was broken.”

His expression flattens out, and that familiar temper starts making itself known. “Yeah no fucking shit, dipshit. Why did you fix it.”

“Because…” you rack your brain for an answer, but come up empty handed. “I don’t know. I just know it meant a lot to you.”

“So you paid to get it repaired?”

“My friend did it actually, free of charge. I didn’t trust anyone else to touch it.”

You shifted on your feet, the sensation of nervousness coursing through your veins like a jolt of electricity. There was something in the air, something intangible yet undeniable, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering on the brink of something unknown.

As Adam's gaze remained fixed on the necklace in his hand, his thumb tracing over the golden guitar pick with a touch of reverence, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. The image of his fingers caressing the smooth surface of the pendant sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a desire that you quickly pushed away.

You berated yourself for the dirty thought, for the forbidden longing that stirred within you.

“Can you…” he continued looking at his necklace. “Can you help me put it on?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, but you refuse to let the opportunity pass. “Of course.”

With a hesitance you haven’t seen from him, he hands the necklace to you and turns around. Without a word, you took the necklace from his outstretched hand, the metal cool against your skin as you held it delicately in your palm. With a gentle touch, you reached up and brushed the short ends of hair out of the way, your fingers lingering against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. The sensation of your touch sent a shiver down his spine, a reaction that mirrored the fluttering in your own chest.

Ah. So he feels this…thing… in the air, too.

As you placed the necklace around Adam's neck and clasped it together, a sense of relief washed over you. The tension that had lingered between you seemed to dissipate with the final click of the clasp, replaced by a fleeting moment of connection that left you both feeling strangely vulnerable.

But as grateful as you were that the necklace didn't somehow break on you, creating an awkward situation, you knew that it was time to create some distance again. With a reluctant heart, you took a few steps back, putting space between you and Adam once more.

He waits a second before turning back around, his hands coming up to fiddle with the necklace. It looks like he’s about to say something, but you beat him to the punch. “I think I should get going.”

He thins his mouth into a line before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah of course. I should… probably get back to my guitar.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

“Yep. See you.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

With a final glance back into the practice room, you watched as Adam remained fixated on his necklace, his expression a mixture of contemplation and fascination. Despite his earlier insistence on getting back to his instrument, he seemed unable to tear his gaze away from the gleaming pendant hanging around his neck.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you observed him from afar, a strange sense of fondness settling over you.

What a weirdo.

—

As Adam slid into the seat next to you in science class, you couldn't help but notice the absence of his usual crude remarks or inappropriate comments. Instead, he greeted you with a simple head nod before turning his attention to Mrs. Farring, the science professor.

It was a stark departure from his usual behavior, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was different about him today. His focused demeanor, rare for someone who typically paid little attention to the lecture, raised a red flag in your mind.

Despite the nagging curiosity gnawing at you, you decided to follow Adam's lead and redirect your attention to Mrs. Farring, determined not to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was a small victory, perhaps, but a significant one nonetheless, and you were grateful for the respite from his usual antics.

The sight of Adam's subtle glances in your direction during class had left you feeling uneasy, a knot of worry forming in the pit of your stomach. You couldn't shake the feeling that maybe you had overstepped your boundaries by fixing his necklace, fearing that he might see your actions as intrusive or unwelcome.

Lost in your own thoughts, you were jolted back to reality when a torn piece of paper suddenly slid your way. Startled, you looked down at the note, your heart racing as you unfolded it to reveal a single word written in Adam's handwriting:

"Thanks."

With a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you glanced up at Adam, who was pointedly avoiding your gaze, his attention focused elsewhere in the classroom. Despite his attempts to appear indifferent, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth at the sight, knowing that your gesture had not gone unnoticed.

Determined to ease any lingering tension between you, you reached for your own pen and quickly scribbled a response on the torn piece of paper before sliding it back across the table to Adam.

"What kind of lab partner would I be if I didn't help?"

He quickly writes back.

“A normal one. But I’m glad you’re not.”

The unexpected response from Adam caught you off guard, and a warmth spread through your chest at his words, even if they were somewhat cryptic. His acknowledgment, though brief, felt like a small victory.

Before you could formulate a response, Adam swiftly took the paper, crumpled it, and tossed it into his bag with a nonchalant gesture.

—

"So, what's the deal with the necklace?"

Adam glares at you, his eyes narrowing with a mix of irritation and something else you can't quite place. For a moment, you think he might actually respond, but instead, he diverts his attention back to the paper packet in front of him. He brushes off your question with a dismissive wave of his hand, the same hand that now holds a pencil, poised above the page.

The room is silent except for the faint scratch of pencil on paper as Adam writes down an answer. You watch him closely, noticing the slight furrow in his brow, the way his jaw clenches in concentration. He pauses, eyes scanning what he's written, then sighs and erases it. The tapping of the pencil against the desk becomes a rhythmic punctuation to his thoughts.

You inch closer to Adam, closing the gap between your desks with a mischievous glint in your eye. With calculated precision, you deliver a well-aimed elbow jab to his ribs, a playful gesture that's become something of a tradition between the two of you.

"Ow!" Adam hisses through clenched teeth, his hand instinctively moving to the spot where you struck him. He shoots you a reproachful glare, but there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes despite the pain. "Bro. For once, I’m actually trying to do the work. Be grateful, you dickhole.”

You elbow him again.

“What?” Adam hisses through clenched teeth, shooting you a warning glance to keep your antics in check. The library is hushed around you, filled with the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional whisper of students studying in pairs. You can tell he's trying to maintain a semblance of composure, not wanting to draw the attention of the librarian who patrols the aisles like a hawk.

You were honestly surprised when Adam had suggested meeting at the library. It wasn't his usual haunt for studying, and his sudden change in venue piqued your curiosity. But what surprised you even more was his demeanor lately. He seemed... different.

Adam had been nicer, more accommodating, and surprisingly patient, especially when it came to working together on the science project. He'd even offered to help you with some of the more challenging aspects, something you never would've expected from him before.

It wasn't just his actions that had changed; his words had softened too. He was being friendlier, more open in his conversations, and there was a noticeable lack of his usual snark and sarcasm. It was as if a switch had been flipped, transforming him from the brash, abrasive guy you'd come to expect into someone... well, someone you could actually tolerate spending time wit

“Answer my question.” you whisper back, raising your arm in threat to elbow him once more. His eye twitches, yet he makes no move to brush you off. Instead, he deeply sighs.

“It was a gift from my dad. Happy?” He mutters, rounding his attention back to the paper packet.

“Aw, that’s cute.”

He writes something down, applying more pressure than necessary. “Shut the fuck up.”

you notice a subtle twitch in Adam's lip, almost a smile yet not quite, a tiny crack in his carefully composed facade. It's a small victory, but it fills you with a sense of satisfaction to know that you've managed to elicit a reaction from him. Grinning mischievously, you lean in closer, your fingers gently curling around the piece of jewelry that hangs from his neck. “Is this your dad’s pick?”

He takes a moment to reply. That makes you tilt your head to see his face– and woah. You’re a whole lot closer than you realized. For a second, you’re breathing in the same air. Adam's eyes dip down for a moment, his gaze lingering on your lips before darting back up to meet your gaze. It's a subtle movement, almost imperceptible, but it sends a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

Adam nervously clears his throat, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he also realizes your proximity. You take the hint and slowly retract your hand, letting it fall back to your side as you give him some space.

"Uh, yeah," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, "He actually introduced me to guitar." His admission catches you off guard, and you can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. There's a vulnerability in his voice that you've rarely heard before, a rawness that tugs at your heartstrings.

As he continues, his words come out in a rush, as if he's been holding them back for far too long. "He knew he was getting sick. And this was the last gift before he passed."

The small bit of guilt settles in your chest, weighing heavy with the realization that your earlier teasing might have crossed a line. "I'm sorry," you murmur softly, the words tinged with sincerity as you meet Adam's gaze.

"Why?" He tilts his head, genuinely bewildered by your apology. "You helped me fix it," he adds, his tone laced with a hint of gratitude. For a moment, you see a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps surprise, or maybe even warmth. He starts to reach for your hands before seeming to think better of it, opting instead to cough into his fist, a subtle yet telling gesture of restraint.

Adam's voice is soft, almost hesitant, as if the words he's about to speak are unfamiliar territory for him. "I know I don’t say it much– or at all, really. But uh." He pauses, his gaze fixed on some point in the distance, avoiding direct eye contact. "Thank you. For uh, bringing my dad back to me."

His vulnerability catches you off guard, and for a moment, you're rendered speechless. It's a rare glimpse into the deeper layers of Adam's character, a side he rarely reveals to others. Despite the gruff exterior he often presents to the world, here he is, opening up in a way that feels almost fragile.

Without a word, you reach out and place your hand on top of his, offering a silent reassurance.

–

As you made your way through the chaotic college party, dodging drunken revelers and avoiding the various unsavory activities unfolding around you, you couldn't help but feel a growing sense of discomfort. College parties had never been your scene, and tonight was proving to be no exception.

After witnessing one too many couples engaging in …public displays of affection… on the poor owner's couch, you decided that you'd had enough. Chugging down the rest of your water, you made a beeline for the stairs, desperate for some peace and quiet away from the chaos below.

Your search for solace led you to try several doors along the upstairs hallway, hoping to find an unoccupied room where you could take a much-needed break. It took three tries before you finally stumbled upon the master bedroom, and as you hesitantly cracked the door open, you were surprised to find only one person inside.

Adam.

He had brought his guitar with him— which of course he had. At the sound of the door opening, he swung his head up and furrowed his brows.

“Get the fuck out.”

Ignoring his command, you pushed the door open further, revealing yourself to him. His furrowed brows relaxed slightly as he strained his neck to look past you, checking to see if anyone else was behind you. When he realized you were alone, a visible tension seemed to melt away from his shoulders.

“Sup, bitch. Trynna get some?”

As Adam reverted to his crude demeanor, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. His sudden shift in behavior left you feeling taken aback, wondering why he had returned to his usual abrasive attitude after showing a glimpse of something different.

However, upon closer inspection, you noticed the insincerity in his smile, the falseness that lurked behind his facade of bravado. It was clear that his crude remarks were merely a defense mechanism, a way to mask his vulnerability and keep others at arm's length.

Deciding to trust your instincts, you chose to ignore Adam's crude remarks and instead focus on the bigger picture.

“What’re you playing?”

“What?” He asks, genuinely confused.

You gesture to his guitar. “What’re you playing?”

“Oh. Uh. Not really anything. Got any requests?”

You pretend to think. “Hot cross buns?”

He levels his expression, unimpressed. “Seriously?”

“No, I’m just fucking with you.” You smile. Somehow, that gets him to smile back. “You know ‘Mean To You’?”

He scrunches his nose, which is honestly a cute look. Mentally, you take a picture and save it for later to swoon over. “By that Brightman bitch?” He asks.

As Adam adjusted his finger placement on the frets and began to strum the song on his guitar, you found yourself instinctively humming along to the familiar melody as it flowed from the strings. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment as Adam abruptly stopped playing, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made you squirm slightly under his scrutiny. Had you been off-pitch? Were you intruding on his moment of solitude with your humming?

“What?” you asked, your voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

Adam hesitated for a moment, one hand instinctively moving to fiddle with his necklace as he averted his eyes, pretending to busy himself with tuning his guitar. "You can sing along, you know," he said finally, his tone softer than before. "Hearing words makes it easier to keep my place."

As Adam restarted the song and you joined in, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and surprise. You hadn't expected him to actually want to hear you sing, especially given his usual sensitivity when it came to music. But despite your initial reservations, you couldn't deny the thrill of the moment as your voice mingled with his guitar in a harmonious duet.

Your voice may have been a bit breathy and unsupported, lacking the polish of a trained singer, but Adam didn't seem to mind. In fact, as you sang, he closed his eyes and seemed to lose himself in the music, his fingers deftly moving across the frets of his guitar with practiced ease.

If you looked closely, you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As the final chord of the song reverberated through the room, Adam slowly opened his eyes and turned to look at you, his gaze locking with yours in a moment of shared understanding. And then, to your surprise, he smiled—a genuine, heartfelt smile that seemed to light up his face and soften the hard edges of his demeanor.

Caught off guard by the unexpected warmth in his expression, you couldn't help but return the smile, feeling a rush of butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the sight of the softness in his eyes.

As Adam's eyes flickered down to your mouth, a sudden heat ignited between you, his gaze turning intense and smoldering. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his eyelids drooped slightly, his desire unmistakable in the way he looked at you.

When his gaze returned to meet yours, you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless and wanting more. And then, in a rush of heat and anticipation, you felt yourselves leaning in towards each other, drawn together by an irresistible magnetic force.

The first touch of his lips against yours sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, a surge of desire that threatened to consume you both. And as your lips moved together in a heated embrace, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his mouth against yours.

Adam was a damn good kisser, his lips moving with a practiced ease that left you gasping for air. It lasted only a few seconds before he pulled back, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before his tongue slipped into your mouth, igniting a firestorm of passion between you.

As your hands slid up Adam's biceps, tracing the contours of his strong muscles, you couldn't help but admire the power and strength that lay beneath his rough exterior. And when you felt him flex in response to your touch, a small laugh escaped your lips, the sound muffled by the heat of the kiss.

But any amusement you felt was quickly replaced by a surge of desire as Adam playfully sucked on your tongue, sending a shiver of pleasure coursing through you. His lips were hot against yours, his tongue teasing and tantalizing in a way that left you breathless and wanting more.

Your hands continued their exploration, moving up his arms and over his shoulders, applying gentle pressure before wrapping around his neck. One hand toyed with the short ends of his hair, eliciting a low groan from him as he pressed you back into the mattress with a hungry urgency.

As Adam peeled himself off of you, his arms still supporting his weight as he hovered over you, you couldn't help but notice the way his necklace caught the light, shimmering and reflecting the soft glow of the bedroom.

Wrapping your hand around his necklace, you gently tugged on it, using the delicate chain to pull him back down towards you.

–

One second, you were immersed in the quiet ambiance of the library, the scent of old books and faint whispers surrounding you as you poured over your final exam notes. The next, darkness enveloped your vision, a warm, steady pressure pressing against your eyes. Instinctively, your hand shot up to remove whatever it was that had obscured your sight, only to encounter something oddly clammy.

"Guess who?"

“Adam,” you frown, bringing your hands to cup over his own. “You know it’s cringe when you do that.”

You feel, rather than hear, him snicker in delight at your disgusted reaction. Ever since that memorable night at the college party, the two of you had found yourselves in an unexpectedly steady rhythm. Adam, it turned out, was a surprisingly good boyfriend—caring, attentive, and, well, a little bit of a shit. But you wouldn’t have him any other way.

“Can you stop blinding me so I can get back to work?” you ask, a twinge of annoyance at his interruption.

“Yeah, just one second. Keep your eyes closed.”

You do as he asks, keeping your eyes obediently closed, though curiosity gnaws at you. The shuffling of fabric and the soft clinking of metal fill the air, accompanied by the faint scent of his cologne. You resist the urge to peek, letting the anticipation build as seconds tick by.

Finally, his hands retreat, and you feel a slight shift in the air as something is placed before you. The anticipation is palpable, like the charged atmosphere before a thunderstorm. Your heart pounds with excitement and a hint of nervousness, wondering what Adam could possibly be up to.

“Okay, baby,” he sounds nervous. “You can open them.”

Slowly, you crack open your eyes, expecting to see some prank or jest. But what you find leaves you speechless. There, nestled atop your meticulously arranged notes, lies a necklace, its golden chain catching the soft glow of the library lights. It matches Adam's. The guitar pick is the same shade as Adam's eyes, and for a moment, you're struck by the thoughtfulness of the gesture.

“You like it, baby?”

You look at him, feeling happy-tears prick the corner of your eyes. “I adore it.”