#seeing how everyone has a different look on him

[yuwuta]

f2l with katsuki but there’s nobody who rides harder for you two being a couple than izuku and not even in a weird pining threeway kind of way. just genuinely, from the bottom of his heart, he’s always believed you two should be together. he’s always watched you two growing up, he’s always chased after you two, he’s always seen the way you both lean into each other and still find space to pull him up too. he thinks you and katsuki deserve each other, he knows you two are meant for each other. it’s excruciating for izuku to watch you two not realize it for so long, heartbreaking to watch kacchan figure it out but not say anything, and the worst pain of all is watching you date other people because you’re too stubborn to realize your soulmate is has been right next to you your entire life. it’s exhausting, and izuku is bitter about it.

and petty. whenever you mention you have a date, his response is always “is it with kacchan?” “huh? no, it’s—” “that’s too bad then.” he pretends not to remember any of your boyfriends’ names and somewhere along the way he just stops pretending and really doesn’t care to learn them. he’s sweet and all smiles with everyone else, but the second someone other than katsuki is interested in you, there’s a straight frown on his lips. he’s out for drinks with katsuki and he’s noticed some guys eyeing him from across the restaurant, so izuku goes to greet them while katsuki is in the bathroom, all bright smiles and hero facade beaming as he signs the shorter one’s baseball cap with a sigh, “kacchan is handsome, right? you should see his girl, she’s stunning too,” capping the sharpie and any potential plans for flirting for the evening. he’s spent many nights gossiping with mitsuki and inko about you two, crying about how seeing you two dating other people is harder than any other mission he’s ever been sent on.

sometimes izuku just wants to shove the two of you in a locker and keep you in there until you decide to be together. he spends so much time with his chin in his palm, sighing with such yearning for a relationship that isn’t even his own. his eyes are soft right now, watching you and katsuki in the communal kitchen of the agency. there’s a slight glare shining through the glass walls, but he can see your smiles bright as day. you lean with your back to the counter, stirring your tea mindlessly as katsuki faces you, arms crossed but posture relaxed, no doubt saying something to rile you up judging by the slick grin on his face. you’re much shorter than him, but izuku remembers the days when you were taller than both of them back in second grade; he thinks the height difference panned out nicely. kacchan could lean down and kiss you right now, izuku wishes he would. a soft smile paints izuku’s face—they only keep that tea in the cabinets for the days you decide to visit, and katsuki only teases to hear your sharp tongue counter him. he must be in a particularly good mood today—or maybe, he’s happy because you’ve visited—judging by the way he throws his head back with a hearty cackle after you’ve said something to him. that’s good, hopefully you’ll keep his spirits up when they leave for patrol later. izuku gets so caught up in his daydreaming that he’s startled when there’s a knocking on the glass, and now you’re next to it smiling at his startled face and waving to him. he looks at you, then back to katsuki, who’s shadowed you to the glass wall, hovering protectively like he always has. izuku shakes his head in disbelief, but waves back. he finds the glass fitting, a window he’s looking into. he just hopes the scene changes to something more romantic sooner rather than later.

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 2

Part 1

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1608

If anyone were to ask how he reacted when Damian jumped from the bed to attack him, Dick would say that he reacted exactly as a vigilante who’s been on the job for years now would. Ask anyone else who was there to witness it though and you’d get a much different story of events. 

"Aaaahhh!" Both Dick and Damian slam onto the ground. Damian hits don't pack as much of a punch as they normally would, but that doesn't mean they're not precise when hitting a body's weak spots. "Dam- oof, Damian! It’s okay, you're safe! I'm your brother!" 

That did not have the desired effect he wished it did on the smaller boy; if anything Damian seemed to grow angrier at the mention of them being brothers. "Liar!"  

The others must have heard the commotion because the next moment the med bay door is being thrown open with everyone rushing in. Jason is the first one to get to them, and when he does he's quick to grab Damian. He holds the furiously kicking child to his chest while pinning Damian's arms to his side. 

"Dick, you alright?" Duke is kneeling by his side with a comforting hand on his shoulder as he helps Dick sit up. "Baby Damian really caught you off guard, huh?"

Somewhere in the midst of all the chaos happening Dick hears the sound of a camera click, and he can't help but smile. Another photo down!

"Damian," Bruce's voice is firm as he says, "You need to calm down; no one here is going to hurt you."

That of course does nothing to calm the child who just woke up with strangers surrounding him. "Since when has telling someone to calm down ever worked?" Tim questions as he watches everything from the doorway. 

Bruce sends a slight glare Tim's way before directing his attention back to his youngest child, "Chum, my name is Bruce Wayne, do you know who I am?"

"No, but I know that you've somehow managed to take me hostage," Damian growls out. He's stopped struggling in Jason's arms, and seems to be analyzing them all with a hard gaze. "Who are you working for?"

"Do you know about Batman?" Bruce counter questions instead of giving any kind of answer. 

"I might; is he the one behind this?" Damian for the first time looks unsure about what's happening,

Jason gives a little amused huff, "That is Batman, demon brat."

"Surely not!" Damian judgmentally looks Bruce up and down, "Batman is definitely taller than him." 

That of course got a laugh from everyone, and even Bruce had an amused smile on his face as he thought about how Damian said something similar when meeting him for the first time. 

"And do you know who Batman is when it comes to you?" Dick asks after a few seconds. It's clear at this point that Bruce is trying to see if Damian has been told who his father is. If they can establish that relationship now it might save them all from anymore attacks; at least for the rest of the night.

Instead of answering Damian tucks his chin to his chest and glares at the ground. What's really shocking though is how his body goes almost limp. It seems to shock Jason as well because his tight grip even loosen, and changes to a more gentle hold.

Asking questions probably isn't going to get the baby assassin to trust Dick thinks to himself; not with how his youngest brother was raised. They're going to have to try something else, "Hey Dami, how about we-" 

Before he can continue though Dick is cut off by a loud smacking sound. Damian had very suddenly thrown his head back so that it would hit Jason square in the face. He wouldn't be surprised if it even broke Jason's nose from the sound.

With Jason's grip already loose it doesn't take a lot of effort for Damian to escape his grasp, and make a run for the door. Tim, who was far more focused on his camera, didn’t even have a second to properly react before he was being knocked out of the way. Allowing the young child access to the whole cave.  

"Motherfu-" Jason cuts himself off with a groan before running towards the door as well, "You really let him run right past you, Timbo?"

"You're the one who let him go!"

"He broke my nose!" 

"Guys!" Duke shouts as he runs past the two of them, "let's focus on finding Damian before fighting with each other!" 

That kicked everyone into gear as soon all of them were now trying to find the escapee who had seemingly disappeared. The only thing they can hope for right now is that he doesn't find a weapon of any kind. 

Everyone has split off in different areas to search, and taking the situation more seriously knowing that the kid could pop out of anywhere and attack them. It's not until after 20 mins of searching that Dick decides to just start speaking, hoping that he can somehow convince him to come out of hiding at the very least. 

"Damian, I know that you know Batman is your father, and now you know that Bruce," He gestures to where the older man is standing, "is Batman; your father! I swear you are safe here."

The cave is covered in silence as everyone waits for a response to come. Just as it looks like nothing will happen a slight but deliberate sound comes from the side of where he is.

"Damia-" 

"Silence." Damian speaks forward enough to be seen, but making sure to stand out of reach, "Did Mother set this test up? Grandfather? Either way I'm not falling for it. If you wanted to make this more convincing you should have included my brother."

Dick felt a pain in his chest at that word. Brother? Did Damian really have a brother while at the league? Is he talking about a sort of battle brother, or did Talia have another kid? Is it Bruce's kid? Taking a glance to where Bruce is he sees that the man must be having the same thoughts as his face sits somewhere between anger and grief. 

"You have a brother!?" Tim is the one that finally asks the question on everyone's mind. 

"There is no need to continue this act; I've already figured out that this isn't real."

"Like the same mom, same dad type of brother?" Duke even looks aghast at the revelation of a second possible child of Bruce. 

Damian only looks more annoyed at each question, but answers anyway in a tone that makes it clear that he thinks the answer is obvious, "Tt of course. That tends to be the case with twins after all." 

Damian has a twin?

The de-aged child in front of him could lie about a lot of things right now to get an advantage in this situation, but what advantage does lying about a twin get him? Damian seems so sure that all of this is a test from the league. There is no way he could lie about something like this. 

Damian is a twin. 

As much as Dick wished it wasn’t true he couldn’t lie to himself about this. Between the ages of 6 and 10 something must have happened to the other boy. He’d bet money that whatever it was made Talia bring Damian to the manor. Why did she or Damian never say anything? Was his brother even given the chance to mourn the loss of his brother?

Damian had a twin. 

"Jason, you were with the league for a while, did Damian really have a twin?" Tim whispers quietly to the man standing next to him.

"I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind when I was there, and even then I never saw the brat or brats I suppose." 

"Enough!" Damian suddenly slams a foot onto the ground clearly done with everyone around him whispering, "the test is done, and I'm ready to return back to the compound." 

Tim now turns to Bruce with nothing but shock still on his face, "I think it'd be easier to just explain the truth to him. Otherwise this is what the next couple days are going to be like.”

"The baby assassin is just going to keep attacking us and trying to escape otherwise." Jason adds on as well as he takes a seat at the center table. “I for one would like to keep the demon spawn close by because I’ve got some questions he’s going to need to answer ASAP when he’s normal again.”

Bruce seems to finally snap out of his trance and slowly starts to make his way to Damian. Once he's just out of reach of his son he kneels down so that he's much closer to Damian's current height. "Son, this isn't a test, and I am your father.”

"You are a liar; my father wouldn't leave Danyal behind!" 

No one was surprised this time when Damian sprung forward to attack Bruce. In the end Alfred had to give him a light sedative to calm him down enough to be laid back down on the med bay bed. Duke even went upstairs, and brought Alfred the cat down to sleep in the boy's lap. Unsurprisingly, that cat still loves him when he's this small. 

For now they can only hope that things will be calmer when Damian wakes up again. 

The cave after that was met with suffocating silence as there was only one thought in everyone's head.

"What happened to Danyal?"

[oceandelreysworld]

Loving injuries

Vi x injured reader - pt 1.

(Fluff, tension, blood-kinda-, making out)

This is my first story, so uhh, lmk what I need to improve on or if it's good or not!

Made this a little different from the show like:

After Vi "died." Everyone went their separate ways, some better than others.

Ekko met Vi after she got out of jail, letting her stay with at the firelights hide out.

Ekko was like an older brother when you guys were little, but you haven't seen him in forever(he still has that brotherly act of protection and is still defensive over you)

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You and Vi were child hood friends and you had the biggest crush on her but then she "died". She was romeing the streets then she finds you against a building, sleeping....but she doesn't notice your hurt..

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"Y/n?" Vi shakes your shoulder to wake you. She moves you hood out of your face. "Oh my god, y/n!" You wake up and realize someone's talking to you and touching you.

"Get away, I'll hurt you." You say as you whisper, slowly grabing her wrist, using up all your energy. "Y/n it's me, Vi." You look up at her, letting go of her wrist, but you can't see her. Your visions all blurry.

"No, stop, get away from me!" You tilt your head up to try and look at her better. "Y/n..I'm right here."

She squats to your level. She's strokes her thumb on your cheek. You wince at first, but then you look up to see the comfort of her light powder blue eyes and the pink shade of her hair.

You relax, your head into her palm, and start tearing up. Trying to use your arms to sit up but end up slowly leaning back down to the ground.

"I thought you died. What happened to you?...We needed you. I- I needed you." You muttered the last part in hope that she didn't hear you.

"I know... I'm so sorry. I got arrested... I'm sorry I left the way I did."

She gets down on her knees to hug you tightly when you whimper in pain. "Ow shit shit shit!" You shift your hand to hold tighter on the side of your stomach.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

You steadily move your hand and show her. There's a large blotch of blood seeping through your shirt.

"Y/n what the hell happened?! Who did this to you..?" She shifts her hand twords the injured area. "It's fine.. I'm fine. I've been like this for a few days."

She lifts your shirt up to see the wooned. You rapped that part of your stomach in bandages, but there's still a hole lot of blood on them. Vi slowly unrapped it while looking up at your eyes ever once a while.

She takes it all off, and she sees the huge wooned. It looked infected. Yellow coloring around the area and was still parshly still open and somewhat still bleeding. She could see where you tried stitching it up.

"Y/n, this looks really bad. How long have actually been like this?"

"I-...I've been here for a week. You sigh, knowing if you lied to her, that would make her even more worked up than she already is.

"I got stabbed almost two weeks ago.." You pause to take a breath. "I dont know who did it. All I know is I was trying to... okay, well, I was trying to steal some food... L-listen, I know it's bad, but I don't have any money, and I can't get up without the risk of it opening back up again.." she looks at you with her wide, worried eyes.

"Look, I know a place where you can rest, and I'm not giving you a choice. You're coming with me. Okay? And we'll figure out how to get you up." You admit defeat and relax your muscles against the wall again.

"..okay."

She raps you back up but puts the bandage on tighter so it doesn't rip.

"Okay, ready?" She holds your face, putting her forehead against yours. Getting back into a squatting position.

"No, but that's fine." She chuckles "Okay I'll pick you up slow. Don't worry about putting your weight on me. I can handle it, I've got you."

"Okay... thank you." You mumbled.

You rap your arms around her neck. She picks you up as slowly as possible. As she stands you up, you whine in pain, tucking your head into her neck. She tapes your thigh, letting you know she wants your legs up around her. She's holding you up by your thighs. You close your eyes, resting your head on her shoulder, loosening the rest of your body against hers.

"You okay, princess?"

You froze up. You haven't heard anybody call you that in a really...really long time. She would call you that when you guys were kids, it would annoy you back then, but now? It sounds so comforting coming from her, but in truth, you start to get flustered.

Your whole body heats up, and you hide your face back into her her neck so she doesn't see you blushing.

"I- um. Yeah. Yes. I mean, I'm okay."

She noticed your body tence up and the warmth of hers against yours.

"Okay..." She lifts her eyebrow side eyeing you with a smeark on her face. She didn't think you would react like this. She laughs lightly under her breath.

________________________

You fell asleep while she walked the both of you through the sewers. She meets what seems like a dead end. She knocks a certain rhythm, allowing the door to slowly open.

As you slowly wake up, you're greeted by lots of lights. "Ahh." You shelled your eyes with your arm, trying to get used to the bright lights. "Well, good morning, sunshine." she laughs lightly.

"Hey...Vi?" Ekko says as he jogs up to Vi noticing you in her arms, not knowing it's you. Your breath chokes up hearing such a familiar yet unfamiliar voice.

"So uhh...you gunna introduce me?"

You turn your head slowly. Your eyes meet his, starting to tear up. Getting out of Vi's arms as quickly as you can, still having a hard time walking. You tried to walk to him, you lean for him almost falling if him and Vi didn't catch you. Your arms go around him as he goes around your neck.

You start sobbing immediately when he hugs back.

"I...I haven't seen- seen you in f-forever." It's hard for you to get a full sentence out, trying to catch your breath from crying as well from the pain on your side.

"H-how are you-...are you..are you real..?"

Hugging you tighter and placing his head on top of yours. Ekkos voice trying not to crack, but how could he not? You were like his little sister.

As you stay like that for a moment, he pulls away. Vi pulling you back so you can rest your weight on her chest. You stumbled a bit, but she held you with support.

His eyes widen, looking down at your stomach. "God! Your bleeding!" You lightly laugh it off, but you couldn't hold back your coughing. Sweat dripping from the side of your forehead. You grip your side tightly.

"Ekko, she needs to lay down. Now."

"I got it. Hey, we need backboard now!" Ekko yells waving his hand in a hurry.

"Guys, really, I'm fi..." Your sentence fades as you faint, leaning back on Vi, now all your weight is forced onto Vi front body.

"Shit shit now!" Vi yells, grabing under both your arms. Ekko quickly goes to you, grabing the back of your neck so you don't hurt it.

Vi, Ekko, and some of the firelights lift you onto the backboard. They lift you up, walking to the room where Vi has been staying.

Setting you down to put you on the bed slowly. Ekko asked the rest of them to leave. Vi was sitting beside the bed, keeping a close eye on your movements, while Ekko was leaning against the wall.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew where she was.." Ekko says with his head down, zoning out on the floor. "Ekko, I just found her not even two hours ago.. If I knew she was hurt.. hell, if I knew she was still alive, you think I wouldn't tell you?" Vi starts to raise her voice in defense twords him. Ekko was about to speak when they both noticed you turning your head.

"Hmm...? Oww shit." You bring your hands up to cover your face in pain, then to your side.

"Hey princess... how you feeling?" She brushes her hand along the side of your cheek. Your eyes look up at hers with such a soft glimpse.

"I'm- ow- I feel sick.." You cough a little more aggressively than early. To aggressive for Vi's comfort. She rests her hand on your head, feeling for your temp. "Cupcake, you're really hot. Drink some water." She says as she helps your head up, putting her hand on the back of your neck, and brings the cup to your mouth.

"I'm gunna go see if we have any more blankets and possibly some pillows, okay? I shouldn't be out too long." He looks past Vi, making it seem like he was only talking to you. You could feel the thickness of the tension in the room between the two.

"Okay, thank you." He walks up to you, smiling, giving you a peck on your head before walking out of the room, closing the door.

The blinds are shut, as well as the windows. It helps, but it scares you a bit to be in such an unfamiliar area. Vi can tell from your expressions that you feel uncomfortable.

"Baby, what is it? Is something the matter?" As you turn your head twords her, looking up at her, surprised at the pet name she called you. Vi gently cups your face, strokes of her thumb slowly makes your garde go down.

"Im...fine. I just don't feel good, and I'm a little... uncomfortable being here.."

"Yeah? Why is that?"

You stay silent for a moment, not knowing how to express your emotions.

"Is there anything I can do to help cupcake?" She looks at you with care in her eyes.

There she goes again. Those names... god, they sound so sweet coming from her. You can't believe you ever thought this was annoying.

You hold eye contact for a few minutes, maybe? It feels like it could be forever from how locked your eyes were set on each other.

"I.." You turn your head away, looking over, breaking eye contact. It was getting to be too much for you.

She gently turns you by your chin to look back at her. She looked at you with such soft eyes while her eyebrows frowned lightly.

"I'm okay Vi. I'll be alright, okay?"

"Okay.."

She leans twords you, resting her head against yours. As she picks her head up, she looks down at your bandages, ghosting her hand against it.

"Do you want me to restich this?"

"If you can, please...I don't want you to go out of your way, though."

"It'll never be out of my way if it's for you. Understand? When you need me, I'm there. When you call me, I'm there. Okay?" She spoke so softly yet firmly to get the point through you.

Her lips brush a slow kiss on your head.

Once she takes off the bandages fully, she takes out the old stitchs slowly, trying not to hurt you. Somewhat successful. She pulls out the alcohol. Your whole body tenses up, moving yourself over to the other side of the bed, scared of how bad it's gunna hurt.

Vi sets the bottle down and reaches for your hand, slowly trying not to scare you away. You let her hold your hand as her thumb strokes the back of your hand.

"Princess, it's badly infected, I need to clean it before it gets worse, I'll hold your hand all the way through. Please just...let me help."

You stay in the same spot in silence, hesitating to rest back on the bed, even though it hurts like hell.

"I have a feeling you're feeling this sick because it's infected." She brings your hand up to her lips, brushing kisses on the back of your hand, in hopes to comfort you. Each kiss makes you relax your body against the bed.

"Okay... just don't put it directly on it. Please."

"I wouldn't, I'll use uh... this."

She said as she looked around for cotton swabs. Finding some holding it up so you know what it is.

"Okay, just be gentle..?" You look at her with puppy eyes, not realizing what you were doing.

"Of course, princess, always." All Vi could think about is pulling your face close to hers to kiss you...

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Part two soon! Ik this is really long for my first one but I really like this plot ig😅

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 you still would've been mine

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, you and james get closer to each other as the days go on, remus, your ex, soon realizes and feels jealous even though he knows he has no right to. 

warnings: james is end game, drama, jelly remus, fluff, angst, lowkey a cliffhanger..

1.8k words

The following weeks felt like a dream you didn’t quite dare to trust. You and James had grown closer—so much closer. His presence became a constant in your life, his easy laughter and steady warmth like a balm for your soul. He didn’t push, didn’t demand anything of you, but the way he looked at you sometimes, like you were the only person in the room, made your heart flutter in ways you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.

It was during one such moment in the library, late at night, that you caught him staring at you again. You were seated across from him, your textbooks spread out between you as you tried—and failed—to focus on your Potions assignment. James was supposed to be working on his Transfiguration essay, but his quill rested idly in his hand, his gaze firmly on you.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

James grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Nothing. Just... you look different lately.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Different how?”

He shrugged, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Happier. Like the weight of the world’s not sitting on your shoulders anymore.”

Your heart tightened at his words, but not in a bad way. It was strange to think that he could see through you so clearly. “I guess I am,” you admitted quietly, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your parchment. “Thanks to you, mostly.”

James’s expression flickered with something unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he might say something. But instead, he gave you one of his trademark grins and reached for his quill. “Well, I’m glad to be of service. Now, focus on that essay before McGonagall roasts you alive.” 

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and for once, you let yourself enjoy the moment without overthinking it.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ;.

But not everyone seemed as happy about your newfound closeness with James.

It started with the glances—subtle, fleeting, but noticeable all the same. Every time you and James walked into the Great Hall together or laughed a little too loudly in the common room, you could feel a pair of familiar amber eyes watching. Remus had always been quiet, his emotions carefully controlled, but lately, there was a tension in the way he held himself whenever you were near. It was as though he was constantly on the verge of saying something but never quite managing to.

The tipping point came one evening in the common room. You and James had just finished a heated game of Wizard’s Chess, and James was laughing at your feigned indignation over your loss. His hand brushed yours as he reached for one of the chess pieces, and though it was an innocent gesture, the spark it sent through you was anything but.

“You’re insufferable,” you said, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as you bit back a smile.

James leaned back in his chair, his grin as cocky as ever. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

Before you could retort, a voice cut through the cheerful atmosphere.

“You’re awfully confident these days, Potter.”

Both you and James turned to see Remus standing near the fireplace, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. His gaze flicked between the two of you, lingering on your still-close hands before settling on James with something that almost looked like a challenge.

James raised an eyebrow, his easy demeanor shifting slightly. “Just enjoying a game of chess, mate. Didn’t realize that was a crime.”

Remus’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Of course not. But maybe you should consider how things look to others.”

The air grew tense, and you felt your stomach twist uncomfortably. “Remus,” you began softly, but he didn’t let you finish.

“It’s just… surprising, that’s all,” he said, his tone carefully neutral but his eyes betraying a hint of something darker. “How quickly some people move on.”

The words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. James, however, was on his feet in an instant, his usual playfulness replaced by a steely resolve.

“That’s enough, Remus,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You don’t get to make her feel guilty for trying to be happy.”

Remus’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it looked like he might argue. But then his shoulders slumped, and he turned away without another word, disappearing up the staircase to the boys’ dormitory.

James let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair before turning back to you. “Are you okay?”

You nodded slowly, though your chest felt heavy. “Yeah. I just... I didn’t think he’d react like that.”

James hesitated before sitting down beside you again, his hand hovering near yours but not quite touching. “He’s probably just... dealing with his own stuff. Doesn’t excuse what he said, though.”

You nodded, appreciating his attempt to be understanding even as your emotions churned inside you. The confrontation with Remus had stirred up feelings you thought you’d buried, but as James’s steady presence grounded you once again, you realized something important: the past might still linger, but it didn’t have to define your future.

“Thanks, James,” you said quietly, offering him a small smile. “For sticking up for me.”

He returned your smile, his eyes soft. “Always, Y/N. Always.”

And though the tension in the room hadn’t completely faded, you felt a warmth settle in your chest that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t love—not yet—but it was something. Something real and unshakable, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself hope that it might be enough.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The weeks following James’ quiet but constant presence had been transformative. While you were still piecing together the fragments of your heart, James had become your steady companion, grounding you in ways you hadn’t expected. His easy laughter and unwavering loyalty were a balm to the wounds you’d once thought irreparable. And though you hadn’t acknowledged it out loud, something deeper was growing between you.

On a crisp autumn evening, James found you in the library, hunched over a pile of books. He grinned as he approached, a strand of his messy hair falling over his forehead.

“You know, if you keep frowning at those pages, they might just frown back,” he teased, sliding into the seat across from you.

You couldn’t help but smile, closing the book in front of you with a sigh. “Studying for Potions is basically begging for a headache. Slughorn’s quizzes are impossible.”

James leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. “Lucky for you, I’m a master at Potions.”

“You’re a master at barely scraping by,” you shot back, smirking.

“Details, details,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Come on, let’s take a break. I know a place where we can actually breathe.”

Curious but wary, you allowed him to lead you out of the library and through the winding corridors of the castle. Eventually, you found yourselves at the Astronomy Tower. The view of the grounds stretched out beneath you, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.

“Wow,” you whispered, stepping closer to the edge. “I don’t come up here enough.”

James stood beside you, his hands in his pockets as he gazed out over the horizon. “It’s one of my favorite spots,” he admitted. “Quiet. Peaceful. And the stars at night? Incredible.”

You glanced at him, your heart fluttering at the way the light caught his features. “Thanks for bringing me here,” you said softly.

James shrugged, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. “You looked like you needed it.”

The two of you stood in companionable silence for a while, the breeze tugging at your hair. But the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable—it was easy, natural. And as the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you found yourself glancing at James again, your chest tightening with unspoken feelings.

“James,” you began, your voice hesitant. “Can I ask you something?”

He turned to you, his warm brown eyes meeting yours. “Anything.”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Why have you… why have you stuck around? With me, I mean. After everything with Remus.”

James’ expression softened, and he stepped closer, his hands still tucked in his pockets. “Because I care about you,” he said simply. “And because I want to be here. With you.”

Your breath caught, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. “You… you’ve been so good to me, James. I don’t know if I deserve it.”

He frowned, shaking his head. “Don’t say that. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are—all of you. And I… I think I’ve been falling for you for a while now.”

His confession hung in the air, a fragile, beautiful truth that made your heart race. You stared at him, your emotions a whirlwind of surprise, relief, and something you hadn’t dared to name until now.

“James,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I… I think I feel the same way.”

A slow, radiant smile spread across his face, and he reached out to take your hand in his. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time in months, you felt completely and utterly safe.

“Well,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “That’s good to hear.”

The two of you stood there, hand in hand, as the sun disappeared below the horizon and the stars began to emerge. There were no grand declarations, no dramatic gestures—just the quiet, profound realization that something new and beautiful was beginning.

As the soft glow of the moonlight bathed the tower, James stepped closer, his gaze flicking briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Can I—?” he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please.”

And then his lips were on yours, warm and gentle, as though he was afraid to break the moment. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, steadying yourself as the world seemed to tilt. The kiss was everything you hadn’t known you needed—soft, tender, and filled with unspoken promises. When you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, both of you breathing heavily.

James smiled, his hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and joy.

You laughed softly, your cheeks warm. “I’m glad you did.”

The stars above seemed to shine a little brighter as the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, ready to face whatever came next—together.

[sweetflanfiction]

Assymetrical Symphony - Part 11

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: I am going on a little vacay and I'll probably won't be able to update it as regurlarly, but I'm going to try and schedule this chapter and another one. Good news is more time to write :D

A.N. 2: Apparently the tags have not been wroking. If you asked to be tagged and haven't been, let me know!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10

• ··········· • ············ •

It was the morning of the day after Viktor had come to the penthouse and taken a twelve-hour power nap. 

You walked into the kitchen with a yawn that stopped abruptly when you saw the three people in the room. Two of its usual occupants: your mother, Wyllah, but also a very tired Jayce. Your eyes shifted between your mother and the tanned man on the table, hunching sheepishly as he sipped from a mug filled with coffee to the brim.

“Jayce?” Your tone is a mix between a welcome and a question, not even bothering to call him by his title.

He mumbled his reply, and you looked back at your mother and Wyllah. They both gave a sad smile and a shrug.

“You left the lab.” You began, trying to get him to talk, and he nodded. 

His hair was unkempt, and his beard was starting to emerge, meaning he probably had not even been home yet.

“I needed to find Viktor.” He said, not looking up from the mug. “Your mother found me halfway out of the Academy.”

“I left one of my security guards at the lab door,” Wyllah explained proudly. “No one is getting in unless we say so.”

“Thank you.” Jayce said, still looking at his reflection.

“Did you two argue?” You asked, knowing the answer.

Viktor would have never just walked out of the lab, leaving his best friend behind, and Jayce wouldn’t look half as dejected if they had parted ways amicably. Although Viktor had probably already gotten over the argument, Jayce liked to mull over it. 

“How…?” he asked. “Wild guess…” you answered.

He sighed, putting his head on his head, finger digging into his unkempt hair.

“What was it about?” You inquired, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, even though you could also guess the subject.

“What do you think?” He snapped, and you sat down in front of him at the booth, grabbing a cookie from the plate one of the older women had placed on the table.

“The great mystery of Runeterra.” You grinned, and he just stared at you, eyes narrowed. “I know it was about the council shenanigans, but what was it specifically about? Gods know you two can fight about a fleck of dust in the window.”

Jayce looked at you and was about to retort but closed his mouth and looked at his coffee before sighing and reopening his mouth.

“I told him I want to give the Hextech freely to the council in exchange for keeping us there as engineers for it, no matter what. I would rather be there to stop them from screwing up than have it destroyed or sold to someone else.” He sighed. “Viktor would rather grab everything and run as far as he can to keep it safe.”

You smiled softly at him gently and touched his white-knuckled hand on the mug. He relaxed his grip and looked at you.

“You can both be right, you know.” “I know, but it’s not that I want to be right… It’s just…” he scoffed, frustrated, looking at the window. “He has stood up for so long, taken so many beatings from topside, kept a straight face throughout everything we’ve ever been through; he has made his mark in this world whether he signs on it or not… And now he wants to run? It feels like a step backward.”

“You both know what hunger feels like, what a wind so cold that seeps through your clothes feels like in your bones. You both know how it is to have nothing and then have everything.” Jayce looked at you both confused and interested. “The difference is Tallis; he knows what happens when you just wait and watch. You get eaten by the big fish eventually. He stood up so many other times because he knew you’d have his back. But right now both your backs are against the wall, and there will be no sorcerer to help you escape the storm.”

There was silence in the kitchen as Jayce searched your eyes for answers all the while trying to assimilate what you said about Viktor.

“How…?” He asked again. “Your past and my present aren’t that different.” 

His eyes widened for a second, and he was about to start talking again when you shook your head.

“Discussion for another time and place.” 

He nodded, still reeling but quieted down when the telltale sounds of a cane making its way to the kitchen were heard.

“What do I say?” “Nothing…” you whispered back. “He is your friend Jay. He understands the same way you do…deep down…”

Viktor was also stifling a yawn as he made his way to the kitchen, stopping mid-stride just as you did when he saw the other man in the kitchen. 

“Jayce?” He puzzled, eyes still blinking the sleep away. “Hey, buddy! You got me worried there for a second.” Jayce got up from the table and walked towards him, scratching the back of his neck. “Listen…I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t.”

Viktor blinked a couple of times and gave him a nod and a smile.

“Do not worry, Jayce. I understand.” He patted the bigger man’s arm and limped to the small breakfast nook, where you sat.

“Thank you, Madame Rainemour, for the hospitality.” He smiled at your mother, and she smiled back. “I don’t think I had any say in it this time, but you're welcome, my dear.”

He shifted his eyes to you, and you shrugged.

“You looked like exhaustion and tiredness had a child and left it out in the rain.” You paused and raised an eyebrow, conveying you were joking. “No offense…”

“None taken.” He smirked and grabbed a cookie from the plate.

“Well,” your mother clapped, and everyone’s eyes turned to her, you noticing a small grin on Wyllah’s face. “Since everyone is now sort of awake and looking less dejected…I have a plan…” “A plan?” Jayce asked, leaning against the door frame. “A plan.” Wyllah repeated. “Should I be scared?” Viktor asked, and both older women shook their heads in sync. “That makes me scared.” “Alright, you two... out with it...” You motioned with your head for the ladies to sit and talk.

Your mother started to explain what she had been doing yesterday after she left you and Viktor. Esther had put on her detective’s hat and gone to investigate the ins and outs of whatever was happening with the Hextech vs. Council situation.

She found that the council was going to make the decision to take control of Talis Lab and Hextech in a week or so, with Councilor Salo spearheading the efforts, being the one that seemingly had lost more in the rocket attack.

He had announced to all of those who wanted to hear him about the dangers of the usage of hextech by those who wanted the worst for Piltover. The topsiders had clutched their pearls and agreed he was right and that the council, the voice of all citizens of Piltover, needed to seize control of the tech.

Jayce bonked his forehead on the door frame where he was leaning, and Viktor rolled his eyes.

“I’m starting to see the beauty of him as a stain on the hex gate’s floor…” you mumbled, munching on a cookie. Viktor looked at you questioningly, and you shrugged him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Do not despair, my dears; as I’ve noted, I have a plan.”

Between her and Wyllah, the plan was laid out in front of the three of you. Your mother would rally up all of the investors and get them to stop the tech from falling into the council’s hands. It seemed simple and very straightforward, but knowing the Topsiders, there will be money exchange and drama and fights. Something your mother seemed very willing to do.

Both of the scientists had nodded in agreement to whatever your mother had put on the table, and you realized how much trust they all had in each other. The universe had to find a way to make up for you not being here. It had put your mother in their path so they could have her instead of you. It hurt as much as it elated you. 

“And what do we do in the meantime?” Viktor asked, breaking a cookie in half. “Well, we will need Jayce’s assistance.” Esther pointed at the broader man. “His place as a councillor and one part of the Hextech team will help us get to certain people. But I don’t think that would be your cup of tea, so you can keep securing the lab and the projects, making sure nothing ends up being shown to prying eyes.” “Are they allowing us to work?” Viktor asked Jayce. “No. No hextech projects are allowed to go forth.” Both men sighed. “I’ll stay in the lab with Viktor. I don’t want to get mixed up in that crowd again…” “Again?” Jayce raised his eyebrows, and you matched the expression.

After a while of discussing and more planning, between calculation and scheduling, your head was about to burst, so you excused yourself for a bathroom break and walked to the living room. You sat on the chair that wasn’t Viktor’s favorite place on earth and, drowning out the noise from the kitchen, felt the sunshine on your face.

You jumped at Jayce’s voice calling your name right next to you.

“Holy blue balls of Hextech.” You mumbled, putting your hands on your heart and leaning back on the chair. “Oh, so that’s where it comes from…” Jayce joked. “Sorry…” “Don’t worry about it.” You looked up at him, leaning your elbows into your knees.

“About that thing you said before.” Jayce took a deep breath. “I never told that to anyone but Viktor, and I know he would never tell anyone…” “Like I said, your past is my present. I was snapped here the same way you were.” “Yeah, I got it the first time. I’m as smart as the other co-creator of Hextech, believe it or not.” He grinned. “How? I have searched and researched high and low to figure out why it happened to me, and I never found the answers. Did he appear to you too? The mage? Did some runes in the sky and…new place, new you?”

You shook your head and looked at your hands. He was taking this considerably well, which made sense since he had also lived through something similar.

“I don’t know how it happened; I was there one second and here the next.” “That’s why you ran to the council room; you did know what was gonna happen.” He frowned, his eyes searching the air for connections. “Were you in the council room? Or in the Undercity?”

“I was in the lab when it happened. All was quiet, and then…boom…”  “What changed?” Jayce asked, and you shook your head. “I’m not going to tell you. Not all of the details. You…from there…lived it…you felt it…If I tell you, it might make you do something that would lead to the same path, and…I can’t go through that again.”

He nodded, understanding that the addition of knowledge to a situation can drastically change the outcome. You looked at his wrist, the leather band secured tightly around it and the teardrop-shaped gem encased in it. Stretching your arm, you grabbed his hand, turning it palm up. The rune was different. 

Jayce also grabbed your hand and turned it palm up. A different rune was carved there, not glowing since you had spent most of the night remaking the star rune in case Viktor woke up. You looked up at him and sighed, his eyes searching for answers.

“I think the technical term is Rune Speaker…” You smiled at him, finding amazement in his eyes.

• ············ •

It didn’t take the group long to have a sort of guarding schedule around keeping the stuff in the lab from prying eyes. Because it was involved in council business, the boys couldn’t work there, but they refused to leave anything unsupervised. And that’s why they had looked like exhaustion itself.

Between the two of them, yourself and some of Wyllah's personal security, it was manageable, although Salo had shaken his fist at having the unknown guards at the door. To which your mother promptly told him she had more money invested in that lab than he could count; she was merely securing her investment.

Your endeavor to enter the orchestra was still in full swing, so you took the time at the lab to write out some of the music you were composing. You had an outline of the piece, but it needed tweaking and cleaning up.

You were not a composer. You hated writing your music. It felt strained. You’d rather just sit at the piano and play something from the top of your head. You were good at that. This was hell for you.

Groaning, you laid your forehead on the cold lab table and groaned. A hand patted your arm, and instinctively you jumped back as far as you could.

“Eh. It’s just me, good old Viktor.” the scientist announced, limping around you and placing a cup of tea and something wrapped in a cloth on the table. “One of those days, huh?”

He sat down next to you and peered at what you were doing. 

“Looks complicated.” He said, taking a book out of his shoulder bag, and you look at him sideways, glaring at the man. You pointed to the chalkboard that now has a sheet covering it and raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve seen what you do…” you mumbled. “Numbers. I crunch numbers. Calculation and variants. It’s easy. I see them in my mind. Some are more complicated than others, but… It’s easy. This…?” He touched the clean sheet of music and made a negative sound with his throat. “Cannot comprehend.”

“Remind me to teach you the scale at some point. My mother is catching on pretty quickly. I fear she might get the position faster than me.” “Position?”  “I’m trying for the orchestra. I’ve learned that being a stay-at-home Piltie is not for me.” “Piltie?” He frowned at the nickname the Zaunites gave the topsiders. “How very uncivilized of you.” 

You both chuckled at his joke, and he nudged your shoulder in a friendly manner. He mentioned the wrapped thing with his chin, and you grabbed it. A small little cake was inside. A round little creamy thing with a slice of strawberry on top.

“Don’t expect much.” He said, opening his book. “It’s from the Academy’s cafe.”

You took a bite out of it. It was a little dry, but it was sugar, and you welcomed the feeling of something sweet in these desperate times.

“Where's Jayce?” You asked after you finished with the pastry. “I thought he was supposed to come with you.”

Viktor took a sip of his cup of tea and shook his head, rolling his eyes in the process.

“Councilor Medarda asked to see him.” He scoffed. “Confraternizing with the enemy, more like it.” “Spending time with his significant other.” you corrected, smiling when he made a ‘yeah yeah’ face.

Silent took over the lab while the two of you both got entranced by your tasks; only the scratching of pens on paper was heard. It was a friendly silence, with both of you sitting close enough that your knees would bump occasionally. Sometimes you would hum the melody you were writing, and he would stop writing to listen to it.

After a while Viktor stretched, moving his arms up to the ceiling. You looked at him and mimicked the movement but stretched your arms in front of you. The two loud ‘aahs’ of pleasure came from both of you in sync, making you both snort.

“I have been thinking…” Viktor began relaxing on the table, his shoulder hunching over. “The other day, you kept having to remake the rune.”

“You noticed?” You looked away from him, slightly embarrassed. “I thought you were sleeping.” “I caught you once or twice. It was a nice gesture, so I kept quiet. In any case, you had to keep redoing it. And well, we have had the same problem with the cores.”

“Vik…” you warned, but he raised his hand, stopping you.

“I know, but technically I am not using your magic for Hextech; I’m using Hextech for your magic. We solved that problem by introducing an artificial rune to the process.” He drew two squares touching on one corner, a crude infinity symbol. “That sustains the power of the core indefinitely. If we work at this the same way we work with Hexcore, your rune ‘push’ simply means you have no other inputs to add to it, and that means that inputs can be added.”

You remembered the rune circle in the council chambers. Going by what Viktor was saying, it made sense; the magic didn’t happen until you had pushed it forward, waiting until you finished the whole rune circle to work and slamming your hand on it to work.

“Could work, but if you tell it to keep going indefinitely, how do we stop it?“ You looked back at him and saw him scratch his neck.

“Usually we have buttons and dials…sometimes an emergency lever.”He placed his head on his hands and looked around for inspiration to strike.

You looked down at your music sheet and rolled your eyes. The answer was right in front of you. You slid the music sheet towards him.

“When you want to bring your composition to an end, you add this…” You pointed to a circle enclosing a crosshair.

“The runes are a language, and languages are fluid. New words are being introduced every day. We can keep adding to it until it works…” Viktor continued excitedly. “We have to test this theory.”

“I’m not going to test something that has a possibility of permanently staying in your lab. I don’t think a never-ending whirlwind is very discreet.” 

His shoulders slumped for a second, and then he pointed to a small door next to the front door. That was a cleaning supply room spacious enough for the janitor to keep his cart there, but it was closed off so that if something were to happen in there, it would be contained.

“Alright…Let’s test this out.” You rolled the stool away from the table and slapped your hands on your thighs, watching Viktor move with efficiency.

• ············ • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr

[yuamusuzuran]

Damn.... so, Sinsmas and final episode of Helluva S2 is out AND I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS!

But most importantly, I wanna talk about Via!

Even though this episode was packed with a bit of everything and I loved every second of it, I couldn't help but focus on Via-Stolas plot the most.

But before I dive deeper, let me say this:

Even though their final moment was painful, especially for Stolas, it represents a significant change and possible start of progress in their relationship.

Aside from her song being an absolute 2000-s teen rock banger, Via doing a repraise on Stolas' lullaby was so impactful, mostly because she's telling herself and us as audience that she has grown up a lot and is seeing things from different perspective.

And even though she's still very much hurt that Stolas chose Blitz over her, the conflict in her feelings is so well-portrayed in my opinion, especially when she asks these two questions:

During her song and while looking through her dad's stuff, she had many realizations. Realized her dad was struggling a lot, to the point he was taking anti-depressants on the daily, but we still see how young she is and how important her dad's attention still is to her.

So, now we have this 17-year old who had realized her father stayed in an loveless marriage because of her and does feel some sort of relief about him finally "doing what he wants"....

But she's also hurt that her dad still, in her opinion, didn't consider her important enough to choose "her over Blitz".

These are heavy and conflicting feeling she's dealing with, guilt over "holding Stolas down" while also being angry and disappointed that she wasn't "important enough to him to stay by her side"

However, I will remain adamant about one thing:

Via does not, or will ever, hate Stolas.

She is very disappointed, hurt and angry, and has every right to be, but her perspective is slowly changing. She is still a very young girl who needs support and love of her parents, but is slowly realizing how strong she is on her own, just as her dad was telling her in his lullaby.

We have a lot to go through with these two in the next 30 episodes of the show.

Octavia still doesn't have the full picture nor does she realize the full scale of Stella's abusw towards Stolas, which I think will change her opinion even more. But developing her arc to forgive him will take a long, long time. Because, when a parent hurts you or disappoints you, its a wound that doesn't heal easily.

As for Stolas, he still has to come to terms about how much his life has changed. All of his buried emotions, good and bad, are coming out, and he still has a long way to go in his healing and acceptance of who he really is and wants to be.

But the most important thing for him is to realize that Via doesn't actually hate him.

Boy.... this show is amazing. Loved every second of this episode and this whole situation and setup for season 3 will pick my brain until the next full episode comes out.

Happy holidays everyone, and merry Sinsmas!

[archivequinn]

What's your secret, envoy? emperor geta x fem!reader

Summary: Desperation drives you to the gates of the Roman Empire when your brother is dragged away to fight as a gladiator in their blood-soaked arenas. With nothing left to lose, you strike a perilous bargain with the cunning Emperor Geta—your freedom and future in exchange for your brother’s life. But what begins as a desperate ploy turns into a tangled web of intrigue, betrayal, and forbidden ties. You never imagined that the ruthless emperor would become more than an adversary—and that the most dangerous risk of all would be losing him.

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three (completed) ao3 link

Darkness had fallen, and the flickering light of the torches surrounding the arena cast dancing shadows on the ancient stone walls. The weight of chains stretched from wrist to wrist, from wrist to ankle, echoing with every step you took.

Fatigue and resignation were etched onto Geta’s face, but the last spark in his eyes had not yet dimmed. Looking at him, you felt in your bones that this moment had finally come, that the inevitable was now here, confronting you.

The screams and cheers echoing through the arena were like a death march rising from the heart of Rome. The crowd was filled with the fervor of ruthless savagery; in their hands were roses and mud-mixed stones, hurling at you the paradox of life and death.

On one side, a barbaric crowd hungry for blood; on the other, roses, symbols intertwined with death. The air carried the mingled scents of soil, sweat, and fire, imprinting the moment indelibly into your memory.

As the sky transitioned from a copper-hued sunset to the absolute blackness of night, Macrinus's arrogant gaze gleamed before you. Reclining on his throne with the demeanor of a king assured of his victory, he listened to the frenzied cheers of the crowd.

Beside him sat Caracalla, his face utterly different; tense with rage, you could almost hear the blood coursing through his veins. His hatred for Geta seemed like the hidden playwright of this dark theater.

Geta suddenly stopped. The clinking sound of the chains reverberated on the stone floor. Standing confidently in the center of the arena, he held his head high. “People of Rome!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the stone walls and reaching every corner.

The weight in his voice imbued each word with both fury and hope. “Today, here before you, a conspiracy is being staged. Macrinus is a traitor who has infiltrated the heart of our empire! Can’t you see his treachery?”

For a moment, the crowd fell silent, but it was short-lived. Screams, laughter, and jeers rose again, crashing over you like a wave. Geta’s voice was lost in this sea.

Though he continued speaking, the crowd’s minds were already sealed with a predetermined verdict. They wanted blood. The eyes looking at you sought not justice but mere entertainment.

Geta’s words were like winds wasted in the void. You looked at him, your heart constricting, helplessness clutching at you. Geta’s hands trembled into fists; the chains clattered once more. Among the faces watching, there was no mercy, only cruelty.

At that moment, Macrinus rose from his seat. As his steps echoed in the arena, the crowd began to quiet down. That arrogant, mocking smile never left his face. His hands moved like those of an actor initiating a play, and his voice rang out, cold and cutting.

“People of Rome!” Macrinus declared, his every word dripping like venom.

“Today, you will not only witness the punishment of traitors. No! Today, I present to you a tragedy! You will see how these two traitors pay the price of their betrayal. But the one to execute their punishment will not be an ordinary gladiator…”

The crowd held its breath. Everyone waited to hear what Macrinus would say. His voice lowered, but its impact grew stronger, slithering like a serpent and feeding the crowd’s curiosity.

“Their executioner will be one of this woman’s own blood! Her brother!”

For a moment, everything seemed frozen. Your mind refused to comprehend it. “No…” you murmured, the word breaking like a fractured prayer before leaving your lips.

Your eyes turned to Geta. He was just as shocked as you, but his expression quickly shifted to one of anger.

When one of the slave gates opened, the figure emerging was initially just a vague silhouette in the darkness. The crowd held its breath. As the echoes of footsteps drew closer, your heart began to race. Your eyes recognized the figure. Broad shoulders, a face weary but hardened—it was your brother.

No. This had to be a nightmare. It couldn’t be real. But there he was. His chained hands were visible beneath the coarse, heavy pieces of gladiator armor. The crowd’s shouts and cheers rose once more. The people were enthralled by this dramatic display.

Geta leaned toward you, his voice firm and sharp. “You must pull yourself together.”

Ignoring the weight of your chains, you surged forward, running toward your brother. But just as you moved, the world froze with the sharp cry of an arrow. The arrow embedded itself in the sands before you, halting your steps.

Geta suddenly appeared beside you, pulling you back. He extended his arms protectively in front of you like a shield. “Stay calm,” he said in a low voice, though a storm raged within him. “They’re luring us into a trap.”

Macrinus’s voice filled the arena with mocking resonance. “Ah, how touching! But there is no mercy in this arena! Without blood, there is no victory! The people of Rome want victory, they want tragedy, they want blood! But only one will leave this arena alive!”

A brief silence fell before he widened his smile and added, “And the decision of who that will be… is in your hands.”

As the crowd erupted in wild cheers over this merciless proposition, tears streamed down your cheeks, and you saw the same anguish in your brother’s eyes.

Geta turned to Caracalla, his voice now an unstoppable eruption of fury. “Are you really watching this, brother?” he shouted, his voice reverberating against the stone walls of the arena. “Can’t you see how Macrinus has deceived you? This game, this plan, all of it is his doing! He lied to make you kill us! He lied to turn you against me!”

Caracalla sat on the throne on the other side of the arena. His face seemed expressionless, but there was a flicker in his eyes. Yet what was it? Doubt? Or anger? You knew you wouldn’t get an answer in that moment, but you heard Geta’s voice rise even further in one last desperate effort.

“Are you so blind that you can’t see Macrinus’s true face?” he cried, his voice sharp like a cutting wind. “He’s the traitor! Not us! He’s the one poisoning Rome! He’s the one who turned you against me!”

At that very moment, one of the large gates in the corner of the arena slowly began to open. The crowd momentarily ceased their cheers, turning their attention to the gate. Beyond it, General Acacius and his elite soldiers emerged. Acacius stepped forward with a composed demeanor, his face bearing an expression as unyielding as stone. The silence of the crowd turned into a murmur; some greeted Acacius with surprise, while others speculated on his intentions.

Seeing Acacius enter the arena, a glimmer of hope appeared in Geta’s eyes. “Finally…” he murmured.

Acacius approached the center of the arena and bowed toward Caracalla. However, this did not please Macrinus. “General, what are you doing here? The game has started, and it is not your place to entertain the crowd!” he snapped, his voice tinged with irritation.

Acacius spoke with cold certainty in his tone, “Your Majesty, I am responsible for the security of Rome. However, I sense that there is a darker plan unfolding behind these public games.”

Macrinus, his anger plain on his face, demanded, “What are you implying, General?”

Acacius took another step forward, standing directly in front of Macrinus. “Betrayal and manipulation. And the one responsible for it is you, Macrinus.”

Turning to Caracalla, Acacius spoke in a measured tone, “Your Majesty, I have evidence to prove Macrinus’s treacherous schemes.”

Caracalla hesitated for a moment. His gaze shifted from Macrinus to Geta and finally to Acacius. The crowd held their breath, waiting in tense silence.

Caracalla’s face was like a stone mask. His silence made every breath in the arena feel heavy. At last, he turned to Macrinus and spoke with a mocking smile, “How curious, Macrinus. It seems everyone has a story to tell today.”

Macrinus let out a confident laugh, attempting to mask the tension in the air. “Your Majesty, this general’s loyalty has long been questionable. Don’t let him waste your time with supposed evidence. Justice must be served to Geta and these traitors!”

But Caracalla ignored Macrinus’s words and focused his gaze on Acacius. “Do you have evidence, General? And if so, why have you waited until now?”

Acacius, feeling the weight of the question, replied in a calm voice, “Because traitors work in the shadows, Your Majesty. I waited for the right moment.”

Despite the cheers of the crowd, Caracalla seemed lost in thought. Finally, he raised his hand, silencing the arena. A wave of quiet spread, broken only by the whisper of the wind and the crackle of the torches.

At that moment, Macrinus lost his feigned smile and raised his voice. “Your Majesty, this is a trap! Acacius and Geta’s collaboration is nothing less than treason against Rome!”

Acacius turned to Macrinus, his voice as firm as steel. “Watch your words, Macrinus. No one understands treachery better than you.”

At that instant, Acacius reached into an inner pocket of his armor and produced a carefully folded parchment. His expression remained stoic, but his eyes shone with the determination that matched the gravity of his words. “Your Majesty, this parchment contains the proof of Macrinus’s treacherous plans—details of conspiracies that threaten Rome’s security…” As he spoke, a murmur rose among the crowd.

The whispers spread like sparks under the flickering light of the torches.

Macrinus, struggling to maintain his mocking facade, said, “Who can guarantee the reliability of this so-called evidence?” But the panic in his voice was impossible to hide.

At that moment, the leader of the archers stationed at the edge of the arena was staring at Macrinus, waiting for his orders. Macrinus scanned the crowd quickly, then furrowed his brow and gave a low command: “Prepare.”

The archers drew their bows, aiming at the four figures in the arena. The tension was so thick it felt difficult to breathe. The murmurs of the crowd foretold an impending storm.

As you tried to understand how everything had reached this point, your eyes drifted to Geta. There was a strength in his stance, one that seemed to defy all the chaos in the world. When your eyes met, a spark of both fear and something else lit up within you. His gaze seemed to say, “You wil be okay.”

Geta stepped forward and suddenly pulled you into his arms. The warmth of his chest was stronger than the cold steel of his chains. It was as if you weren’t standing in the middle of an arena, as if you weren’t in the shadow of death. He whispered, his voice low enough for only you to hear, “If this is our end, I’ll die protecting you.”

In that moment, everything froze. The flames of the torches danced in your eyes as you felt Geta’s hands on your shoulders. His embrace wasn’t just protective—it was a reflection of all the emotions he had suppressed. A warmth spread through you, momentarily erasing all fear.

Macrinus’s voice cut through the moment. “Archers!” he shouted, his anger echoing through the crowd. But just then, chaos erupted among the spectators. Those who believed in Macrinus’s schemes clashed with those opposing him. Torches toppled over, and the crowd at the edge of the arena began scuffling with the guards.

Amid the chaos, someone accidentally bumped into an archer. Losing his balance, the archer released his bow, and the arrow shot through the air, piercing the silence of the arena as it landed on the ground. The tension peaked. A scream rose from the crowd, and people began to scatter in panic.

In that instant, Geta reflexively pulled you to the ground, wrapping his arms around you. The arrow had struck just a few steps away. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, his breath warm against your neck. The tears streaming from your eyes were the expression of a feeling that was neither pure fear nor pure happiness. When you looked at Geta’s face, you saw that his eyes, too, were brimming with tears.

Acacius’s gaze was locked on Macrinus, who was attempting to retreat.

Meanwhile, the guards in the arena quickly moved to secure Caracalla’s safety. Soldiers rushed toward the emperor’s throne, escorting him to the palace gates to protect him from the chaos among the crowd.

Only four people remained in the center of the arena: You, Geta, Acacius, and your brother. The sands glowed with sparks from the fallen torches. Your heart knew that everything would unravel in this fleeting chaos. Geta’s hands were still on you, and when you turned to him, words caught in your throat. He simply whispered to you, “Never forget me.”

As the chaos grew, Macrinus retreated to a corner of the arena. But Acacius, sword drawn, began to pursue him.

The turmoil within the arena escalated. Shouts echoed among the crowd, and a full-blown rebellion erupted. For a brief moment, Geta turned to you, his face holding something you had never seen before—a mixture of love and sorrow.

“You must stay here,” he said, his voice softer than before. “I can’t protect you if you put yourself in danger.”

“No, Geta! You can’t go!” you cried, tears burning down your cheeks. But Geta had already made his decision. He gave you one last look—a gaze that wasn’t just a farewell but the passing of an eternal memory to you. “Forgive me,” he said. Then he surged forward, following Acacius.

You tried to run after him, but a strong hand on your shoulder stopped you. When you turned, you saw the determined look on your brother’s face. “Don’t leave him! Please!” you shouted, but your brother held you firmly.

“No,” he said, his voice hard and resolute. “Listen to me. I can’t leave you here. We have to get out of here. Now!”

He wrapped his arms around you, almost carrying you away from the chaos of the arena. But your mind and heart remained with Geta. With each step, you felt further away from him, and each breath became an unbearable torment.

Your brother quickly led you out of the arena to a waiting horse. “No! Let me go!” you shouted, but he didn’t listen. He placed you on the horse, your hands trembling, your eyes still locked on the fading sight of the arena. “Something will happen to Geta! I can’t leave him alone!”

Gripping the reins tightly, your brother said, “He risked everything to save us. We must honor his sacrifice!” He spurred the horse forward. Behind you, Geta’s face remained frozen in your mind as the last image you saw of him. Your eyes were still filled with tears, and everything felt like a dream—or rather, a nightmare. But one thing was certain: Geta’s choice had changed your life forever.

You found yourself inside an old stone-walled warehouse where your brother had dragged you. The interior was dark, illuminated only by the faint moonlight streaming through a narrow window in the wall, casting soft shadows. The distant screams and the sharp clash of metal against metal outside planted deep roots of fear in your heart. From afar, the silhouette of Rome was visible; massive fires painted the sky orange, and smoke rose like a heavy shroud. The city was burning. Rome was burning.

Your brother stood with one hand on your shoulder, the other gripping the hilt of his sword, on high alert. "You’re safe here," he said, though his voice didn’t sound particularly confident. His words didn’t comfort you.

Your eyes remained locked on the distant flames. Trembling with a storm of emotions swirling inside you, you muttered, "Geta... He’s dead. He... He tried to save us but failed. I... I couldn’t protect him..." Your voice was hoarse and filled with sorrow.

Your brother spoke without looking at you. "We had to survive. Geta knew that. That’s why he risked everything." But those words didn’t console you; instead, they brought another wave of guilt and grief. You collapsed to your knees, your throat tight with emotion. Tears streamed down your cheeks as the weight of your grief crushed you to the ground. Watching Rome burn, you remembered Geta’s face. The determination, courage, and... farewell in his eyes. You felt as though something inside you had shattered.

Crying was like trying to purge all the heaviness inside you, but it also left you feeling more drained. Your eyes burned, your shoulders shook. Finally, when your tears dried and your breathing grew uneven, exhaustion settled over you like a heavy blanket. Your eyelids succumbed to their own weight, and you slipped into a dark unconsciousness.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. It was as if your grief had disconnected you from time. But after a while, a sharp "clattering" sound pulled you back to reality. The echo of horse hooves reached your ears. Your heart began to race; the silence of the warehouse was torn apart by the resounding sound. A whistling noise came from above the rafters, like a cold wind slipping inside. You heard the creak of the door as it opened.

Your brother instantly rose to his feet on high alert. One hand went to the hilt of his sword, while the other protectively pushed you behind him. "Stay behind me," he said, his voice now tired but just as protective. Your heart pounded as you tried to guess who they were. But then, everything went still.

Then, the moonlight illuminated the faces of those who had entered. You suddenly recognized the two riders before you: Geta and Acacius.

At that moment, your world froze. You stared in disbelief. Standing before you was Geta, alive and breathing. His face bore a few scars, and he looked exhausted but strong. And then, your body moved as if it had a will of its own. "Geta!" you cried, your voice trembling, but this time not with sorrow— with joy.

You ran towards him. Your brother tried to say something, but you didn’t hear him. In that moment, all you cared about was reaching Geta. Tears streamed from your eyes, but they carried an entirely different meaning now. Geta bent slightly toward you, and when you threw your arms around his neck, it felt as if time itself had stopped. You held him tightly, as if letting go would make everything vanish again.

"You... You’re alive! I thought I lost you! I was so scared!" you said, words tumbling out of your mouth as your mind struggled to process everything. When Geta’s strong arms wrapped around you, a deep sense of comfort washed over you.

Behind you, Acacius exchanged a brief look with your brother, his face tired yet determined as he gave a small nod. In the darkness of the night, the only thing holding you all together was love and the instinct to survive.

Clinging to Geta, you felt waves of happiness and relief wash over you. The weight in your heart seemed to lift entirely. His warm voice broke the silence: "Don’t worry anymore. Everything is under control." His words rang with the solidity of a promise, though your mind was still struggling to grasp what had happened.

You pulled back slightly from his embrace to look into his eyes. "What happened? What did you go through?" you asked, your words shaky but filled with hope.

A faint smile appeared on Geta’s lips. "Macrinus has been captured. He’s been thrown into the dungeon and won’t pose a threat again. We also quelled the rebellion among the people. The city will be rebuilt now. There’s a light of hope for everyone," he said. His voice was weary but carried the relief of a hard-fought victory. As you watched his expression, you found yourself admiring his courage and leadership once more.

Acacius stepped forward, as stoic as ever, though a flicker of pride and satisfaction shone in his eyes. "Emperor," he said formally to Geta, "Tonight, Rome saw not an emperor but a hero of the people. Your loyalty and bravery will become a legend."

Geta turned to him, nodding. "This victory isn’t mine alone. It belongs to everyone here. And to you, Acacius. Rome could never have had a better general, and never will."

Acacius’s lips twitched slightly in what might have been a faint smile—a quiet expression of gratitude. But when Geta turned back to you, his face was entirely different. His eyes softened, as though he’d found his one source of peace amidst all the chaos. "But above all, seeing you here... That is my greatest victory."

Those words filled your heart with warmth. "I thought I’d lost you," you said, tears accompanying your words. "It felt like the whole world had stopped, Geta. Without you... I would be nothing."

Geta took one of your hands in his. The warmth of his palm melted away all your fears. "And I would never leave you," he said, his voice low but resolute. "No force, no rebellion, no war could ever separate me from you."

His words brought a faint smile to your lips. In that moment, the entire world seemed to quiet down. While Rome’s smoke rose in the distance, you felt safe at Geta’s side. His eyes held a promise—a future of countless days together filled with hope.

The following days were spent rebuilding Rome. The people looked upon both Geta and Acacius with deep respect. Acacius received an honorary medal from the Senate and was declared the commander-in-chief of the army. Your brother was hailed as a hero who restored his family’s honor. But your world was defined by being at Geta’s side.

One day, as you walked through Rome’s quiet gardens, Geta was beside you, his usual calm yet profound expression on his face. Amidst the birdsong, you noticed him suddenly stop. "I need to say something," he said, his voice taking on a serious tone.

Your heart skipped a beat. "What is it?" you asked, smiling slightly.

Geta took your hands in his. His eyes locked onto yours as if he understood the entire world within them. "I’ve seen many things in my life—power, war, betrayal. But after meeting you, I realized that the most important thing isn’t loyalty; it’s love. Before you, I wasn’t living, only existing. And now... I know what it means to truly live."

His words deeply moved you. Your eyes welled up, but with happiness this time. Being with him made all the chaos of the world feel meaningful.

In that moment, Geta leaned down, and his lips softly met yours. It was a moment beyond everything—a moment transcending all the complexities of life. Rome might have burned, and the world might have been changing. But your world was complete in Geta’s arms.

And in that moment, after all the struggles, losses, and fears, you were truly happy. It was a happiness that would last forever.

taglist: @hesvoid3434 @drowning-in-cosmic-hopes @quuinyoung @cokepowder55 @justnobodynothingmore @arluna @multyfangirl @sarahskywalker-amidala @spiderxparker @your-nightmaredoll @avenjames-anderson @fruitylikeabagofskittles @urlivingdeadgirl @flawssy-227 @t-folklore13 @carlaaa76-blog7 @nicholaschavezslut69 @zalera8310

[alientee]

Shimmer Head

Ekko x reader

6k+ words

Fem reeader

Hazbin hotel Easter egg included. Addicted song describes reader.

Warning: suicidal thoughts and actions, drug use not by choice though.

Im sorry it took so long yall I’ve been crocheting blankets for Christmas and life has been lifting with work

You were an anomaly, or at least that’s what Silco called you. Apparently he saved you at birth; one calm walk through Zaun's lanes, and your mom was an overdosing shimmer head who was getting her last fix before she pushed you out. You survived. This was something Silco never thought possible; even when you looked like a shivering, whining skeleton, you were strong, a survivor, and from that day on, you were his daughter.

As life went on, you got stronger, faster, and a little more insane; your eyes changed, looking like a wild mix of two different colors. You changed so much it confused you every day to see yourself. How the voices in your head would go from telling you to slaughter everyone to offing yourself.

Silco had you microdosed with shimmer ever since you were a newborn till now, and you handled it each and every time. You were his creation, his wild card. Even as a child, he had you by his side with torture, robbing, and meetings. You’ve done it all. There were days the voices really did get to you; sometimes it was better to hurt yourself rather than to crash. You can remember the times Silco had to stop you from hurting him and yourself. The scars on your arms, the bloodstains left on your clothes, the burn scars from throwing bone down without any care, ready to give it all up. Either you survived, or Silco was just in time.

So when you first met Jinx, your first thoughts were, This poor kid, she’s just a dreamer.

But she followed you around everywhere, calling you sis, saying she’d never leave your side, she’d never leave you no matter what. Not like her sister did. You didn’t believe her; how could you? No one but Silco ever saw you; he’s the only one that loved you.

Until she followed you to a club one night.

You spin around in the chair, listening to the grungy punk music, drunk, horny prowlers, angry wannabes, and goofy dancers mixing into the crowd. You sit in your chair in the corner of the club, drink in one hand, revolver in the other. One bullet, one drink—it was all a game to you. The gun clicked three times, and you took three shots before it was snatched from your hand. And lo and behold, it was your new shadow coming to ruin the fun.

“Hey, what gives, Blue Jay!”

“How are you going to be the big shot legacy Silco says if you're dead, dumbass!”

“It’s none of your business!”

“We’re family now, so yeah, you are!”

“You going to love me even if I try to kill Silco in his sleep?”

“I’d still love you even if you killed me with him.”

Family, huh?

“Fine.”

For the first time you didn’t take your game too far, or get fucked up and pass out behind the bar; you didn’t even have a mental breakdown.

At least the voices got quiet for a while.

After a while you started to think of Jinx as a sister. Someone you could confide in, someone who gets you. Was Silco the best dad? Nah, but he was all you had. Now you know he had Jinx too. You thought everything was ok; you could be happy with your found family; even if you were broken, you still had people to fix you up, so everything was fine.

At least you genuinely believed everything was alright.

Until Jinx’s actual sister showed up, calling her Powder, the hugging, the crying, the family reunion was cute. You haven’t seen Jinx this vulnerable in a while. Everything was calm until some Piltie came out, and then the moment was gone. Jinx threatens the redhead with the gun, and boom, the Firelights had you all surrounded.

“Jinx, if you want your sister back, you gotta be smart about this.” The silence you got back let her know she was thinking up something stupid.

Smoke and ash covered the air, bullets flying and fighting at every turn. The firebugs just didn’t know when to quit, always trying to get into business that isn’t theirs. It was fun knocking them off their boards every once in a while. You’ve faced them before with Jinx killed a couple of times; you didn’t kill any of them, though. Never had the guts to really kill innocent people; you didn’t want to know what the voices would say if you did. You didn’t want to lose yourself all the way.

As always, Jinx is shooting bullets every which way in the sky, which wasn’t bad, but using bombs to blow up the platform is very bad. Your body hurt, your ears were ringing, and you could barely breathe. You tried calling out for Jinx but got no answer. You finally dragged yourself up; you can see some fire bugs down, but you couldn’t see Jinx. Couldn’t see her sister. Didn’t even see the body lying dead somewhere.

Huh, you were all alone.

Then it dawned on you: Jinx did it on purpose. She really was a genius, truly. She blew up the platform, making a distraction; a lot of people were down and out. Nobody could see what was happening; some too injured to chase.

Looks like she could only carry her sister to safety, though.

You’ll never leave me no matter what, huh?

Hehehehehe, yeah right!

You could finally breathe again and got the strength to stand up. It was all just so funny, really.

Bunch of bullshit hahahahaha

You didn’t notice anything going on around you, the shuffling of people standing; you didn’t feel all the cautious eyes on you. Not that you cared; all you cared about were the voices screaming at you so loud you could swear your ears were bleeding.

Walking towards the edge of the platform is easy. Turning around and giving a mock salute to the firelights with a smile on your face was easy. But dropping to your death knowing the last thing playing in your headphones was your and Jinx's song, it fucking burned every lyric you tried to sing just turned to ash in your mouth.

But at least now the voices would stop forever. The air rushed through your ears and then nothing.

Out like a light

You woke up in an eerily dark room; honestly, it was predictable. Down to the moldy smell, the silence, and the creepy guy in the corner with a mask. And you honestly should’ve been more mad at yourself for getting saved; you couldn’t even die in peace!

“Why am I alive, dammit!”

The silence was so annoying; there’s no need to try and be intimidating. You’ve seen worse. You hate people who try those tactics; you can’t torture someone who’s already tortured every day. Geez, just kill them if they don’t tell you what you want.

“Look, I’m not going to tell you shit, so just kill me already!”

And then the mask comes off. You don’t know him, but you knew him, apparently jinx’s past. The boy savior, she calls him; he looks just like she said he would. You also remember what she told you about him. “Better watch out; the boy savior likes to think he can save everybody.”

Ok, you can deal with a wannabe hero.

“Your on shimmer. You are an addict; Slico has you do his dirty work, and he gives you your next fix. Am I right?”

You’re really fucking wrong. Scratch that; you didn’t want to deal with the wannabe hero.

“So how about you tell me what I need to know, and you get to lay low somewhere secret and get off that shit before you try and die again while Silco just replaces you?”

The voices started to get louder, your throat tight and blood dripping from your palms for how tight you started to squeeze them. His words were like acid on your skin. Just who did this asshole think he was?

“First of all, dipshit, I’m his daughter! Ok, not some random street rat shimmer head he feeds. Second of all, shimmer makes people stronger. I should know; came right out of my druggie mom, still living and breathing, full of shimmer! I’ve been injected with it since Silco adopted me! He says I’m perfect; he says I'm his legacy. I don’t do his dirty work; I help him make Zaun better! So you're dead fucking wrong, wannabe!”

Now he’s looking at you like you’re crazy…. And you're used to that.

“This is better? Our people are dying all around us. Kids are abandoned! People are sick and starving. How is this better?”

“Blame Piltover! Duh!”

“It’s Piltover. And Silco, are you crazy??!!”

That word. It always did something to you. You didn’t care when people looked at you like you were... but calling you crazy? Different story. Something that made all the voices laugh, an itch in your brain that told you to break, hurt, destroy, kill, and show them your insane.

“FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU! Hahahahahahahahaha. All of Piltover and Zaun is going to burn you, and your fucking bugs are going to be ash! I’m not crazy. I’m perfect. I’m perfect he said”—

Your music!?! Where were your headphones?!!?

You were so numb, in a really dark place, you never fully remembered how your episodes went. When that singed guy injected you with your first microdose of shimmer, all you remembered was the screaming and Silco whispering how proud he was. But Ekko would remember it all even in his dreams. How you banged your head against the pole you were tied against over and over again. Crying tears of shimmer while laughing hysterically until blood dripped on the side of your head. Only to end up sobbing.

The voices screamed and screamed and screamed. Until they stopped, they never just stopped without music or silco. And you never had this heavy feeling over your ears without your headphones.

Oh, it’s this Ekko guy. What is he doing? Why is he holding his hands over your face? Why is he looking at you like that?

“I’m sorry. You’re not crazy. I promise, okay? Breath for me nice and slow.”

This was nice: everything quiet, everything nice and warm. This is new, huh?

“Hey!? Wai”—

Out like a light again

“She’s a danger to the base!”

“We can help her. She’s not like Jinx! She’s the product of a bad situation. She’s not with Silco because she wants to be; it’s because it’s all she knows.”

“She’s a mess; keeping her here is like bringing bullshit to our door!”

“He’s been injecting her with shimmer since she was an infant! We can’t kick her out!”

“Can y'all shut up sleeping here?”

Bat Guy and Ekko just stared at you.

“Look, I don’t care what you do to me; can I just have my damn headphones? The voices, ya know, they’re telling me to escape and kill everyone here. Soooooo, my earphones, pretty please.”

The boy wonder hands them over and puts them over your ears. And even with no music playing, everything feels peaceful. The whole time, he and Bat Boy are still going back and forth; this time you couldn’t hear it, though. Finally you get silence, if only for a moment. You almost bit Ekko when he moved one of them back off.

“Look, let’s compromise: you get a little freedom, supervised. And we get one shimmer shipment location… not the factory, just the shipment.”

“No bullshit babysitters; it’s you or nothing.”

“...fine.”

You could’ve told him to fuck off and die. Make him eat his sappy little words. But after the way he held your ears, he looked like a kicked puppy for making you freak out. How softly he said sorry. It was different; it was new. You didn’t do soft, not that much.Silco always told you to play your enemies, so maybe giving a little bait wouldn’t be too bad.

“Fine, boy wonder, I’ll give you a shipment that’s all.”

“Thank you.”

There he goes, looking at you like that again.

Like some kind of puppy. What a sucker.

Ekko took you outside, but you didn’t want to socialize, so he kept you both at a good distance from the others. While taking you out of the base, you didn’t want to look at anyone. If you saw any leering faces and judging eyes, you knew you’d lash out.

Oddly enough, you didn’t want to smack the fuck out of Ekko's face. Maybe a little bit, not a lot. You didn’t know what it was, but Ekko was calming; his presence was like a warmth in the dark murk of Zaun. You didn’t understand how he could be so... normal with all of this around him.

Maybe it was the fact that he actually took you out of the hideout and onto a roof to look over Piltover. You could’ve knocked him out, taken his board, and run. Why is he so stupidly trusting? “How do you do it?” He raises an eyebrow. “Do what?” You raise one back “Be so happy-go-lucky when we live in a place like Zaun.” That made him stop his steps, and he looks serious; you haven’t seen him unless he’s talking about shipments.

“I have to make a change for the people who can’t help themselves; I want to give people something to live for; the firelight is my way of doing that.”

And there he goes again, making your mind feel funny again. It sounds like he means it; everything Ekko says always sounds genuine, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to believe him.

“Alright then, help me by teaching me how to ride one of those hoverboard things.” Ekko’s eyes get wide, and his mouth even opens a little. “You want to learn? I’ve been trying to get you to do that for a week. What changed?” You didn’t want to let him know the real reason, so you decided to play it off.

“Just thought I could kick your butt at something, boy wonder,” he scoffed. You knew he hated the nickname; it was too fun teasing him to stop, though.

“Alright, alright. If you’re so confident, then I’ll teach you. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you end up falling off a few times.”

“I’ll be a pro; just you wait and see.”

You were in fact not a pro. Your knees were scuffed, and the dirt on your clothes was a testament to just how many times you hit the dirt. “Sorry this is taking so long; I feel fucking stupid.” Ekko grabs your hands and pulls you up, grabbing the board. “Don’t; it takes everyone a minute to learn this is no different. How do you think I feel? I made it; I had to test it and fall a lot.” You give him a nod, deciding to take the board back with a little more confidence this time. “What a boy genius you are,” you got a snort in return.

“Now, remember, hoverboards are pretty sensitive. You have to find your balance and keep it steady. And be careful not to lean too far to one side or the other, or you’ll tip over.” Ekko watches you carefully as you mount the hoverboard, his arms crossed over his chest. The hoverboard begins to move forward as you lean, slowly at first, but steadily gaining speed.

You could hear Ekko yelling behind you, “There you go, you’re doing great! Just keep your balance and focus on the path ahead.”

“What about turns!? What if I fall??”

“Don’t worry; I’ll be right here to catch you if you fall.”

You got the hang of it after a while; you both went back to the base riding your hoverboard and even racing some of the kids. It was a good time, no responsibilities, no expectations. It still hurt you; there was no Silco, but at least you had distractions.

Ekko seemed to show up when he wasn’t asked; it’s like he knew when to butt into people's business.

He was there during your worst moments of loneliness. When the darkness was too much, when the voices kept repeating the insults louder and crueler. Telling you to kill yourself, that you're nothing, worthless, not good enough, burn the firelight base to the ground, and watch everyone around you die. You’ll only end up alone anyway. The smell of ash and blood, you could remember it by heart. Tears pouring out of your eyes continuously, you didn’t even sob. You had nothing to be sad about in the moment. You just naturally cried, and all you could do was scream, hoping I’d stop. Sitting in the dark waiting for it all to end. Thinking, hoping that just maybe one day you’d be blessed enough not to wake up.

It wasn’t until you felt Ekko's heavy gloves on your shoulder. Asking if you were ok, if you needed anything, if you needed him. Looking at you like you're the only thing that mattered in the moment. Moving to sit next to you, his shoulder lightly touching yours. “You don’t have to talk; just know I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere.” Those days were hard, but it always felt nice to have Ekko lying on the floor next to you, no words, just his company.

He even let you into his little workshop. His words: “You don’t have to knock. If you need me, just come in” You’d hand him his tools and use all the knowledge you had on tech to help. You used to make a lot of trinkets that helped your day-to-day life. You didn’t like to make weapons like Jinx, but you could make a mean bomb. You’ve even fallen asleep to his tinkering and his little nerd-out moments. “You're such a dork.” He wouldn’t even take his eyes off his invention.

“Shush if you're not going to help.”

“Touchy touchy. Here, let me look, boy genius.” When you actually put in effort to help him, he’d look at you from the side of his eye, and you’d pretend like you didn’t notice the small smile creeping up on his face. Sitting by his side until late at night, making new things to help out in the base. Both your giggles and the metal clanking were the only things heard at 3 am.

And that’s how it was for a month. Ekko is coming in, trying to coax you into giving up Silco; you give him a little info, and he folds and gives you what you want for the day. You had a good thing going. So why’d he want to ruin it now? You were fine seeing the kids; you made small talk with one of the firelight girls, but that’s it. Everyone else you dealt with in passing. So why was Ekko so set on you interacting with more people?

“How about we hang out with the group for a bit?”

“I’m fine; I hate people.”

“Look, I’m just trying to—“

“I don’t need help! I don't need friends! I—I need my dad; I need…. I need to feel in control. It still feels like I’m a fucking prisoner even if you say I’m not.

Ekko doesn’t talk for a minute; you can tell he’s trying to choose his words wisely, his white locs covering his face. “I don’t know what you see in Silco, even if he took you in…. You can’t tell me you truly see the good in what he’s doing.

You didn’t answer him. Afraid you’ll say something you’ll regret by lashing out. He didn’t get it; he didn’t get you! Silco was your dad; Silco helped you ignore the voices; he loved you even if he had a funny way of showing it.

“He’s not the best dad in the world, but he’s my dad. He helped me when I had no one. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Ekko didn’t answer you; it’s like he wanted to argue, but he knew you needed this.

“Just... just give it a chance; you may find your people.”

If he heard your scoff, he didn’t react to it.

I don’t have people; all I have is my dad and myself, even when I don’t love myself.

Ekko’s soft words pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You have me too.”

“Until how long, hmmm, till I run out of information?”

“That’s no—“

“Hey, Ekko, tell me how I survived the day I jumped.”

Ekko went back silent; he was giving you that look again, and you hated it. It’s like he saw everything within you, and it made you feel naked, like you couldn’t hide.

“Oh that… flew down to save you.”

“Why?”

“When you smiled at us before you fell, I thought you were asking for help.”

You giggled at that; only Ekko would think of saving his enemy who tried to off themselves in front of him. “Your something else, Sunflower.”

“Sunflower!? What kind of flower is that? We don’t have those in Zaun.”

“Alright, take me out or whatever it is you want.”

“D-don’t say it like that. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the kids.”

You never knew Zaun could look like this, or even have a tree, and now the name firelights makes sense: nothing but a lush green tree with the fireflies all around it. It’s peaceful, plush; it’s nice. You got a few looks here and there, but it’s fine; ekkos here, and you weren’t forced to hang out with who you didn’t want to.

And that’s how you spent your day bonding with Ekko and even the kids; they weren’t as judgy, and you appreciated it. Even when they had questions, it didn’t feel pointed. “Why do you always wear those things on your head?” your headphones; you never took them off, never could bring yourself to part from the one thing that helps stop the voices, no matter how battered and dingy they are. “They’re headphones. They help me when I’m scared or upset.” “Oooooh, I get it; my mask helps me! Makes me feel stronger!” “Good, use your strength to become the best firelight you can be.”

That’s how the day started and ended: you playing with the kids, running around, playing tag and hide and seek until the night came. The kids gathered around, using common objects around them to make a little band; music brings a lot of the firelights together, and somebody brings an actual scrap-made speaker playing louder music. Some even start to dance. And in this moment you couldn’t help but think maybe Ekko was right; maybe these people were ok.

You grab the overworking leader by the arm and pull him with you. “What is it?”

“Come on, Ekko, let’s dance!”

“Dance?”

“Yeah, you scared boy wonder?“

“Not at all, but um… why?”

“Who doesn’t like dancing!”

That’s when the music hits and nothing else matters. Ekko moves effortlessly, his body flowing in perfect harmony with yours. He keeps you close, his chest pressed against yours as he twirls you around. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble. Your body’s moving in rhythm as the music gets Ekko pulls you closer, one hand resting on your waist while the other takes hold of your hand, spinning you. He begins to sway gently, guiding you in a slow dance. Holding each other’s sides, swaying back and forth. Every minute you got to look in Ekkos's eyes, seeing him smile at you like that did something to you; he really was something else.

You couldn’t let those eyes shake you, though. You knew it was only a matter of time before it all went to hell; no one really gives a damn about you, no one except Silco. But maybe if you were a better daughter, he would’ve found you by now.

Ekko could only look at you in confusion when you walked away from him, away from the gathering. He thought it was a good moment that he was finally getting through to you. But he wasn’t one to push, not when he knew what you’d been through, but he followed you up the stairs to the treehouse.

And when he found you, the silence was heavy but comfortable. That’s how it was with you too, and you’d never say it out loud, but he made you feel safe.

“Do you want to stay here?”

You timidly glanced into his eyes before you took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” you looked away, closing your eyes, trying to stop yourself from getting out of hand. Ekko hummed, leaving more silence in between you both, and then he asked another, “Even if you know Silco loves you, it isn’t healthy.”

You opened your eyes as a bitter taste remained in your mouth. Your face contorted into different expressions as you debated with yourself on whether or not you would share.

“My mother was a shimmer addict; she had me right as she overdosed. And Silco found me; I was different; I survived even with a small, premature body full of shimmer. He said I was unique, that I could change all of Zaun. I believe him. I’ve done a lot of great things… at least I think so. Even if you don’t agree with him, he saved me.

“But you're not okay—

“Don’t tell me what I am! I’m perfect as I am; he said so! I may not be normal, but I am living instead of surviving, Ekko! Can’t you see that?”

“I do. But you know what else I see? I see how happy you are riding your board; I see how sweet you are with the kids, especially when you steal yarn from the top side and crochet stuff for them; I see how you care for Raven when you think she’s not looking by finding her favorite things to surprise her without letting her know it was you; I see how you truly care for the people you're loyal to. You touch people's lives and leave light in your wake. I see how beautiful you are inside and out. You’re your own person, not what Silcos made you! You can do better than what he has you doing.”

“Is that what you’ve come up with in your mind? That I’m just this lost, misguided girl who was groomed to be fucked up? News flash! Boy Wonder, I’m in Zaun. I was going to be fucked up regardless of Silco! Who do you think I am, huh? Don’t act like you know me, 'cause you don’t! Stop trying to change me into something I’m not! I’m not some knockoff version of Jinx you can fix just because I decided to be nice a few times. What?! I’m your little powder passion project. Couldn’t save her, so you’re trying to save me because we both have family, daddy, and abandonment issues?!”

You knew it was a low blow, but even though she left you, you couldn’t help but think about Jinx’s words, taking them to heart, and everything she told you. “He likes to think he can save everyone.”

He narrowed his eyes at your response; you could see him clenching his fist and clenching his teeth. His eyes no longer looking at you with acceptance or worry like you were used to, only irritation

“I wasn’t trying to change her; I thought she was in danger. I didn’t know she went with that piece of shit willingly…. I thought I could save her; I needed to because she was my friend.”

“Ohhhhh, that’s right, you’re the boy savior!”

His eyes went from a glare to cold and lifeless.

“Fuck you. You know nothing; you only know Jinx's pain but not mine. You’re right about one thing, though: you and Jinx are similar. So I don’t know why I was stupid enough to try and help you; just like her, you don’t deserve it.” That just pissed you off more.

“I didn’t ask you to help me! I didn’t ask for you to save me from offing myself! I didn’t ask for you to try and fucking fix me or my life!”

“I’m not trying to change you; I’m trying to give you something better! A chance! Silco didn’t give you a chance; he used you! Your work, a tool! If you survived on shimmer this long since birth, you're proof that his product can lead to something greater than he thought. But it’s at the expense of you and your health.” His voice lowers, his breathing heavy. “Please… tell me you see it. You have to know that keeping you on shimmer as long as he has wasn’t to help you. Only him.”

In the back of your mind you knew; you always knew. And yet the faith he put in you gave your heart love you’ve never felt before. How he always stated he was proud of you, said you were the best thing to happen in his life, that you're his legacy, his daughter. But what was the cost for your heart, suicidal thoughts, breakdowns, nightmares, and dissociation? A mother that never wanted you, a father that loved you but not enough to see your pain, only your potential. “Hey Ekko, thank you. For saving me and making me realize. I don’t want people to end up like me... because I’m not ok.”

“Then let me he“—”. He didn’t get to finish before you pushed back, making him crash into the tree behind him. You jumped from the stairs on the tree; you didn’t care about the fall because it’s the freest you ever felt. You could hear the other fireflies yelling, but the adrenaline and the wind in your ears helped you ignore them. As soon as you fell, you pushed forward, not caring about the pain in your legs and ankles. Grabbing a hoverboard before speeding off and out of the hideout.

When Ekko got up, he didn’t chase you, nor did he call out for you; all he could do was watch. Scar rushed up to him, looking at him expectingly. “She’s going to go back to Silco!? We have to catch her before she rats us out!?” Ekko didn’t react to his words, only looking forward to where you had run. “Ekko!” And when Ekko finally looked at Scar, he just shrugged. “She’ll be back when she’s ready.” “She’s not coming back." Ekko, she’s been waiting for an opportunity to escape, and we let her!”

Ekko just shook his head, picking up something off the ground. “She’ll be back.” “How do you know!?” Ekko moved his hand in front of Scar, showing him what he picked up. “She left her headphones.” Scar just scoffed. “That doesn't mean anything.” Ekko just shook his head. “Trust me, if you knew her like I do, you’d know it meant everything.”

You wandered around one of Silco's biggest shimmer factories, where most of his shipments go. You walked around the rooftop, pacing back and forth. “I’m addicted to the madness~” You turned on your headphones, singing along, tuning out the noise below, scummy workers and henchmen everywhere. “Let me leave my soul a-burning; I’ll be breathing it in.” Sneaking down through the crawl spaces, you laid out bombs everywhere you could stick them. You set up trap after trap after trap after trap. You knew this place like the back of your hand, so it was easy to get in and get out.

“I’m addicted to the feeling, getting higher than the ceiling~” This place had meaning to you… this was the first place Silco took you when he felt like you were ready to work for him. The first place where he showed you the ropes was the same place he had you start your injections. The same place you had your first breakdown. This felt like a goodbye to the past, the pain, everything that made you feel inadequate. You don’t know what you’d be without Silco; you knew the voices would never fully leave, but at least with this you could let your dad know you were ok and that you were going your own way.

“Just concede and give in to your inner demons again~” You hit the button, and it all blew up—the building, the workers.

And you too. Hopefully, Silco can forgive you for not saying goodbye.

It’s been 3 months; Ekko waited for you to return. But after a while he could only assume you’d either gone your own way or something terrible happened. Missions still happened with no sign of you with Silco's goons, and there’s talk about the huge explosion that happened, so he couldn’t pinpoint what had happened to you; all he had to give him comfort about your departure was your headphones. He never touched them, only keeping them by his bedside with your memory lingering with him whenever there in his sight. But today at 12 am, he finally had the courage to tinker with them, hopefully fixing them up.

He was concentrating so hard he didn’t hear the door open; it was Scar. “Your stray is back,” and as soon as he came, he left.

“Hey sunflower,” he jumped and turned around so quickly you thought he’d fall out of the chair. He did slip a little as he rushed to hug you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

“Missed me?” He squeezed your torso, chuckling a little. “Missed your humor, not your bullshit.” You poked at his side, making him jump. “Lies, you missed that too. Everyone else is boring.

He pulls you over to his patched-up couch, both of you plopping down. You lean into his touch, laying on his shoulder. Neither of you said anything; you didn’t need to. You don’t know what you expected when it came to his reaction. But you’re glad Ekko didn’t pressure you to talk about anything or question what you’d been doing. You’d tell him one of these days. The withdraws, breakdowns, you almost ending it all. But right now you just wanted to enjoy his company; being alone for months took its toll, so it’s good to be back in a warming presence.

It took everything in you to not go back to Silco, to everything that was easier. But you pulled it off, and you hope Ekko could see that you really are trying. “Was it you?” He spoke so softly you thought you just imagined it, but Ekkos looking into your eyes let you know it was real. And you knew what he meant; your explosion was nothing but destruction, but you wanted to leave that behind you. So you said the only thing that was closest to the truth. “I’m following my own path now, Ekko.” When you looked back at him, it almost took your breath away. Those stupid, big, brown eyes looking at you with so much warmth you could’ve melted right then and there. It made you sick.

“I’m happy for you... So you’re just visiting?”

“Geez, trying to kick me out already, huh?” He shook his head. “Of course not. I just…. I want you to be happy and go your own way, even if it’s not here with me.” You looked away, biting your cheek. “So what if I wanted to be happy here?”.

“Then I’d make a space for you right now; you’re always welcome.”

“Even in your room~”

“Yeah, you can stay with me if you want.”

You felt all your thoughts falter and come to a stop once the words were out of his mouth. You paused and looked at him, face red. “Easy there; we don’t want everyone jealous that the big boss in charge is playing favorites.” He pulls you so close, too close. His nose and forehead touching your own. You don’t know this Ekko, Ekko who always was too shy to flirt back, who was always the gentleman, who only gave fleeting touches like he was afraid to break you. “You are my favorite; you’ll always be someone special to me.” You couldn’t help pushing his buttons, not wanting him to see your face reddening.

“Leaders shouldn’t show favoritism, ya know. I’m going to need something for me to keep quiet; wouldn’t want to hurt the kiddies feelings, would you? out of all the things you expected Ekko to say, you didn’t expect what he’d do.

Ekko leans down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. It’s slow and tender; the brush of his lips is so soft. He takes his time, savoring the feel of your lips against his, pouring all of his love and affection into the kiss. He leaned back and smiled warmly as he continued to gently caress your cheek. He looked at you with a soft, affectionate expression, his gaze filled with adoration thatyou’d noticed before. You just never had the guts to call him out on it.

“Is that enough to keep you quiet?”

“It's a start.”

[waffleboyy]

Rambles under the cut

i like to think Dale was actually a fairly happy kid, especially when he got discovered by Doug, but as he matured and thought back on his situation he grew more hateful and resentful because no one cared to find or look for him for SEVEN YEARS, so why should he care about anyone else? I'm sure doug gave him a good home, and Dale, (much like dev) really admires his father but dale cares more so about how people perceive him rather than actually being cared for, because he doesn't know the difference.

Dale also grew really materialistic to make sure he never had to fear going back to that lemonade sweat shop ever again, which is why he's so attached to his boots rather than his son, because people have failed him before but money and goods have never left him. also I know...basic, sorry, but out of any of the characters, he. HE! He has autism. Dale is not very good at masking and he doesn't make an effort to hide it, but it's kind of hard to notice since he's always alone, and everyone just chalks it up as "capitalist guy who has no sense of the common man" , which is true but let me have fun. Like he never wants to see people despite being a millionaire and like public figure? He says random weird phrases that are just kind of out of touch, and he most likely has an aversion to physical touch as well because I KNOW dev has never gotten a hug. also he's very blunt and doesn't sugar coat anything he says, and while that may be because "he's a millionaire he doesn't have to care about what he says" I like to think it's because he genuinely has no social awareness. At all. He just does whatever the fuck he wants and good for him, kind of. ( Not really) ... Also the statue and the boots thing is simply because he does love his boots more than dev, like it's just a fact. He doesn't hate his son or he didn't do that just to rub it in , it's just a genuine fact for him that he values his boots, material things, things that never hurt him, over his son. I could talk about different examples all day but this is getting too long lol.

Also random head canon, But Dale has asthma and valley fever from all of the untouched dust and dirt filling his lungs from the lemonade stuff, but he's also been able to hold a resistance from needing an inhaler or breathing machine because of it, so he rarely needs it maybe once in a blue moon. Dev also has asthma, but he's literally like. A baby. While his dad is more immune to needing it, dev is just always cooped inside so he's never built any resistance so he needs it frequently.

hehe sorry ok I'm done... probably.... probably not...

[megtrns]

Hello! Wanted to start off and say how much I love your writing, and it's awesome you feel able to do it again. Thank you, and I hope you're having a good day!!!

Secondly, if your inbox isn't too full already, could I maybe request a little scenario of idw megs receiving a painting from a secret admirer so to speak? It's not exactly hard to find out who made it, doing a painting at cybertronian scale is a huge undertaking for a human, and would likely require some assistance (something i doubt would stay secret for long), but, despite their usual spunkiness, the human just got a little too nervous to gift it directly.

a/n : hi dear, thank you so much for the sweet message, i'm glad to hear you enjoy my writing ! i hope you're having a good day too. i hope i do justice to your request because it was so fun to write for <3

florence. megatron / gn!reader. sfw !

You once told him a story about a (rumoured) condition in which people, when confronted with profound artworks, are seized by a range of mysterious symptoms—from mild dizziness to falling to their knees, with some even fainting—the Florence syndrome, as they called it. A strange and rare phenomenon in which one crumbles at the sight of intense beauty.

Megatron is aware of your passion for art. Your hands are often smudged with ink or paint whenever he sees you, dried flecks of grey and red adorning your forearms. Once, you had infamously splashed an entire bucket of paint over Rodimus, pleading to your captain that it was not premeditated. That he just had the spoiled luck of entering your makeshift art studio while you were 'experimenting'.

Work for you above the Lost Light was scarce, and in space, the days all blur into one — long and seemingly endless, no one stopped you from indulging in your hobbies. You had a range of artistic passions, but one Megatron finds curious: painting, both the act and the result of the action. The technique is different from what they did back on Cybertron. And Megatron cannot remember the last time he saw one, denied of such privileges as someone forged for the mines (and by the time he could roam the streets freely, there weren't many buildings left for him to set foot in. Regrettably, he made sure of that.)

He has seen you do it before, wrist moving in delicate concentration, guiding liquid paint — which he learned to be particles of pigment suspended in a drying oil — across a white canvas. You made it look effortless, like a dance you perform for yourself, one he privately wishes he could see more often. But these days, you were being secretive, often excusing yourself away from your usual table at Swerves to return to your studio, where the windows were tinted so that not even sly, conniving mechs like Whirl could peek inside. Everyone assumed you needed the solitude; living in a ship with over a hundred rowdy bots can overwhelm a person. So he lets you go to tend to your latest project, disappointed that even when suspended in space, the time you two shared passes so quickly.

He would be lying to himself to say that he wasn't curious, going as far as surprising himself by feeling jealous at the sight of Ultra Magnus and Fortress Maximus walking out of the studio — idly chatting in the hallway as if they hadn't just entered what is (currently) known as the most secretive place aboard the whole ship. Even Rodimus had thrown a fit at the rumour that the two point-one-percenters had seen your latest painting before he did, and Megatron was somewhat relieved that the former Prime acted as a distraction, afraid that you saw right through him, past his armour and down to his envy.

Until he sees the painting in front of his hab-suite, leaning against the door.

His servos twitched to touch, optics widening at the sight.

It was him.

You've painted him as he is, iron and silver, standing proudly under the light. His eyes red like a rising sun. It was almost like staring into the mirror, yet his image was looking away from the viewer — both he and the audience acting as discreet observers. But there was a sudden, slow pulling at his spark when he realised that even when he's not smiling in the portrait, you made him look kind. Gentle.

And the ex-warlord didn't know how to feel aside from astonishment. Is this how you see him? That despite his marred and ugly history, you see art in him ?

When he saw you the next day, optics skimming the crowd to land on a pair of nervous eyes, Megatron didn't even notice he was smiling — a small, rare gesture that had you blushing so beautifully.

You tried to act as if the painting wasn't from you, dismissing his 'thank yous' and shrugging it off with both hands in your pocket (as if Ultra Magnus and Fortress Maximus had not admitted to being the one to carry you above their open palms for hours so you could reach the corners of the giant canvas.) Megatron, however, doesn't need a confession. He didn’t miss the satisfied grin you tried to hide when you saw the painting in his room, clearly cherished by the way it hung right where he could see it at all times.

Megatron has barely received anything in his life worth treasuring, but this painting was almost like a silent admission — intimate, sweet, something so far removed from what he thought was possible in his life.

So yes, he has heard of people trembling and shaking at the sight of grandiose paintings, going so far as to weep and collapse. Megatron couldn't understand it until he pictured you standing in the middle of your studio, neck craned to admire your portrayal of him — the vision enough to make his processor spin.

[interestingturnofthetables]

Don’t get me wrong, I do also enjoy watching them duke it out in the cage. I think they have a really interesting relationship between them that I love exploring because it’s toxic. I think your version of ‘ship them’ here is pretty much my thoughts on most things too. I just didn’t want to rehash points made above in the tags.

When I say they don’t work together and it makes me sad to see I was more so talking about a specific interpretation (which I didn’t make clear that is on me lol) of post-canon; any variation of Bill shows up at the shack after theraprism and within a week him and ford are somehow in a weirdly stable romantic relationship. I don’t like seeing them in a ‘good’ relationship because it feels disingenuous given their entire history and Ford especially doesn’t deserve that after everything.

As for the au’s, I think there are certain aspects of both their characters that do work well together if they were accentuated. I find it just as interesting to explore that ‘what if’ of any version of such as I do to explore their canon situation. It’s sort of just a chance to mix and match personality traits or motives in a character and see how it turns out. I often very much feel like a mad scientist running a simulation over and over to figure out the perfect scenario and circumstances for my evil plans to unfold.

Even in au situations I tend to lean more towards the ‘everything is terrible! But hey, these guys seem happy!’ premises. (What if Ford was actually just pretty chill with the end of the world? There’s also so much more potential for family angst if Stan is trying to fight this demon but also his brother). I can also appreciate a ‘bill has other motives’ au or the Mr bill pines au where everything is just pretty ideal for everyone involved, because it’s very much just “wow, look what it could’ve been like. How did [canon] happen!?” Which only serves to make the distinction that “yeah. Canon billford is SO toxic” all the clearer.

This isn’t to say I don’t enjoy au’s without romantic/healthy billford. I just think in a different set of circumstances there might be a chance to explore it without it clearly (to the audience) being a manipulation tactic or anything else that is obviously not a healthy relationship. And even without changing every part of their characters, their dynamic is so interesting to explore all the different possible situations, and some of those situations can give them a shot at actually being a good (albeit odd) couple which to me is such a funny concept.

Hopefully that made sense. Tldr: canon billford is toxic but interesting as heck to look at. I just don’t want to see that magically twisted into a ‘healthy’ romantic relationship. And au’s are just like character trait jigsaw puzzles that can give you so many more options of positive or negative relationships under new and interesting circumstances.

The fandom interpretation of billford vs how I interpret it personally has such stark contrast that I kind of wonder if we all read the same book/watched the same show sometimes.

I don’t mean that in a bad way (sorry if I come across as condescending). I find it really interesting actually. I think fandom, in general, has a tendency to ignore darker themes present in a work because they’re difficult to talk about.

I feel a little odd seeing so much fluff and domesticity type stuff surrounding them when their relationship was so terrible. There’s nothing wrong with fluff obviously (I like it sometimes!), it’s just hard for me to fully enjoy … I can’t help but view any moments of Bill treating Ford nicely as underhanded. I am also probably projecting though - part of why I like Billford and interpret it the way I do is because I find it (particularly the darker parts) relatable to me.

I’m curious to hear other peoples opinions on this matter. Sorry for the random rant - don’t worry, I’m working on something! This has just been on my mind lately.

[trashwithvariety]

so this has probably already been talked about in great detail since the end of the show (hannibal) but I just did a rewatch and I can't shut up about it. the incredible level of subtle details in this show is already insane but I noticed it much clearer in my rewatch during season 3 part two how quickly we see Will change.

during *The Great Red Dragon*, Will is back to mostly his pre-Hannibal self. We see him married with a family out in the country with his dogs and more specifically his clothes (I am going to be very specific about what he wears in this because it's these details that are so subtle but make his change so much more crispy). He's wearing very practical, warm weather clothes, looks like an outdoorsman.

like, reminder that this ↓

is how he shows up to meet Hannibal again for the first time in years. Glasses, coat, clearly clothes he would not think twice about wearing anywhere, kind of like how he dresses in season one. It's also in his expression and his stature (which bless Hugh Dancy for his portrayal of Will because I don't know who else could have done the subtle changes so eloquently)

now let me take you to the episode directly after (And the Woman Clothed with the Sun) he first sees Hannibal and has to come back to talk to him

i'm sorry??? Immediately with the crisp button down, tucked in, with the top buttons undone, hair slicked back, NO GLASSES and look. Look at how he stands and his expression and how comfortable he is, hands in pockets.

okay further evidence. And honestly arguably the scariest piece

it's the dead-eyed stare for me. We all know what happened to Chilton after this, and it's the fact that he knew what he was doing. God, Will was never more like Hannibal than he was at the end of season three. Clothes are not much different on purpose because he's playing the game now.

Sidebar that in almost all the scenes that he's bitchily talking to Bedelia, he's also very well dressed as if he's taking Hannibal's place in his manipulation of her.

By the time we see him in The Wrath of the Lamb, he has already decided that he wants Hannibal back. Vaguely suggesting to Jack to use Hannibal as bait for the Dragon, as if he didn't very well consider all the outcomes would likely lead to Hannibal escaping. The way they're looking conspiratorially at each other in the back of the van. How Will isn't even remotely surprised he walks out unscathed or how he doesn't question letting him drive them to wherever they're going to meet the dragon.

And once they get to the cliffside house, and they get settled and Will?

His shirt is tight, his expression is the SAME as the one Hannibal had in episode ONE season ONE, as he watches Hannibal BLEED OUT and wonders probably what they will do.

There are plenty of ways everyone that worked on this show displayed how Will was changing but I loved how they used his clothes to do it and how Hugh used his expressions to differentiate pre-Hannibal and post-Hannibal Will.

I could write a dissertation on this show it's insane and I will never shut up about my murderous gay husbands.

[gurokiitty]

a/n : no thoughts, just slippin' jimmy

RUINATION

{ inmate! jimmy x correctional officer! f! reader ]

word count : 1486

warnings/tags : NSFW, jimmy's noncon fantasy, pre-tulpar/prison setting, voyeurism, objectification, solo masturbation, obsession, implied violence, jimmy has a corruption/domination kink.

Jimmy had seen you for the first time two months ago, fresh-faced and stiff-backed, walking into this pit like you belonged here. You didn’t. He could see that from a mile away.

You weren’t like the other guards—those grizzled, bitter men with dead eyes and nicotine-stained teeth. You didn’t smile, didn’t soften, didn’t slouch under the weight of this place like so many others had. You were new, unspoiled—a picture of order and control in a place where everything and everyone was dirty.

Your navy blue uniform fit a little too well, the pressed seams highlighting the curve of your hips, the swell of your chest, the delicate line of your throat where a small vein pulsed. You smelled clean, like the citrusy shampoo you probably used every morning. It was a scent so out of place that it almost made him sick, lingering in his head hours after you passed by, curling into his thoughts like smoke. Jimmy couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman in person, let alone one like you.

He couldn’t decide if he hated you or if he wanted you. Both, probably. You weren’t here for him—you weren’t here for any of them. You walked the block like you were above it all, like the filthy men behind these bars weren’t worth your time. You wouldn’t look at him, not really. A quick glance, maybe, when you were counting heads or writing something down, but never long enough to see the way he watched you.

And he did watch you.

Jimmy watched the way your shirt pulled tight over your chest when you reached for the radio on your belt. He noticed how the top button was always undone, offering the faintest glimpse of the hollow of your throat, smooth and delicate like porcelain. He noticed the way your pants clung to your thighs, the belt cinching your waist so tightly it made him think of his hands wrapping around you instead.

Today was different, though. Today you weren’t just walking past his cell with that quick, dismissive glance that set his blood on fire. Today you were inside his cell, tearing through his cellmate's things, your small hands shoving his meagre belongings aside with practiced efficiency.

Jimmy stayed seated, his hands resting on his thighs as he watched you move. You started with the bunk opposite his, rifling through the thin mattress, shaking out threadbare clothes, and tossing them to the floor. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his bony knees, his gaze fixed on you like a predator sizing up prey.

He barely registered his cellmate's nervous muttering as you crouched low to the floor, your hand sweeping under his bunk. And when you bent lower, he swore under his breath.

The fabric of your pants stretched tight over your ass, the seams straining, pulling, moulding to every curve like a second skin. He could see the faint indent of your underwear beneath the cheap polyester, the way it dug into the soft flesh of your hips and dipped between your thighs. His mouth went dry. He could feel his pulse pounding in his throat, in his chest, in his groin.

He wondered what your hands would feel like if they weren’t reaching under his cellmate's bunk but instead dragging over his ribs, his hips, his cock. He wondered if you’d grip him like you gripped that pack of cigarettes when you found them, firm and unapologetic.

“Whose are these?” you asked, standing up, the pack dangling from two fingers as you locked eyes with his cellmate.

“N-Not mine,” his cellmate croaked as he shifted on his feet, trapped under the weight of your stare.

Your lips curled into something faintly amused. “Funny,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “because they sure as hell didn’t walk in here on their own.”

The silence stretched, taut as a tripwire, until you turned sharply on your heel, your boots scuffing the floor. With a jerk of your head, you beckoned his cellmate. “Let’s go,” you said, your tone dropping an octave into something that wasn’t a request. “Now.”

He scrambled to follow as you walked out, your posture rigid, your hips swaying just enough to make Jimmy grit his teeth.

And then you were gone, the door slamming shut behind you, leaving him alone in the cell with nothing but the memory of your body bent over and the faint, maddening scent of your shampoo.

He couldn’t help himself.

Jimmy sprawled across his bunk, the springs groaning beneath his weight as he shoved his hand down his pants. He was already hard, painfully so, hissing through his teeth as his fingers curled around his length. His free hand gripped the thin, scratchy blanket beneath him, twisting it as he closed his eyes and let the image of you flood his mind.

He thought of your body in that uniform, too tight in all the right places, hugging the curves he could only dream of now. The navy-blue fabric was like armour, shielding you from men like him, but it did nothing to hide the soft, alluring contours beneath. What did you wear under it, he wondered, when you left this prison and stepped back into your clean, untouchable life? Something modest, perhaps, like plain cotton, prim and white—or something more sinful, like black or red, silk or lace.

His thumb dragged over the head of his cock, slick now with precum, and a low, guttural groan clawed its way out of his throat. The thought of you in lace—delicate, sheer, barely covering you—made his hips jerk against his own hand. He imagined tearing it away, his rough fingers yanking at the fabric until it unravelled into useless tatters.

You’d be weak on the outside, he thought. Easy to restrain, easy to overwhelm. You’d try to fight him, of course—claw at him, maybe even scream—but it wouldn’t matter. Not against his strength, not against his need, not against the singular thought of you.

He’d push you down, pin you beneath him, let you feel the weight of his desperation. He could already see how you’d crumble under him, the fight draining from your limbs as you realized there was nowhere to run, nothing left to do but give in. All that authority, all those clipped commands—you’d lose them the second he touched you, the second he dragged you down into the dirt.

You’d smell the same out there, wouldn’t you? Like blood on snow. Like something pure, ruined. He’d strip away that pristine edge of yours, leave you raw and trembling, a smear of himself staining the perfect surface you worked so hard to maintain. You wouldn’t be clean anymore—not after him.

Jimmy's strokes were ruthless, his grip tight like a vice, as though he could claw the frustration out of himself with every punishing movement. He imagined your lips trembling, your breath catching in your throat as he pressed you into the ground, his hands greedy and unrelenting. Your hair, usually so neat, would spill like a dark halo against the earth, and your eyes would be blown wide, wet with fear, shining like glass just before it shattered.

He spat into his palm, the slick warmth easing the drag of his hand as his pace quickened, frantic now. The mattress creaked beneath him, and he bit down on his lip hard enough to taste blood, the metallic tang searing through his mouth. He imagined you tasting it, imagined forcing his mouth against yours until you had no choice but to take him in.

The groan that tore from his throat was feral, guttural, his head tipping back against the cold cinderblock wall. Sweat slicked his skin, the coarse prison shirt sticking to his chest as he chased the vision of you to its inevitable end. You’d break so beautifully, he thought. He’d whittle you down to nothing but a trembling, begging whore. He’d ruin you as thoroughly as you’d ruined him, with that maddening, little smile you didn’t even know you gave.

The thought pushed him over the edge, his body seizing as release tore through him. His hand faltered, his breath hitched, and he spilled across his stomach, the warmth pooling sticky and unwelcome against his skin. The world blurred, dissolving into static and white noise as he rode the wave to its bitter, relentless conclusion.

When he came back to himself, he was left with the oppressive weight of silence, his chest heaving and skin damp with sweat. The faint scent of you still lingered, haunting him like a ghost, and he let out a low, ragged curse, wiping himself clean with the edge of the blanket.

You weren’t clean anymore—not in his mind. He’d dragged you down into the filth with him, ruined you in ways you’d never even know, and the thought curled his lips into a slow, wicked smile.

[signanothername]

How would an average interaction between Cross and Killer be like?

Killer not even paying attention to Cross at all, and Cross being extremely offended by that ghdvgyv

To Killer, Cross isn't much of a threat, physically, emotionally or mentally, hell, he's not even close to being any sorta challenge

Killer finds everyone else a much bigger threat than Cross could ever be, from Horror and Murder, to Color, Epic and Delta, to Swap and Dream, and if Killer handled all of them atop handling the self proclaimed king of negativity, then Cross has big shoes to fill if he was so desperate for attention that he wanted Killer to acknowledge his pathetic attempts to be seen at all

Cross is all talk no action to Killer, Cross blabbers about being a royal guard and how he can kick Killer's ass but Killer is simply not even listening to Cross' threats or words

Killer's always been about actions not words, if Cross says he's gonna break his neck then he better deliver, and when it escalates (which happens a lot, Cross is generally aggressive), so far, Cross hasn't managed to impress Killer with his words turned actions either

The most interesting thing about him was his soul when it had its determination, the determination is no longer there, so Cross has lost any characteristics that could pull Killer's attention to him, and he frankly, sees Cross as extremely pathetic that he's simply not worth any second of his time at all, Cross is invisible to him if you will

Cross on the other hand, isn't desperate for Killer's attention because he admires Killer or is trying to impress him, but rather, born from both a deep-rooted insecurity and hating to feel out of place, like he doesn't belong

He looks at Killer and thinks of how similar they are in a way, yet so different still, and wonders what Killer has that he doesn't, why does Killer seem smarter, stronger, more durable, faster, more agile, more flexible and adaptable, and like he's so much better at everything, even so much better at healing from his pain and suffering, like it doesn't affect him at all (that's Cross' outlook on life, what he sees of Killer, but in reality, Cross has always been making greater and better progress in healing than Killer does, Killer isn't always better than him at everything)

So when he sees Killer not even bother look his way, and when he sees how apathetic he is towards not only him, but his friends, the ones that love him and take care of him, it hurts, and it makes his blood boil, how could Killer be so ungrateful

Cross isn't some innocent little boy who hasn't done horrific actions himself, but he's definitely hypocritical, as he'd lecture Killer and talk about how much of a terrible person he is and remind Killer of the fact he used to work for Nightmare (when he, the better person in his eyes, denied) like he hasn't done so many awful things himself

In reality Cross feels his emotions deeply, Killer doesn't, and that makes them clash in ideals, views, and general life outlook

Cross just needs to get to know Killer better and adjust to him, understand how to deal with him, but generally, Cross and Killer do get closer in the end, and they both warm up to each other

And when they actually warm up to each other, they act so much like siblings, the kind that love to be a lil mean to each other, but are gonna have each other's back regardless

[waywardducks]

I have a love/hate relationship with Batman and I need to talk about it.

I’m obsessed with the Robins and anyone that hurts them is on my shitlist, and this includes Bruce. He's a horrible father, he’s abusive, he's got some misconstrued morals, he's just an asshole altogether and he acts like a moody teenager more than a middle-aged man.

But he's such a fantastic character. He has done some fucked up shit, but he's also lived through some fucked up shit, and no, I don't just mean his parents. Despite losing his parents, he was still raised in a house built on love, and Alfred raised him the same, but differently. He didn't come from a bad home. Yet he still turned out the way he did. And that's fascinating to me!

I attended a Batman panel at a convention back in September and it has honestly stuck with me. The panel was on Batman’s traumas and how they affected him and shaped him. It was run by a group of licensed trauma-specific therapists and psychologists and the insight they had on it was amazing.

One of the speakers said that in the loss of his family, Bruce is trying to surround himself with a new family, all young boys who look similar to himself. I believe that one of them said he wasn't trying to make a family in the sense that he was the dad, but that it was just family. Like brothers maybe. They said that it wasn't even something he was doing consciously, it just started happening naturally for him. Because the boys remind him of himself. Batman is still a scared little boy in an alleyway, watching as the bad guy gets away and his parents bleed out on the floor at his feet. He trains them because he wants them to be strong, stronger than he is.

Something else that they said that really stuck with me was that the best way for Batman to heal is to not be Batman anymore, that Batman is so ingrained in Bruce that trying to get rid of Batman would do more harm than good and that the only option to lead to any healing for him was to help him shape Batman into something different. Slowly, help him use Batman to overcome his traumas instead of create new ones. But not to get rid of Batman.

I think of Batman Beyond. Bruce is so controlling still over Batman. He's old, lonely. There's no one left but Terry. This is what Batman did to him and he chose it. Its shocking.

Batman is a huge crybaby, a self-sabotaging man who does what he thinks is right, even if it's not always right. He's mentally ill, no one mentally healthy is that paranoid. He pushes his traumas onto his kids, he can't handle having to be emotional, because that means feeling and grieving the pain, and that's too much for him. (see: how he acted after Todd’s death) he’s stubborn, he can't take no for an answer half the time. He thinks everyone and everything is out to get him. He has lost himself in a persona to try and hide from his feelings. He hates himself for his parent's death and feels like he wasn't strong enough. He can't handle the idea that someone might love him because he hates himself so much that he ruins his relationships. Dick is such a good match for him because Dick is so loyal and will stay through all of his little freakouts. I think Dick realized that Bruce only means well at some point and that's why he forgave him.

I hate him. He's so stupid. I love how his brain works. He's such a piece of shit.

[lexirosewrites]

I look forward to slick Sunday every week it's always so fun! Had a fun little idea that's slightly different too!

O!Steve is known to be home alone a lot but what if it wasn't because both his parents were shitty, just his dad. People assume Steve is all alone but every year when December starts Steve gets to pick up his favorite woman in the world, next to his best friend Robin, from the airport and after months away he's holding his mom so so tight.

Mrs. Harrington comes home every year because she never wants her sweet sweet pup to be alone during their favorite holiday. They decorate, her inside and him out because he loves hanging the lights all over the house, they bake cookies and cakes and brownies and while she wraps presents and shops in the city he delivers them all around Hawkins. It's their little tradition but now tradition gets to be shared.

Steve invites B!Robin, A!Nancy, O!Jonathan, B!Argyle, the pups and of course A!Eddie and all their parents (except Argyle because they don't talk much anymore but he's chill with it, he loves Joyce and calls her mom) over for Christmas this year and everyone agrees because they don't ever want Steve to be alone. Eddie is the first to show up, he arrives early in the morning with Wayne because he's eager to see the omega who stole his heart and he's been trying to ask to court officially for a year now, and when they knock a sleepy, bleary Steve answers the door and he just smiles and says "My Eddie." He just woke up so he doesn't even notice he let his inner thoughts out instead of his normal response.

Eddie? Over the freaking moon. He knows Steve was probably trying to tell him good morning but he just smiles and purrs, stepping inside and Steve just falls into his chest because he's sleepy and happy and content because now not only is the Alpha he loves here, his pack will be around later AND his mom is home. It's shaping up to be the best Christmas ever. Wayne is just chuckling as he closes the door behind them and that's when a soft and sweet scent is noticable and voice calls out. "Steve? Pup who's at the door?"

"It's my Alpha Mom!"

Eddie. Is. Ecstatic. Steve thinks of him as his Alpha. Fuck. Yes! He can't resist covering Steve in his scent as the heel clicks get closer and Dahlia Harrington, her breakfast apron on and spatula in hand, comes to the foyer and is smiling so bright. "Hello sweetheart! Oh Stevie you know how to pick them, the handsome Munson Alpha? My lucky pup. Come now everyone, breakfast is almost ready and I'm making French toast. We have lots to do before the rest of the pack gets here!" She takes Wayne's hand and leads him away while Steve and Eddie are still curled around each other by the door.

And later that day when their pack arrives, everyone gets to meet Steve's mom and they all adore her. There's games, music, dancing, presents and so much good food. The Harrington house is full of love and laughter and joy and if that night when Steve is surrounded by all his pups in a big nest next to the Christmas tree, his mom asleep in their nest upstairs with the other parents of the pack, Eddie right against his back and the rest of his friends bracketed around the pups to protect them and their pack Omega he tells Eddie to bite him. He doesn't even care their courtship was never official, he doesn't need tradition when he has Eddie's love.

The best Christmas present of all that day? Having his family together and his Alpha's mark. He's so excited for next Christmas.

what if i cry🥲