#the way i SHRIEKED when i found this on ACCIDENT

[adult-kinda]

Just A Friend

Warnings: student athlete! Sunghoon, bimbo student! fem! Reader, smut, cheating(?), Sunghoon is high key a dick, yeah I got bored one day chat [I was scrolling through and saw a creator do a fic that’s similar to the ending of this one? I wrote mine before reading theirs so I apologize for unintended similarities! Here’s the link to that one]

In which Sunghoon doesn’t have a concept of a best friend…

Sunghoon didn’t see the problem. You were his best friend and have always been since middle school. You knew him better than anyone and he was the same for you. He always thought you were a little bit ditzy and it only got worse as you got older. Anytime he saw a cloud of pink glittery girly shit Sunghoon knew you were in his line of sight.

Things didn’t change as you got older. Not even in university when he found his friend group. The guys were introduced to you on accident and it almost didn’t end well.

-

“Who’s that sexy thing over there?” Jake asked teasingly.

Jay and Sunghoon turned around to see who he was talking about. The hockey team just won the state championship and Sunghoon brought his two roommates to the party to celebrate. Those two seemed more interested in finding a body where Sunghoon was there for drinks and fun. But when the athlete saw who Jake was talking about he straight up saw red.

“No. She’s off limits.” He said.

Jake and Jay looked confused. “Bro do you know her?” Jay asked.

The boy shrugged causally. “Something like that.”

Jake’s eyes widened a bit. “What do you mean ‘something like that?’ You get bitches and never told us?”

Sunghoon didn’t answer. The rest of the guys’ questions fell on deaf ears. He just watched you dance around for a few more seconds until you saw him.

“Hoonie!” You squealed.

He smirked and picked you up when you ran into his arms. “Hi pretty girl.”

The two guys looked even more lost. They didn’t know much about you. Yeah they had seen a photo or two on Sunghoon’s wall in the apartment and maybe your contact in his phone was a little suspect, but they didn’t really pay any mind to it. Last year he had mentioned his best friend was coming to the school but they thought it was a guy or some girl from his childhood that he wasn’t super attached to. But there you were.

There you stood in the flesh looking more Paris Hilton than Paris Hilton did. The pink ensemble and that obnoxious lip gloss, and that damn whiney voice. Who even were you, a living Barbie doll? And how in the world did Sunghoon know you?

“Bro you never said anything about a girl!” Jake shrieked.

Sunghoon turned around after setting you back on solid ground. “I don’t. This is my best friend, my pretty girl.”

Jay frowned and looked you up and down. He was searching for something, any reason to believe that Sunghoon not only wasn’t dating you, but that he even associated with you.

“The girl you have as bestie on your phone? The one with the pink obsession, this is her?” He asked baffled.

Sunghoon nodded. “Princess, say hi.”

You waved at them. “Hi! I’m Sunghoon’s girl, it’s nice to meet you guys!”

They were absolutely stunned. There was no way in hell that their hockey playing ice cold playboy-esc friend was with you… however he wanted to put it. It wasn’t adding up.

“Um… hi I’m Jay.” He greeted politely.

Jake smirked and shamelessly checked you out. If you were just friends then he wouldn’t mind tapping that. “I’m Jake.”

You smiled and turned back to Sunghoon as if the other two didn’t exist.

“Hoonie how do you like my outfit?” You asked in that whiney voice that made the other two cringe a bit.

Sunghoon motioned for you to do a spin even though he had already made up his mind. You were flaunting that mini, borderline micro skirt with that stupid baby tee. And those damn Versace platforms he spent a good amount on for you. And of course you had to flash him and the guys with that spin. He got the cutest glimpse of your barely covered pussy, lips out from the g-string seemingly fitting slightly too small. In his head the whole outfit was stupid, stupidly hot. You were giving 2000s baddie vibes and he was really into it. With a tug of the waistband Sunghoon was gonna prove that he liked the outfit.

“Sexy as always, princess. Anyone hit on you tonight?” He inquired.

You nodded your head and leaned into his chest. “A few guys but none of them can fuck me like you.”

That made the guys look so shocked.

“Fuck her?” Jake asked.

Sunghoon turned to them and shrugged. “Yeah, why?”

Jay finally caught his breath after nearly choking on his rum and coke. “What do you mean why Bro you told us that she’s your girl best friend! You realize that’s not a normal thing to do, right?”

You frowned at Jay’s words. “But Hoonie treats me like a princess! He says I deserve pretty privileges and when I’m needy I should go to him.”

Jay looks at you and then looks at Sunghoon who was confused like he was the idiot.

“Is she dumb?” Jake muttered to the other boy.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you. “Ignore them, pretty. I’m always gonna take care of you, you know that. Your health, your safety, your love, and your needy body are all mine to care for. Don’t worry your dumb pretty little head with these things, okay?”

You giggled and nodded. When you looked up Sunghoon’s lips met yours for a kiss that further confused the two guys. It wasn’t a casual peck of a mistake made by friends. This kiss was intentional and raw. Sunghoon’s tongue wasted no time entering your hot cavern tasting your cherry gloss and Pink Whitney. What even was this relationship?

“Princess, what have I told you about that alcohol?” He scolded.

You rolled your eyes and batted your eyes. “It was only one shot, and I poured it all by myself!”

Sunghoon hummed and let his hands grasp your ass like he owned it (he did). The tension between you two made Jake and Jay teeter between uncomfortable and confused. They never felt so much like awkward third wheels in their lives until now.

“Um… should we like leave?” Jake mumbled.

Before Jay could answer Sunghoon glanced at the guys standing next to him.

“Why do you guys look like that?” He asked.

The two just motioned to you who was attached to Sunghoon’s neck already leaving hickeys like it was a full time job. That made him look down at your smaller figure and whisper something in your ear that made you giggle and pull off of him.

“Jake, Hoonie says that you found me pretty!” You said in that ditzy tone.

Jake went red and shook his head. “I mean yeah but I think Sunghoon would kill me if I even tried anything.”

You giggled and nodded. “Maybe, he says his friends are off limits for me. He takes such good care of me!”

That made the older boy smirk at Jake who was already rolling his eyes and muttering something about not wanting you anyway. Sunghoon kissed you one more time mostly just for show.

Finally you pulled away and pointed to the guys. “Hoonie, are you spending time with them the whole night?”

He shook his head ready to abandon his boys for you, no questions asked.

“What do you want, pretty baby?” He asked.

You pointed to the dance floor. “I wanna dance with you. Then I want you to do that thing I like with your fingers.”

Sunghoon chuckled followed by a nod. “Lead the way, pretty.”

And just like that he was being whisked away to the dance floor at a random house party. Leaving the two guys to try and figure out what the fuck was going on.

-

You were hard to hate, truthfully. Everyone knew you didn’t really have a concept of what was going on between you and Sunghoon. The collegiate world gave you sympathy as you didn’t know exactly how Sunghoon manipulated your concept of friendship to allow for him to fuck you. And your poor pink glitter-filled brain just didn’t know any better. Even while you had other friends, Sunghoon was different, special.

Girls hated you. Most hated the attention you got from Sunghoon especially because he didn’t care for anyone else. But the one who hated you most was Haerin. When she finally got the honor of dating Sunghoon she didn’t expect you to be a part of the package. Yes she had been warned about the “girl best friend” but Sunghoon assured her that she had nothing to worry about. Little did she know you would be the only thing to worry about. And Sunghoon didn’t see an issue with it, even when it broke her heart.

-

“Hey isn’t Haerin coming over today?” Jay asked.

Sunghoon nodded as he scrolled through his phone. You sat there pretty on his lap watching some reality show on the T.V. Jay frowned at the sight. There was something not right about that friendship.

“So is… she going home?” He asked pointing at you.

That made Sunghoon look up at him confused. “Why would my princess have to go home?”

Jake groaned from the kitchen. “Bro does your girlfriend not get jealous? You always have her all over you! That’s literally supposed to be your girlfriend’s job, not your girl best friend’s.”

Sunghoon looked behind him at Jake you was now rummaging the fridge. Then he looked at Jay who didn’t deny anything he said.

“Hoonie?”

That broke Sunghoon out of his thoughts. “Yes pretty girl?”

You turned to look up at him. “Are they kicking me out?”

He frowned and cupped your cheek. “No, pretty! They’re not doing that! You get to stay right here on my lap, okay? Keep watching your Jersey Shore.”

You pouted. “I don’t like Haerin! She’s always looking at me funny and saying I can’t be friends with you. She says shit like ‘this isn’t healthy’ and ‘that’s not what friends do!’”

Sunghoon shook his head at that. “No princess, you’re my special friend, remember? Nobody else can be your friend like I can and no one else could ever replace you.”

You batted your lashes (that he paid for). “Really?”

“Yeah, really?” Jake muttered from the kitchen. Jay had joined him, both whispering about how strange the whatever-ship you guys had was.

“Of course! No one else can be my dumb little baby.” He teased.

You giggled and leaned in. His lips met yours halfway. The guys turned around when they heard the sound of lips smacking together. Typically you spent your time alone with Sunghoon in his room so seeing you do this in their shared living room was a little uncomfortable.

And as if on cue the doorbell rings. When Jake sees Sunghoon is not even making an effort to move he goes and opens the door himself. He stands at the doorway with a nervous look in his eyes.

“Hi Jake! Is Sunghoon here?” Haerin greets.

He shakes his head. “I don’t think now is a good time, Haerin.”

The girl rolls her eyes. “I didn’t ask if it was a good time, I asked if my boyfriend was here. Now are you gonna let me in?”

He steps aside hesitantly and lets her enter the apartment. She greets Jay before frowning at the couch.

“What the fuck Sunghoon!” She shouts.

Sunghoon pulls away from you and looks up. “Yes? Oh hi. Why am I hearing you’ve been talking bad to my princess?”

“Talking bad? That’s what you’re worried about? I just walked in on my boyfriend kissing another girl in cowgirl and you’re concerned about me talking badly to her? Why the fuck is she here anyway?” She asks.

The two guys look at Sunghoon who shrugs from the couch. “Does it matter? She’s not leaving regardless. Besides you haven’t answered my question.”

That’s when Haerin notices the gloss on his lips. Her heart breaks a little bit but she had a feeling this would happen. She was never his and she never would be. No matter how popular she was in campus or how good of a fuck she bragged about being, she would always come second to you.

“Sunghoon, if you want her then you should just say that!” She says exasperated.

Sunghoon gives her a confused look. “But we’re dating.”

“Exactly!” She shouts. “That’s why you have to set boundaries! I’m supposed to be your number one so there’s no reason for her to be here! You can’t just leave our date nights when she so much as texts you. You can’t kiss her when you’re with me. For fucks sake Sunghoon you put your AirPods in when we have sex! You listen to her moans like she owns you!”

Sunghoon just looks unbothered. She wasn’t wrong about the things he did, he just didn’t see the problem.

“Are you just not gonna say anything? You’re just not gonna fight for me?” She shouted.

Sunghoon just shrugged again.

“Hoonie?” Your voice said.

He immediately responded to you like he was trained. Like he was your damn dog.

“What is it, pretty girl.”

You looked up at him. “Can you make her go away please? I want your attention and she’s taking too long.”

He smiled and nodded. “I’ll get her out, princess.”

You muttered a thank you and Sunghoon stood up. He set you on the couch and walked around to Haerin. But she just rolled her eyes at him.

“I’m done with you. I tried to be understanding but your friendship is fucked up.” She said.

Sunghoon walked closer to her and sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with our friendship!” He argued.

Jay snickered at that but was quickly shut up by the look Sunghoon gave him.

“Oh really? So you kiss your bros? You have their moans recorded in your phone? You listen to them when you’re fucking another girl? Is that what you do with your friends, Sunghoon? They all have a special nickname for you and have you trained like a dog?” She shouted.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes and led her further away from the television. “Of course not. Our friendship is special. She’s my best friend, my other half. Now you have to quiet down.”

Haerin huffed and pushed him. “Save it. I’m over you and your bullshit.”

With that she stormed out making sure to slam the door behind her. Jake was ready to console the guy but he didn’t need it.

“Hey, sorry about that man.” He said.

Sunghoon looked at him and chuckled. “Sorry about what? She was getting annoying anyway.”

Once again the two guys were just lost when Sunghoon joined you back in the couch making out with you like nothing happened.

-

Where the girls hated you the guys wanted you. It wasn’t uncommon for them to try and work their magic on you. Sunghoon never minded because he knew no one else could be him. He had you wrapped around his finger. And when Heeseung showed up he immediately thought Sunghoon was a dick. A manipulative, psychopathic, sleazy, controlling, dick.

Other guys had to give Heeseung some credit though. He tried to pursue you despite Sunghoon’s existence. He convinced himself that he could be better and show you what a good man was like. And you accepted thinking that dating would be fun, but Sunghoon was also a part of the deal.

-

“So you want me to pick you up from another man’s apartment?” Heeseung asked.

You shrugged. “It’s my best friend’s apartment!”

The older boy sighed. He knew you were a little gone sometimes but he didn’t think you would be this stupid.

“Darling, it makes more sense for me to pick you up from your place. Then you can get ready and I’ll be there on time.” He explained.

You shrugged and just went along with it. If that’s what he thought was best then fine. The day was going so well in your eyes. Sunghoon gave you his card to pay for your pink drink and anything else you felt like buying. His instructions were to “run it up so the other guy doesn’t use his wallet.” You thought that Sunghoon was so kind by looking out for your date!

Heeseung was mentally fuming. It had only been a month and he was surprised he made it that long. He assumed Sunghoon would be on your ass but he wasn’t. You would go out with Heeseung all the time. But Sunghoon owned you in other ways that made Heeseung’s head hot. He was your pinned contact. He had your location. He had nicknames for you. His card was always in your little coach purse. The thought alone made Heeseung want to kill him.

And in that apartment Sunghoon smirked when he saw the notification of a charge on his card. You were his best friend, his princess. He owned you like no one else could. It fueled his ego to know that Heeseung wanted you so bad but he would only get you partially.

“Can you take me home, please? Hoonie is waiting for me and he said I should come back before three.” You requested.

Heeseung have you an incredulous look. What on earth were you on about?

“He gave you a curfew?” He deadpanned.

You shook your head. “Not really, but The Bachelor comes on at four so he wants me to be able to watch it.”

Heeseung sighed and followed through. He drove 30 minutes to the apartment and walked you to the door. He followed you in the elevator with a small smile.

“Did you have fun today?” He asked.

You nodded and hugged his side. “I did! Thank you for taking me to that cafe, I have been wanting to go!”

Heeseung smiled and followed you out once you landed on the right floor. Before you could get to the door Heeseung grabbed your arm and turned you around. You wanted to figure out what he was doing and then he leaned in.

His lips touched yours gently but then you pulled away. You didn’t like the way he kissed you. Plus you had put work into your lip combo today and he was gonna ruin it!

“I’m… I’m sorry darling!” He said quietly.

You giggled and shook your head. “It’s okay, you can get better with time!”

Heeseung chuckled awkwardly but quickly stopped when the door opened. You looked to the right and your whole face lit up. There was Sunghoon in a stupid white tank top and sweats.

“Hoonie!” You cried.

He chuckled when you flung yourself into him. “Hi pretty girl. Did you have fun in your little date?” He asked.

You nodded. “Heeseung is very nice! Took me to the cafe I talked about last week.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Did he? Well you go ahead and change. Your show will be on soon.”

He gave you a kiss on the forehead before releasing you to his space. Then he looked up and smirked at Heeseung.

“Thanks for bringing her back in one piece.” He said.

Heeseung rolled his eyes at the boy. “You know, you have the weirdest friendship.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Oh really? I’ve been told.”

“Yeah friends don’t hand out their card for fun or kiss each other on the forehead. You’re just confusing her.” Heeseung explained with agitation fueling his voice.

The athlete just smirked like he knew what he was doing. He ruined you for everyone else. At the end of every date you would beg Sunghoon to cuddle you, kiss you, fuck you. You were his and no man could ever change that.

Upon getting no response Heeseung turned to walk away but Sunghoon stopped him. “Are you mad because you’re not special to her?”

That made him turn back to the boy who was still standing in the door frame.

“What the fuck are you on about?” He asked.

Sunghoon smirked. “Oh come on. Everyone knows that I’m special. I mean you can’t even get a proper kiss from her after a date, meanwhile I can kiss her forehead and she’s begging for more.”

Heeseung grumbled something incoherent as he stormed off to the elevator. Sunghoon shut the door behind him with a laugh.

“Hoonie, Jake says I can’t have your chips!” You whined.

Sunghoon entered the kitchen and rolled his eyes at Jake. “Bro I said you couldn’t have my chips.”

Jake just huffed when Sunghoon grabbed the bag and handed it to you.

The next day Jay tried to save Heeseung, he really did. Even though you said you would be at your house Sunghoon was there too. Jay texted him letting him know that it probably wasn’t a good idea to pick you up today.

But Heeseung didn’t care. He wasn’t going to let some hockey player boy best friend intercept his girlfriend. He rang the doorbell but got no answer. Then he tried to open the door and there it was , unlocked.

“Y/N?” He called out. Then he heard something unmistakable.

Heeseung made his way to your room and on the bed there you were. He was almost mortified. Sunghoon had you on his thigh legs spread open with two fingers inside of you. Cum was already dripping down his knuckles onto his thigh and he was whispering the nastiest things in your ear.

“Such a good girl for me. Can you cum one more time?” He requested. You nodded with your eyes closed.

His long veiny fingers curled perfectly inside you. Sunghoon always knew how to make you fall apart. What always pushed you further was his dirty talk.

“Am I opening you up so good, pretty? Getting you ready for that date. He won’t even have to stretch you out, he should be thanking me.” He mumbled in your ear.

You moaned and grabbed his dick with your left hand. You weren’t even stroking it, just holding on like it was grounding you.

“No- fuck! No n-ne-ne-need Hoon-Hoonie!” You stuttered.

Sunghoon licked that sweet spot where his hickeys were only getting darker. “Oh yeah? And why’s that, Princess?”

“No… ah! Yes right there! No one fucks me like you daddy!” You whined.

Sunghoon was about to say something before he looked up sensing a presence and he smirked when he saw Heeseung in the doorway. He was torn between anger and lust.

“Yeah that’s fucking right. No one else can fuck you like me. There’s no one on this fucking earth who will slut you out the way I do.” He said more so to the seething older boy at the door.

The sounds coming from you were wet and straight up from pornography. Seeing your body react made Heeseung stay and watch for a bit, not knowing what to do.

“Go ahead baby, Heeseung is waiting for you.” He said.

That made you open your eyes and gasp when you saw your date glaring at you.

“H-h-hi H-hee-heeseung!” You stuttered.

Sunghoon chuckled and kissed your cheek. “Go ahead princess, let me make you cum again.”

Your eyes rolled back when he touched that g-spot inside you. His thumb played with your clit just the way you liked it.

“I’ll be- oh shit! Daddy so-so so good!” You whined. “I’ll be right there!”

Heeseung rolled his eyes and was ready to storm off. But then you did something that stopped him.

Sunghoon’s fingers hit the right spot again and he bounced his thigh below you. That made your body convulse. Your orgasm hit so hard you were squirting all over Sunghoon’s fingers. All he could do was smirk at Heeseung who was now standing in pure anger.

“Good job, Princess! Such a good job for me.” He cheered in your ear.

“F-fuck! Cu-cumming! Daddy I’m cumming! Fuck!”

The boy nodded and kissed your temple. “Yes you are, pretty girl! Doing so good for me, my little super soaker.”

The orgasm seemed to last a lifetime. It hit you and suddenly any ideas about a date vanished. All that flooded your brain was Sunghoon’s fingers, dick, everything.

Sunghoon kissed you down from the high. His lips touched your shoulders, neck, earlobes, any part that he could. But when he made eye contact with your date one more time he brought his fingers to his mouth moaning at how sweet you tasted, Heeseung stormed out of the house. When you heard a door slam you looked around a bit dazed.

“Where’s Heeseung?” You asked.

Sunghoon shrugged. “I guess he left, pretty. Let’s clean you up and put you to bed.”

But when you looked up at your best friend with those eyes begging for another round he couldn’t refuse. You always got what you wanted, that was the arrangement.

From that day forward you hadn’t seen Heeseung again. Messages didn’t go through and on campus he never existed. But it didn’t phase you one bit because Sunghoon would take care of you.

-

Maybe the friendship was unconventional, and maybe Sunghoon was a dick, but his friends got used to it. Anytime a girl asked them about Sunghoon they would just tell him “he’s taken” or “he’s not in a position to date right now.” Your presence became normal in their shared apartment. Sunghoon’s room had been overrun by you with glitter flecks on his bed and makeup fluttering his desk and dresser. Anytime you showed up Jay and Jake knew they should just be out of sight out of mind.

Sunghoon had others confused as well, even your own brother. Sunoo didn’t mind Sunghoon, although the friendship was a little odd to him. But somewhere down the line he just accepted that whatever you two had going on was not his concern (unless you got hurt of course). So when Sunoo visited you with his two friends for the weekend they didn’t know what to make of it.

-

You and your brother were inseparable. You were only 10 months apart and unlike most sibling relationships, you both liked each other enough to visit during weekends you were able to. Sunoo definitely contributed to you being so spoiled so when Sunghoon took over his wallet and girlfriend were happy.

He and his two friends plus girlfriend showed up and made friends with Jay and Jake over dinner. The next day they were at the apartment gaming together while Sunoo was out with his girlfriend.

“So Sunghoon, how’d you meet… her?” Niki asked.

That question created a thought that dawned on the boys. They hadn’t known your name. Like at all. Sunghoon only referred to you as “pretty girl” or “princess” and Sunoo always said “my sister” or “that gremlin,” little nicknames but no one ever addressed you by your name.

“I had to tutor seventh grade history and she was the girl I was assigned to.” He said not breaking focus from the NHL game.

Niki nodded and looked at Jungwon. He just shrugged and continued watching the game. He was leaning comfortably on Jay who took a liking to the younger boy.

“So you know like… everything about her?” He pressed.

Sunghoon smirked and turned to Niki. “She has me accompany her to the doctor. I’m her emergency contact. Niki that’s my girl, my princess. I know her better than anyone.”

Then he heard you stir. His bedroom door opened and there you stood in your cute matching set. You had overslept in his bed as per usual. Sunghoon bit his lip when he saw you in that cute little tank top and shorts that didn’t hide anything.

“Hoonie?” You called out sleep lacing your voice.

Sunghoon stood up without another thought. His arms wrapped around you possessively. He noticed how the guys looked at you when you came out. Thankfully Sunghoon’s larger body completely covered yours.

“Good morning, pretty baby. Did you sleep well?” He asked.

You nodded and stood up on your toes. Sunghoon chuckled and gave you the kiss you wanted.

“Do you wanna come say hi to Sunoo’s friends?” He asked after pulling away.

You shook your head and rubbed your eyes. “Want something else.”

“Yeah? What’s that, Princess?” He asked as his hands trailed further down your waist.

“Want cuddles and back shots.” You mumbled.

Jungwon and Niki looked at each other in complete shock. Then they looked to Jay and Jake who didn’t even budge.

Sunghoon chuckled and kissed your forehead. “You sure you can handle it, baby?”

You nodded and brought your hand down to stroke him through his sweats. His breath hitched when he felt your touch.

“Won’t even have to do much. Just let you take care of me.” You said in that whiney voice.

The guys on the couch were horrified, well two of them were. You guys being like this was nothing new to Jay and Jake. At this point they happy expected it.

“Yeah? You just gonna be my dumb little pillow princess? Gonna lay there legs open all for my cock?” He teased while his hands messed with your tits that showed through the tank top.

You whined in response. Your strokes on his clothes dick got more desperate. That’s when he decided you’d had enough teasing. One hand came down and squeezed your ass causing you to moan lightly.

“Okay pretty, let’s get you back in that bed then.” He said gently.

Once the door closed behind him Jungwon looked up confused. “So you guys just live with that?”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, that’s his girl. He had a single the first two years but when we decided to live together she’s part of the package.”

“It’s a weird 50/50 thing. Sunghoon says that she exists and he does everything else. They’re weird like that.” Jay adds.

Niki gave Jay a look of confusion. “I thought Sunoo said we’d meet his sister and her best friend.”

“Yup. That’s them. They have this weird thing going on but don’t even think about questioning it, trust me.” Jay warned.

“Do either of you know her name?” Jungwon asked.

Jake looked at Jay and they both came to the same realization. “No we don’t actually. Do you?”

Jungwon shook his head. “Sunoo only says “my sister” and other weird nicknames. Sunghoon has never said her name around here?”

“Nope! Only calls her princess and other sappy shit.” Jake answers.

The four sit there confused. Then Niki is the first to speak.

“50 bucks for whoever can get her name before we leave tomorrow night.” He challenged.

The four boys were intrigued enough to agree. And thus the game began. Well not in that moment because they heard a loud moan come from Sunghoon’s room and quickly left the apartment.

A few hours later the guys deemed it safe to come back to the apartment. Jake was going to try the most obvious thing. He knocked on Sunghoon’s door and when he got the okay he wished he didn’t. Because there he was gaming in his PC while you touched up your lip gloss on his lap with his cock inside you. The bulge in your tummy wasn’t hard to miss.

“Bro what the fuck!” Jake exclaimed immediately looking away.

Sunghoon deadpanned him. “What?”

Jake huffed and kept his eyes shut. “Do you and, what’s her name wanna get lunch with us?”

Sunghoon looked down at you and kissed your cheek to get your attention. “Princess, you wanna get lunch?”

You nodded with a smile. “I want a ham and Swiss croissant!”

Sunghoon nodded and looked at Jake. “We’ll be down soon. But don’t act like I haven’t caught you with your dick down a girl’s throat before!”

Jake was gonna ask your name further but he didn’t get the chance.

“Hoonie, you’ve seen other girls give head?” You whined.

Sunghoon chuckled and pressed his hand against that bulge. “Of course not, pretty. This cock belongs right here inside you, deep in your little tummy.” He cooed.

Jake quickly left the room because… ew. He could’ve gone lifetimes without witnessing that.

The next person to try something was Niki. He caught you in the kitchen grabbing a snack from the cabinet.

“So… Sunghoon calls you his princess?” He asked hoping the conversation would lead to learning your name.

You smiled proudly. “Yes! Hoonie says I’m the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and I should be treated like a princess!”

Niki nodded and before he could keep going Sunghoon came up behind you shirtless. The scratches in his back and chest were unavoidable.

“Princess what’re you looking for?” He asked.

You turned around and looked up at him. “I can’t find my ramen anywhere!”

He looked up and found the packet in the top cabinet out of your reach. He grabbed it and started preparing it for you.

“She was telling me why you don’t call her by her name.” Niki said with a smirk. He was certain this would get Sunghoon to say it.

But Sunghoon gave him a weird look before pouring ramen in the pot. “She’s my princess so why would I call her anything else?”

Niki gave a look of disappointment before leaving to take a call. The student athlete really wasn’t going to relent?

Then Jay tried to find out with Jungwon as a team effort, agreeing to split the 50 bucks 25 25. But they too were going to fail.

“Sunghoon I need a cord!” Jay said loudly as he entered the bedroom.

Sunghoon shushed him immediately. He was standing over your shoulder as you tried to finish up an assignment at his desk.

“Bro she’s studying!” He scolded.

Jungwon smirked. “Who?”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “You see her right here.”

You looked up and then at the guys. “Hi!”

They waved at you and Sunghoon motioned back to your worksheet. “You have one more problem, pretty baby. Finish this one and I’ll take you out tomorrow.”

Jay gave Sunghoon a funny look. He still hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt. The marks on his upper body were like badges of honor to him.

“You plan on putting on a shirt?” Jay asked rhetorically.

Sunghoon shrugged. “Probably not. You plan on getting the hell out?”

Jungwon smiled. “So does she just put Princess on all of her worksheets or what?”

Jay tried getting a glimpse of her assignment but the area where your name would be was in a bright pink glitter pen that he couldn’t read from the doorway.

“Don’t be stupid, of course she puts her name.”

And just when Jay was about to ask what it was, you interrupted at the perfect time.

“Hoonie, are the greenhouse gases what we’re trying to get rid of? Because I thought they are trapped inside and can’t escape.” You said.

Sunghoon leaned over and started explaining something about environmental science to you. The two boys sighed and left the room. They clearly weren’t getting anywhere.

That evening everyone sat around the table eating food Sunoo’s girlfriend helped prepare with Jay. There were glances shared across the table between four of the guys. The challenge was still on until tomorrow night but so far no one was successful. Sunoo was oblivious to it as he made conversation with everyone.

“And that’s how we met! She basically begged me to be her boyfriend.” He flaunted.

You rolled your eyes. “Probably not much begging because you can be a real bitch when you’re cocky.”

Sunoo pointed at you with his chopsticks. “See and that’s your problem right there! You think you’re so smart when insulting me but really you’re dumb!”

Sunghoon chuckled and separated another perilla leaf for you. Whenever you and Sunoo bickered it amused him. You were so similar in those moments it almost scared him.

“Really? That’s the best you can do? I bet you eat bugs in your sleep and kiss her with that same mouth!” You shot back.

Ruby, Sunoo’s girlfriend from America, laughed at the bickering. “Okay you guys enough! Thank you for inviting us in your apartment, and Jay thank you for letting me cook!”

Jay nodded. “Of course! The food was really really good.”

Sunghoon fed you the last bite before wiping your mouth. He smiled when you did your eye-smile to him. You and Sunoo both were capable of doing that and when it was you Sunghoon’s heart skipped a beat.

“Okay I wanna play another round of league!” Niki announced.

Sunoo looked at Sunghoon. “Is that alright with you?”

He shrugged. “Yeah do whatever. Princess has to do her night time routine so just don’t break anything.”

“Ah yes, that’s so like my sister to have her ten step routine. She wants to be just like me so bad!” Sunoo said.

The table laughed and Ruby kissed his cheek. “I can appreciate a man with a good skincare regimen! Well you have a good night Sunghoon!”

Jake looked hopeful thinking that Ruby would reveal the name. There was no way she couldn’t say goodnight to you too!

“Oh yeah sis, I’ll give you your present tomorrow! Goodnight!”

Damn it. The four guys looked dejected, they had no idea you were close with her like that!

Sunghoon guided you to the bedroom ignoring Sunoo’s begging to “not do anything sexual for one night please!” Once the door closed Jungwon broke.

“Okay that’s it! What is her fucking name?” He asked exasperated.

Sunoo frowned and looked at Ruby. “What is he on about?”

“Oh you know what we’re on about!” Niki added.

“Huh?”

“Bro since you’ve been here we have no idea what your sister’s name is! Sunghoon calls her stupid cutesy names and you call her ‘my sister’ or random sibling insults!” Jake explained.

Sunoo looked at Ruby and they shared an amused look. This whole three day weekend and none of them knew your name. Even before that Jay and Jake had no idea who you were.

“Well her name is Kim Y/N.” He said with a smile.

Jungwon smirked. “I win!”

“You bet on this?” Ruby asked with a laugh.

Niki nodded. “50 bucks is his.”

Jake turned to Sunoo with more questions. “So you know about their… situation?”

Sunoo nodded. “He’s been in her life since middle school.”

“So how do you like, feel about it? Because you gotta know Sunghoon is a dick to everyone else. They have a weird thing going on and even today they fucked!” Jay explained.

Sunoo nodded. “It didn’t start out that way but when he started doing couple-y things in high school it weirded me out a bit. But in his world this is normal for them and my poor sister is too dumb and ditzy to know any better. He’s not hurting her and hasn’t ever in the past so I just don’t care.”

The guys just nodded along.

From the bedroom Sunghoon smiled. The guys didn’t even know the half of it. You were his best friend, his special friend. There was no girlfriend or boyfriend in the world that would change that. Only he got to know what it meant to be so locked in with you.

“Hoonie, can you open this please?” You asked from his bathroom.

Sunghoon walked in and smiled. There you were struggling with your moisturizer bottle. He easily opened it and applied it on your face for you. His touch was gentle. Once it was fully applied he pulled you in and kissed you. Like most times he kissed you like there was no one else on earth. Like it was the last time he would get to. Once he pulled away for air he looked deep into your smiling eyes.

“You’re my best friend in the whole world, Hoonie!” You said cutely.

He chuckled and nodded. “You’re my perfect little princess.

-

Just a girl. You were just a girl who loved glitter, sequins, pink, and shiny things. A little ditzy, leaning on borderline bimbo, just existing in your own little bubble. And Sunghoon wanted that. He wanted to be the only one in that little bubble.

So maybe the definition of best friendship got lost in translation somewhere, but Sunghoon didn’t know any better. He was obsessed with you and there was no one else that could ever come between that. You were his pretty princess.

Liked this one? Further reading here!

[broadway-heere-i-come]

James Lantz updated his website and now we have a brand-new, high-res photograph of Ian and Jordan kissing in The Bus

[lily-bisque]

based on this ask

“toru’ give me a sec,” you whispered in a whiny and hushed tone in his ear as his entire body weight blanketed you, nearly crushing you but... semantics; him peppering gentle kisses along your collarbone that made your stomach feel light.

reluctantly, and with a miffed side comment, he pushed off of you and you were finally able to take in a deep breath as your mind was running low on oxygen, barely able to focus on the movie playing, practically background noise as the two of you indulged in the presence of one another.

but what was really bothering you was the way your bra clasp was digging into your back, incessantly prodding and piercing you every time you adjusted your position.

you brought your hands behind your back, up and under your satoru’s shirt and undid the clasp. pulling it out from a shirt sleeve, you tossed it to the side and held your arms open to your boyfriend to cuddle with you again but he had a dazed look on his face.

you tilted your head in confusion, wondering what the sudden apprehension was, yet suddenly gojo was on you like a dog.

falling backwards onto the couch with a squeal, he pressed his face into your chest, nuzzling your breasts through the fabric of the cotton tee.

you giggled, feeling his warm breath fan through hard enough to tickle your bosom. “what has gotten into you?!” you shrieked with a laugh, his hands finding comfort on your sides and holding you in place.

“so so soft,” he sighed out in content, rubbing his cheek against the hardened nipple that poked through. you squirmed in his hold, a nest of butterflies erupting in your stomach as he admired you despite the casual look you were adorning.

“is that so,” you replied, feeling oddly domesticated and cherishing the way he adored you so simply.

he didn't need to respond. he continued his gentle assault on you until his hands, calloused and warm, began to trail up your shirt, a hand of his reaching your breast and cupping it gently.

you let out a soft sigh, tossing your head to the side as you skimmed your fingers through his milky tresses, indulging in just how beautiful he could make you feel.

and within a quick few movements, he tugged the shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the side and cupping your bare breasts just to stuff his face with them. no matter how much he liked to see you in his clothes, he liked to see you naked even more.

“beautiful girl,” he spoke out, as if he wasn’t even thinking clearly and it spilled from his lips by accident. your heart blossomed like a night flower, unfurling each petal for him to gaze upon.

you could only hum, peering down at how his caresses soon turned into long languid strips of his tongue flat against your skin. a mewl left your lips as his muscle found your sensitive bud, flicking it until it was erect.

he grinned against your skin, that signature smug look he plastered on when he had you undone in his hold. “like that?”

you nodded, your lashes fluttering as your cheeks heated at the feeling of his hands roaming your bare skin. you weren't sure why this was turning you on so much, watching your boyfriend just rub his cheeks against the supple skin.

"think i can suck on one while we watch?" he queried like he was asking to pass him the sugar cubes at the breakfast table for his cloying coffee, as if it was the most normal question in the world.

and who were you to deny such a thing?

you could bask in the comments of him calling your breasts 'pillows' and leaving gentle love bites scattered unceremoniously across your skin.

it was gentle, domestic, it was fondness. it was all the things you craved that satoru so easily delivered to you on a plate.

[aspenmissing]

Hello!!! I hope you're doing well :D

I've had this idea in my head for a while, but what if reader lost her memory? Maybe from an accident or something? How would her partner help to bring them back? Maybe a song or a particular phrase or their favourite food or place? With the usual suspects, especially Jayce, Viktor, JayVik.

I hope this isn't too weird of a request 💗

ꜰʀᴀɢᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴜꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 7629 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛꜱ, ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇꜱ, ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ ʟᴏꜱꜱ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴘɪᴄᴇ/ᴍᴀᴋᴇᴏᴜᴛ (ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ), ᴇxᴘʟᴏꜱɪᴏɴꜱ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴇɴꜰᴏʀᴄᴇʀ ʙʀᴜᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ/ʙᴇᴀᴛᴇɴ(ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ!! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ, ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴡᴇɪʀᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ! ɪɴ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ! ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ'ꜱ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴛɪᴛɪᴠᴇ ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

The air was thick with the smell of smoke and metal, the clang of tools and machinery filling the workshop as Jayce worked on a new project, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was so close to something extraordinary, but the thought of Y/N occupied his mind, as always. She had been his anchor, his rock, even before they were lovers. He often found himself distracted by the image of her smile, the way her presence could calm his storm of thoughts.

Then it happened.

A deafening crash, a loud shriek, and the sound of machinery grinding against the stone. The world seemed to shake around him. Jayce’s heart raced as he sprinted toward the noise, his mind already fearing the worst. When he reached the source, he saw her, Y/N, lying unconscious beneath the wreckage. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, but her usual light was gone from her eyes.

He knelt beside her, his hands trembling as he checked for any signs of life. She was alive—barely—but injured. Her body was bruised, blood seeping from a gash on her head, her limbs twisted awkwardly. Panic surged through him, but he pushed it aside. Jayce knew there was no time for hesitation.

"Y/N, please," he whispered desperately, lifting her carefully into his arms and rushing her to safety.

=

The first thing Y/N felt was the cold, a sharp contrast to the warmth she was used to. Her eyes fluttered open, and the dim light of the room greeted her. It was unfamiliar, the walls were sterile, and the scent of antiseptic stung her nose. She tried to sit up, but the pain in her head was unbearable, and her vision blurred with the effort.

"Shh, easy now," a familiar voice murmured softly beside her. Y/N turned toward the sound, but when she looked at the man sitting next to her, there was a sense of confusion. His face was gentle, his expression filled with something she couldn’t place, but... who was he?

"Who are you?" she asked quietly, her voice hoarse as she tried to make sense of the situation. The weight of his touch on her arm was comforting, but it meant nothing to her. Her mind felt empty, as if all the pieces of her life had been swept away, leaving only this strange man by her side.

He froze, his hand stilling on her arm, and his eyes widened in shock. For a moment, his expression shifted between hope and concern, as though he was trying to process her words.

"You don’t... remember me?" His voice trembled slightly, disbelief flickering in his gaze. He leaned closer, his eyes scanning her face, searching for some sign that she recognized him. "It’s me, Jayce... We’ve been through so much together."

Y/N’s heart skipped at the mention of the name, but it meant nothing. She couldn’t remember it—couldn’t place it. "I don’t remember... anything," she whispered, her voice thick with panic. "I don’t even know how I got here."

Jayce’s face paled, the colour draining from him as he looked at her with a mixture of sadness and fear. "You don’t remember anything?" His voice cracked, the pain in it raw and unguarded. "Sweetheart, please, you have to remember."

Her chest tightened, a sense of panic clawing at her throat as she tried to make sense of the man in front of her, who seemed so familiar yet so distant. She searched for something—anything—in her mind that would tell her who he was, but there was nothing.

"I... I don’t remember you," she whispered, the weight of the admission sinking in.

The silence between them stretched, heavy and thick with unspoken emotions. Jayce seemed to collapse inward, but then he took a deep breath and forced a smile, though it was shaky and strained.

"That’s... okay," he said, his voice soft. "We’ll take it one step at a time. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together."

=

Days passed, each one a blur of hazy flashes. Y/N found herself in the same sterile room, Jayce never far from her side. He was always patient, always kind, always reassuring, but she felt like a stranger in her own skin. She would look at him—his broad shoulders, his deep blue eyes—and feel a tug of recognition, but the memories remained elusive, just out of reach.

"Tell me about us," Y/N asked one day, her voice tentative, unsure if she even had the right to ask. She needed to know something, anything that would ground her in the reality she could no longer remember.

Jayce hesitated, his gaze softening as he looked at her, then smiled wistfully. "You and me... we’ve been through a lot together." He leaned closer, his voice low and intimate. "We met years ago. You were my equal, my partner in every way. We built something amazing together, Y/N." His hand gently cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb across her skin. "We fell in love in a way that was... impossible to ignore. And no matter what, we always had each other."

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of his words. The emotions that seemed to stir within her—the love, the tenderness, the history—felt so familiar, yet foreign all at once. But it wasn’t enough. Her mind struggled to pull the details together, to reconnect the dots. The harder she tried, the more frustrated she became.

=

It was a quiet evening when it happened. Jayce had been working at his desk, his focus entirely on a set of complex calculations. Y/N had been sitting by the window, staring out at the stars, lost in her thoughts. Then, out of nowhere, a flash—a memory.

She was standing in the workshop, surrounded by all the half-finished inventions, the tools scattered across the table. Jayce was there, his hand reaching out for hers, pulling her toward him with a soft smile.

"We’re in this together," he had whispered, his voice full of certainty, love, and trust.

Y/N blinked, and the memory faded, but it left behind something profound—an undeniable feeling of connection. She knew it wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was real. It was their moment.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Jayce," she called out softly, her voice trembling with emotion.

He turned at the sound of her voice, his eyes wide, hoping, but unsure. "Y/N?"

She stood, slowly walking toward him, her steps cautious but certain. "I remember," she whispered, her voice full of awe. "I remember us. I remember... I remember you."

Jayce’s face lit up, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders as he rushed to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Thank the stars," he murmured, holding her close as if afraid she would slip away again. "I’ve been so scared. You’ve been through so much... I just wanted you back."

Y/N closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest, her heart pounding with the realization. "I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere."

The pieces clicked into place, the love, the memories, all falling into their rightful places. They didn’t need to say anything more. They just held each other, knowing that no matter what the future held, they had already overcome the impossible. Together.

VIKTOR

You were supposed to meet Viktor for dinner.

You remembered that much—walking through the upper levels of the Academy, the hallways washed in the golden glow of Hextech lanterns. The air buzzed faintly with ambient energy, tingling at your fingertips like it always did when magic and invention mingled in Piltover’s heart. It was late. The kind of late where only scientists, students with deadlines, and lovers waiting on one another remained.

Viktor would still be in the lab, no doubt—shoulders hunched over blueprints, spectacles perched precariously on the bridge of his nose, murmuring notes to himself in a blend of his native tongue and scientific shorthand. He often forgot to eat unless you reminded him, and tonight was one of those nights. You were bringing him dinner, still warm from the canteen downstairs, carefully wrapped so he wouldn’t notice you’d stolen one of his coats to carry it in.

But you never made it.

You’d taken the familiar shortcut—a winding staircase near the upper observatory, rarely used this late. You’d walked it a hundred times. Maybe more.

You didn’t see the threadbare strip of carpet near the landing. Didn't feel the way your balance shifted until it was too late. Your foot caught. Your hands flailed for the railing. You missed.

The staircase was unforgiving—metal edges and marble steps, cold and hard against your ribs, your shoulder, your head. You hit the bottom with a sickening thud. Pain exploded through your skull—and then, nothing. Just a void. A cold, empty nothingness.

=

The world didn’t return all at once. It seeped in around the edges like light through a cracked door.

You became aware of sensations first: the sterile scent of antiseptic. The stiff weight of bandages wrapped around your head. The dull ache of bruised ribs, the pull of healing skin. And the sound—steady, mechanical, rhythmic.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Your lashes fluttered. The light overhead was soft but still too bright. You blinked slowly, vision swimming, and let out a hoarse, dry breath.

Then, a voice.

“Y/N...?”

It was quiet, but it carried something fragile—like it had been breaking beneath the surface for hours. Days. Maybe longer.

You turned your head, your movements sluggish, the muscles in your neck tight and sore. And there someone was.

He sat curled forward in a hospital chair, as if he hadn’t moved in hours. His cane leaned beside him, and his fingers—so long, so deft when working with gears and wires—were curled tight around its handle. He looked pale. His eyes—those sharp, honey-gold eyes—were rimmed red, shadowed by sleepless nights.

You blinked, heart lurching strangely in your chest.

You knew him.

Didn’t you?

But no name came. No memories. Just that face, and something buried deep in your chest screaming that it mattered.

“…Do I… know you?” you asked, your voice like gravel. He flinched—just barely—but you saw it.

“I’m Viktor,” he said softly. “We... know each other very well.”

=

Viktor came every day.

He never stayed too long, never hovered. Always with quiet dignity, like he didn’t want to overwhelm you. But he was always there.

He brought tea in a thermos each morning—your favourite blend, though you didn’t remember why it was your favourite. The first time you sipped it, something warm bloomed behind your ribs, aching and bittersweet. He noticed the flicker in your expression and smiled, just a little.

“You always said it made your thoughts feel lighter,” he murmured, watching the steam curl between you. “Like the world wasn’t quite so heavy.”

He read to you in the afternoons. Not novels or poetry—technical schematics, lab notes, correspondence from Heimerdinger. Things you once called boring, except you found yourself understanding every word. Your fingers twitched when he paused at an equation, like you wanted to correct it or ask a question. Sometimes, you did.

“You remember,” he said once, stunned, after you pointed out an energy inefficiency in a prototype sketch.

You shook your head. “I don’t… remember remembering. It just… felt right.”

Later, he brought photographs.

You, standing beside him at Progress Day—smiling, windblown, clutching a paper bag full of trinkets. You again, curled up in a chair beside his lab bench, fast asleep with a blanket tucked around your shoulders. A blurry picture of you laughing with your hands covered in grease, his cane leaned awkwardly against your leg.

Some pictures made your chest ache. Others made your stomach flutter.

Still—no memories.

Just fragments. Impressions. Longing.

One night, the rain tapped the hospital window like fingers drumming a quiet rhythm. You turned toward him, heart heavy.

“…Were we in love?” He went still. The question hung in the air. Then, slowly—he nodded.

“Very much so.”

He didn’t try to touch you. Didn’t pressure. But his voice cracked, and you saw how tightly his hand gripped the cane again, like if he didn’t, he’d fall apart.

“I do not expect you to remember all at once,” he said. “But if you will let me… I can remind you. One memory at a time.”

=

The day they let you leave the hospital, Viktor was waiting with your coat.

He offered you his arm, and you took it without thinking. His cane tapped softly beside your steps, guiding both of you.

Midway down the front steps, you stopped. You stared at your feet. Then at his.

“…I used to help you, didn’t I?” His breath hitched.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “You did.”

Something deep inside you knew that was true. Muscle memory. Soul memory.

Back at the apartment—your apartment, though it felt like a stranger’s home—you wandered the rooms like a ghost. The walls were lined with books and sketches, strange diagrams tacked up in clusters. One corner of the living room held a half-assembled Hextech prototype under a glass dome. Dried flowers in an old glass bottle sat on the windowsill, their colour faded but preserved with care.

And on the table—your notebook.

You recognized your handwriting instantly. The cover was smudged from use. Inside were pages and pages of detailed notes on Viktor’s inventions. Tiny annotations. Little jokes. Doodles in the margins—sometimes gears, sometimes hearts.

You turned a page, and something clicked. You remembered. Your voice was soft, awed. “This was mine…”

Viktor looked up from where he was adjusting a calibration crystal. He froze.

“Yes.”

You stepped closer, holding the notebook like it was a precious thing. “I remember… I used to tease you about your messy handwriting.”

A beat passed. He laughed—broken, soft. “You did. Constantly.”

“And you’d roll your eyes.”

“I still do.”

“And you never fixed it.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you—and you saw it. The raw hope in his face. The love that had never left.

More pieces started to return. You remembered the sound of his voice in the early morning. The way he mumbled in his sleep when he was overworked. The first time you kissed him—tentative and sweet, his fingers trembling when he touched your cheek. The night he almost collapsed in the lab and you’d caught him, held him upright, whispered that he didn’t have to carry it all alone.

Later that evening, you sat beside him on the couch. His hand brushed yours. You didn’t pull away. You rested your head against his shoulder.

“I think I’m falling in love with you again,” you said softly.

Viktor turned, breath shaky, eyes shining.

He touched your face like you might break, kissed your forehead, your cheek. Then, finally, your lips—warm, familiar, trembling with emotion.

“I never stopped.”

JAYVIK

The shimmer of hextech energy pulsed like a heartbeat in the center of the lab, glowing faintly blue as it coiled and flickered within the containment chamber. A thin layer of steam clung to the walls, the air thick with the scent of ozone and copper.

Viktor stood by the monitor, expression drawn tight in concentration, his golden eyes scanning the rapidly shifting numbers as he tapped out calculations with one hand and gripped his cane with the other. He was quiet, meticulous, almost tense in a way that signaled to you this experiment was delicate. Important.

Jayce, in contrast, paced like a caged lion—twirling his wrench restlessly, muttering hypotheses under his breath. His frustration with the stabilizer coil had already earned a scorch mark on the bench and three snapped calibration rods. You had seen the warning signs, but you also knew better than to interrupt him when he was in full motion.

You stood between them, the calm in the storm, grounded and steady. Always the bridge when tension sparked—when Viktor’s precise logic clashed with Jayce’s bold instincts. You had a way of bringing them back into balance, of reminding them both that this wasn’t a race—it was the three of you, together, building something that could change the world.

Today was different.

The hum from the hex core deepened, and Viktor frowned, tapping into the stabilizer array again. “Jayce,” he said, voice edged with concern, “the field isn't aligning properly.”

“I know,” Jayce muttered, wrenching the coil into place. “Just a second more—”

You stepped forward. The tuning crystal was misaligned by a hair, tilted just enough to risk a harmonic backlash. You reached out, fingertips brushing the core’s edge.

The moment your skin made contact, everything changed.

The core flared—blinding, searing white light exploding outward with a deafening crack like lightning loosed from a cage.

“Y/N—!”

Viktor's cane clattered as he surged forward, stumbling slightly, arms reaching to shield you. Jayce’s voice cracked with panic, echoing under the thunderous shatter of glass and warping metal. A wave of heat burst across the room, slamming into you with the force of a hammer.

You felt weightless.

Then nothing at all.

=

You woke slowly, as if rising from deep water.

White light stabbed at your eyes. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the air. A gentle beep echoed beside you, in rhythm with the dull thud of your heart. Every muscle in your body felt heavy, sore, uncooperative. Something cool and metallic rested against your palm—Viktor’s cane, leaned beside the bed as if he hadn’t wanted it out of reach.

He was there.

Slouched in a nearby chair, dark circles carved beneath his eyes like bruises from sleepless nights. His posture was tense, one hand wrapped tightly around the head of his cane, the other twitching slightly against the chair’s armrest. Jayce stood on your other side, his normally polished armor jacket wrinkled and stained, his hair a disheveled mess. He was rubbing the back of his neck like he’d been doing it for hours.

“Miláček…” Viktor’s voice cracked around your name, raw and hushed. “You’re awake.” (Darling)

Your lips parted, dry and cracked. You tried to sit up, but the effort sent pain spiking through your spine. The world wavered, unfamiliar and too bright. You looked between them—one man with tired gold eyes, the other with a heartache behind his hopeful gaze.

You knew your name. You knew Piltover. The skyline out the window was familiar in a way that anchored you, but they—these men watching you like you held their world in your hands—were strangers.

“…Who are you?”

Viktor flinched like he’d been shot.

Jayce froze, mouth half-open, words dying on his tongue.

“You… you don’t remember us?” Jayce finally asked, voice breaking.

You shook your head, throat closing. “I’m sorry. I don’t…”

=

They didn’t leave you alone. Not once.

Viktor returned each day with a careful rhythm, bringing pieces of the past in the form of old notebooks and blueprints. He read to you from the margin notes—jokes you’d scrawled in the corners, affectionate jabs at his perfectionism. He even showed you the old prototype you once designed together—your initials etched into the brass side panel with a shaky heart drawn underneath.

Sometimes, he’d lapse into silences mid-sentence, staring down at the pages, hands trembling ever so slightly as though saying the words aloud hurt more than he’d expected.

Jayce brought warmth wherever he went. He cooked for you—your favorite dishes, though you didn’t remember they were yours. He sat by your side while you tried each one, hopeful and nervous. He brought trinkets from your shared apartment: a soft blanket you always hogged, a mug with a chipped handle that none of you could bear to throw away.

He showed you the photo: the three of you together, arms tangled, a mess of grease stains and smiling faces under the stars. Viktor, slightly awkward in the center, his lips barely curved. Jayce, holding the camera at arm’s length with one eye squinted shut. And you—pressed between them, your cheeks rosy, eyes full of laughter.

The ring was the hardest. Jayce hadn’t meant for you to see it, but you caught him holding the box one night in the living room, thumb brushing over the band inside like it was fragile. He looked up at you, eyes wide, guilty.

“I was going to ask you,” he murmured. “Both of us… we were going to ask.”

You didn’t remember. You couldn’t. And it felt like drowning.

Flashes came at night—Jayce laughing as he lifted you onto a table. Viktor’s hands in your hair, combing gently as you fell asleep at your desk. The soft press of lips against your shoulder. Heat. Comfort. Love.

But they slipped through your fingers like smoke.

You broke down one night, curled between them on the couch, tears soaking into the fabric as you sobbed into your knees. “I want to remember you. I do.”

They didn’t push. They just held you—Viktor stroking your back, Jayce cradling your hand—and let you fall apart in the space where your memories used to be.

=

It was nearly midnight when you wandered back into the lab.

The place still smelled like it did that day—metal, ozone, a hint of scorched leather. The core was sealed now, humming softly under a containment dome. The lighting was dim, the room quiet. Still.

You traced your fingers along the old bench, the groove where Viktor always rested his cane, the spot where Jayce had once slammed his hand in frustration. You paused when your fingers landed on a small journal, tucked neatly beside a stack of blueprints.

You opened it.

Your handwriting. Quick, sprawling notes and equations, followed by sketches of mechanical limbs and power converters. One page caught your eye—a tiny heart scrawled in the corner, with Viktor’s sharp, even lettering beneath it:

“You always see the pieces I miss. I don’t know how to be brilliant without you.”

Your breath caught. You flipped another page. Jayce’s messy scrawl, blue ink bleeding slightly through the paper:

“Remind me to kiss you when this is over. Or now. Preferably now.”

It struck like lightning.

Memory unfurled in your chest—Viktor adjusting your goggles, his fingers gentle as they brushed your temple. Jayce grinning down at you as he lifted you onto his shoulders to grab a tool from the top shelf. The warmth of their bodies wrapped around you, tangled in bedsheets, laughter and love echoing between you.

The pain of forgetting cracked wide open—and in its place, the truth returned.

You dropped to your knees, clutching the journal to your chest, sobbing. The grief of lost time, the ache of almost forgetting them—it crashed over you like a wave.

You didn’t hear them come in until you felt Viktor’s hand on your shoulder, trembling. Jayce knelt beside you, eyes wide, breath caught in his chest.

“I remember,” you whispered. “I remember everything.”

They didn’t speak. They didn’t have to.

They wrapped you in their arms, all three of you holding each other tightly in the center of the lab where it had all started. Viktor’s cane clattered to the floor. Jayce pressed his forehead to yours, breath shaking.

The world, shattered once, felt whole again.

VANDER

Zaun wasn’t safe tonight.

It never really was, but there was something different in the air — thick and charged, like lightning just waiting for an excuse to strike. The streets were quieter than usual. The usual hum of voices and the grind of pipes had taken on an edge. Fear travelled quickly down here. You were only out because someone had to be.

A local kid — scrappy, no older than ten — hadn’t come back after running errands for the Last Drop. Powder had been the first to notice, pacing nervously, blue-streaked hair a mess, eyes wide with panic.

“He said he was just going to the workshop,” she murmured, clutching your arm. “He should’ve been back already.”

You’d kissed the top of her head, reassuring her softly. “I’ll find him, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

It wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. You knew the shortcuts, knew how to walk like you belonged. Like you weren’t afraid.

But nothing prepared you for what you saw when you rounded the corner near a rusted maintenance shaft — the boy, backed against a wall, cornered by two Enforcers in polished boots and green-glinting armour. One of them had already drawn his baton, smacking it against a palm like he was just waiting for an excuse.

You stepped in without thinking.

“Hey!” you barked, raising your hands. “Easy. He’s just a kid.” The taller one looked at you like you’d spat in his drink.

“Step back, Zaunite. This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does if you’re about to beat a child,” you snapped, voice level. “He didn’t do anything. Just let him go.”

Your tone must have been too sharp. Too bold. You forgot they hated it when you looked them in the eyes. When you talked like you mattered.

That’s all it took.

One shoved the kid aside — the boy ran — and the other Enforcer turned his fury on you.

The baton hit your ribs first. Then your stomach. You tried to cover your head. A fist followed. A boot.

You remember the cold sting of metal under your cheek, blood flooding your mouth. You remember the burn in your lungs as you gasped for air that wouldn’t come. Somewhere in your fading mind, you thought of Vander — of his voice, his strength, the way he always said, "Let me worry about the fight."

And then... nothing.

=

There was warmth.

It wrapped around you like a blanket, heavy and soft, like you were being held by something alive. But then came the pain — a sharp, aching thunder that pulsed through every inch of your body. Your ribs, your skull, your face — everything felt too loud, too bright.

You forced your eyes open.

The room was dim, lit by the soft flicker of a low-burning lantern. The ceiling was metal and patched, familiar in a way that scraped at the back of your mind. Something moved beside you.

A hand brushed across your forehead — warm, rough, careful.

“Easy now,” a deep voice said. It rumbled like old stone. Steady. Strong. Familiar.

Your eyes drifted to the figure sitting at your side. A large man with a greying beard and broad shoulders leaned in. Worry etched into the lines of his face. His other hand clenched at the edge of the mattress, knuckles white.

“Who…?” Your voice came out hoarse, barely more than air. The man froze.

“You don’t…” His voice cracked, just slightly. “It's me, love. Vander?. You know me. Or... you did.”

You blinked slowly. The name didn’t register. But something in his eyes made your heart twist.

He looked at you like he’d lost you twice.

=

The days bled together in haze and silence.

You tried to piece things together — little things. The mirror showed a face that should’ve been yours, but you stared at her like she was a stranger. Your name sounded foreign when someone said it. The clothes felt wrong. The scent of metal, of oil, of warm bread from a kitchen nearby — they brushed against something buried, but never deep enough to grab hold.

The children came in shifts. Vi was always first, leaning against the wall like she had somewhere better to be. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. Trying to play it cool.

But her eyes never left you.

“You used to show me how to throw a punch,” she said, voice low but steady. “Said if I was gonna pick fights, I better learn to end 'em.” She let out a small, dry laugh. “You’d hum this weird little tune when you wrapped my hands. Drove me nuts.” She hesitated — just for a second. “I kinda miss it.

Powder was different. She clung to you like you’d slip away again.

“This one’s you,” she said, holding up a drawing with messy colours and uneven lines. Stick figures with big eyes and holding hands. “And that’s Vander. You always stood next to him. Always.”

Claggor brought soup. Too salty, but warm. “You taught me how to make this,” he grinned, shy and hopeful.

Mylo tried jokes. Most fell flat, but he kept trying. “You laughed at my dumb jokes. That’s how I know you’re still in there.”

Vander never missed a night.

He sat by your bedside like a silent sentinel, always with a hand near yours, but never touching unless you reached first. He didn’t talk much. Not about what happened. Just stories from the bar. Little things.

One night, he spoke without looking at you.

“I should’ve gone with you. I knew things were tense up top. I should’ve known they’d—” He stopped himself. His jaw tightened. “I should’ve protected you.”

You didn’t know what to say. But your hand inched closer to his. There was something in his voice. Something unspoken. Like love, trapped behind glass.

=

The memories came in flickers — not enough to explain, but enough to haunt.

A scent would stop you mid-breath. The creak of floorboards would make you turn your head like something was calling. The sound of laughter from the bar below made your chest ache.

One night, you woke up sweating, heart racing. You remembered a kiss. Heat. Rough hands tangled in your hair. A whisper against your neck: “Don’t care if they see.”

The image blurred before you could hold it. But then, it all snapped into focus. Vander was helping you sit up, one arm around your back. Your hand brushed his. Something jolted. Electric. Real.

You gasped, fingers tightening around his.

“I remember,” you whispered. “You—Vander. You kissed me. Behind the bar. You said no one was watching. But they were.”

He froze. Eyes wide. Disbelief tangled with tears.

“Y/N…”

You surged forward and pressed your forehead to his, your breath hitching. “You made me laugh when I cried. You let Powder sleep in our bed when she had nightmares. You held me every night. You’re mine.”

Vander pulled you into his arms like he was afraid you’d vanish again. His chest shook against yours. The door burst open — Vi first, of course.

“Powder broke the—oh.” All four kids stopped dead.

“Y/N?” Powder asked, tiny voice cracking.

You smiled. “Hey, baby blue.” She flung herself into your arms. And Vander held on like he’d never let go again.

SILCO

The battle had been fierce—far more intense than anything Y/N had experienced before. The tension between Piltover and Zaun had been escalating for months, and it had finally boiled over into violence. Y/N stood alongside Silco, his most trusted ally, in the heart of the chaos. The clash between the two factions was unpredictable and violent, and in the midst of it all, she fought alongside Sevika, Skye, and a handful of their men.

The night was thick with the sounds of weapons clashing, the roar of gunfire, and the shrieks of those caught in the conflict. But despite the sheer chaos, Y/N kept her focus. She had a reputation for being deadly in a fight—unpredictable, quick, and precise. She moved fluidly, taking down enemies left and right, never letting the adrenaline slow her down.

Then it happened.

A sharp push from an enemy sent her stumbling back toward the edge of a rooftop. The world seemed to shift in that moment—her foot slipped, and the next thing she knew, there was nothing beneath her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she fell, the air rushing past her face. A split second of terror before the harsh, unforgiving impact of the ground.

Her vision blurred as pain seared through her body, and everything went black.

=

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open slowly, a wave of dizziness hitting her as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The sterile scent of a medical room mixed with the sharp, metallic tang of blood, instantly filling her nose. The headache was unbearable, throbbing in every inch of her skull. Every movement was slow, deliberate—there was an ache in every part of her body, like someone had taken a hammer to her chest and spine.

She tried to sit up but quickly found herself too weak, her muscles refusing to cooperate. Panic began to seep in as she took in the unfamiliar room—a dull, dimly lit space with cold, clinical walls. The sharp buzz of machines filled the air, each beep and whir reminding her of the vulnerability she now felt. Her pulse began to race.

What had happened? Where was she? Why couldn’t she remember?

Before she could panic further, the door creaked open. Silco stepped inside.

His figure filled the doorway, tall and commanding, his usual intimidating presence somehow softened by the way his eyes locked onto hers. There was a moment of silence, where all that could be heard was the distant hum of machinery and the pounding of her own heartbeat.

“Y/N,” he said softly, the name rolling off his tongue as though it were a prayer. "You’re awake."

His voice was the only thing that seemed real, the only thing she could grasp onto, but even it felt distant. She blinked, trying to focus on his features, but they seemed… blurred. Something was off.

“Who… Who are you?” she asked, her voice weak, unsure. She couldn’t place the emotion behind it. It wasn’t fear, but there was definitely confusion. "What happened to me?"

Silco’s eyes tightened, his expression hardening for a brief moment before his features softened, and he took a cautious step closer to her bedside. He ran a hand over his face, looking as if the words didn’t come easily.

“It’s me, Silco,” he said, his voice quieter this time, almost hesitant. “I’m here to help you.”

Her brow furrowed as she tried to reach for the name—Silco—but it was like trying to catch smoke in her hands. It slipped away the instant she tried to hold on to it.

“I… I don’t remember,” she whispered, her heart sinking.

A flicker of something—pain, maybe—flashed across Silco’s face, but it was gone before she could be sure. He sat beside her, his presence a comforting weight, but his eyes were clouded with something he couldn’t quite hide.

“You don’t have to remember right now,” he said gently. “Just take your time. You will.”

=

The following days blurred into one another. Y/N’s world was a jumbled mess of strange faces, disjointed memories, and constant confusion. Silco, ever vigilant, stayed by her side, his eyes never leaving her when he wasn’t tending to his other responsibilities. Every day, he would tell her stories of their past, recounting moments they’d shared, times they’d fought together, times they’d laughed in the face of danger.

One evening, as the dim light of dusk filtered through the windows, Silco leaned closer to her, his voice laced with a gentle tenderness.

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” he asked softly.

Y/N’s gaze flickered to his face, studying him as if he were a stranger, and yet... she couldn’t shake the feeling that she should know him. The memory he spoke of felt like it belonged to someone else—someone she could almost touch, but not quite.

“No…” Her voice was small. “I don’t.”

He sighed, but his hand reached out to hold hers, warm and steady. “It was under the stars, on a rooftop, just like this. The city was quiet for once. We were on the edge of something big, but for a moment, it was just us.”

She wanted to feel something, wanted so desperately to know what he was talking about, to feel the connection he spoke of, but it was like grasping at shadows.

“It’s okay,” Silco said, squeezing her hand gently. “You’ll remember when you’re ready. In time, everything will fall into place.”

But for now, it felt like a weight she couldn’t shake—a hollowness that lingered just beyond her reach.

=

Weeks passed, and Y/N’s search for clarity continued. The fog in her mind began to lift in pieces, fragments of images that made no sense alone but, when combined, formed something vaguely familiar. There were moments where Silco’s voice would break through the noise, and a sense of warmth would wash over her—comforting, like the space between them had always been filled with something more than just words.

One day, Silco took her out of the medical room. They stood on a quiet dock by the water, far from the chaos of the city. The soft rhythm of the water lapping against the stone was the only sound, and the air felt different—calmer.

“This is where we used to come,” Silco’s voice broke the silence, low and filled with something that bordered on reverence. “I came here often to think. And you… You always found me.”

Y/N turned to face him, her gaze searching his face. His sharp features were still a puzzle to her, yet there was something about him—something she couldn’t quite place, but felt in her bones.

“Why here?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Silco’s eyes softened. “Because it’s always been where I felt most at peace. And when I was with you, I felt… whole.”

Y/N felt a stirring in her chest, a sudden pull of recognition. It wasn’t a memory, not exactly, but it was something familiar—a flicker of warmth she had longed for without knowing.

He reached for her, brushing a lock of hair from her face, his touch sending a jolt through her. “You’re safe with me, Y/N. Always have been.”

And then, like a dam breaking, the memories came rushing back—a tidal wave of moments that had been locked away. The laughter. The shared glances. The way his voice would drop when he said her name. Their first kiss. The quiet nights they had spent together. It all flooded back, as though her heart had always known it, even when her mind couldn’t.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she stepped closer, lifting her hand to cup his face. “I remember,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Silco’s expression softened, his eyes shining with something close to relief, and he pulled her into an embrace, his lips finding hers with a tenderness that took her breath away. It wasn’t just a kiss of reunion—it was a kiss that held everything they had been through, everything they had fought for, and everything they would be together.

As the kiss deepened, Y/N realized that no matter the darkness, no matter the accident, their bond had never truly broken. It had only been waiting for the right moment to return, to remind her of who they were.

And now, she was home.

JINX

There was always chaos with Jinx. Always noise, always unpredictability, and always that reckless spark that would set the world on fire. But you loved it. You loved her. Jinx was your best friend, your sister in all the ways that mattered, and no matter what, you stood by her side through thick and thin.

That day, though? That day was different. The familiar sound of her giggle echoed through the underground warehouse as she fiddled with her latest explosives. You were trying to get her to stop, trying to be the voice of reason, but you knew better than to try to get through to her when she was in one of her moods.

"You’re such a buzzkill, Y/N!" Jinx had called over her shoulder, her eyes wide with that gleam that always made your heart skip a beat. "This is gonna be so much fun!"

Before you could protest again, it happened. A spark. A flash. A boom that rattled your bones and sent the world into a dizzying blur of fire and smoke.

=

You woke up to pain. Your head throbbed as if it had been split in two, and your vision swam in and out of focus. The smell of burnt metal and smoke stung your nostrils.

“Y/N?!”

That voice. You recognized it instantly—Jinx. But something in her tone was off, frantic, desperate, like she’d been waiting for this moment for hours. Or maybe longer.

You blinked, trying to steady yourself, and found her crouched by your side, her face pale and her usual manic energy replaced by an uncharacteristic stillness. Her bright blue hair was singed, her clothes torn, but there was a look in her eyes you hadn’t seen before: fear.

"Hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay," Jinx’s voice trembled as she reached for your hand. "Please, don’t leave me, okay? Not again…"

You wanted to say something, reassure her, but nothing came out. Your mind was blank. Who was she? Who were you?

"Y/N?" Jinx’s voice broke again, more quietly this time. "Do you remember me?"

You tried. You tried so hard to remember her, but the memory didn’t come. There was a void where something important should’ve been. A gap. A missing piece.

"I'm… I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice weak. "I... I don’t know who you are."

=

Jinx refused to leave your side after that. She was relentless, clinging to you like a lifeline. Every day, she tried to jog your memory, bombarding you with stories, flashbacks, anything to spark something in you.

"Remember when we blew up that stupid chem-barrel in the scrapyard?" Jinx asked, her hands gesturing wildly as she sat across from you. "And you were all like, 'Jinx, stop! You’re gonna blow us up!’ and then boom! You were totally laughing, even though I almost got us killed—"

You stared at her, her eyes wide and hopeful, but all you could feel was that empty space inside you. The blankness gnawed at you.

"I… I don’t remember," you admitted, swallowing thickly. "I’m sorry. But why would I laugh at something blowing up?."

Jinx’s smile faltered. Her usually wild energy dimmed, but she shook her head furiously.

"No, no, no, you have to remember," she insisted, her hands grabbing your shoulders. "We’ve done so much together. I’m your best friend! We’re—" She paused, and her eyes glazed over, as if she were searching for the right words, but they didn’t come. "We’re family, Y/N."

But her words were like echoes in your mind, distant and unreachable. You wanted to believe her. You wanted to feel that connection, but the space between you and the past was too wide, too deep.

=

Then, one day, Jinx came to you with a thick, colourful scrapbook in her hands. She looked a little like she was presenting some kind of treasure, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and hope.

"I made this," she said, voice trembling with something you couldn’t quite place. "It’s… it’s for you, Y/N. To help you remember us. Our story."

You blinked at the scrapbook, unsure of what it was. The cover was covered in stickers, doodles, and chaotic drawings—just like her. There were little sketches of explosions, random graffiti scribbles, and you… well, you assumed it was you. You couldn’t remember for sure.

"Go ahead," Jinx urged, her hands shaking as she passed it to you. "Just… look. Please."

You flipped through the pages carefully. The first page had a picture of you and her, taken from a moment you couldn’t place, but her wide, mischievous grin was unmistakable. You looked happy, too.

Every page after that was a flood of memories—ones you didn’t have, but Jinx had preserved. There were photos, drawings, ticket stubs from events you didn’t remember attending, notes scribbled in the margins, and little symbols that meant nothing to you but everything to her.

On one page, there was a drawing of the two of you holding hands with fireworks exploding in the background. On another, there was a doodle of you carrying Jinx on your back, both of you laughing.

"Remember this?" Jinx asked, her voice soft, almost fragile. "We did this when we were twelve. You promised we’d never leave each other. And we didn’t, Y/N."

The scrapbook was a window into the life you’d forgotten. It felt like a heartbeat you could almost touch, but it was still so far out of reach.

And then, there was a page with a single word: Family.

You stared at it for a long moment. It felt important. You felt important.

"Jinx… this… this is us," you whispered, your fingers tracing over the word. "I was here. I was with you."

Her eyes brightened, and she grabbed your hands in hers, practically vibrating with excitement. "Yes! Yes, Y/N, we’re together! You’re gonna remember. I know it!"

And then it came, like a spark in the dark. A memory, just a flash, but enough to make your heart race. A memory of you and Jinx, standing side by side, staring up at a sky full of fireworks, your arms wrapped around each other.

"Jinx," you whispered, your voice shaking, "I… I remember. I remember us."

Jinx’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug. "You remember! You really remember!"

You held onto her just as tightly, your heart full as you realized, despite the chaos, despite everything, you and Jinx were always going to be inseparable. Your memories might have been fractured, but your bond? That was unbreakable.

[pensbridgerton]

On the sixth of April, in the year 1812—precisely two days before her sixteenth birthday—Penelope Featherington fell in love.

It was, in a word, thrilling. The world shook. Her heart leaped. The moment was breathtaking. And, she was able to tell herself with some satisfaction, the man in question—one Colin Bridgerton—felt precisely the same way. Oh, not the love part. He certainly didn’t fall in love with her in 1812 (and not in 1813, 1814, 1815, or—oh, blast, not in all the years 1816–1822, either, and certainly not in 1823, when he was out of the country the whole time, anyway). But his earth shook, his heart leaped, and Penelope knew without a shadow of a doubt that his breath was taken away as well.

For a good ten seconds.

Falling off a horse tended to do that to a man.

It happened thus:

She’d been out for a walk in Hyde Park with her mother and two older sisters when she felt a thunderous rumbling under her feet (see above: the bit about the earth shaking). Her mother wasn’t paying much attention to her (her mother rarely did), so Penelope slipped away for a moment to see what was about. The rest of the Featheringtons were in rapt conversation with Viscountess Bridgerton and her daughter Daphne, who had just begun her second season in London, so they were pretending to ignore the rumbling. The Bridgertons were an important family indeed, and conversations with them were not to be ignored.

As Penelope skirted around the edge of a particularly fat-trunked tree, she saw two riders coming her way, galloping along hell-for-leather or whatever expression people liked to use for fools on horseback who care not for their safety and well-being. Penelope felt her heart quicken (it would have been difficult to maintain a sedate pulse as a witness to such excitement, and besides, this allowed her to say that her heart leaped when she fell in love).

Then, in one of those inexplicable quirks of fate, the wind picked up quite suddenly and lifted her bonnet (which, much to her mother’s chagrin, she had not tied properly since the ribbon chafed under her chin) straight into the air and, splat! right onto the face of one of the riders.

Penelope gasped (taking her breath away!), and then the man fell off his horse, landing most inelegantly in a nearby mud puddle. She rushed forward, quite without thinking, squealing something that was meant to inquire after his welfare, but that she suspected came out as nothing more than a strangled shriek. He would, of course, be furious with her, since she’d effectively knocked him off his horse and covered him with mud—two things guaranteed to put any gentleman in the foulest of moods. But when he finally rose to his feet, brushing off whatever mud could be dislodged from his clothing, he didn’t lash out at her. He didn’t give her a stinging set-down, he didn’t yell, he didn’t even glare.

He laughed.

He laughed.

Penelope hadn’t much experience with the laughter of men, and what little she had known had not been kind. But this man’s eyes—a rather intense shade of green—were filled with mirth as he wiped a rather embarrassingly placed spot of mud off his cheek and said, “Well, that wasn’t very well done of me, was it?”

And in that moment, Penelope fell in love.

When she found her voice (which, she was pained to note, was a good three seconds after a person of any intelligence would have replied), she said, “Oh, no, it is I who should apologize! My bonnet came right off my head, and . . .”

She stopped talking when she realized he hadn’t actually apologized, so

there was little point in contradicting him.

“It was no trouble,” he said, giving her a somewhat amused smile. “I— Oh, good day, Daphne! Didn’t know you were in the park.”

Penelope whirled around to find herself facing Daphne Bridgerton, standing next to her mother, who promptly hissed, “What have you done, Penelope Featherington?” and Penelope couldn’t even answer with her

stock, Nothing, because in truth, the accident was completely her fault, and she’d just made a fool of herself in front of what was obviously—judging from the expression on her mother’s face—a very eligible bachelor indeed.

Not that her mother would have thought that she had a chance with him. But Mrs. Featherington held high matrimonial hopes for her older girls. Besides, Penelope wasn’t even “out” in society yet.

But if Mrs. Featherington intended to scold her any further, she was unable to do so, because that would have required that she remove her attention from the all-important Bridgertons, whose ranks, Penelope was quickly figuring out, included the man presently covered in mud.

“I hope your son isn’t injured,” Mrs. Featherington said to Lady Bridgerton.

“Right as rain,” Colin interjected, making an expert sidestep before Lady Bridgerton could maul him with motherly concern.

Introductions were made, but the rest of the conversation was unimportant, mostly because Colin quickly and accurately sized up Mrs. Featherington as a matchmaking mama. Penelope was not at all surprised when he beat a hasty retreat.

But the damage had already been done. Penelope had discovered a reason to dream.

Later that night, as she replayed the encounter for about the thousandth time in her mind, it occurred to her that it would have been nice if she could have said that she’d fallen in love with him as he kissed her hand before a dance, his green eyes twinkling devilishly while his fingers held hers just a little more tightly than was proper. Or maybe it could have happened as he rode boldly across a windswept moor, the (aforementioned) wind no deterrent as he (or rather, his horse) galloped ever closer, his (Colin’s, not the horse’s) only intention to reach her side.

But no, she had to go and fall in love with Colin Bridgerton when he fell off a horse and landed on his bottom in a mud puddle. It was highly irregular, and highly unromantic, but there was a certain poetic justice in that, since nothing was ever going to come of it.

Why waste romance on a love that would never be returned? Better to save the windswept-moor introductions for people who might actually have a future together.

And if there was one thing Penelope knew, even then, at the age of sixteen years minus two days, it was that her future did not feature Colin Bridgerton in the role of husband.

She simply wasn’t the sort of girl who attracted a man like him, and she feared that she never would be.

Romancing Mister Bridgerton - Prologue

[sulkingheichou012]

Into the Dungeon with You

Pairing: Jinwoo x Reader

Genre: RomCom, Action, Future Smut

Warning: Description of violence and profanity.

Summary: Jinwoo frowned as a new system notification appeared before him.

[Special Reward Successfully Claimed.]

Author's note: I'm happy that some of you are enjoying my silly work! Yes, if you're asking to be tagged—sure! 😊

Chapter 5

Jinwoo sat in his office chair, leaned all the way back. His usually sharp, emotionless gaze was fixed on the ceiling as if it held the answers to life’s greatest mysteries—or at least an explanation for why he was cursed with this latest headache.

In front of him, on the couch, sat Jinho—Ahjin Guild's assistant manager, his reliable right hand, the younger brother he never asked for but somehow ended up with.

Jinho clicked his pen, flipped his notebook open like he was his therapist, and sighed. "Okay, hyung… walk me through it again. You said… you did what?"

Jinwoo inhaled deeply. "I claimed a special reward from the system…"

Jinho nodded solemnly, scribbling something. "Uh-huh."

"And a woman appeared."

"Right…" Jinho was writing “So, Hyungnim,” Jinho said, tapping his pen thoughtfully on his chin, “let’s start from the beginning. How did you feel… when she hugged you without warning?”

Jinwoo didn’t move.

“Violated,” he deadpanned.

Jinho nodded slowly, scribbling the word down as though it were a diagnosis. “Mmhmm. And when she… sniffed you?”

Jinwoo’s lips pressed into a thin line. His hand came up, rubbing his temple. “I strongly considered kicking her back into the dungeon.” Another slow nod. More scribbling. “Understandable,” Jinho murmured, flipping to a new page, “but you didn’t. You showed… restraint. That’s progress, Hyungnim.”

Jinwoo sighed and closed his eyes, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair. “I’ve killed kings, Jinho.” “I know, Hyungnim.” “I’ve fought dragons.” “Yes, Hyungnim.” “I have personally torn apart the Monarch of Frost.” “I was there, Hyungnim.” Jinwoo’s voice dropped into a low, haunted tone. “And yet she stresses me out more than all of them combined.”

Jinho gave him a sympathetic look but couldn’t quite suppress the amused twitch of his lips. “Maybe,” Jinho said after a pause, “she’s not a scam reward.” Jinwoo cracked an eye open and stared. “I’m serious,” Jinho insisted, sitting up straighter. “What if this is one of those hidden class things, or a secret potential that hasn’t unlocked yet? Maybe you just need to, you know… train her.”

Jinwoo sighed again, the world’s most exhausted exhale. But he considered it. His shadows hadn’t found anything useful about her or how to send her back. Maybe there was more to Y/N than her strange behavior and fangirl antics. “…Fine,” Jinwoo muttered. Jinho fist-pumped. “Yes! Let’s find her true potential!” “…And if she doesn’t have one?” Jinwoo asked. “Then we’ll just keep her away from sniffing range,” Jinho grinned.

Jinwoo stood at the entrance of a mid-level dungeon, arms crossed, watching Y/N adjust the gear they’d gotten for her. His mom had insisted on it after hearing about “that poor girl” running around in pajamas. Now Y/N was in a sleek outfit, sturdy boots, and gloves. She looked like an adventurer. She acted like someone about to face a firing squad.

“Do I have to do this?” she whined, hopping from foot to foot like she was ready to sprint in the opposite direction. “You’ll be fine,” Jinwoo said for the fifth time. Y/N gave him an incredulous look. “I’m a civilian!” Jinwoo stared flatly. “You punched a monster last time.” “On accident!” “And you launched it across the room.” “With fear!” Jinwoo sighed. “Try dodging this time.” Y/N gave him a flat look.

The moment they stepped in, low-tier monsters appeared, drawn to movement and sound. Y/N, unsurprisingly, did both. “JINWOO!! HELP!!” she shrieked as a gremlin lunged at her. Jinwoo watched as she sprinted around the room in circles, arms flailing, screaming at the top of her lungs. And somehow…amazingly… She didn’t get hit. Not even once.

Jinwoo rubbed his chin. “…She’s got stamina,” he muttered. Jinho, recording video on his phone, whispered, “Baby steps, Hyungnim.”

After twenty minutes of Y/N dodging attacks and accidentally knocking monsters into walls by tripping over rocks, Jinwoo decided they’d had enough. “She’s got a long way to run,” he said, walking toward the boss gate. Y/N flopped onto the ground, gasping. “I’m dying.” “You’re fine,” Jinwoo said, dragging her up by the back of her collar like a misbehaving puppy.

The stone gate groaned open, and a wave of stale, heavy air rolled out from the darkness beyond. Jinwoo and his shadows entered first, the flicker of eerie blue flames from the torches lining the walls reflecting off their black armor. Y/N trailed behind, biting her lip hard enough to leave a mark, but she forced herself forward.

Jinwoo’s back was straight, his pace steady, like he wasn’t walking into a deathtrap but into his own living room. Y/N, on the other hand, was pretty sure she was walking into an early grave.

Why am I here again? Oh, right. Because she was now the weird, mysterious dungeon reward, and Jinwoo was stuck babysitting her.

They reached the main chamber, and Jinwoo slowed. He raised a hand to signal his shadows, who immediately took positions. Y/N felt it before she saw it—the weight of something monstrous. A creature stood up from its crouch at the far end of the room. Taller than the buildings she used to walk past on her way to work. Covered in jagged obsidian armor. A set of crimson eyes locked onto Jinwoo—and then flicked toward her.

"Oh no. Nope," she whispered, hugging the wall.

The boss roared, and the entire dungeon trembled.

“Bellion. Beru. With me,” Jinwoo commanded calmly. The two strongest generals moved immediately. Bellion’s wings flexed once, his sword drawn in a single motion, while Beru’s jagged claws clicked as he screeched his battle cry.

“Tusk, start buffing. Tank, Iron, formation!” Jinwoo continued, his voice sharp. Tusk cackled and slammed his staff on the ground, waves of magic rippling out. Tank, the monstrous ice bear, thudded forward, growling low as frost gathered at his feet. Iron raised his massive shield with a roar, slamming it into the ground.

Y/N, hiding behind a pillar, peeked out. Her heart was hammering in her chest, but her eyes sparkled. This. Is. So. Cool! Jinwoo was in action. Not manhwa panels. Not a webtoon animation. Real life. She watched as he charged head-on toward the boss with a speed that blurred his body. Sword drawn, Jinwoo struck. The sheer force of his swing sent shockwaves through the room.

The boss responded, claws flashing. Jinwoo ducked and weaved like he was dancing, his strikes smooth, precise. When the boss roared again, Bellion’s wings flickered, and he swooped in, slicing clean through one of its limbs. Black blood splattered.

Beru wasn’t far behind, latching onto the beast’s back with a shriek, his claws digging into its armored hide. “Maasssteeer! This one is worthy prey!!” “Focus, Beru!” Jinwoo shouted.

Y/N nearly squealed on the spot. Beru called him Master! Ahh! So cool!

But she slapped her cheeks to stay focused. “Not the time to fangirl… Not the time…”

The battle raged on. Tusk was chanting non-stop, magic sigils swirling in the air. Tank was blocking smaller monsters charging toward their flank, and Iron held the line like an immovable wall.

But something changed.

Y/N noticed it first. Beru was… faster. Bellion’s strikes became sharper. Even Tank’s frost grew thicker, stronger. Their attacks hit harder. And Jinwoo… He slowed.

Just a fraction. Not from fatigue. Because he was staring at them. At the sudden jump in their performance.

What the hell…? Jinwoo’s sharp eyes flicked sideways—for the briefest second—toward Y/N.

She was pressed flat against the wall, fists clenched at her chest, silently cheering. Focused. Emotionally locked on Igris, who was fending off a powerful blow. Her expression was intense, full of raw worry. Her lips were moving in silent encouragement.

Jinwoo’s brain was catching up with his instincts. That’s when it hit him. And that’s also when the boss hit him.

A massive claw slammed into Jinwoo’s side, sending him crashing into the dungeon wall with bone-rattling force. The impact cracked stone. Blood splattered. Y/N screamed. “JINWOO!!”

He coughed, struggling to get up. The blow wasn’t fatal, but it was serious. Beru shrieked in fury. Bellion roared and drove his blade deeper into the boss, but they couldn’t finish it fast enough.

Y/N’ mind blanked. No time to think. Her body moved.

She ran. Stupid. Reckless. Straight at the monster.

Her facial expression clearly shows signs of fear

Y/N had no clue what she was doing. Her heart was pounding in terror. She was sure she was about to die. But she couldn’t let Jinwoo die first.

She threw herself between Jinwoo and the boss monster’s follow-up attack. “STOP!!” she screamed.

Her body moved—unnaturally fast. Her footwork clean, precise. Her stance tightened.

And when the boss’ claw came at her—she swung.

Her fist connected with its armored arm. The sound was sickening. A crack echoed in the room. The monster’s limb snapped backward, bone and armor breaking under the force. It stumbled, howling in pain.

Y/N froze. “What the—” she stared at her hand, trembling. “I… punched it?”

Jinwoo watched in shock, blood still dripping down his chin. He felt it. Her power—no, his power—moving through her.

But Y/N didn’t notice. Because now she was panicking again. “JINWOO ARE YOU OKAY?! ARE YOU HURT?! Don’t die! You can’t die, you haven’t even finished raising Jinah yet! You are the breadwinner of your family!!!”

“Y/N—” Jinwoo started.

But she kept babbling. “You don’t look fine!” Y/N cried, her eyes glassy. “You went flying! That wall cracked!

But before he could finish, she grabbed his face with both hands and stared into his eyes like she was checking for signs of a concussion. “You’re not seeing double, right? How many fingers am I holding up?” “…Zero,” Jinwoo answered flatly. because she was holding his face. Her hands.

“Oh,” she muttered, then dropped them awkwardly. “Right.”

At that exact moment, Beru screeched nearby, drawing their attention back to the battlefield. The boss monster was still reeling, and Jinwoo’s shadows had gained the upper hand. The tide had turned.

Y/N glanced back at Jinwoo. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked softly, less panicked now. Jinwoo nodded, studying her face with an unreadable expression. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Thanks to you.”

“Hyungnim,” Jinho said quietly from the back, “I think… we found her potential.”

<< Chapter 4 | Chapter 6 >>

Tag requests: @kisssleeping; @catsf0rlife707; @aorifukuzawa; @joannthebish; @ojog404;

Got any guesses about Y/N’s potential skill? We’ll see in Chapter 6!

[amongemeraldclouds]

sweet dreams

It should have been simple: boy meets girl then falls in love. Except everything only happened in his dreams. Can Theodore Nott bridge the gap between fantasy and reality to get the girl of his dreams?

Inspired by Taylor Swift's song, Guilty as Sin?

Theodore Nott x f!Reader

Warning: Fluff, some smut so 18+ only MDNI, characters are aged up. Uses a magical concept that deviates from canon.

✿ Masterlist | 2.9k words

Prologue

The door creaked as you swung it open to leave The Three Broomsticks, eager to breathe in the cool evening air. You scrunched your nose as smoke invaded the fresh air you hoped for and turned towards the culprit, Theodore Nott. You didn’t know him personally, but guys as popular as him did not need introduction.

He didn’t notice you as he took another puff and the streetlamp cast him in a soft halo. It was not fair how some people could look so effortlessly gorgeous. 

“Want one?” He reached out when he finally saw you staring, offering you his pack of cigarettes.

You huffed, “No thanks, I was hoping for some fresh air.”

He simply shrugged and turned the other way, smoking in a different direction and out of your way.

You hoped the cool air could return some of your sobriety, but nothing was as effective as a good ol’ near de*th experience. You looked up when you heard someone shrieking from the distance, growing louder and louder until you saw a broomstick zig zag across the sky that was quickly hurtling towards you and Theo.

Theo was quicker than you, holding his wand out and casting a spell just fast enough to redirect the impact to an open space. By the time you held your wand out, you had enough wits about you to cushion the witch’s fall.

You ran towards her to make sure she was fine. She laid on the ground as if she was peacefully sleeping, oblivious to the accident. You crouched beside her, arm outstretched to wake her when-

“Oh bumbling broomstick!” She yelled out and sat upright. You yelped in surprise, yanking yourself back and landing on your bottom. Theo was there within seconds, offering you a hand.

You took it and it was unbelievably soft, his grip strong as he supported you back up from the ground. You registered the smell of alcohol and cigarettes with a subtle hint of expensive cologne. You wanted to take another whiff, but reminded yourself to focus.

“A - are you okay?” You turned back to strange woman, careful to keep your distance this time.

“That chap knows sod all about wizard engineering. Mixing magic and muggle work - ridiculous!” she spat in disdain, dusting off her dress.

She turned around, catching your worried look and Theo’s stoic expression, noticing you both for the first time. “Oh my, where are my manners?” She asked, straightening her back and introducing herself.

“I’m Miss Amelia Adams, thank you for rescuing me,” you shook hands and smiled at her politely, introducing yourselves in return.

Your eyebrows knit together as she fished around her bag, looking for something.

She beamed when she found it and held out a daisy for you. “To properly thank you, please accept this flower,” she then leaned in conspiratorially, “it grants a wish.”

She winked before gathering herself and her ‘bumbling broomstick’ as she called it. “Well, I’m off,” she declared, walking away as quickly as she had come before you had any chance to say goodbye.

You were stunned, holding the flower in your hand. You scoffed at the idea of wishes, the only way to get something is to go out there and take it. Hard work and strategy was far more effective than any wish. After a few moments of awkward silence, you turned to Theo. “That was…” you trailed off, trying to find the right word.

“Odd,” he completed for you, just as stunned as you were.

“Are you okay?” You asked Theo. He grunts and you reassured him you’re fine in return.

“Have this flower, you saved us first. Thanks, by the way. You should get the wish,” you said casually, only half believing the mysterious Miss Amelia.

He accepted it and placed it in his coat, stoic expression still in place. When he said nothing else, you turned on your heels to go back to your friends in the pub.

You paused when Theo called after you as if saying goodbye as an afterthought. “See you at school?” He said. It seems he recognized you too.

You turned around and gave him a friendly grin, “in your dreams,” you said in a playful tone. Despite being school mates, you and Theo revolved around different orbits. You experienced just enough failed relationships to know better than to start a friendship with Mr. Emotionally Unavailable.

He just smirked and watched you go before returning to his cigarette. Had he held the flower in his hand, he would have noticed it glow before bursting into tiny glitters, a wish about to come true.

That night, Theo first dreamt of you.

Main story, months later

The booming party music faded when Theo heard the familiar sound of your laughter. He shifted in the Slytherin common room couch as his entire focus gravitated towards you like you were the sun his planet revolved around.

It was always disorienting, he thought, to hear and see you somewhere outside his dreams. Mostly because you never looked his way here but in his dreams, you’ve given him everything he ever needed and more.

He recalled the first words you ever said to him in his dream, “you again?”

“Is that such a bad thing?” He asked with his boyish grin, amused. He wasn’t used to seeing this reaction from others except for his friends.

He no longer remembered the rest of that conversation, but one minute you two were laughing at something silly and the next, he was tucked comfortably in bed. It was then he realized it was all a dream he could just laugh off and forget about. It was no longer funny by the third night he kept seeing you. 

You both discussed how absurd this all was until you realized how fun it could also be. So you tested different ways you could take your power back and control the dream you found yourselves in. He discovered you were smart and funny, it warmed something in Theo’s heart that he did not care to examine.

Soon enough, he was flying with you through the sky, swerving through clouds as the stars blurred past like strings of fairy lights. You both flew like it was the most natural thing in the world, no broomsticks needed. He felt like a kid again, fearless and free.

One time, he went to a muggle amusement park you heard so many great things about. You rode on roller coasters and ferris wheels then ate candy floss. You would have gotten a fever the next day from all the sugar and shouting if not for the fact this all happened in your dreams. He had never felt happier.

On quiet nights, you laid on cool grassy hills enjoying the evening breeze. Sometimes, you watched sunsets on the beach while listening to the ocean waves. Those were his favorite days. You told him about your big plans and ambitions. He tried to stifle his smiles, but your energy was so infectious. The world felt bigger and brighter when he was around you. 

He’d tell you about his mother. How close they were before they were permanently separated. He said he kept her alive by remembering their happy moments that he’d tell you stories about. He also talked about his strained relationship with his father and how silly his friends were, but oh how he’d d*e for them.

He found himself spilling thoughts and secrets he could never tell anyone else. He stammered every now and then, not used to opening up, but you were so patient. He felt safe with you because you’re a good listener. Besides, wasn’t he basically just talking to a figment of his imagination? He tried not to overthink it.

Theo felt the couch beside him dip as the familiar smell of smoke and cologne announced Mattheo’s presence. “Want to go for a smoke?” He asked with a smirk as he flashed a joint.

“Later, okay?” Theo replied distracted, his focus still on you.

A student rose from the couch and moved away as Lorenzo approached. Thanks to their popularity, the boys always seemed to find a convenient seat when they needed it. He joined the two with a grin, drinks in hand. Mattheo took in Enzo’s disheveled hair and loose tie. He accepted the drink and gave him a high five knowing he already had his conquest for the night. Theo accepted the drink and just held it.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Mattheo asked, taking a swig from his cup.

Enzo blushed and took a sip of his drink. “You know I never kiss and tell.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes in response, “until you’re drunk enough.” He pushed Enzo’s cup back to his mouth. “Come on, drink up.”

Theo tuned out the conversation and he saw you dancing with your friends, your hips moving to the beat of the music. His eyes darkened as he remembered how those hips rocked into his. It didn’t take long before you first kissed him under the stars when the conversation died down, simply because there was nothing else to say.

All other thoughts and sentiments could only be expressed in the way your fingers gripped his wavy hair, when he bit your bottom lip and you moaned against him. Before he knew it, you were reciting his name like a prayer even though it felt anything but sacred when he slammed his hips into your dripping cunt. He savoured the way your nails scratched his back. He didn’t know until then how someone’s grip could make him feel so wanted.

He always made sure you knew he how much he appreciated you:

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well amore.” 

“I’ll make you feel so good principessa, I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

“You’re so beautiful when you’re on your knees,” he’d say as he stuffed his hard length down your throat.

He memorized your shape and knew just where to touch you to be rewarded with your filthy moans and curses. He liked making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Loud screams, sheets gripped, chest heaving. He took delight in the way you came undone for him, your little whimpers were so cute he could not resist thrusting faster into you so he could feel you clench against his desperate cock again and again.

His favorite part was after he came inside you when you swiped your finger on your upper thigh and brought his spilled seed to your lips. You said you loved the way he tastes. He always said you could have as much as you want, he was all yours and you were his.

“Theo, mate?” Blaise called out to the unresponsive boy who gazed intently at the crowd.

He turned to Mattheo and narrowed his eyes, “how much weed did you give him?” Blaise couldn’t help but worry about his friends, it was exhausting really. Mattheo pushed Theo outside his comfort zone whereas Theo pulled Mattheo back in when he went to extremes. They always kept each other in check, but he was worried that balance could tip off at any moment. 

“Easy on the accusation, he’s a big boy. He can do what he wants,” Mattheo replies defensively. “Besides he hasn’t taken any green, he’s too high on that girl already. Been eye fucking her all night.” 

Mattheo’s harsh words finally cut through Theo’s daydreams and his jaw twitched in annoyance, “I’m not. You should talk about her more respectfully.”

Enzo chimed in, “you know I hate agreeing with Mattheo, but he’s right.” Ignoring Mattheo’s de*th glare, he continued, “there’s nothing respectful about the way you’ve been looking at that poor girl.”

Theo just rolled his eyes and groaned, not wanting to discuss this with his friends. Even if he did, he wouldn’t know where to start. Instead, he stood up and said, “I’m going out for a smoke,” and walked away before anyone could protest or go with him.

As he walked, his thoughts returned to you. One day, you laughed because of his jokes. He laughed because he was in love with you.

It was all so ridiculous, but it had been months and he could no longer deny his feelings. He always thought love was overrated. How can others go out there declaring love like it’s a wild adventure you’re about to embark on? Love that you would fight and break for? He didn’t want an adventure nor a battlefield.

Then there was you and he realized everything he knew about love had only been one version of it. Being with you restored his breath and calmed the butterflies in his stomach. It’s a love that did not challenge him to be better, but instead told him he is already good enough. That he was always enough. It’s the kind of love that felt like home. It’s what he never knew he needed.

You haunted him even when he was awake. He was always tempted to approach you to see if the things he saw in his head could be real. His only clue was the way you wore ribbons in your hair and how it matched your mood to the stories you’d tell him.

He noticed you wore red when you were angry like the time you had to do a group project by yourself. You wore blue when you felt sad and green when you felt generally peaceful. His favorite was pink because it meant you were happy. He noticed how the closer you got, you wore the pink ribbon more often. But today, you wore a black ribbon. He had never seen it before and it worried him. Then again it was only a theory, maybe it didn’t mean anything.

So he always talked himself out of approaching you. Theodore Nott was used to broken things whereas everything with you and about you was perfect. He knew at the very least to leave it well enough alone.

His thoughts carried him to the Astronomy Tower where he lit his cigarette and stared at the evening sky.

“You always seem to be polluting the fresh air I go out for.” Something in his heart froze and then burned brightly. It was you. He heard the smile in your voice before he turned around to look at you. Salazar, you were so beautiful.

“You always seem to find me when you need fresh air. Are you sure you’re not just looking for me?” He teased, but nevertheless moved to extinguish his cigarette. 

You chuckled at Mr. Arrogant who always knew his way around girls. “I was joking, keep your cigarette though your lungs probably hate you.”

He scoffed, he already hated himself. But mostly, he hated how desperately he wanted to reach out and kiss you without being a total creep. “I’ll survive,” he replied, taking a final drag before snuffing it out. “What brings you here?”

“Aside from the not-so-fresh air?” You grinned before turning serious. “This is a nice place to think.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Salazar, he’s relentless. “I’m in an impossible situation and I’m starting to lose hope,” you admit. So that’s what the black is for, Theo realized.

He scrunched his nose as he thought twice about what he was about to say. It was so silly trying to hold back when he’d give you the moon and the stars if you asked for it. “Whatever it is, you shouldn’t lose hope.”

You laughed at him and let out an exaggerated gasp, “coming from Mr. Emotionally Unavailable?”

He laughed in return, “ah, my reputation precedes me.”

“Exactly, so don’t go around saying things like that. People might think you have a heart behind that big brain of yours.”

“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” He leaned in conspiratorially.

“No, everyone would stare at you then.”

“You know it’s rude to stare.”

“Oh yeah? What should I do instead?” You challenged.

“Kiss me,” he said with a smirk, a half joke and a half plea.

You laughed and took a step back, placing distance between you. So this was how he got girls, you mused.

Salazar, he was losing you. If he was going to try, he had to be sincere. No charms, no masks. “Amore, I…” he began but grew self conscious at the nickname. “I mean, I wanted to…” he started then stopped. “I wonder if…” he tried again.

“I know,” you said, fire burning behind your eyes at recognition. This was the boy of your dreams. Awkward when he tries to be sincere and it was so adorable. It always made you feel special because you knew he had walls for the rest of the world. But with you, he was at home.

You closed the distance to meet his lips and the kiss said everything he needed to know. All those evenings together talking beneath starlit skies, exploring flesh and soul, falling in love. They were real.

His hands found the curve of your hips so naturally as he pulled you closer against him, just like he’s done countless times. He savoured the way your fingers made their way through his hair. Everything felt electric, at once new and familiar. It was better than anything you had dreamed of.

When you both broke for air, you found yourself blinking in disbelief. “How do we both have the same dreams?”

Theo just shook his head as if to say he didn’t know but then he remembered your first meeting. There was a witch with a bumbling broomstick and a flower. His eyes widened. “The flower from all those months ago.”

Your eyes lit up with remembrance, “the mysterious Miss Amelia!” You brought your hand to your lips, “I didn’t think it was real. I said you’d see me in your dreams.”

“And now you’re my dream come true, amore,” he said, pulling you in for a hug.

 You giggled at how sweet Mr. Not So Emotionally Unavailable could be. “And you’re mine. See you tonight then?”

He chuckled, “and then tomorrow I’ll take you on a real date?”

You scrunched your face, “but now we can’t fly through the stars anymore.”

“Oh, I have other ideas,” he whispered in your ear.

Your heart leapt to your throat and anticipation hummed in your veins. After all, some things were sweeter than dreams.

✿ Masterlist

A/N: I've mostly written for Enzo and Mattheo until now but when I thought of this plot, I just knew only Theo could do it justice. So this is how I wound up writing my first Theo fic. Hope you liked it!

[tasenwrobots]

Soo Tumblr decided to be a bitch to me today. This lovely person @900rise4ever had sent me an ask with a handful of wonderful questions for my new kraang cj au for which I had written(a shitton)and saved to my drafts and guess what, it DISSAPEARED. so imma answer them here, as many questions as I remember.

He doesn't really think much of it, well atleast he tries not to. He likes the set of abilities he gets as a half kraang but it also comes with many disadvantages. Though he doesn't regret flexing his 'superpowers' as a kid to other kids at all. Plus he can make himself appear completely human at his will(he prefers it that way when not in battle),so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Q: does he go to the past like in the movie?

Yep he does. I guess. I mean I've thought of it lol.

Q: He seems to have a tail. How does he manage it?

His tail was pretty tough to handle as a kid. He would stomp on it by accident and shriek out lmao. Over time he got a hang of it and now he likes his tail very much! It gives him a boost in agility aspects and helps in battle too.

Q: does Casey ever think of world domination??

Yep. And I have no idea if it's a kraang thing or Cassandra and donnie's influence. Both, perhaps.

Q: Is Leo a father figure to Casey?

He is still very much like a father figure to Cj. He also acts much like his moral compass.

Q: what do the past turtles and future turtles and April think about casey ?

Past turts were flabbergasted and a lil spooked when they found out. Casey tried his best not to act kraang-ish throughout the events of the movie, to not freak them out, what a chad. He only revealed it to them post movie.

Future turts and april are chill AF. They were a bit skeptical at first when his kraang traits showed up. Don would do countless tests, he was monitored carefully, etc etc but over time he grew on them(by over time I mean in like, 2 weeks) and now seeing Casey with a full blown kraang arm is like a regular Tuesday to them.

Thats all the questions i suppose. And THANK YOU SM for asking!! I've got alot of scattered ideas for this au muajaja.

[notquitecanon]

Call Me... // Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You're the Devil of Hell's Kitchen's favorite late night nurse, but he's been avoiding your fire escape since an unfortunate accident. You both miss each other just enough for some emotions to slip through the cracks. You don't even know his name, but you'll settle just to know he's alright.

TW: blood, canon typical injuries, kind of hurt comfort, Matt's a self sabotaging martyr as usual, kinda sunshine!reader??? maybe if you squint

Bolded line is from a prompts list from several months ago so I lost the link. If it's yours let me know and I'll link it!

"I haven’t seen you in weeks… I’m worried you’re in another dumpster somewhere. Just call me back…please?" You whispered harshly into the phone’s receiver, burner cell jammed between your ear and shoulder as you fumbled with your keys. 

It was true. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen hadn’t graced your apartment in weeks after three months of near nightly visits. At first it was serious stuff, stab wounds and splinted bones. It took two weeks for him to crack a joke. But once that stone cold exterior cracked, it was shattered. He was kind, sweet even. Every few visits, he’d bring by supplies to replenish your kit and, usually, with a bottle of wine in the bag.  Emergencies turned to what he called ‘urgencies’- wounds just barely deep enough to justify stitches and dislocated joints. Which then turned into stopping by at the end of his nights for a ‘check up’, where he took advantage of your central heating, warm beverages, and warmer presence. Then, some Yakuza jackass appeared on your doorstep three weeks ago, fortunately your devil hadn’t been far behind. He took care of him, and you figured the thug, now minus fifteen teeth, would have a hard time telling anyone where to find you. Nevertheless, you found the ‘available apartments’ section of the newspaper taped to your seventh floor window. That had been the last night ’the devil’ had paid you a visit. 

"Anyways… I guess I'm asking for a sign of life? Something? Please? Bye." You pleaded, voice kinder this time as you managed to finally unlock the door and slip inside. Locking the knob, deadbolt, chain, and newly installed jam that had been mysteriously delivered not too long ago. With a huff, you discarded your keys, and bag in the entry way before delving deeper into your dark apartment, flicking lights on as you went. 

"You really need to start locking your windows." A deep voice sounded as you rounded the corned into your living room. Heart jumping to your throat and stomach dropping, you let out a yelp as instinct took over. The familiarity of the voice didn’t register as adrenaline flooded your system. 

"SHIT!" You shrieked, flinching backwards so fast that the hallway runner rug caught under your feet, sending you careening into the wall. Without thinking, you put the Yankee’s starting pitcher to shame as you pitched your phone at light speed towards the voice. Of course, the shadow effortlessly caught it.

"Shit!" The intruder mirrored at your fall, and it was then that you realized who it was. As you collected yourself a slew of curses slipped out, looking into the dim living room to find the Devil of Hell’s kitchen slowly rising off the couch, he was already sans black shirt and mask, "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you." 

"Yeah, well, mission failed." You muttered, pressing a hand to your chest as if that would still your pounding heart. Slowly, you finished your shuffled into the living room, flicking on the overheads as you went. "Shit, you could have called. Sit back down."  

You could have used the heads up, the gash across his chest looked serious, and not in the cute excuse to see each other way ’serious’ had meant last month. He breathed a sarcastic laugh, tossing your phone back to you before producing a shattered burner cell with a… bullet hole?

"You have a funny way of saving my skin when I least expect it." He tried a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes, picking up your pace as you retrieved your first aid kit from under your kitchen sink, "Consider this a sign of life?" 

"A sign of barely alive, more like." You answered, rounding back around the couch to sit across from him. Harshly pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and splaying out an array of supplies both his lap and yours. "You’re unbelievable. Almost a month of no contact and then you just appear and leak blood on my couch." 

"I’m sorry." He breathed, face angled to where your knees now touched. You rolled your eyes, ripping into a packet of gauze and setting to work dabbing the blood. And he sounded sorry, pitiful even, looked it to. His unseeing eyes stared straight past you and yet somehow straight through you at the same time, mouth settled in a puppy like frown. He told you once that he was catholic, and you now wandered if that’s why he was so good at looking guilty.  

"If it wasn’t for the newspapers, I would have thought you were dead." You drove your point home, with a small voice, too angry to be a whisper and yet too concerned to be a hiss. The evidence of his activities was written across his bare torso in older cuts, new and fading bruises, and a couple of bandages that he’d obviously applied himself, "And you’ve obviously been busy." 

"Figured out how the Yakuza found you. Handled it. Didn’t want to lead anyone else back here." His explanation was strained, pushed through gritted teeth as you applied antiseptic to the largest, freshest gash. You cooed small apologies, irritated as you were with the vigilante, you hated being the source of his pain. You picked up a suture kit, quickly threading the needle. 

"Well, as far as excuses go, that’s not the worst." You muttered, half joking and half touched he’d go through this for you. You’d known he was a walking martyr from the moment you’d met him, but still. He’d taken the beatings so you’d sleep safe. 

That was something else, "Lean back, gotta stitch you up." 

He complied as you stood, using your shoulder to nudge the floor lamp so the light was better for you. Even then, you position on the coffee table wasn't cutting it as leaning forward cast a shadow over his chest. Neither was kneeling in front of him, as the gash was too far up his chest for your position to be adequate. You muttered a quick apology as you flitted around him, trying to find the best place to plant yourself. Beside him on the couch might work, but you’d be straining to hold yourself up at that angle and keep your hands steady. 

Bloody-knuckled hands found your waist with amazing precision for a blind man, easily lifting you and placing you over one thigh after he spread his legs a bit wider. He held you steady, angling his eyes to the ceiling to give you the broadest view of his chest. One of your knees pressed into the couch cushion between his legs and the other pressed into the outside of his thigh, caging the his black-clad thigh between your own like a seat. If your weight bothered him, he gave no indication. He did however turn his ear ever so slightly towards you and smirk ever so devilishly, "How’s that?" 

"Very convenient, thanks." You forced your voice to be flat instead of the breathlessness you felt. Stupid charming vigilante. To his credit, it gave you the perfect access without blocking the light. And if you got to feel ever twitch of his insanely muscular thigh between yours? Added benefit. The devil, even bruised and bleeding, was insanely warm and smelled like something out of a terribly sinful romance novel. The manly small of musk and sweat should have been revolting, but the way it mixed with a fading aftershave would have been distracting if you weren’t so focused on the drip of crimson down his toned abdomen. Before your train of thought could derail again, you gave a quiet warning watching your patient steel himself before you began running the needle and thread through the torn skin.  Other than an initial hiss and the clenching of his fists against your waist, he went silent as you worked. 

The two of you sat in an almost tense silence. He could feel how close your face was to his chest, the waves of breaths washing over his skin, the smell of shampoo in your hair faint enough to know you’d put off washing it, the sound of your heartbeat slowing back down after he’d gotten you excited, the slight sound of your teeth worrying the inside of your lip. He knew he shouldn't be here, Claire could have patched him up, probably would have if he asked really nicely. He probably could have if he really tried, but he’d just missed you. Between Fisk and the Hand and the law firm… everything was messy. You were still simple and sweet and far more caring than he thought he deserved, a balm just to be near you. 

"Could you talk to me?" He asked, so quietly you almost missed it in your focus. You tied off another knot, seeing him wince. 

"Hmm?" You hummed, pausing to look up from the half stitched wound. His eyes lowered to your face, his clenched hands at your waist loosening to rub the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. You always wore such soft things, he wondered if you’d be so soft underneath. You took opportunity in the pause to wipe some of the blood from his skin. 

"I’ve missed your voice, even if you want to yell at me or be upset with me, just let me hear it." His voice was like a prayer, so sincere it made you shift on his leg. What was in the holy water at his church? 

"I’m not going to yell at you, honey. I’m not going to kick a man when he’s stabbed." You shook your head, rearranging yourself to get that optimal view again, grazing a gloved finger over a purple bruise on his ribs, "Besides, someone beat me to it." 

He chuckled at the lame joke, leaning his head back against the back of the couch again as you began stitching once more. Instead of scolding him, you caught him up on all the details and minor drama that he’d missed over the last few weeks. The funny things and annoyances from work, things your family had sent you, what your friends had been up to, your opinion on current happenings in the city. He listened to you like it was the most interesting thing he’d heard all year, chiming in with questions and quips of his own. You’d missed his voice too, not that you’d boost his ego by telling him that. 

"There." You finally finished, tying the last stitch and taping a bandage over it. The vigilante under you didn’t make a move to leave, instead his hands kept you still on his lap. You breathed a laugh, moving on to everything else. You removed the old bandages, giving half healed wounds a thorough cleaning. You applied comical Disney bandaids to the more minor cuts on his hands and were even brazen enough to kiss his split knuckles. The vigilante seemed to preen under you attention as you cleaned and applied Vaseline to his busted lip. As if it was too good to be true, his lip twitched downwards as his eye brows furrowed. His face angled away from yours, his unseeing eyes falling on the window he’d come through. 

"You know, the burner phone's been broken for two weeks now. Took the bullet not too long after the yakuza paid you a visit. Couldn't bring myself to throw it away, a little piece of you." He admitted, a pitiful smile twitched up before pulling downward again. He groaned, starting to shift you off his lap, “I shouldn’t be here, it’s not right.”

You allowed yourself to fall to the cushion beside him, but snatched the black shirt away from him before he could make a move for it. He’d been too busy letting his hands linger on your waist. 

“Why not?” You asked sternly, tucking the shirt behind your back as if the vigilante in front of you couldn't probably drop you six ways to Tuesday if he wanted to. Not that he could ever consider raising a hand to you, “You got hurt, I patch you up. Seems right to me.” 

The devil tensed, first leaning away and then leaning really close. His freshly bandaged fingers tapped your knee as if to emphasize his point, “I don’t deserve this kindness. And even if I did, if I could, if I was good, I would stop coming here so you could live in peace.” 

You were a silent for a moment, wanting to make sure your response was exactly how you wanted it to come across.  

“The third time you fell through my window, you told me that if I ever wanted to be left alone, all I’d need to do was change the candle I keep by the window.” You recounted his words. You hadn’t known about his senses at the time, he was still cryptic and mysterious. But you’d never changed the candle, buying new ones of the same scent when it would burn out, “You warned me what might happen. You gave me an out, one that I continuously chose to ignore. You did everything in your power to protect me when that choice had consequences. That was good, because you are good. And good people deserve kindness. You put too much on yourself, honey.”  

As you spoke, you laid your hand over his on your knee, giving it a slight squeeze to convey your own point. The crimefighter listened to your voice, your heartbeat, the quickness of your breath, finding no deceit and even if he didn’t believe you words, it was nice to hear them. Your kindness washed over him, letting him relax for just a second before he shook his head, laughing sarcastically to deflect the dangerously sappy emotions you stirred. You called him honey like it was his name, and part of him wondered that if you knew his name if you would still call him honey. 

“You barely know me, sweetheart.” 

His own nickname slipped out by accident, usually just something he called you in his head when he allowed fantasies about telling you everything, coming home to you as the vigilante and the lawyer, seeing just how far your good grace could take him. His lips quirked up in time with the uptick of your pulse and the way your breath caught for a moment. 

“I know enough to know you deserve some good.” You whispered earnestly, reaching up to graze the Star Wars bandaid you’d stuck across his the cut on his cheekbone. Almost instinctively, he leaned into the touch. You smiled softly, maybe you’d both missed each other a bit. The combined concern for the other and the time between his last visit making you both a little sappy, or at least more honest about it, So, you breathed a laugh, making another lame joke just to earn one of those chuckles you loved so much, “Besides, I know you well enough to have your blood on my hands.” 

But he didn’t laugh, instead, he pulled his face from your palm, his own bandaged hands taking your bloodied gloved hands in his own. Gently, he pressed your hands together, your loose fists creating almost heart like shape as he pressed reverent kisses to each bloody hand. The vigilante was kind always, flirty and joking, occasionally flirtations bordering on something else. But this? This was different, it was new. Intimate. You’d almost feel like a voyeur for watching the scene if it you weren’t playing a starring role. Your mind flashed to those romance novels you’d thought of earlier, this put all of them to shame. So much so that your hands started trembling against his lips. 

He held them tighter, but not in a constrictive, cage like way. More in a ‘let me hold you together’ kind of way before gently peeling the dirty gloves off and, again, kissing your clean hands underneath. His face angled to yours, nothing but sincerity lacing his features. 

"You know my blood better than my own heart does.” 

“God…” You whispered, letting your head fall against his shoulder, your nose nudging his collarbone and your eye lashes fluttering against his neck. His stubbled cheek fell to the crown of your head.  You cleared your throat again, "I know your blood, but not your name. For someone I care so much about, that’s kind of sad.” 

It was the first time you’d ever admitted it out loud in such certain words. The vigilante ran gentle hands up and down your arms, silent as a million thoughts went through his head. You heart was racing, not from lying, but in anticipation. Despite your racing pulse, you seemed almost totally at ease with you skin against his, one of your hands pressed to a bandage on his ribs and the other holding purchase at the waistline of his black pants. Nothing sexual, just the perfect place for your soft hand to land.   

Despite the million thoughts, he really had two options. Keep his secret, and keep you at an arms length, to keep things sweet and simple and not too deep. Or. Let you in a little deeper, he'd swim oceans to keep you afloat. Enjoy your sweetness, even if things were complicated. He kept still, holding you as gently as you had touched him, a promise to himself that he could be gentle and soft, just as he could be lethal and ruthless.  Two sides of a balanced scale.  

Your heart had slowed down again, the soothing motion of his hands on your arm lulling you. You had been worried about his response. You’re confession had gotten too real, you were worried he’d jump out the window and disappear again. And you’d be left with nothing but bloody gloves and the thought that maybe you’d just imagined the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

"Matt.” His voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper, “You can call me Matt. Just don’t stop calling me."

[nowimjustastranger]

Just a little gift for my bestie Phoenix, aka @flame-cat, because they were in a car accident recently. But thankfully they're okay! This was actually inspired by an outline for an interaction between the brothers that they shared with me privately, so enjoy 1.5k words worth of stangst y'all!

Ford scrubbed a hand over his face with a frustrated groan, fingers knocking his glasses askew. He couldn’t afford to have his body fail him now, not when he had an exam to study for. But what he wanted didn’t change the fact that his eyes had started to outright refuse to focus on the words in the textbook five minutes ago, an annoyingly persistent migraine pulsing behind his eyes.

To make matters worse, the landline rang. The shrill sound made the bothersome migraine go from a mild three all the way up to a solid eight on his tolerance scale, which made his temper flare. Ford snatched the handset off the cradle with a growl, reluctantly bringing it to his ear.

“Stanford Pines.” He bit out, adjusting his glasses with his free hand so they sat on his nose properly. When his prickly greeting didn’t garner a response outside of what sounded like labored breathing, Ford scowled. Great, it was his mystery caller again. Just what he needed on top of an already stressful day.

“I refuse to keep entertaining these prank calls, so if you call again I’ll be notifying–” Ford began in a stern tone, but he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Stanford.”

Stanley. That was Stanley. Why was his brother calling him at –Ford stole a glance at the clock– two in the afternoon? What could he possibly want? Well, whatever it was, he wouldn’t be getting it from Ford. He had already given up so much because of Stanley’s selfishness, he wasn’t about to give him the opportunity to worm his way back into Ford’s life–

“…Sixer?” Stanley asked, a breathless quality to his voice that brought Ford’s anger back down to a simmer. Why did Stanley sound like that? His breathing was short like he wasn’t taking full breaths, but there was still a measured quality to each inhale and exhale like he was breathing that way on purpose.

“How did you get this number?” Ford asked bluntly, bracing his elbow on his desk before letting his forehead drop into the palm of his hand, resigning himself to having this unexpected yet long overdue conversation with his estranged brother. Maybe Stanley had realized the error of his ways and called to apologize? Yeah right, fat fucking chance of that.

“Ma passed it along.” Stanley grunted, his tone laced with pain, and Ford could certainly relate. He didn’t want to be talking to Stanley any more than Stanley wanted to talk to him, which begged the question: why exactly did Stanley call him?

“Of course she did.” Ford grumbled, suddenly feeling every hour of lost sleep hitting him all at once. He was exhausted. He was tired of trying to fend Ma and her mission to reconnect him with his brother off, tired of walking on eggshells during his monthly calls home just to avoid saying the wrong thing and causing unnecessary drama, and he was tired of putting up with the part of him that still cared about his brother.

“I… I think my ribs are broken.” Stanley said quietly and Ford’s brain shrieked to a standstill, his grip momentarily going slack on the handset as he tried to process the implications of such an ominous statement, forcing him to fumble with it until he managed to press the receiver back against his ear.

“What?” Ford barked, tone incredulous and concerned in equal measure. He resolutely ignored the way that his hands trembled, his grip white-knuckle tight on the handset.

"My ribs. I think–” Stan cut himself off as his breath hitched, a pained hiss following shortly after. Ford found himself leaning forward, blankly staring into the middle distance as he strained his ears to hear every little shift in Stanley’s breathing, trying to assess his brother’s current state. “Nevermind. Shit. Not important right now.”

“Not impor– You can’t be serious, Stanley!?” Ford seethed, lurching out of his chair, uncaring as it tipped back and crashed to the floor as he began to pace. He made sure to stay within the range that the cord allowed him, but he simply couldn’t sit still when Stanley was hurt and possibly even suffering from a head wound considering that he wasn’t making any fucking sense–

“I’m fine. It’s fine. I just…” Stanley spoke in starts and stops, his breathing strained as he spoke through what sounded like clenched teeth. “I need…”

“What? What do you need? What happened?” Ford prompted with urgency, fingers curling and uncurling anxiously. He had to know. He couldn’t estimate the severity of Stanley’s injuries without more data, right now he was left with what his imagination could produce. He needed facts in order to combat the increasingly horrible scenarios that his mind was dredging up.

“Car crash.” Stan said on an exhale and Ford nodded even though his brother wouldn’t be able to see it, pinching the bridge of his nose as his useless brain fixated on those two words.

“What else hurts? Or is it just your ribs?” Ford asked tersely, moving back to his desk with a determined stride to grab a piece of paper at random along with the pen that he had tucked behind his ear earlier. He scribbled down Stanley’s comment about his potentially busted ribs and then let the pen hover as he waited for Stanley’s –hopefully detailed– analysis of his person.

“I dunno… stomach hurts. Kinda swollen.” Stanley mumbled, sucking in a sharp breath as he presumably prodded at the area in question.

“Lightheadedness? Nausea?” Ford pressed, his heart lurching into his throat as several injuries came to mind, internal bleeding being the most likely explanation. Stanley had already displayed textbook signs of internal bleeding, such as disorientation and shortness of breath.

“Both? Feelin’ a bit sluggish too.” Stanley admitted, the muted rustle of clothes indicating that he had adjusted.

“Is the cord long enough for you to sit down?” Ford asked, looking up when the door opened and Fiddleford stepped into the room. Ford frantically waved him over, writing a message for Fiddleford in the notebook before sidestepping so he could read it when he hurried over.

“I think so? Lemme just…” Stanley huffed, Ford splitting his attention between the sound of Stanley gingerly lowering himself to the ground and Fiddleford’s rapidly paling face as the man read through Ford’s notes of Stanley’s wellbeing.

“Stanley? Stanley, are you there?” Ford prompted when there was nothing but harsh breathing for several seconds, sharing a look with an equally rattled Fiddleford.

“Yeah… yeah ‘m here.” Stanley panted, his speech slurred, and Fiddleford hurried from the room to contact emergency services with a different phone. As soon as Ford got a location, he would relay the address to Fiddleford and then stay on the line with Stanley for as long as he could before the call cut out.

“Where exactly is ‘here’, Stanley? Where are you?” Ford asked, rapidly tapping his pen on the notebook just to have something to do since he couldn’t get his hands on his brother like he desperately wanted. He hated feeling so useless.

“Uh… outside a 7/11.” Stanley said weakly, his voice barely a whisper.

“Which 7/11?” Ford demanded, his eyes narrowing. Either Stanley was losing consciousness, or he was losing his grip on lucidity. Neither were ideal considering the circumstances. Ford didn’t have enough information to confidently deduce how hurt his brother was. These could be Stanley’s last moments and Ford was wasting his breath giving him the third degree instead of saying anything of value–

“Um… I dunno.” Stanley said with the vocal equivalent of a shrug and Ford suddenly felt the inexplicable urge to scream.

“An address, Stanley.” Ford clarified in a clipped tone, impatiently tapping his foot as emotions built up in his esophagus, bubbling up despite his best efforts to stuff them back down into their vault. This could be his last opportunity to say something. Anything. Ford couldn’t squander this rare chance, couldn’t let Stanley fade away without knowing that his big brother lo–

“I dunno, s-somewhere in New Mexico, I guess.” Stanley murmured, sounding a little less strained but just as tired. Sitting down had eased some of the stress that his body was under then. Good.

“Just stay there, Stanley. You hear me? Don’t move.” Ford said sternly, speaking slowly and clearly so Stanley’s muddled brain could register the words and damn well heed them. Ford knew that Fiddleford could triangulate Stanley’s position using the phone call, but he wasn’t going anywhere until the call ended.

“M’kay.” Stanley agreed, his voice so quiet that Ford wouldn’t have caught it if his entire focus hadn’t been on his brother. Ford ran a hand through his hair, gripping it at the roots and tugging as he stared down at the notebook, bloodshot eyes roaming over his messily scrawled notes.

“I’ll meet you at the nearest ho–” Ford assured, unceremoniously cut off when the line abruptly went dead. “–spital.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

“God fucking damnit!” Ford snarled, slamming the handset onto the cradle with excessive force before turning on his heel to sprint out of the room and track down Fiddleford. Then Ford would take over the call with emergency services while his roommate used his skills to locate Stanley, sending an ambulance to him.

College could wait, Ford’s brother needed him.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

When Robin couldn't get a hold of Steve, she immediately started biking over to his house. He was still homing a newly turned vampire Eddie, and while she trusted Eddie not to hurt him, she also knew that accidents happened. So, when she walked into his living room and found Eddie's mouth attached to Steve’s neck. she immediately thought the worst. Robin shrieked, causing Eddie to pull away, and she tackled him. She raised the stake she had made and moved to stab him when Steve screamed.

"ROBIN! STOP! STOP! HE WAS KISSING MY NECK!" Steve yelled.

Robin froze, her knee still pressed to Eddie's chest.

"What?!"

"He was kissing my neck, Robin," Steve said. "We were making out."

"You like women!" Robin exclaimed.

"And men!" Steve exclaimed.

"Since when?!"

"Robin! I told you!"

"The hell you did!"

"Robin, I told you that I thought Tom Cruise and Eddie Van Halen were hot!" Steve exclaimed. "I said I like both!"

"I thought you meant like, objectively!" Robin shrieked. "I missed my best friend coming out to me! Oh my God, it's me. I've been calling other people dinguses this whole time when it's been me. I'm the dingus."

"Well, when you think about it, aren't we all a little bit of a dingus?" Eddie asked. "By the way, you're still on top of me and pointing that stake at me."

"Shit, sorry," Robin said and helped him up. "I'm sorry about, you know, trying to kill you."

"To be fair, what were you supposed to think?" Eddie asked. "I think it was so metal of you that you were willing to kill me to save your best friend. That was a perfect tackle. By the way, can I keep the stake?"

"Oh, yeah," Robin said and handed it to him. "The least I can do. I have nothing against you! I actually really like you, and I think you guys are super cute. Maybe I wouldn't have tried to kill you if someone answered their phone."

"No worries, Buckley. We are all good," Eddie said as he pointed the stake around the living room like a sword.

"I took it off the hook," Steve shrugged. "I didn't want any interruptions."

"Hm. That worked out well," Robin said. "And really, Eddie Munson? He's such a dud. He even looks like a muppet."

"Okay, I feel like that's in reference to something that I wasn't there for, so I'm just going to ignore that," Eddie said and proceeded to trip over his own feet then over the coffee table. "Shit! Goddamnit! Steve! Steve! The stake is stuck in a place where it shouldn't be! It doesn't feel like what we did last night! Take it out so I can heal! Steve! This doesn't feel good! STEVE!"

"Coming, baby," Steve said, struggling not to laugh.

Robin sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes against the sight. She burst into laughter.

"Eddie Munson, the hero of Hawkins."

[hotvintagepoll]

Una O'Connor (The Adventures of Robin Hood, The Invisible Man, The Bride of Frankenstein)—One of my favorite character actresses! While many people know her as the shrieking innkeeper's wife in The Invisible Man, I've always loved when she played a character who was a little more grounded (though that scream of hers is pretty iconic.) Her character of Bess is warm and loving towards Marian, but also tough and takes no prisoners. When they are captured in the forest, she comes forward to protect Marian with so much ferocity that Sir Guy (the villain) moves out of the way so quickly because even he doesn't want to feel Bess' wrath. She could switch from hilariously over-the-top to gently and sweet in the blink of an eye and she deserves a little more recognition! Also her hats in Robin Hood are ridiculous and I love them.

Zero Mostel (A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, The Producers)—Archetypal. Comedian of all time. The worst combover in cinematic history, probably. Could make more laughter with one muscle in a singular eyebrow than 98% of all men across the face of the earth. Hardcore Committer to the Bit. Man of all time, and also told HUAC directly where they could shove it, which is a primally appealing and scrungly quality.

This is round 2 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Una O'Connor:

she eats this:

The things this woman does with her face when she sees Frankenstein's creature. Your fave could never.

Zero Mostel:

"The chase scene in FORUM is just. it's fucking iconic. It's one of the funniest pieces of cinema I've ever seen in any context, everything about it is genius, and the heart and soul of it is Zero Mostel as Pseudolus. Casting him alongside a young Michael Crawford (of later Phantom of the Opera fame) really highlights the differences between the young romantic lead and the older, sensible, and yet entirely scrungly middle aged man (Mostel was 55 at the time) somehow manages to come off as even more desirable. He has no shit together, not very good plans, is panicked for most of the story, and the charisma of a champ. His flailing, helpless attempts at fighting the gladiator is so... he's so scrungly. "

"He's not fancy, he's not pretty, he's not good at much of anything, but he is Genius despite that."

"There is a magic to Zero Mostel that he manages to bring to roles where he is simultaneously the worst person ever, and also, compelling in every possible way. He had his biggest period of fame in middle age after he got taken off the Hollywood blacklist, and being a fat middle aged man with thinning hair is what gives every single bit of his characters power. As the original Max Bialystock he would eat the entirety of The Producers except that Gene Wilder as Leo Bloom is a genius casting decision, as Mostel's intensity against Wilder's deep discomfort ends up being the right chemistry. In many ways he reminds me of Buster Keaton, the pinnacle of hot scrungly little guy—a unique and expressive face, an instinctive understanding of comedy, active at the same time, and also they were both in FORUM together. Mostel came from an Orthodox Jewish family, was a trained painter with a degree in art, spoke four languages, and when he was blacklisted during the Red Scare and brought before the HUAC, he didn't just refuse to name names, he made fun of the senators. He was disabled after an accident, and still did dancing in movies and things like stunts in FORUM. He did a ton of work on Broadway too, including originating Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, making the musical more Jewish as he did so. Frankly, I don't think any of those roles (or the eventual later film versions of Fiddler/musical version of the Producers) would work with anyone else. It had to be a fat balding middle aged leftist Jew from Brooklyn. The scrungly is essential.

"the scrungle factor of max in every version of the producers is through the roof but nathan lane does it as suave scrungle. zero mostel does not do suave scrungle. he does old jewish man getting into an argument with the rabbi at the full synagogue passover seder about how much wine has to be in the glass for it to count as "one cup" scrungle; he does old jewish man whose entire fridge is full of pickled herring scrungle. it's offputting in all the ways that make it genius."

[immedealwithit9855]

How Would BayGuys React If S/O Mooned Them?

They probably seen it all. These goofs most likely seen each other's by accident😆🤣. Regardless of the scenario of why it happened, the fact that its happening to them is unreal.

Ya'll were arguing because he's been overprotective of you since crime has been rising in your area

Your used to the madness, he just wants you to be safe

You applaud him caring about you so much, but you had a life to live too and didn't want to be babied

Ya'll were going back and forth🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️

It seemed like it wouldn't end, then you went and ended it yourself

You turned around to leave, pulled them pants down, giving him a full view of your behind!

He had no words for what you did

He was not expecting you to do that to him

Although he averted his gaze, he still saw it!

After that, you didn't talk for a week, then he calls

Ya'll talk it out, apologize to one another, making up

Then he brought that up

"Have you been doing squats lately?"

He was lifting his weights while you sat and watched

He had been neglecting you lately and you've had it

He sits up, pats the sweat off his forehead, then you stood up, about to walk out

You stopped to turn your head towards him, your eyes met

No warning, you just dropped your pants and draws, not caring

His expression was hilarious as it was a mixture of 'wow' and 'she really doin' this now?'

You pull up your pants, forgetting how quick he is as he immediately pinned you to the wall

He growls in your neck

"Ain't no way yer leavin' after dat? Ya started somethin' and we're gonna finish it!"

Tosses you over his shoulder and walks to his bedroom

You come to visit him before work and you find him seated in the front seat of the tartuga

He looks to he hard at work, so you decided to give him a push

Walking out in front of the truck for him to see you

He looks up, smiles, starts flashing his headlights at you

His way of saying hello before getting back to work

"I wanted to leave something for you before I went to work." You reminded him.

"Thank You, Sweety. Just leave it in the lab. I'll get it."

He got something else alright as you pulled your work skirt and panties all the way down, bending completely over

He saw EVERYTHING!!!!

You gave him more than what any nerd ever had the pleasure of seeing

He whimpered, before passing out, bonking his forehead directly on the horn

It was loud enough to alert the entire lair

It startled you as you made haste getting dressed, running passed his brothers

"I'm sorry in advance! I'll say sorry again after work!" You shrieked

His brothers found him, lifted his head off the horn, asking him what happened

"I seen my future and it was absolutely beautiful!!!" He chuckles, drooling.

Hes playing around on his board, Again

You drop off his dinner and tell him to come down

He continues to do loops and swirls all over the lair

His brothers are doing their own thing out of sight out of mind

Mikey decided to give you a challenge, a challenge he won't regret

"Give me something else and I'll come down!"

You figured the pizza was enough, guess he wanted more today, you shrugged your shoulders

Walking into his view, you dropped your pants and underwear, giving 'something else

Spreading your legs made it worse

Dude could have a nose bleed from what he saw

He just about fell off the board, landing on the couch cushion

He was hype and began to chase you around the lair

Its not everyday a turtle gets to enjoy looking at a human females donk!

"Come back here! I wanna have desert first." He yells, you giggle

When his brothers came in on the scene, they couldn't be anymore annoyed watching their little brother chasing his girlfriend around the lair

They scoffed, took the pizza and retreated into a tunnel

Leaving you and him with your little games

[the-worrier-of-light]

Antimony

Who would you be if you didn’t—couldn't—exist?

After an accident involving a faulty regulator, Antimony came to a harrowing realization—nobody recognized her. Friends and family alike greeted her as a stranger. She quickly found that the true extent of the situation was even worse: once any conversation ended, she was immediately forgotten as if she never existed. To all of Solution Nine, she was no more than a temporary hallucination, instantly erased.

...Or more precisely, almost all of Solution Nine.

---

Credits become significantly more difficult to earn when nobody remembers your existence. Most jobs were impossible for Antimony, since employers wouldn't recognize her once the task was complete. For a while, selling whatever junk she managed to scavenge in face-to-face transactions was her only viable source of income.

Eventually, though, Antimony found it was far more efficient to simply steal whatever she needed. Thanks to her condition, she could take anything, anywhere—even directly from a shopkeep's hands—with no repercussions, so long as she could get away... and she had always been a damn good runner. On the rare occasions she did get caught, it was only a minor inconvenience; the Sentries would confine her, leave, then return to a cell holding an anonymous citizen with no criminal record. Whatever strange affliction had befallen her, it extended even to Everkeep's internal databanks.

Sometimes, to keep life interesting, Antimony would target the same establishment day after day. Though they couldn't remember her, they could remember the crime, and Antimony made a game of setting off the countermeasure-du-jour.

One day, after the fourth successful heist that week from a True-Vue convenience store, Antimony sank to the curb to enjoy her ill-gotten snacks. Even from a couple of blocks away, she could still hear the shop's freshly installed alarms shrieking uselessly in the distance. She grinned and popped a fruit pellet into her mouth.

"Gimme some of that," commanded a gruff little voice, somewhere over Antimony's shoulder. She turned to find a Milalla's outstretched palm making grabby hands at her spoils.

She rolled her eyes. "Buzz off, kid."

The Milalla let out a defiant huff, and said, "You're the kid here, punk, and I'm going to take a share of the goods, unless you'd rather me let the Sentries know about your little operation."

Antimony froze, and the fruit pellet on its way to her mouth clattered to the pavement below. "You—you've been watching me?"

"As if it's hard; you're stealing in broad daylight! Frankly, I don't know how you keep getting away with it, but whatever your secret is, you shouldn't be wasting it on... shitty convenience store food." The Milalla had helped himself to the snack bag and was frowning at its contents.

"That's... not possible," Antimony whispered. When the Milalla gave her an incredulous look, she continued, "Nobody knows who I am! Ever! If you've been watching me, that would mean you can remember me..."

"Riiight... Okay, on second thought, keep your snacks," he said, taking a cautious step back. "I thought you had talent, kid, but maybe you've just got a couple of screws loose."

Antimony's eyes widened as he turned to leave. "No—wait! Please... just, here—let me prove it to you!"

He stopped, then looked back. Antimony braced for the blank stare of a stranger, but his face showed only an apprehensive little frown. She could have wept with relief at that. Instead, she sprang to her feet.

"Wanna see a neat party trick?"

---

Antimony and her companion made their way down the street, convenience store coffees in hand. No alarms were screeching after her this time. The Milalla's eyebrows were furrowed as he stared at the steaming cup.

"He smiled at you! Told you to 'come again,' even!"

Antimony shrugged. "Like I said, nobody remembers me, ever. You're the first person I've met who has. Ever since I became... like this, anyway." A thought occurred to her, and she blinked. "I'm Antimony, by the way. Sorry, didn't think to introduce myself—there's usually no point in it."

She looked down at the Milalla, and for the first time, really looked at him. Behind round little glasses, his sharp green eyes were lined with the beginnings of minute wrinkles, and she felt like an ass for calling him a kid. Despite his rough demeanor, his clothes were decently made and well-tailored. And yet, there was something about his appearance that seemed... off; she was having trouble placing it. Eventually, she realized what was missing.

"Wait, where's your regulator?" she asked.

He chuckled, "In my line of work, s'best to avoid plugging a tracking device into your skull." He held out a tiny hand. "Name's Kenek."

[cloversnstrawberries]

platonic!yandere!alastor & 1950s!teen!gn!reader ! ! [prologue]

series masterlist ! !

description; You and your pals were taking a ride in your friend, Matty's, nice convertible, enjoying the last moments of summer break before school started up again for your senior year. A rich kid without a driver's license and his daddy's BMW changed that all.

additional notes; the start of a series! this doesn't feature Alastor, considering this is just how Reader died/got to hell in the first place, and a little bit of backstory involving them. I tried to make reader as non-descript as possible so you could insert yourself in their shoes! enjoy :] this chapter is pretty heavy though, so be careful!

also, i thought i should mentioned that reader in here is a wolverine! i've always associated them with anger. be ready for a lot of symbolism in this series, that's my jam.

warnings; graphic violence, graphic description of corpses, car crashes, murder (for the sake of revenge), death of close friends, stabbing, head trauma, lots of mentions of blood, brief mention of vomit/vomiting, + let me know if i missed any !

w/c; 2.1k

While alive, you hadn't put much thought in where you'd go afterwards. After all, you were in the prime of your life! Your senior year was about to begin, and you and your friends were squeezing the last bits of joy from your summer break before it ended.

You were sure you still had at least 50 years in you, and you were carefree. Sitting in the passenger seat of one of your closest friend's car, three of your others pals right behind you-- chatting, enjoying the warm summer rays and fresh air blowing past you as your friends rode around town in Matty's bright red Chevy convertable.

Nothing could go wrong, you thought-- you hadn't even considered the notion, not even as you heard tires screeching down the street Matty was just driving by-- not even as you heard the police sirens blaring,

"It's probably a speeder," You heard Lorraine say behind you, and you turned to respond, assuming she was talking to you. She was, in fact, addressing Marnie and not you-- but ever the nosy nancy, you asked "What're you talking about?"

Lorraine looked at you, and shrugged. She gestured to Marnie, who'd taken off her cateye-framed glasses and cleaned them on her nice silk blouse. It'd been a nervous habit of hers ever since you met her, way back in the 5th grade on the first day of school.

"Marnie here's being a worry wart 'bout that screeching." You looked at Lorraine again, then to Marnie, who eyed the side streets wearily. "I'm just saying, it sounds awfully close and awfully unpredictable-- it sounds like they're looping through all the streets. Who knows when they'll merge onto main--"

Rudy playfully shoved Marnie, pushing her into Lorraine on accident. He gave an apologetic smile before saying in a softer tone, one you didn't hear very often from the class clown-- "Oh c'mon Marns! Don't be such a party pooper! it's probably Dick takin' a joyride in his dads new BMW. He said he was gonna take it for a spin soon."

This time, worry began to settle in your chest. "I thought Dick didn't have a drivers license?" and Lorraine's brows furrowed and she replied "He doesn't."

Rudy tugged at the color of his polo shirt, looking to the side nervously as he leaned back "Hey! It might not be him, who knows! Just a guess, no need to take it as gospel."

For a few seconds, the conversation dropped. The only thing you bunch could hear was the wind whistling by, Matty's radio playing Everyday by Buddy Holly, birds chirping, the police sirens wailing and the shrieking of someones tired.

"What's everyone talking about?" Matty asked, and Lorraine said "Just talking about all that noise." And Matty gave his signature smile, his bright laugh following shortly behind. You could see why girls threw themselves at him like nobody's business-- he does have a certain charm, you found yourself thinking.

The perfect golden boy-- your group often called him "boy scout supreme" on account of how painfully good natured he was. "clark kent" was a close second for the most used nickname regarding his behavior.

He was not superman, though, as you'd come to learn. He wasn't invincible, because as he opened his mouth to reply-- try to soothe everyone's gringles, especially Marnie...

"It sounds really close," You said, pushing yourself up using the armrests and leaning forward to peek past Matty and--

Sure enough, it was a fancy blue and white BMW that you saw. Dick at the drivers wheel, seeming to have shaken the cop that was trailing after him. He was heading right for you bunch, and just as you opened your mouth to scream-- to tell at Matty to swerve, about ready to reach forward yourself and grab the steering wheel--

The two vehicles collided, sending the both of them through the safety railings and tumbling down. The five of you had nothing to protect you from the brunt of it all-- you were lucky enough to be in the passanger seat, and quick thinking led you to hiding under the footwell. You were lucky enough to cram yourself in before the car really started rolling.

You aren't sure how long it took the car to stop rolling. The forest off the side of main's hill were pretty damn steep, the steepest point of them was where you'd been passing by before Dick came speeding your guys' way.

When it stopped, you stayed inside the footwell for a while longer. Your head was pounding like hell, and you grimaced as the sticky blood gushed from a wound somewhere on her forehead-- you're pretty sure there was another gash on the back of your head, contributing to the awful headache.

When you heard a door open, you felt hope. Hope that your friends had survived, despite having no real protection.

You lot were lucky enough to land the right-side up, not trapped underneath like those Soap Opera's your gran liked to watch all the time. You were careful to be slow, to be methodical with your movements as you set to wrangling yourself from your hidey-hole in the footwell.

Footsteps, footsteps on the underbrush-- they sounded pretty steady for someone who's been in a crash like you'd been in, so that lending you the idea that it was Matty. Always calm and collected-- Rudy would probably be screaming his head off by now, Marnie crying as Lorraine comforted the girl.

You hope to whatever God is willing to listen that they're just unconscious.

The footsteps were walking away-- you wanted to cry out, stop! stop, i'm still here! but you knew Matty couldn't of been leaving you. His first instinct, for better or for worse, to go seek help no matter what. You were only halfway-through pushing yourself from the footwell, it was bent in and damaged from the rolling. It was harder to get out of than it was to get in, for more then one reason.

When you'd finally managed to pull yourself free, and stand, you stumbled, woozy. Vision blurred, and mouth desert-dry.

"Matty?" You called out, voice barely above a hoarse whisper. You turned to your side-- you'd slammed against a big oak tree. That's fine. You'd get out from behind,

You would've screamed if you could've. As you took in Lorraine-- god, was that even Lorraine? Her face was so mangled, blood coating the slashes where her eyes, nose, and mouth would've been-- clinging to it, making it impossible to tell anything.

You reached forward. She gave no reaction. You looked to her side-- Marnie... that had to have been Marnie, was no better off. Her glasses gone, her head twisted to an unnatural angle-- a broken neck.

Rudy wasn't even there, and that gave you hope. Hope that was quickly dashed as you saw his body lying lifeless about 20 feet up the hill. He never was good on wearing his seatbelt, not like the rest of you were.

Okay. That's- you... you can just get out Matty's side! That'd be easy, since he was the one who got up--

This time, this time you were able to scream. It wasn't very loud, more of a yelp with how much your throat hurt. Matty's... Matty's head wasn't there. It was gone. It was jus--

Oh... oh no, you'd leaned over to try and look for his head, where it could've gone in the underbrush. Only to have it brush against your leg, still attached to his neck by way of a thin strand of sinew.

You fought to keep down whatever was still in your stomach. You failed miserably.

Once you were finished upchucking, you came to a realization.

You looked to the fancy BMW, it'd landed upright too. It's got a roof, no matter how damaged the thing was. The door was open, and there was no trace of Dick.

The bastard's just gonna walk away you realized, rage fueling you as you hauled yourself over the body of your friend-- you said a quick apology to Matty, though he couldn't very well hear it. You wobbled out the car, and then looked to Rudy's body.

Dick was going to get away with it, you knew he was. His dad was a wealthy oil tycoon and his mother was an heiress to a popular beauty brand her ma ran. You and your friends were nobodies compared to them, simple, regular people. Not rich, not like Dick was.

You stumbled to Rudy's body, swallowing your next bout of upchuck as you kneeled by his body. You said a quick apology, before rummaging in his pockets.

Soon enough, you found what you were looking for. A switchblade, one Rudy liked to use for tricks to impress gals and spook Marnie, who insisted he was gonna cut himself on it one of these days.

When you stood, your vision blacked out and you had to lean against a tree before regaining it. Judging by the state of you, you weren't going to last very long either. You could either try and scale the hill to go get help,

Or trail after Dick, make sure he didn't get away with this like he surely would without your say. You'd already had your mind made when you'd fished Rudy's switchblade from the pocket of his torn, bloody chinos.

You had a good idea where Dick had gone off to, low-hanging branches broken, a path through the fallen leaves and underbrush caused by dragging feet.

Despite your injuries-- the adrenaline surely running through your system definitely helping you in your mission-- you managed to catch up with the boy. He was a lot better off than any of your friends, obviously-- and yourself. All things considered, he looked like he'd gotten into a parking lot fight more than a car crash that killed all four of your friends right away (god, you hope it was right away. you hope they didn't suffer),

But you want Dick to suffer. You want his suffering to amount to what he may have caused your friends in their end.

His back was still turned as you approached him. You know you weren't being quiet, no matter how hard you try; either his hearing was damaged or he didn't deem the noise important enough to turn around.

When you grabbed his shoulder, he become very aware of you. He became even more aware of you when you jabbed the switchblade in his shoulder. There was a tussle-- he was in much better condition than you, but in the end you won out. Your rage refusing to let you stay down, to let him get away with this.

You don't remember what you said, the words tumbling out of your mouth as you climbed on top of him. You stabbed him, all non-fatal unless you left him to bleed out.

You felt yourself begin to slip, as if your life was falling through the cracks in your fingers as if it was a tangible thing. Growing lethargic, numb to the pain and tired. You couldn't go on. You wanted to draw it out more, but...

If you left him, there was still a chance someone could find him before he succumbed to blood loss or whatever brain trauma he may have endured (like you had).

You remember what you said last, even if your consciousness was slipping. You'd never forget what you said at you drove Rudy's beloved switchblade into the scums forehead, you said it as loud as you could, but it wasn't much. Hoarsely, you call out,

"I'll see you in hell."

You don't remember how long you lasted after Dick stopped moving. You pulled the switch blade from his head, and with what energy you left you headed back to the crash. You wanted to give Rudy his knife back. It was the least you could do for your friend,

But you didn't make it. At least, you don't think you made it to him. It's uncertain-- everything got so blurry at the end. You don't remember collapsing, one moment you’re shambling towards the hill; Rudy's corpse in sight, quickly cooling and sure to become a snack for some wildlife (just as you all were, probably),

and the next, you were in a field on stinging nettle, luckily having fallen in one of the various patches devoid of the plant. Your mouth felt crowded like never before, yours hands were clawed, and you took that time to just sit. To look around, and realize where exactly you were.

In hell. You were... definitely in hell, like you'd expected. You glanced around, expecting Dick to fall down-- but he died before you. probably walked away by now, if hell-time was like earth-time, you were unsure; you just knew that Dick wasn't here right now-- or maybe he'd dropped somewhere else. You aren't sure how this works.

After all, you just got here. Just an hour or so ago, you'd been thinking about what you'd wear to the first day of school. Now that was the last thing on your mind.

[grandline-fics]

Forget-Me-Not

DESCRIPTION: Sometimes things happen beyond our control. After an accident occurs your relationship with Zoro is turned on its head and changed forever.

WARNINGS: angst

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 2,410

A/N: I've been slow on this because of being unwell but part two is finally here. I hope you all enjoy it as much as you liked part one

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two(here)| Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven(coming soon)

———————

“Zoro hurry! We’re over here!” Zoro stumbled through the rain-slick uneven terrain of the forest, racing towards the direction that Usopp’s calls were coming from over the sound of the shrieking winds and rolling thunder. He broke through the branches and slid to a halt to see Usopp and Chopper knelt by your prone form. Usopp’s role was only to assist Chopper who was frantically tending to your injuries that required the most dire attention first. Zoro’s heart all but stopped as he took slow, heavy steps closer. His chest ached with the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. In that moment you looked so frail and small. The rainwater managing to break through the small shelter Usopp must have constructed hastily was slowly washing the blood and dirt from your body that was broken. 

Looking away in the sudden flash of lightning Zoro could see how this happened. The displaced dirt and stone made him follow his gaze upwards to see the steep incline with the dilapidated ruins that had been hidden in the overgrowth of the forest. With the storm hitting out of nowhere it was far too easy for the ground to crumble and give-away without warning and you were the one to suffer for the moment none of you could have predicted. With heavy limbs he sank to his knees beside you, just wanting to hold your hand or caress your face and tell you that he was there but he couldn’t bring himself to move out of fear he’d hurt your already injury heavy body or get in Chopper’s way. For all the training he’d done in this moment he was utterly helpless. 

Zoro woke with a jolt at the loud snap of thunder coming from outside. As the memory of your accident lifted from his sleepy state he slowly looked to your bedside. He’d hoped that the image would have changed in the short amount of time he’d slept, sadly you lay there just as always. It had been a week since that day and you’d yet to open your eyes. Chopper had done his best to reassure him that you being unconscious would be best for your body to have this time to rest and heal. He let out a small sigh and reached across to take your hand into his when another flash of lightning hit and a strong wave rocked the ship.

These storms were like clockwork, it’d be bright sunshine and summer weather only for storm to hit hard for two hours and then dissipate like nothing had happened. Just another day and the Log Pose would be set and they could finally leave this island behind them. He knew he shouldn’t blame an island for what happened to you but he did. He also blamed himself, he should have made more of an effort to spend the time with you. Franky and the stupid cook were more than enough to have gone with Luffy that day. Had he been with you that day part of him believed he could have been able to save you. Getting agitated again, Zoro rose from your bedside and roughly ran his hand through his hair. He needed to do something, anything. 

Chopper had said that speaking to you even while you were unconscious could help. Originally he didn’t want to out of his own hate of seeming vulnerable but then he took to reading your favourite book to you but that was finished. So he went to your shared room to find another you’d loved. What he hadn’t been expecting though in the time it took for him to return to the medical room he found the bed you’d been lying in was empty and there was no sign of you. Dropping the book he turned on his heel and went in search of you in desperation. There was no way you were ready to be out of bed, if you put too much strain on yourself your wounds could reopen. In all the times you’d been hurt before it wasn’t like you to do something this reckless. Where were you? 

As he walked down the hallway he felt a chill creep over his skin. Who’d left the door open leading to the deck? No one would be that stupid with the storm still going on outside. Prepared to go out and shout at whoever was to blame, Zoro froze to see you weakly stagger to the railing and stare out at the storm. He couldn’t contain his excitement and relief to see you awake but concern also gripped him. Even from here he could see the pain in your eyes. Quickly he approached and set his hand on your shoulder, freezing to hear you let out a scream of surprise. He was going to apologise for startling you but another more pressing question came instead.

“What are you doing out here?” He asked in concern. He could see the rain soaking into your skin and the bandages that would now need to be thoroughly changed. Zoro could feel the tremor in your body and the haze in your eyes. Desperate to keep you from further strain he spoke again. “Come on, we need to get you dried off before you get sick on top of injured.” He lightly flexed his fingers on your shoulder to begin leading you inside but you didn’t move and then the new devastating hit came when Zoro heard you speak.

“Who are you?” You asked, your voice so weak and scared that Zoro could only stare at you with widened eyes, trying to stay calm. “Where am I?” This question was no better than the last and for a brief moment Zoro had thought he’d misheard you but no, it was clear you had no memory of the accident, no memory of him, the crew, or the ship that you’d called home since the day you joined the crew. At that thought a new worry took hold. You had no memory of how you met any of them. He needed to keep you calm or things would only get worse. 

“Just please come inside otherwise you’ll get sick and your wounds could reopen.” Zoro urged as gently as he could but his request only served to make you frown uneasily at him. When you didn’t move he spoke your name as a sign he knew you and that made you hesitate in your suspicion. “Please come inside and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” 

Zoro watched the conflict and uncertainty flicker in your eyes as you searched his face, trying to force yourself through the pain to try and find something recognisable in his features. You were about to relent to his request when the door to the galley slammed open. 

“Hey moron what are you doing out in the storm?!” Sanji shouted only to stop his lecture to Zoro when he saw your face, his expression lighting up immediately. You flinched as yet another stranger called out your name in an all too friendly tone. You watched the blonde approach the staircase as he continued. “It’s a relief to see you awake! You should still be in bed though!” 

You glanced past him and stared in mounting horror as an emblem caught your eye. Your breath hitched and you took a small step back only to find the railing stopped you going any further. With trembling lips you could only move to the side, stepping out from the first stranger’s touch. Zoro felt you move and turned away from Sanji to see your horror filled expression and he knew it was too late now to avoid where you realised you were. Zoro tried to take a step toward you but finally your gaze returned to his face and the fear made him stop. 

“Pirates…” you choked out. “You’re pirates.” Desperately you looked around as the rain above you began to lessen and the winds began to ease. Swallowing hard through your pain and fear you could see the island the ship was docked at which only mounted your overwhelming emotions. “That’s not my home. That’s not my island. Where did you take me!?” You shouted only to double over in agony as your vision blurred. Holding your side you coughed hard and winced when you felt the still healing skin pull. Letting out a shaky breath you looked at the two mean staring at you with worry and desperation. “What did you do to me?” You asked as you felt your head spin and vision crumble under the weight of the physical and mental distress. 

Zoro was quick and caught you with ease. With the utmost care he cradled you close and stared down at you in heartache and regret. He wished all of this was just a horrible nightmare, he wished that if he could trade places and take all the pain you were suffering just as he’d taken for Luffy on Thriller Bark then he would do it one hundred times over because seeing that expression on your face was more painful than anything he’d ever had to endure in his life. Without taking his eyes off of your face he headed towards the doorway. “Get the others.” Was his only instruction to Sanji as he carried you back to the medical quarters, relieved to see Chopper there who was frantic about where you’d disappeared to. 

—————

As you lay sleeping in the medical room, Zoro and the rest of the Strawhats stood in the dining room, silent and taking in the revelation that you’d woken with no memory of them. As difficult as it was to process there was the added complication of your reaction. 

“They won’t trust us.” Nami murmured sadly, finally being the one to break the silence, her fingers absently tracing the scar of Arlong’s mark now hidden by her tattoo. “We only won their trust the first time because we helped them defeat the pirates that terrorised their island. They won’t just take our word this time that it all worked out and they joined us willingly.”

“We can’t overwhelm them.” Chopper spoke up sternly. “Head injuries like theirs bring their own complications, amnesia being only one aspect of that. They need to take things as slowly as possible, any form of added stress could severely worsen their other injuries too. It isn’t wise to just throw everything at them as once, we can’t even know for certain if their memories will ever return. For now the priority is their physical injuries healing.”

“We have to prove we’re friend though!” Luffy protested with a pout. “We’d never hurt them. What if we show them their bounty poster?”

“This can’t be about what we want. They come first so don’t crowd them when they’re awake.” Zoro finally spoke, glaring at the wall. “They tell us to get the hell out of their room, we leave. Even if we’re telling them the truth just saying they joined the crew willingly and that we’re friends is going to magically make it better. Let’s just do as Chopper says.”

“More than friends in your case, Zoro…” Robin spoke softly. “Are you okay with them getting well physically and then wanting to leave?”

“If that’s what they want.” Zoro answered numbly as he got to his feet. “I’m going to the Crow’s Nest. I mean it, don’t crowd them.”

————— 

You woke slowly, feeling the pain you remembered had greatly dulled enough for you to be able to breath easier but still you couldn’t shake the fear pressing heavily on your chest. You couldn’t shake the image of the strange Jolly Roger and the two strange pirates from your mind. So many questions swirled in your head and you feared how blank your mind was. Slowly you sat up in the bed and met the stare of the peculiar but adorable reindeer sat at the desk on the other side of the room. At first you thought it was a pet but you could clearly see it was working with herbs on the table it was sat at. “Um…hi?” You offered cautiously, startled when the reindeer’s expression lit up and it approached your bedside.

“I’m glad you’re awake.” You didn’t know what to do when they spoke except stare with wide eyes. “I’m Chopper and I’m the doctor…your doctor. I know you don’t remember but I promise I just want to help you get better. Is it okay if I check your bandages?” 

Slowly you looked at the bandages visible on your arms and felt them against your body. Comparing how much easier it felt to move and breathe to when you’d woken up you were willing to let this reindeer continue his treatment if he was the reason for the pain to have lessened like this. Still the reality of a reindeer being a doctor was difficult to wrap your head around so you only gave a tiny a nod. You noted the relief and optimism light Chopper’s expression at your acceptance and you nervously bit your lip while he hopped up onto the bed and began his examination. “How did I end up here?”

Chopper looked up at you with apprehension, his large expressive eyes carefully assessing you. 

“There was an accident.” He answered. “We were in a forest when a storm hit. You fell.” Fell. You obviously had no memory of the incident and while you couldn’t bring yourself to argue with Chopper for proof you also couldn’t completely bring yourself to believe him entirely either. He was a pirate after all. Would he stop treating you if you became difficult? Possibly. 

You knew pirates at their core were selfish and the ones that plagued your island were crueler than these ones seemed but still you refused to trust them. This friendly demeanour could be an act and they could be looking for something from you. For now you would have to pace yourself, you would be compliant and gather your strength. Then when you were able you were going to escape this ship and these pirates. You needed to get home and nothing and no one was going to stop you. When Chopper finished his examination you had to force yourself to offer him a small smile. When he beamed back at you, you hoped that the others could be as easily swayed as him.

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