#their enemies to lovers too and set where they have to fight each other lmao

[dollvre]

zaros and earis remind me so much about jude and cardan from tcp

edit: the quote “Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often, it’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.” reminds me so much of them too 😭

[wonilye]

♫ i can see you x sparks fly | y.jw

as your eternal academic rival, you and jungwon have always been at odds - that is, until he becomes the one person you want to trust your heart with in spite of it all. after all, all’s fair in love and war, no?

read the rest of the series here! (for taglist)

pairing ➭ academic rival jungwon x reader

genre ➭ academic rivals to dubious to lovers, hurt/comfort, academic validation craving, jungwon is reader’s sole comfort

w/c ➭ 5.4k

warnings ➭ slightly suggestive (they’re adults but no nsfw y’all), reader and jungwon both have terrible coping mechanisms for stress, there is a detailed scene where y/n loses her shit in a bathroom, both are academic validation simps, theyre not enemies they just. envy each other and sometimes wanna kiss kiss fall in love, y/n has an inferiority complex and has a tendency to think jungwon’s better than her, she hates herself as much as i hate myself

a/n ➭ to my acad validation peeps…look no further! jungwon and y/n…their ways of coping with themselves are mine. i just split myself in two for them, don’t come for my lonely ass lmao. for more context, look at the bottom a/n!

“done?”

the sun’s beginning to set, its dimming rays beaming through the glass windows of the library. a quick glance at your watch tells you it’s 6.30pm, and that you’ve been studying for the whole day. talk about a productive saturday.

you remove your headphones, glancing over your shoulder. you were planning on staying till the librarian shoos you out. jungwon seems to have other plans, though.

yang jungwon, your rival in just about everything since you were kids. tied with you in every single subject, even PE. he’s everything you are and more – good-looking, funny, and a genius, to top it all off, and he never lets you forget it, what with all the achievements he’s gotten over you. it’s not that he doesn’t work hard and you’re jealous of some natural academic gift he’s got, it’s the fact that you study just as hard as he does, do as much as he does, and yet people will always see him before you. and now, even when you’re at university, he’s still fighting with you for the top spot, for every position available. your circle of friends have remained the same, so like it or not, you’re stuck together.

you begin to stuff your notes into your backpack. “well, i might as well follow you back to the dorms. yunjin’s been lecturing me to stop walking back alone.” gathering your things, you leave, waving to the librarian as you attempt to put some distance between you and jungwon.

very quickly, jungwon moves beside you so his shoulder is almost pressed up against yours. “you sure took your time. if i hadn’t come to find you, the last bus across campus would’ve come and gone by the time you finished.”

“oh, don’t exaggerate. why’d you come here in the first place, when all you do is complain?” 

you want to say you hate the boyish grin that breaks out across his face, but that would be a lie, and you’ve done way too much lying today to yourself. “what else? i came here for you.”

“ugh, you-!”

“you ears are red, haha.”

your bus pulls into the stop, and in a thoughtless attempt at revenge, you grab his arm and yank him up the steps so he’s even closer to you than before. you don’t miss the way his skin flushes hot.  “now yours are too.” leading him to a seat in the back, you pinch his side. he returns your…affection with a jab in the cheek. 

it’s a game of cat and mouse with jungwon, although neither of you can say for sure who’s chasing and who’s ducking away. whatever this is, it’s safer. 

at least you’re not actually fighting anymore.

here’s the thing: yang jungwon has this journal. every time he’s upset or on the verge of a mental breakdown, he trauma dumps into that journal. it’s the only way he doesn’t cave from the stress, and you and your friends learned very quickly that if that notebook was out, everyone had to leave him alone for at least ten minutes, then he’d be himself again. one day, you’d been studying together when a draft blew the pages of his journal open, straight to the page where he’d written something that was definitely not for your eyes — or anyone’s for that matter. 

“i hate her, so so much i wish she was dead. maybe in a different lifetime, i’ll be better than her, have her beat for once.” you didn’t even need to finish reading what he wrote before you were clawing at his throat, because who else could it be but you?

and it hurt to read it, because what could it mean than yang jungwon was jealous of you? what could it mean that the one person you simultaneously hated and envied, hated you back for all the same reasons? it wasn’t fair that you couldn’t even hate him peacefully.

it only got worse from there, because all it took was a couple minutes of yelling at each other before that ass of a human being decided it was a good idea to tell you it was “three years ago”, and that it shouldn’t matter as much as it did, as if that was supposed to help. and you’d screamed at him, screamed and cried and shoved him and-

his lips were against yours. 

you would’ve pushed him off, but as soon as it came it went, and he’d pulled away faster than you could think. “i don’t hate you,” he’d managed to make out, his voice shaky as he tried and failed to recollect his thoughts. “i just…i can’t hate you. not anymore.”

hell, maybe it was the attention, or some sort of sick stress outlet. you wish it were the latter, because then that would’ve been a hell lot easier. either way, you haven’t spoken about it since then, reason being you’re totally out of your comfort zone when it comes to this guy. plus, he’d taken your first kiss, although he didn’t have to know that. having put your all into your academic life, you haven’t really thought about dating anyone at all. sure, there were a few people whom you’d thought were fairly attractive, but you had never cared to do anything more than that (much less with yang freaking jungwon). your ultimate goal has always been to have jungwon beat. you sort of achieved that, you suppose. the boy’s now a mess when it comes to you. 

since then, you’ve been using each other as stress relief. stupid, really, but with that annoyingly good kiss still hanging between the two of you, you could only keep coming back for more, waiting for lulls in your timetables to meet up. one thing would lead to another, and…well.

“finished your revision yet?” you probe. if he says no, you’ll just drag him off to finish it. but he’s jungwon. if he says he’s gonna do something, he does it. although it’s sort of disappointing if he just parts ways with you, even after he came all this way to find you so far away from the dorms. 

jungwon sighs. “what do you take me for? of course i did, or you’d get mad at me. and i know you’re free for the rest of the day too.” he rummages through his backpack, before handing you a cap and mask. “put these on, i need a big brute to help me buy and carry groceries back to my dorm.”

“and who better than me, huh?”

jungwon grins, waving a matching set in your face. “you’re the multifaceted necessity in my life. my swiss knife, if you please.”

you end up at a mall just a few kilometres away from campus. apparently, he needs laundry pods, vegetables and some sort of microfibre cloth that “can only be blue, mind you.” according to him, if a hand towel doesn’t match his dorm’s colour scheme, the whole world falls apart. 

(for the record, his dorm room does look nice. but no one has to know that you know.)

pushing a shopping cart along the aisles, a bag of spinach catches your eye. “how’s this for vegetables?”

he shakes his head. “lettuce is better for hotpot.”

“since when did you plan on having hotpot?”

“it’s our dinner, y/n.”

“…”

he sighs. “i’m paying for the groceries.”

“well in that case…” you move to grab a few packets of meat from the fridge. “you won’t mind if i add these, will you?”

you don’t miss his odd gaze on you as he pushes the cart towards the checkout counter. “not at all.”

so much for the grocery shopping.

dinner is long forgotten as you find yourself pinned up against the walls of jungwon’s dorm, his grip on your waist oddly comforting. your fingers are tangled in his dark locks, pulling him in deeper, but it’s not enough. it’s never enough.

it feels so, so wrong, to be rendezvousing with him, and maybe he knows it too, because when he finally pulls away, there’s a guilty look on his face. “strike two…?” he grins sheepishly. he’s a little out of breath, and you hate to admit it, but it’s kind of hot. (actually, it’s the fifth time this week, but who’s counting? definitely not you.)

how? you’d maintained the status quo for more than a decade. hell, you two are supposed to loathe each other. knowing yang jungwon has some sort of feelings for you must be messing with your brain. 

jungwon’s lips latch onto your earlobe, fingers trailing down your nape. it’s crazy, the way every brush of his lips sends your head reeling. over his shoulder, you catch a glimpse of his roommate’s neatly folded quilt, and a thought pops into your mind. “when’s sunoo getting back?”

“he just left for a party, he won’t be back for a bit,” jungwon murmurs. sunoo happens to be part of a circle of close friends consisting of yunjin, sunoo and ni-ki (and jungwon, although you could never admit he’s a friend). you’re a close-knit group, withholding no secrets with each other. more often than not, they’ve been caught up in your fights with jungwon, although those haven’t happened in a while, for obvious reasons.

you hum against his lips, fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks into his skin as you try to steady your breathing. “think the water’s boiled by now, get off.” it’s a half-hearted order, and you’re pretty sure jungwon sees through your bullshit. what was it, something about glass houses?

“don’t wanna.”

“jungwon come on-” the sound of a lock in a key slices through the air, jolting you and jungwon apart. panic flares in your chest, and you scramble to shove jungwon far away from you. “hurry up, hurry up.” 

sunoo’s voice drifts past the door. “must’ve left it in here somewhere, don’t know how i could’ve forgotten my id of all things.” the door opens to reveal a sheepish-looking sunoo, flanked by your friends yunjin and riki, who don’t look very pleased. their expressions, however, change the moment they spot you in the corner. “y/n?! what are you doing here?”

one look at the tiny hotpot contraption on the table, paired with the small portions of food is all they need to put two and two together. yunjin frowns, marching past sunoo. “ohh no, you two in the same room alone is a big no from me. by the time we get back, the whole place is gonna look like hell, with all the screaming and fire.” her disapproving glance at you makes you want to shrivel up and die on the spot. 

“we’ll be studying, don’t worry. we never fight when we’re studying,” jungwon shrugs, shooting a discreet glance in your direction, practically screaming help me.

“yeah see the thing is, you shouldn’t even be fighting-”

“yunjin, don’t.” sunoo takes her by the shoulder, dragging her back out the door. “keep our dorm in one piece, please. we’re off!” while yunjin still believes in peace between the two of you, sunoo’s learnt long ago that interfering with your rivalry only makes things worse. not that you don’t feel a little bad about it.

the door slams shut, leaving you and jungwon alone in the room. it’s an uncomfortable silence, the awkwardness of the interruption still lingering.

“y/n, i-”

you hold out your hand. “give me a moment, gosh.” burying your face in your hands, you groan. “that was probably the worst thing ever. we lied in their faces, they’re gonna kill us if they ever find out.”

you suppose it’s your despair that elicits a sound awfully like a snicker from him. some things never change. “did you see the looks on their faces? they’ll never see it coming.” you finally raise your head, watching as jungwon smirks at you with a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. paired with that loose-fitting hoodie of his, and the sweatpants (grey, no less), you’re simultaneously insanely smitten and utterly appalled by said attraction. why’d he have to be so good-looking? he wasn’t this handsome when you were growing up. yang jungwon is going to be the death of you.

it really does take all your efforts not to just shove him onto the couch and claim his lips for yourself again. and then you nearly faint from the prospect of having that thought at all. hastily, you shove a wad of meat into the boiling pot on the table. “we-we should start eating. don’t want the food to turn bad.”

he shrugs, pulling up a chair opposite you. “don’t mind if i do.”

and if you pop open a couple beers afterward, no one has to know.

shit. shit.

days later, you’re at a study cafe with all your friends. you’ve spent the past hour on this topic, and it’s taking everything inside of you not to smash your laptop in half and bash your head into the debris. what the hell is this? you’re not supposed to be bad at this. a glance at jungwon tells you he’s not having nearly as much trouble as you are, and that’s your breaking point.

panic rises in your throat, your lungs, as your vision blurs. words on the screen start to blend, and you think to yourself, you’re a failure again. worthless no matter how hard you try, breaking apart even while trying to hold yourself together. you can feel every tear leave a searing path down your cheeks, nails clawing for skin to carve red lines into. your eyes burn with the buildup of tears, a telltale sign you’re about to lose your shit. in front of jungwon, no less. just great.  

you stand up abruptly, the legs of your chair screeching as they drag across the floor. “bathroom,” you manage to make out, as you dash across the cafe full of people, praying no pne notices. you fling the bathroom door open, turning on the tap at full blast. you don’t realise it, but your fingers are gripping the edges of the sink with an intensity you didn’t think was possible. 

your eyes flutter shut as you try to calm down, focusing on the flow of the water. it’s not working, but the white noise is more soothing than anything right now. that is, until you hear a clicking sound, followed by arms wrapping around you from behind. judging by the shallow breaths, and the mellow scent of baby lotion, it’s exactly who you think it is.

in your rush, you forgot to lock the door. wonderful.

you lean away from jungwon’s embrace, trying to untangle yourself from him, but he stubbornly holds you tighter. “go back, i’m fine.” you don’t even believe yourself, from the way your voice trembles in between gasps.

he hums, and with your back against his chest you can feel the little vibrations as his speaks. “you don’t say.” he doesn’t continue, and in the silence, your mind stays on the warmth of his body against yours. slowly, you let yourself relax into him. it’s funny, how he can be the problem and the cure at the same time. 

you can feel yourself melting in his arms, your breathing evening out with every second that passes. your heartbeat’s finally slowed to a calmer thrumming, no longer pounding in your ears. suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of his soft sweater against your cheek, and the way a thin piece of fabric is the only thing between your skin and his. 

“how do you do it?”

jungwon frowns. “do what?”

“hold up the world and make everything seem fine, when you know it’s not.”

he falls silent, resting his head in the crook of your neck (it’s becoming a habit of his). “well…it’s easy when it’s for someone else.”

“that so?” you muse, peering back up at him. “even for me?”

the way he averts your gaze is insanely cute. “don’t push it.”

but you know he hasn’t lied to you. since you were kids, jungwon’s never been the kind to wear his heart on his sleeve. he holds everything together, holds everyone together. even now, he’s keeping you from falling apart. but what about him? who’s watching him to keep him from losing it all? you know for sure he’s had his fair share of breakdowns, but your stomach churns at the thought that you’ve never witnessed it. not once. being yang jungwon is lonelier than it seems.

once you’re sufficiently calmed down, you untangle yourself from his embrace. “i’ll, um, head back first. you should wait a few minutes before you go back.”

“right.” glancing down at his feet, jungwon nods. “just…you don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

you turn to leave, but a question burns all the way down your throat. 

why? would you take it from my hands and bear it with me?

(and what if you wanted to bear his burdens too?)

true enough, your performance on the latest assignment was more than decent — the highest score in your class, in fact. and as always, jungwon’s not far off. your hard work did pay off. funnily enough, you don’t go to rub it in his face like you always used to do.

it seems you’ve changed.

these days, jungwon seems to linger in your head a lot more. and it’s not just the intimate gestures that stay, but the feeling of his arms around you just won’t disappear. every time you’re about to panic, the mere memory of his gentle touch only serves to ground you back to reality. he’s not even physically here, but you don’t need him to be there for him to be your lifeline. how did things even turn out like this? your greatest rival, also your greatest source of comfort.

today, your friends have made plans to head to an amusement park (read: disneyland. because yunjin’s a disney adult in the best sense of the word). you, jungwon, sunoo, yunjin and riki, along with his girlfriend. the dynamic’s great, really, with everyone carrying the mood well so nothing ever feels boring. you’re able to grab a few rides with them, and eventually the group splits for different attractions, and it’s just you, riki and jungwon, waiting for the others to get back from some quirky river ride. you three didn’t bring spare clothes, so you’ll have to sit this one out. parked under a shady tree, you don’t feel the heat nearly as much, but sweat’s starting to make your shirts cling to your backs.

thirty minutes pass, and there’s still no sign of them. riki’s phone pings. “oh, the ride’s delayed. they’re gonna queue for another forty minutes.”

“forty?”

riki shrugs. “it’s a popular ride.”

you rise to your feet. “okay, i’ll go get us some water. you guys stay put.”

fortunately for you, the shop’s got plenty of water bottles, although the marked-up prices do make your wallet cry a little. what you aren’t prepared for, however, is walking back and spotting riki and jungwon huddled under the tree, deep in conversation. quickly, you press your back up to the other side of the tree trunk, hiding in plain sight.

“…you want relationship advice from me?”

jungwon hums. “well, i can’t very well ask sunoo, not when he’s only just stopped partying away to handle his own breakup.”

“true. we need to find him some better coping mechanisms. though i think he’s back in contact with her on instagram. i swear i saw a notification on his phone the other day with her user and all. that webinar he’s going for next tuesday? think it’s her.”

“oh.” you can hear the wince in jungwon’s voice. “that’s a little…”

riki glares at him. “don't change the subject. shoot.”

he sighs, his lips twisting in concentration. it’s a habit he’s had for a long time, one that you’ve come to notice. “so there’s this girl.”

“uh-huh.”

“i can’t stop thinking about her.”

“uh-huh.”

“but i know she hates me-”

“shit, you like y/n?!” riki yells, slapping jungwon on the back before he can even finish. “of all the billions of people on the planet?”

“how’d you guess?”

“she’s the only one who hates you, buddy. no prizes for guessing who.”

jungwon groans, burying his face in his hands. “i don’t know anymore. she just can’t get out of my head. don’t tell the others, i’m begging you. i’ll never live it down.”

“okay…” riki trails off, and you can imagine how confused he is. “why her though? and why now?”

jungwon’s practically fumbling for an answer, running his hands through his hair (another nervous tic of his). “it’s just…i guess i get her, and she gets me? we understand each other’s problems really well. it’s like looking into a mirror.”

you nearly choke at his words. he gets you, that much is clear. but for him to feel like you know him inside out, that’s a completely different thing altogether. it’s always been a struggle for you to read people. coupled with the fact that jungwon’s the most emotionally intelligent and regulated guy you know, you’ve been worried you’re not giving him enough. 

besides, he’s so much more than you’ll ever be. you, the mentally unstable top student, and jungwon, the other contender for your spot, but with something more: people skills. everyone likes him, everyone wants to be him. the battle’s lost before you can even fight it. he’s a good person, and you’re…nothing like that. people trust him, including you. 

so why would he dare to leave his heart in your hands like that?

it’s not fair. he knows exactly what to do, and you know nothing. he’s dated other girls before, not many but enough to be more experienced than you. how would you know anything, other than to clumsily take his affection with a heap of salt? you’ve failed him. 

oddly enough, riki seems to understand. “i think i catch your wind, but you’ll have to elaborate. what’s the dynamic with her right now?”

“i, uh.” jungwon flounders, his cheeks turning pink, no doubt at the memory of everything you’ve done with him. “th-that’s not…well.” he laughs nervously. “how much can i say before it’s too much info?”

as you watch him with his toothy grin, with those eyes that crinkle in the corners, you know one thing - you absolutely adore him. it’s sudden, but how could you not? he’s everything. much as you hated him, it takes little of your pride to admit he’s been your lifeline for a while now. but you wonder, why would he pick you? for the sole reason that you know him well? that isn’t enough, is it? you may have never understood romance, but you’re guessing this isn’t the usual kind of reason people fall for other people.

besides, there’s nothing special about you.

you end up waiting for the conversation to drift to small talk before joining them back. as always, jungwon’s quick to revert to his usual, teasing self. and despite it all, you find your gaze to be on him the whole time.

it’s dark out when you guys finally make your way back to the dorms. with the others off buying water and snacks for a late-night hangout, you’re left alone with jungwon to head back. he’d conjured up some lie about you leaving some study material in his dorm and needing to grab it before going back to your own, and they seemed to buy it. so here you are, walking along a concrete pavement with the boy you can’t seem to understand, with rain practically beating down your backs. the weather really hates you.

with your path being lit only by the orange glow of the overhead street lamps, and the air filled with nothing but the sound of pouring rain, there’s nothing much you can say. nothing really feels right to say right now, because how do you even begin to address anything in the past month?

jungwon’s grip on the umbrella is tight. you swear it’s leaning slightly towards you. in his other hand is a plastic bag of merch you got from the amusement park, full of junk like headbands and shirts. 

wordlessly, you sneak your pinky into the palm of his hand, hooking your fingers together. there’s an odd sort of intimacy in the little gesture - a silent reassurance that concedes a lot more than you’re usually willing to. to your relief, jungwon doesn’t mention anything about it.

suddenly, his footsteps slow to a halt. he whips out a pair of sparklers from the bag you’d gotten from the amusement park, slipping one into your hands. “quickly, before they come back.” as he fumbles with the lighter, a familiar endearing look of concentration on his face makes you giggle a little. the lighter clicks a few times, and the sparklers come to life.

despite the pouring rain, the sparks of violet flash brightly, illuminating your view of each other. with his face glowing a pretty shade of purple, you can see the ridges in his face, from the dimples in his cheeks to the curve of his mouth. “and why exactly are we lighting fires in a downpour?”

“oh shut up, i’m trying to have a moment with you here.” the retort comes easily, a little too easy, seeing as he slaps his hand over his mouth almost immediately. “you heard nothing.”

“mhm.”

and then he’s wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you walk, the faint crackling filling the silence as you continue on. you can sense jungwon’s gaze on you, so you pinch his arm. “something on your mind?”

he exhales softly, patting your shoulder. “if i say it’s you?”

“then you’re a cheesy bastard. what’s really going on?”

he laughs, but you know there’s something lying under the surface. there always is. (huh, maybe you do know him better.)

“it’s nothing, really. just thinking about…us, i guess.” he pauses. “well, mostly you, if i’m being honest. i don’t really know where to start.”

you shift closer to him under the umbrella, till your cheek is pressed against his arm. “i think i do. your journal?”

“ah.” he grimaces, his laughter a little less nervous. “that much i’m sure you’ve already guessed. i don’t think i ever hated you, y/n. not really. i guess i just got scared that there was someone who saw through me so well.”

“and…are you still scared?”

he shakes head firmly. “no. it’s a good thing, because, well. you feel safe. like a place i can go to and let my guard down. i imagine doing things with you i’d never do with anyone else.”

“not naughty things, i hope,” you joke, but the brilliant red that blooms so bright across his face you can see in the dark is extremely telling. “yang jungwon! get your mind out of the gutter!”

feigning a cough, he looks away, fighting for whatever dignity he’s got left. “my point is, i can’t go on as your rival. i…i need you.” he swallows, and in his eyes there’s a vulnerability you know is saved only for you. “i don’t know why, but knowing you’re the only one who understands me is all i’ll ever need. selfish as it is, i want to keep you here forever, so i don’t have to feel alone again.” he says it all with a conviction that’s so strong it almost scares you. he’s putting all his trust into you. does he not think it’s terrifying, to leave all his sorrows with a person like you?

“are you confessing to me?” you whisper breathlessly. you seriously hope he can hear you over the crashing rainfall. “because i’m not sure if i’m-”

“yes. i’m confessing to you, like right now.”

oh. oh.

but there’s an ache in your chest that swells as you try to meet his glassy eyes. “but if you know me so well, you’ll know that i’m not all that. i’m an emotional wreck who can’t live without her ego, and i’m just…me.” and you’re so much more, more than i’ll ever be.

at this, he stops dead in his tracks, not giving a damn about the fact that the rain’s only getting heavier. “i-okay. what do you think of when you think of me?”

“how is this relevant?”

“just answer the question.”

you lick your dry lips, scouring your brain for a reply that can tell him exactly what you want him to know. “it’s like you can see who i am, like you know exactly what to do to make everything okay again. we’ve been under the same pressure to be good our whole lives, and when you try to make me feel better i can tell you mean it. and it works, and i honestly don’t know how i could possibly live without it, now that i know what it feels like to be loved by you.” if you’d told your younger self that years into the future, you’d get to bare your soul to your greatest rival, she’d probably laugh in your face. but here you are, and it’s comforting to know that he’d never judge you for it.

finally, yang jungwon grins that radiant grin of his, the tip of his sparkler meeting yours. “isn’t that reason enough, then, to keep me here? let’s be selfish for once, you goody-two-shoes.” the soft gaze he has on you has your already-weak resolve crumbling away, and it’s as though a hole’s been filled in your heart. one you didn’t even know existed.

“we’ve been too good our whole lives, haven’t we?”

“all the more a reason to be a little more reckless.”

but you let the sparkler fall to the puddle-strewn pavement as you cup his face in your palms, pressing your forehead to his. “for you? any leap of faith would be worth it.”

and you kiss him, with the force of every unsaid word, every apology and confession of the past eighteen years. as much as you’ve done this before with him, every other time he’s kissed you pales in comparison, because for once you see why you wanted him so badly. why you wanted him to have a piece of your soul. maybe, just maybe, pieces of you are already a part of him, and him of you. fragments of each of your shared pasts had embedded themselves in your hearts long before you’d learnt that the sting was one of longing, and not jealousy alone.

his grip on the umbrella loosens, his palm wraps around your nape, a thumb caressing your jaw in a movement both reverent and yearning. with the umbrella now blown far, far away, you’re completely drenched, but you can’t even bring yourself to care anymore. as his other hand moves to hold your waist, you’re surprised at how naturally it comes. you tug him closer, and it’s both everything you’ve ever wanted, but at the same time never enough. breathing in the lingering scent of his lotion, you decide that this, this is home.

“...what we had was special, you know, and i can’t just let - am i seeing things? oh shit, you guys have to see this, oh my-” sunoo’s voice rings out in the night, and this time you just giggle against jungwon’s lips, not bothering to even look at your rightfully flabbergasted friends. this time, you want them to know.

riki sneers in disgust as he flings your stray umbrella towards you both. “i’d congratulate you, but i’ll be too busy puking in that corner right over there.”

“as if you and your girlfriend aren’t worse,” jungwon teases, catching the umbrella with one hand, the other still on your hip. gosh, that was attractive. 

oh gosh, this guy’s your boyfriend. yang jungwon is your boyfriend.

by now, your friends have caught up with you, and you’ve got a feeling they’re about to circle you like starving vultures for a good story. but you can’t even bring yourself to mind as jungwon takes your hand into his, interlacing your fingers as he reopens the umbrella. “ready to go?”

anytime, if it’s with him. 

a/n ➭ so yall…the promised context. this started off as a secret romance thing where ynwon were more touchy feely (in fact this is the fic that started the whole series lmao). but along the way i decided to use this fic as my projection + built-in jungwon character analysis. tbh the final result of this fic is…very different from what i had in mind at the start, but i’m okay with how it turned out in the end! as always, thanks for reading till the end! if u have the time do reblog/comment so ik what i can improve on haha have a good week! ALSO DID YALL SPOT THE SUNOO X YN CRUMBS

[deathbxnny]

I just have this carnal craving for HoHE!Elysia!Reader content for some reason (I still miss my best girl so much even though I have her and her full kit asdfghjkl), but anyways, this whole idea in my brain just stems from her final fight with Mei during chapter 31, where the fight is really just more of a dance (I'm a sucker for these skjskjskjs).

May I humbly request Jing Yuan n Blade just having a spar with their s/o like that, and maybe it ends with just them just slow dancing (or holding each other and gently swaying together) in their s/o's little starry world/domain (I don't remember what it's called forgib moi)? (I just love HoHE!Elysia ult sm asdfghjkl I also love your works very much btw, you are doing fabulous, friendo)

-----♡

A/N: Hello there Anon! So, I never got to this part of the story, because I couldn't get through that damned fight against Kalpas (I hate him) and decided to just quit the game there, before I experienced more heartbreak lmao- But either way, I absolutely love this idea and hope I can do it justice!<33

Content: Established relationship, mentions of reader and characters sparring, fluff, Elysia-like Reader, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan was always very fascinated with your abilities. He could watch you use them all day, for hours on end, even if he has mountains of paperwork to complete. Your starry domain was his favourite part of your abilities. He was amazed by it, often finding himself zoning out whenever you fought enemies and forgetting what he was even there for.

So, on the rare days he wasn't working, you offered to spar with him. And who was he to ever deny you anything? He didn't have to go easy on you, even if he still did, as you were quite strong yourself and could easily defeat him if you tried. But you two didn't take it seriously and were playful instead.

Eventually, his strong hands caught your hips, pressing you close as he let out an airy, out of breath laugh. He gently swayed with you to a tune only you two could hear. Or was it the sound of your beating hearts? It didn't matter to him, as he pressed his head against yours and ended the sparring session with a dance under the stars.

-----♡

》Blade

Blade was too prideful to ever admit how unbelievably fascinated he was by you and your abilities. They were unique, otherworldly, divine even. Only you could be worthy of such strength and only he could ever be allowed to have you as a lover. It just made sense to him.

However, he was hesitant to spar you at first. It's not that he thought that you were weak or anything, but he was secretly afraid to hurt you. That you'd leave him, if he did. And you knew of his fear, which is why after some reassurance and gentle affection, he finally agreed to it. The sparring session was light and a little serious due to Blade's nature. But the way you moved with eachother was akin to a dance, one only you two could replicate.

Eventually, the sparring session came to a stop, his hand grabbing onto your waist, as the other grabbed onto your hand. He gave your wrist a kiss, his eyes gleaming under the starry skies of your domain, before you slowly swayed with him to a hum from your lips. It was a rare moment of softness from him, one only you would ever witness. And that's how it always will be.

-----♡

A/N: I hope this was alright! Thank you again for the wholesome request!<33

[scumbagjaeger]

COLLEGE! PORCO HEADCANONS

starring: Porco Galliard

rating: sfw, 18+

notes: just some random ideas and headcanons I have for Porco, maybe something I'll work on more in the future! I'm a sucker for the enemies to lovers trope and I think there's a lot of potential with this one! Please enjoy, drop an ask for more!

I also wanted to dedicate this to @hangeslefteye for always being there and for getting me on the Porco bandwagon (: a true inspiration fighting for the cause (the cause being more Porco content hahah)

So before I get into these head canons (which predominately take place in a gym setting), here's some context

I'm a big fan of the Warriors being a soccer team? Maybe that's their college team! Meanwhile (y/n) is on a volleyball team, maybe just the intramural level team though because she's busy being a main character hahah :) my friends on the college team had no social lives but we're going to give (y/n) okay

But yeah definitely in one of those situations where the intramural volleyball games run late, which pisses off the Warriors who have practice immediately after? Cue Porco and (y/n) bickering a lot!

Okay so yeah they don't like each other

But just imagine that you're at the gym and you notice Porco there? With his beefy arms on full display

And you're kind of like "what?" y'know, giving him a look from across the room

You're just doing your thing, finishing up your reps on the machine and you look up again and Porco is walking towards you?

You roll your eyes at him when he's in close proximity and take your headphone out. "Can I help you?"

"It seems like you can help out the creep who's drooling over you across the floor," he scowls

You didn't even notice, but you glance behind Porco and see some random guy staring at you while he lifts weights

Porco just kind of just watches over you for the rest of your time at the gym? And it's nice? You don't want to strangle him for once?

He keeps an eye on the stranger, glaring at him whenever he gets up from his machines

But he also spots you while you're doing your chest press? And helps you set up for hip thrusts?

"You're doing your pull ups wrong, dummy. You should be angling your hips forward, not arching back," "Shut up, Porco, what do you know." "More than you, I'm minoring in kinesiology. Now here lemme--" and he waits for your nod before gently moving your hips forward.

It turns out he's finished his workout like thirty minutes ago but he's just hanging out with you now, pushing you to do one more rep and bickering to you about being able to do a heavier weight "What, you going easy today or something, (l/n)? You can add an extra 5 pounds, easy. I'll spot ya."

At one point he shows you how much he can bench because, yeah, he hates you, but he's a guy who will take any excuse to show off his muscles lmao we know this man is disciplined as hell in the gym

But when you lean over the bench to spot him, you notice the twinge of pink on his ears?

Unrelated but his hair from chapter 119? That's what his hair looks like while he's working out oh lord

Let's say you already did your cardio earlier? Too bad Porco is guiding you to the treadmills

Okay but let's say you suck at running and Porco gives you so much shit for it? You just hate treadmill-running though, and you don't really need to run much for volleyball anyway, just a couple laps to warm up

You're sweating and miserable and Porco offers to buy you a post-workout smoothie as a reward for running ten minutes lmao

"If you don't like treadmill-running, I take this one route through the town that ends near Liberio Park? My brother and I used to run that when he went here" (Marcel is a doctor and alive in this AU)

And you kind of look at him like * "I don't really like to run alone either?"

"What? Why not?"

"It's not really safe?"

And he gets kind of quiet and mutters to you, "Well, I usually go in the mornings, if you wanted to come with?"

And you just look at him, incredulous. And he looks away and sips his smoothie "--only if you want to, I guess."

And so you agree to meet him outside of campus the next day and you start your run together! He definitely has way more endurance than you as a soccer player though oops

It's so obvious that he could be going way faster but he jogs to keep up with you, and stops to walk with you when you need a break

You catch him smiling at you when you stop to admire some of the flowers that are blooming outside of the park. "What?"

"Your face is all red and sweaty," this man has W rizz

Turns out there's also a wellness-type cafe near the park so you both get post-workout smoothies again and walk back towards campus

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this or if you'd like more! My dream would be to start a college series with the main boys, maybe even developing fics for each of them!! If this is something you're interested in, please let me know! Leave an ask for any ideas or requests for Porco or the others!

[insane4fandoms]

OKAY, I HAVE TWO IDEAS BOTH INVOLVING DICTATOR MACK! HERE ME OUT! YOU'LL LOVE THEM

-‐-------------------------------------------------------------------

NUMBER 1

The classic "Enemies working together to defeat a bigger threat" with Dictator Mack and Captain where they fall in love after realizing how much they have in common Mack sees that there was more to the Captain than he thought

The Threat would be that someone is trying to assassinate Dictator Mack and take his leadership, BUT they are also trying to kill the Captain. And here is why

Whoever The Threat is is a part of the Rebellion against Dictator Mack who took the Captain in after learning they all want the same thing. To take away Mack's power. The Threat and the Captain were both dubbed the leaders. The Threat is the leader since they started the Rebellion and the Captain for their insider knowledge and previous position on the Invincible II.

They devised a plan that Captain would gain Dictator Mack's trust and report back any useful information. Essentially Captain is playing Double Agent. Of course, gaining his trust means Captain would have to listen to every word he says like a good pet. But to make it believable, they would resist a little bit or show resentment.

Dictator Mack also LOVES telling Captain "I'm doing this to protect you. If it weren't for me, the others would not have hesitated to hurt you." So Captain would pretend that they realized he was right.

One night, the Rebellion and Captain set an attack on Dictator Mack (Captain called dibs on beating the snot out of Mack). During their fight, as much as Dictator Mack hated to admit it, he was hurt that the Captain lied to him and "played with his heart." Captain finally grabbed hold of Mack's gun (they were confused as to why he never drew it but didn't think about it any further) and pointed it at his head as he kneeled before them for once. They waited for the rest of the Resistance to show up, but then they did...

The Threat shoots Captain.

Right as they were about to shoot Dictator Mack, he dove out of the way and grabbed back his gun, having a stand-off while he stood in front of the Captain protectively subconsciously. Captain was thankfully still alive, but they ended up getting shot in their arm.

The reason The Threat shot Captain was because they "were getting TOO close to Mack and was going to do the Enemies to Lovers cliché." Which they were not... yet lmao

The Threat then makes a deal with Dictator Mack, saying either he gives them control or else he will shoot Captain and not miss. Now, Captain thinks he's going to choose power over them. So they close their eyes and accept their fate until

"Fine. The Colony is all yours."

After getting thrown into a cell together, the Captain asked why they chose to save them.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you hate me?"

"Hate is a strong word."

"You treated me like a slave!"

"I was protecting you!"

"No, you weren't! You were manipulating me! You have been since the moment we met!"

"And you manipulated me. So who's the bad one now?"

"Wha- I had a good reason! I was protecting the colony from an evil, selfish, egoistical dictator, aka YOU."

"And I was protecting YOU from the COLONY! I keep telling you if I didn't take you in, they would have hurt you. Or worse. They sought to get rid of you and looked down on you."

"...Are you hearing yourself?"

"What?"

"'They sought to get rid of you and looked down on you' That is LITERALLY what you do to me!"

"Alright, this is getting us nowhere. I think we both agree that we do not want someone like [NAME] in charge. So, we are going to have to form a truce and take them down."

I don't know what else to do, but basically

- They break out

- They go into hiding inside the old ship

- They plan and scheme

- They have some bonding moments and learn about each other's past and junk

- Now without the power imbalance, they start to view each other as equals

- They invade the mansion/castle thing and fight The Threat

- Threat is eventually taken down

- Mack offers to give power back to the Captain and they accept... Only if Mack agrees to be Co-Leader

-‐-------------------------------------------------------------------

NUMBER 2

The Captain is about to be executed.

They're chained down and forced to stare death right in the eyes, unable to do anything to stop it.

Someone shoved them to their knees.

They didn't struggle.

The executioners loaded their guns.

They didn't fight.

The crowd yelled obscenities at them.

They didn't speak.

They did nothing except close their eyes and took their last breath.

BANG BANG

They felt nothing. No pain. Not even the chilling embrace of Death.

"ENOUGH!" They heard Dictator Mack cry out.

They opened their eyes to see the crowd parting ways to let him through. If they weren't fast enough, he would shove them aside. His gaze never left the Captain.

The executioners asked what was wrong. "We're executing the wrong person." The crowd roared with confusion.

The wrong person? What does he mean? Didn't he hate the Captain just as much as them? He was the one who ordered this in the first place. Why did he change his mind? Did he want to do it himself?

"The Captain did nothing wrong. They were just following orders from Headquarters back on Earth and were misled because of their incompetence." Captain was confused. They were only told that they were to lead the Invincible II. They were on their own after that.

The crowd did not like that answer. They wanted to see blood. They wanted someone to be punished. This was all for nothing.

"I know, I know. You guys wanted some entertainment. And you're going to get it. The person we REALLY should be getting rid of is... Dave."

Dave?

"He always causes all sorts of trouble. Don't you Dave?" The crowd erupted with accusations.

"Yeah! He always ruins our work!"

"He broke the coffee machine on the ship!"

"He keeps destroying my cabbage stand!"

"He ate my lunch last week!"

Dictator Mack hypes up the crowd. "Yeah, that's the spirit! Who wants to see Dave get what he deserves?!" The crowd raises their fists and cheered. Dictator Mack walks over and unties the Captain. "I'll take the Captain back home to rest up. You guys, get Dave ready and let the show begin."

Again, all I got. But I will gladly try to add more if I come up with anything :)

Dan after getting accused for destroying the cabbage stand:

[mentallyinvernation]

Trope Game

Ahh, thank you to the lovely @bazzybelle for the tag!!!

I'm not picky when it comes to tropes tbh (at least I don't think so haha) I'll probably read anything if I'm in the right mood.

Rules: How much do these tropes affect your decision to click on a fic?

-10 -> very dissuaded

0 - don't care either way

+10 -> very enticed

nope -> if it's a hard no and you'd never click on a fic with that tag or or you even have the tag blocked or you'd insta click out of the fic if it wasn't tagged

Bonus points for explaining the rating and whether it's conditional.

Age gap: +4 I'm not usually drawn to fics with major age gaps, but y'know, if the plot speaks to me I'll give it a go lmao

Codependency: +5

Okay in angsty scenarios yes please. It's about the trust. the growth. the tendernessssss.

Or! It's about the dead!dove whump of it all, and yes.

Obsession/Possessiveness, jealousy: +10

I WILL EAT THIS SHIT UP IDC. Less so obsession, but the possessiveness and jealousy? GOD. Sign me the fuck up. You've instantly won me over - especially if there's some kind of marking kink going on.

Dreamling are such sluts for this trope lmao

Opposites (grumpy/sunshine etc): +1000

ELITE. All of my favourite ships come back to this. You can't go wrong. Something something he was sunshine, I was midnight rain 

Enemies to lovers, Enemies with benefits: +100

Look it's about the sexual tension. Are they flirting? Fighting? Nobody knows. Everyone is too afraid to ask. It's about both characters pretending they're not in love with each other. It's about the oh-no moment when said characters realise they're in love with each other. It's the star-crossed nonsense of it all.

I love it. God-tier trope.

Friends with benefits: +4

Not really my go-to but I have read some fics where this is done SO well.

Sex to feelings: +7

Yes.

Fake dating/relationship: +8

I'm such a sucker for these stories lmao. Especially if one character knows they're in love with the other before agreeing to fake date. The point where the lines start getting blurry between what's pretend and what's not is just *chefs kiss*.

Friends to lovers: +7

I mean, I like this trope, it's pretty much the baseline of most fics I read. But you need more tropes for flavour. Admittedly I'm more of an enemies-to-lovers person. Well, no, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers. THAT'S where it's at.

However saying that, Dreamling does friends to lovers very, very, very fucking well.

Found Family: +9

GIB. I love all the found family tropes.

Hurt/Comfort: +10

Yesssss. Sucker punch me with angst. I'll thank you for it. Just burrito blanket me with comfort afterwards. I love this trope, especially if the character going Through It is a pathetic little meow meow anyway.

Love Triangle: nope.

Just not really my thing. I've tried a few fics that have done this, and every time it's ended with the author getting hate from readers who wanted a different ending with the other love interest, and the comment sections were just war zones. However that's my experience with the trope, so take it with a pinch of salt.

However, if it's a love triangle that turns poly, I fucking love that shit. Especially if they're all being idiots about it. Rating for that is: +50

Poly, open relationships: +10

The only issue I have with this trope is keeping track of everyone's arms and legs while writing smut lmao. Otherwise, an absolute god-tier trope.

Mistaken/hidden identity: +3

Uhhhhh, idk It really depends on the context for this one. I don't think I'd go searching for a fic like this, but if it's propped up by some other tropes I'd probably read it.

Monsterfucking: +50

No notes. Another god-tier trope.

Pregnancy: +6

This is a weird one for me. I like pregnancy fics if that's what I set out to read, but generally, if there's an unexpected pregnancy halfway through a story I lose a bit of interest. UNLESS we're working in omegaverse.

Accidental baby acquisition is always a fun trope as well.

Second Chance: +4

No strong feelings on this one tbh.

Slowburn: +100

YESSSSSSSSSSS. Make me stay up past 3am with my eyes burning, mumbling about how these two fuckers just need to get it together and kiss already so I can sleep.

Soulmates: +1000000

AND THEY WERE SOULMATES. *sobs*

There are so many creative ways to go about this trope, and I love all of them. And then there's the world-building that goes on in soulmate universes. Admittedly, I don't read these very often anymore, but when I do they always hit so good.

Tagging (but absolutely no pressure): @sleepsonfutons @spockandthings @mallory-x @meadowziplines @thranduilland @phinofthestorm @beauty-of-nyx @serenailith @janimoon

[wincestisasincest]

Waves on the Shore - Chapter 13: He Who Fights Monsters

Viktor x Fem!Reader slow burn enemies to lovers

x posted on ao3 // WOTS masterlist

Summary: Jayce and Viktor questioning you about your weapon (made with farm-fresh Hextech) is the only thing keeping you from going to jail for science crimes. You and Viktor are literally at each others throats lmao. Also you’re from Bilgewater because pirates are fucking rad

Notes: Broskis I'm sorry this one took like over a month ektjherkjth and also this one is not very proofread so sorry if it's kind of bad. Also this fic is officially over 100k words lol. Oh also we still have a discord, lemme know if u wanna join hekrthrek jt

Word Count: 11.9k

Tags: @edenstarkk @chosomybelovedcurse @dedicated2viktor @doctorho @yeehawbvby @arcaneparx @the-lake-is-calling @beeblybub

Mentions of: Nothing I think?

Triggers: Everything from the last chapter is discussed and recalled here, so… that. Also, cops, cop questioning, painkillers, drinks being drugged, booze, vomit, vertigo, guns, and language

“I’ve seen who you are in the dark. And you’re a monster.”

It’s funny. You’ve heard that word a lot - “monster.” You were familiar with every usage of the word before you could load a canon by yourself; from the scariest beasts of the deep to the ruthless criminals lording over your island. You thought that you were immune to its impact. 

You were wrong. 

Adrenaline fanned from your heart to your fingertips, telling you to move, fight, run, or for gods’ sake do something because you couldn’t take this straight on. It didn’t matter if you were the monster or the innocent, you could not stay trapped in this stupid, shitty loop. 

And suddenly, you understood why you’d come back. 

There he was, narrowing his eyes at you like a viper. But you clenched your teeth and inhaled through your nose, willing away the hollowing feeling in your chest that tried to tell you this was just a bad dream. 

You would show him what monsters could do. 

*****

When Viktor woke, his pulse was eating him alive. 

He tilted his head, and a seedy whine pounded behind his eyes as his dress shirt pinched his arms. The blinding, sterile light kept trying to infiltrate the cool oasis of his closed eyelids. 

Hangover? No, it shouldn’t be this bad. What had he even-

Oh. Right. Enforcers. He remembered those. He could recognize the outlines of their helmets even through the blurry snowfall. But there was someone else... a warm arm around his waist that didn’t let go until medical personnel had whisked him away. That must have been you. 

You- where were you?

He sat up and opened his eyes. 

Through the ringing in his ears he could hear heels clacking in the hallway and sweat sloshing inside his clothes. Tender bruises and stinging cuts made themselves known as his body woke up. The headache only thickened. 

He was in Piltover Medical Center, laid out like roadkill on a clean, stiff mattress in their emergency clinic. It was brighter than it had any right to be, with crisp white walls, shiny medical equipment, and humming fluorescent lights. 

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to soothe the wave of nausea. 

“Don’t fight it,” Jayce said from his left, “happened to me too. If you’re gonna vomit, better to get it over with.” 

“Good morning as well,” Viktor’s throat was dry. 

He dragged his legs over the side as a fuzzy column of brown skin nudged the trashcan towards him. He clamped its sides and nearly fell in as he threw up. 

Acid seared his tongue and pungency burned through the congestion in his sinuses; welcome back to reality, they said. 

Something glass clinked. Viktor hung his head over the trashcan, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and permitting himself a minute to regret waking up. 

“Caitlyn came by, but we were both still out,” Jayce set a glass of water on Viktor’s side of their shared nightstand, “If she heard, then everyone else probably did too.” 

Finally, Viktor willed his head up and got a look at him. He was on the other bed in the room, shirtless, with his legs stretched out and his journal open on his lap. Bandages capped his shoulder and a dark purple cloud festered around his eye. His hair was, oddly, the most surprising; spiked, sweaty, and overall messier than Viktor had ever seen it. 

Viktor couldn’t imagine that he looked much better. 

“How long have you been up?” Viktor gulped the water, noticing one of his own notebooks and a note from Caitlyn perched on the nightstand. 

“Just a half hour. Enforcers came by and asked me some stuff. Said they’ll come back for you.” 

Viktor propped his elbows on his knees. 

“Did they say anything else?” 

“About what?” 

As if there was anything Viktor would be wondering about besides the third human life that was terribly injured. 

He clicked his tongue, too tired to figure out if Jayce was playing dumb or if he’d actually forgotten about you. But Jayce wasn’t the forgetful type, and he didn’t play dumb unless the situation was dire. Something was wrong here, but Viktor wouldn’t press him. Not yet. 

“About anything. I’m still not sure what exactly, eh... happened.” 

“Yeah. Neither are they.” 

Viktor hated how unclear his picture of last night was. The drugs and the booze already wiped half of it from hi smind, and the remaining flashes of consciousness were focused on the most irrelevant things. 

Your hands loading that gun. Your eyes screwing shut as you bit your tongue. Your hot breath against his cheek as you checked his head for any damage. 

“Well, at least give me something to work with,” Viktor grumbled, falling back onto the mattress. 

Jayce fidgeted with his fingers, squeezing them anxiously. 

“All they’ve got so far is a timeline. We were drinking, those guys came, at some point we were drugged, the bar cleared out, I went into the alleyway and got the shit beat out of me while they were getting ready to haul you away in the bar.” 

Jayce looked down. 

“And then?” 

“Well, y’know,” Jayce swallowed, “then my... assailants got, uh, taken out. Then yours did. Then one of mine did... again. Apparently the autopsy of that last guy was, uh... well, anyway, then the Enforcers showed up.” 

“Yeah. Some help they were,” Viktor paused, deciding that now would be the time to press, since Jayce was clearly intent on pretending you had never existed, “and then we came here?” 

“Yup.” 

“Just us?” 

“In here? Yeah.” 

“In here as in this room, or in here as in PMC?” 

“...this room.” 

“Jayce.” 

“Yeah?” Jayce gave him a strained smile. 

“Where is Penny?” 

Jayce’s entire chest deflated when he sighed. 

“Yeah, I figured you’d ask about that sooner or later. But, listen, I wanna talk to you about something first.” 

“Why are you being so evasive? What... what happened?” Viktor raised a stern eyebrow, “Is she-” 

“No, she’s not dead, Vik. She’s fine - in one of the other rooms. But please- humor me, will you?” Jayce’s puppy dog eyes were indomitable, “And then you can go see her.” 

Viktor leaned back on his hands, studying his partner. The fog cleared from his head and he realized that Jayce was shaking. Every part of his body twitched or trembled or tightened, like he was carrying the world on his shoulders and starting to crumble under the weight. 

“What’s on your mind?” Viktor asked softly.

“I...” Jayce wrung his fingers around his bracelet, “I think we should put Hextech on hold for a bit.” 

The dryness in the corners of Viktor’s eyes cracked when he widened them.

“We’ve had this conversation before.” 

“Yes, I know,” Jayce’s fidgeting was persistent, “but things have changed.” 

“How so?” 

Jayce frowned. 

“How s- Vik, you were nearly kidnapped last night, and I was beaten within an inch of my life. That’s how so,” he exhaled, “and don’t give me that ‘the lives of people are endangered every day’ story.” 

“But they are,” Viktor’s blood pressure rose, “and we have just made a major breakthrough. You really wish to stop now?” 

“What if... we’re not so lucky next time?” Jayce winced as he briefly lose control of his volume, shying away from his point. 

“It was not luck that we survived,” Viktor said, “it was Penny’s intervention.” 

“Yeah, about that...” Jayce gave up on looking Viktor in the eye, “the Enforcers aren’t as, uh, convinced as we are.” 

Viktor scoffed, pushing his hand through his hair. Of course they weren’t, gods forbid someone different did anything in this damn city. 

“She’s not in jail again, is she?” 

“No. Mel got her bail...” 

“But she was going to be?!” Viktor barked, furrowing his brow, “How could they possibly justify that?”

“They think it’s weird that Penny was the only one who wasn’t drugged, and... I mean, I can’t really say that they’re wr-” 

“Stop,” Viktor put his hand up, “you cannot believe that Penny is responsible for the attack?” 

“No! Obviously not,” Jayce splayed his fingers out, “I don’t... look, I like Penny too, okay? I don’t think she did anything malicious on purpose. I’m just trying to tell you that we’re involved in something really dangerous here and this goes to show how little we know about it. Five people are dead.” 

“You care more about your own security than all of the Undercity or Ionia.” 

“Do not put words into my mouth. It’s one thing to be dedicated, but we can’t just go putting ourselves in danger. If we die, then Hextech is gone forever,” Jayce said darkly. 

“But we didn’t die-” 

“Because we have a fucking murderer on our staff! That’s not a good thing,” Jayce gestured violently at him. 

Viktor parted his lips cautiously. The crack of Jayce’s voice, the unsteadiness in his usually confident forearms, the peakiness baked into his expression as he looked through Viktor - Viktor hadn’t seen Jayce like this before, but there was no doubting it. 

“You’re... you’re afraid of her,” Viktor said. 

“I- not of her,” Jayce sniffled, “just... of what she did. And I know she had to, I know,” he scolded himself, “but...” 

Jayce rubbed his nose. The only other time Viktor had seen Jayce’s eyes get this watery was when he’d laughed too hard. The contrast between then and now was sobering. 

“I keep seeing them,, Vik,” Jayce confessed, head in his hands, “the bodies, I keep- they’re in my head and they won’t leave and I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

VIktor only had scraps of what they looked like - their body fluids weaving through the cobblestones in the street and melted flesh peeling from metal bones. 

“I refuse to let us end up like that,” Jayce’s throat trembled. 

The mental image was there before Viktor could stop it. His partner, his friend, his best friend, with his throat slit; the only moving part of him left was the blood oozing from the thin red line. 

Viktor knew that wouldn’t happen. He knew that he had nothing to worry about, and even if he did, worrying rarely helped anything. He knew that.

He also knew that no logic could stop the sinking feeling in his chest when he saw Jayce break down. 

Against his better judgment and moral impulse, he grabbed his cane from against the night stand, nudged Jayce’s knee, and quietly said that “we can slow down Hextech if you’d like,” all the while fighting the frustration simmering at his core. 

Neither he or Jayce were particularly up for conversation after that, so he left to find you. 

He didn’t even want to see you anymore, but in this awful mood he was in, he was bound to snap at someone, and he’d rather it be the person who already thought he was a waste of space than Jayce or an Enforcer. 

In fact, Viktor found that he wouldn’t mind snapping at you right now, though by the gods he could not fathom why. 

Perhaps it was that he knew you’d only be mildly inconvenienced by Hextech’s hiatus. You weren’t trying to hide it - you’d made it very clear that you thought their goals were nothing more than a foolish boon to their egos. Viktor had long since decided that he didn’t care about what you thought as long as you did your work, now, it made his blood boil. 

Of course you did what you had to. Of course you planned those attacks. Of course you never meant for things to end up this way. 

And, of course, it had to end with Jayce being traumatized and Hextech being needlessly stalled. 

He was being unfair. You didn’t deserve this. Not after everything you’d done. 

But he couldn’t help the feeling. 

A similarly confusing feeling bubbled in his chest when he floated in the doorway to your hospital room. You were still, fast asleep, though you wouldn’t be moving even if you were awake with your wrist cuffed to the bed like that. 

And you looked so small. 

Not physically - if anything, the swelling in your nose made you look bigger. They’d straightened it and kept it in place with a loose bandaged, but the darkened, irritated skin and indigo bruises pooling beneath your eyes betrayed the nastiness of the initial impact. Your left ear was swaddled in bandages, still very much half of its original size. No essential parts of the ear seemed to be damaged but it looked... well, it looked awful. The rest of the damage was covered by a standard issue PMC blanket. 

He’d never seen you sleep before. Your overflowing personality, the one that made you the godsdamned force of nature that could bring anything to its knees, was kept at bay by the thoughtless rise and fall of your chest. The greasy hair and injuries and bloody clothes were a part of your image, but without you being awake to act the part, you just looked like a person who had been through a lot. 

You and no one else against the world. That could make anyone feel small. 

Viktor’s face soured at the thought of your self image. You chose to wear your violence and selfishness and apathy as badges of honor, along with your hatred of Viktor. And he was so ready to look past all of that, just for last night, because... of something. 

And then, somewhere in the cocktail of anger and confusion and fondness, it clicked. 

You weren’t thinking about him when you saved his life, you were just being yourself. 

You didn’t care about Viktor. And why the hell would you, if the rest of Piltover couldn’t be bothered? You were becoming like them - helping Viktor because he helped you and suited your needs, not because you believed in him, his ideals, or Hextech. Viktor should’ve been used to this. 

It was only human. And that’s all you were. A Bilgewater spitfire with a deep longing for the world that she came from, jumping at the first excuse to indulge in it. 

Viktor could only blame himself. And it ached as he considered just how desperate he must’ve been to look for deeper meaning in what you did. 

“‘Scuse me, sir.” 

Viktor jumped. An Enforcer, with a cinderblock jaw and wispy sideburns, materialized next to him, his palms out. 

“Didn’t mean to startle ya,” he smiled apologetically, “I was just wonderin’ if you were the, uh, other victim of the attack last night? I ain’t on the case, I’m just here to take her cuffs off” he chuckled, jingling his keys. 

“Yes,” Viktor smoothed out his wrinkled pants, “yes, that’s me.” 

“Ah. Well, good to see you on your feet then,” he slapped Viktor in the back with his sweaty hand and turned to observe you, “I heard she was quite the killer.” 

You gave no false pretense about what you were. Building you up into something you weren’t was his mistake. 

But now he had to see you for what you were. 

“She was,” Viktor said, “brutal. Without remorse. Didn’t even bother with talking, just went straight for the vitals.” 

He didn’t give you a final glance as he parted from the Enforcer, determined to not make that mistake again. 

*****

Unlike rain, which evaporated quickly in the sun, snow stuck around. After you were discharged from the hospital, you were in a completely different Piltover. The air hovering above the smooth white blanket was clean, numb, and slow, entirely jarring after everything else had happened so fast. 

Nothing felt real, outside in the world or inside your head. 

But you didn’t really mind the effect. Apparently, you weren’t supposed to use the good painkillers into tomorrow morning, after all the alcohol was out of your system, unless you wanted to throw up your guts onto the street. If the hurt subsided, then you could stay in the unreality until then. 

Or maybe not. 

“C’mon, you paid my bail,” you reluctantly plopped into the spindly chair, “and it’s not because we’re great friends. So what’s the catch?” 

Coming into the warmth of Mel’s office just as you grew accustomed to the outside made the red in her paintings eerie. Though you normally liked her office, one of the few places truly rich in color in her marble palace, the contrast with the blank slate of Piltovian winter reminded you that it was just as manufactured as everything else. 

“There’s no ‘catch,’” Mel folded her hands, “as an investor in Hextech, it’s my job to look out for the best interests of the company. I think we’ve all learned by now that having you in jail waiting for a sham trial is not productive.” 

“So there’s nothing that you want from me, then?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Mel picked at her nail, “I understand that the Enforcer’s narrative of last night’s events is inaccurate. I’m not surprised - Enforcers are only interested in maintaining the image of Piltover for the people of Piltover.” 

“Sounds like you.” 

“Maybe,” she eyed you curiously, “but I’m also interested in the truth. Which is something we share, isn’t it?” 

It was rare that your goals aligned with powerful people, and though you were becoming more practiced in it the longer you stayed in Piltover, trepidation stalked every offer that someone like Mel gave you. If enemies can be temporary, then so are allies, and sooner or later, the good will of someone who does anything to be above others will run out. 

But she could help you. She could help Jayce and Viktor. Regardless of the motive, you needed that. 

As sure as that knowing smirk dug further into her cheek, you knew that there was no good will here; just business. Good, you thought, at least you understand each other. 

“Fine,” you rolled your neck, “so, what, you want me to start from the beginning?” 

And you did. 

You rolled your head back and stared at the ceiling lights like you were in a therapist’s office, and told her the entire story as it actually happened, making especially biting remarks at the Enforcer’s faulty logic along the way. 

They were claiming that, not only were you the one who had drugged Viktor and Jayce, but that you had pre-planned the entire incident in order to murder five sailors on shore leave. Their “evidence” was that, not only were you the sole undrugged person, but that once you were aware of the drug’s chemical makeup via Jayce and Viktor’s blood test, it was a substance you recognized - Whalefall, something that literally every Rat recognized. 

Yet, you still had no explanation for why everything happened the way that it did; why you weren’t drugged, why they were after Viktor, why they beat the shit out of Jayce, why anything. The Enforcers didn’t really have one either, but their blanket appeal to Piltover’s xenophobia combined with their “trustworthiness” was enough to negate that. 

Even if they hadn’t actually seen anything happen. 

“Honestly, if that’s their response time, I’m surprised any crime in Piltover gets dealt with,” you grumbled. 

“That’s not their response time,” Mel said, “they’re usually much faster. But there’s a silver lining - inadequate Enforcer response is probably going to be the main argument for your innocence in the trial.” 

“Really?” you crossed your arms, “What about Jayce and Viktor’s testimony? I... well, I haven’t actually talked to them yet, but shouldn’t that be exonerating?” 

“They’re not using their testimony.” 

“What?!” you sat forward, “Why the hell not?! That was like... the one thing I had going for me.” 

“Well, the real answer is that it destroys any chance of making you the scapegoat, but what the Enforcers are saying is that the drugs found in their system make their memories unreliable.” 

“But- but that’s bullshit,” you snapped, “Everyone knows that Whalefall makes it hard to remember stuff, but it doesn’t make up false memories. Anything they can recall is still true.” 

You’d already spent too much time wondering if Viktor recalled how close you were when you gave him a once over. You weren’t sure if it was embarrassing or exciting or what, all you knew was that the image of him, half dazed, but eyes full of reverence that no one had ever given you before, made your stomach flip.

“I’m sure, but that’s not how this game is played,” Mel said grimly, moving her hands below the desk, “I have some things of yours.” 

Your face perked as she rattled inside the drawer, returning to the surface with your knife, ruefully caked in dry blood, and a silver pistol. Oh shit - the pistol. 

“Gods, do they just let anyone in the evidence locker?” you grumbled. 

“This pistol doesn’t belong to you,” Mel observed, picking it up loosely, as though it were a museum artifact and not an item designed to take a life, “why did you have it?” 

“Heh, you’re already doing better than the Enforcers,” you said, “what gave it away?” 

“You’re too poor to afford  this.” 

“Thanks.” 

She was right, of course. The model was, at the very least, unique; you’d never quite seen a gun that looked or behaved like it before. It was pure silver, with svelte engravings curling from the handle to the barrel, and while it looked like a revolver, with a rotating cylinder in the center, there were no slots to load bullets, leading you to believe it functioned like a pistol. 

“I guess it was just too interesting to leave,” you shrugged, “Damn thing didn’t fire when I tried to shoot it, so I wanted to take it apart and see what was going on.” 

“I see,” she brushed her thumb on the barrel, “and this knife was already yours?” 

“Yeah.” 

You reached out, but, your fingers inches away from the cold metal, Mel’s hand smoothly came down on top of it. 

“Actually... there is a catch for this one.” 

You looked at her from under your brow, exhausted from the theatrics. She noticed, but she continued coyly without a care. 

“The Enforcers get in the way of Hextech’s work and have done a fairly poor job thus far at resolving this pirate issue. Yet, now more than ever, Hextech needs a guardian,” she delicately set the pistol on the table, “One that is equipped to handle both problems.” 

“Oh, I see,” your eyelids went slack, “listen, I appreciate the offer, but, like, I was barely qualified to deal with what just happened. Hell, I almost left Jayce and Viktor, I only decided to come back at the last minute, and even then, I got...” you gestured to your face, “all of this. So, thank you, but no thank you. It was a one time thing.” 

“Well, if you’d consider making it not a one time thing, I’d be willing to help,” she was toying with the hilt of your knife, yet somehow kept her digits clean of any blood.

There was nothing to consider, but you were hungry for more information anyway. 

“What do you have in mind?” 

“I want to get those portals on Ionian shores as soon as possible,” she said frankly, “Figure out what’s going on, stop it, and ensure the safety of Jayce and Viktor in the meantime. You’ll have my full legal and financial support for any issues that arise, and, depending on how successful you are, there will be additional compensation.” 

“I don’t need more money,” you lied, because everyone could always use more money, “the stipend is enough.” 

“Compensation need not be money. I understand you’re having trouble finding a permanent residence due to your... reputation. With my connections, that would be an easy fix,” she offered the handle of your knife to you with a crafty smile, “but it’s your decision, of course.” 

Damn her. 

You were smart enough to know that no one really escaped the rat race. People would always, on some level, do dubious shit to survive, because there would always be people willing to put them in that position for exploitation. 

But you thought that you were done with violence. Sure, it happened once in a while, because that’s just life, but you were supposed to be free of the cycle; your hands, attached to strings that were puppeteered by someone else, dripping with blood. 

Hell, even last night, delirious with lack of sleep as the Enforcers kept you awake long into the night to try and “force” a confession, you’d been caught in an unfamiliar emotional deluge. You weren’t one to regret things, but as the sting of alcohol cleared other people’s viscera from your wounds, you caught the stray, remorseful wish that things had gone better. That you didn’t have to kill five people, that the Enforcers believed you, that this was something everyone could reasonably move on from. 

But you were expendable. Those pirates would’ve killed you first if you let them, those Enforcers would toss you into jail if you let them, and this godsdamned pit of brutality would drag you asunder forever if you kept letting it. 

The blade of your knife gleamed through all of the damage. 

Money wasn’t the only currency you’d need to stay here in Piltover. If you didn’t take Mel’s offer, you’d end up taking someone else’s sooner or later, lest you face the long, slow death of the life you were trying to set up here. 

Even with allies, you were still alone. You were the only one that could make things work, and sometimes, that required discomfort. 

Reluctantly, you accepted the handle of your knife. 

“Okay. It’s a deal.” 

“Excellent,” Mel’s grin widened, impassively watching as you scraped the pistol off of her desk and shoved both weapons away. 

“We’ll be in touch,” you stood brusquely, pushing the chair out and stretching your legs as you approached the doorway. 

“One more question,” Mel crooned, waiting for you to turn back around and face her before continuing, “why did you come back for Jayce and Viktor?” 

The warmth in her office became sickening; you were trapped inside of a hotbox slowly increasing in temperature. The only breath of fresh air was the blinding white light that stretched from the large window behind her. She and her gold sat in it like a throne. 

Each painting stared at you, all painfully aware that you had no answer. 

“Let me ask you something instead,” your boldness was unconvincing, “why is the Noxian so concerned with getting these portals to Ionia?” 

Mel looked away from you, pursing her lips and considering one of the larger paintings on her wall. It depicted a Noxian ship from behind, heading towards the sun and away from the desolate land they’d ravaged. The shadowed backs of the sails were the only ones in her entire room that reflected authentic blood red. 

After a minute, she cocked her head to the side in defeat. 

“Touche,” she said, “perhaps we both have something to answer for.” 

You prayed that was the end of the conversation and scuttled out the door.

You weren’t even trying to be standoffish, just struck with the overwhelming need to use the bathroom. You’d been holding in this piss since you’d left the hospital. 

Shambling through the corridors, without the time or mental capacity to admire them, you spun the question around in your head - why did you come back? You remembered crouching on the parapet, greeting the moon fondly and preparing to make your daring escape, until the gut-wrenching sound of Jayce getting ripped to shreds sucked you into the fray. 

There were obvious reasons. 

Jayce and Viktor were your crew, and you need them to sail the ship. You’d had allies before, and occasionally, you’d even saved them at great personal risk to yourself. But you weren’t one to jump in and take a non-lethal hit for someone else - that is to say, you weren’t stupid. 

Because they weren’t going to die. Viktor’s captors had told you that explicitly, and if they wanted Jayce dead, then it would’ve happened within the first five minutes of their ambush. Both of them would’ve lived had you not stepped in. 

You always had a reason for defending people, but you didn’t have a reason for that night. 

You’d had an impulse bouncing around in your head, telling you that if you didn’t act, you’d regret it. It wasn’t the raw, cold-blooded instinct that helped you survive, nor the ferocious sixth sense that guided you through battle. It was a small, gentle urgency, older than any of the beasts living under your skin. 

What the hell was it really, though?

At last, you spotted the cool, tiled floor and white hand towels of the fanciest bathroom you’d ever seen. 

After you were relieved, you washed your hands, and unwittingly saw yourself for the first time since last night in the mirror. 

You didn’t know what you were expecting. You looked as bad as you felt; the bags under your eyes were replaced with crescent shaped bruises, your nose ached every time you breathed, and- and your ear. The bottom half of your left ear was gone. 

You clicked your tongue. 

You could still hear out of it fine. That was why you’d nearly forgotten about it in the first place. And it was just cosmetic. You shyly caressed the bandage stump. Your earlobe had disappeared into thin air and was never coming back. 

Sailors lose limbs all the time. You knew this. In fact, you hated that it was the first thing on your mind as you inspected the damage. You hated that you could fucking smell the saltwater being lobbed on the fresh cut as the ship’s surgeon told you not to touch it. You hated how you would go out on deck and commiserate with everyone else who had lost something far worse than you. 

You hated how you already missed the cheap earrings you wore. 

Here you were, in the center of progress and luxury and culture, but you’d never looked more like a dirty fucking Rat. 

Thankfully, you had no time to dwell on it. 

*****

Viktor was always amazed at how easily Jayce could fake ease. 

“We have plans to shut down the test circuits in the city. Anything else will remain locked in the lab until further notice,” he told the Council, unwavering. 

Viktor dreaded returning to the lab. He liked to think that he was levelheaded, but he knew that, at his core, he was a slave to his reckless, passionate impulses, and nothing ignited that like his work. To have to look it all in the eye and tell it to wait was torture. 

“It appears we’re all on the same page, then,” Heimerdinger said. 

“They would know better how to regulate themselves than any of us would,” Shoola added, “I am satisfied with this course of action for the company. However, its personnel - and potentially, the rest of Piltover - remain at risk.” 

“One of them is the risk,” Salo gave a pointed stare. 

It took Viktor a second to remember that he didn’t need to swallow his pride and hold his ground. He followed Salo’s beady eyes back down to your unamused deadpan, bathed in fresh sunlight. You were the risk in the moment. 

Even though you bothered to clean up and generally look like you hadn’t just been thrown off a mountain, one could only look so good two days after near death. Jayce had opted to use makeup so his bruises wouldn’t show, exactly because he feared having any imperfections in front of the Council. It was one of the thousands of ways they could brand you as the other. 

In spite of that, you wore the battle-hardened mask of injuries with complete sincerity. 

Viktor wasn’t sure what to make of that, and he had no interest in ever finding out. Perhaps for the same reason he dreaded returning to the lab; this situation required detachment.

He hadn’t spoken a word to you yet. 

When he entered the Council room, you were sitting at the table, discussing something with Jayce. Viktor wanted to interrupt so Jayce wouldn’t have the burden of pretending to be calm for the entire conversation, but when he sat down next to his partner and you peered at him expectantly, he mumbled a “good morning” to his feet and feigned interest in the handle of his cane. 

“She’s awaiting trial,” Mel said, “we cannot make any determination until she’s been given a chance in court.” 

“While I’m in favor of a fair judicial process, we can’t afford to wait,” Kiramann said, “something must be done sooner rather than later. And when it comes down to the safety of Piltover or the legal rights of a foreign criminal, the choice is clear.” 

Viktor looked at you. You looked at Jayce. Jayce looked back at you. 

You stood up. 

“You don’t have to choose between those,” you began in a languid voice, “and you shouldn’t. Focusing on my alleged crimes is exactly what these pirates would want you to do - waste time on a false lead instead of addressing the greater threat.”  

You waited for objections, but to yours and Viktor’s surprise, none came. 

“You have a proposition?” Heimerdinger raised a bushy eyebrow. 

“I do,” you placed your hands on the table, next to the stack of papers,” I looked over the logs from the night of the attack-” 

“And how did ye get access to those?!” Hoskel, who was very pleased with himself, pounded his fists on the table.

“You guys have an open records policy,” you said, almost impressed with how unaware of his own city, “anyway...” 

Viktor tuned you out. 

“Did you know about this?” he muttered to Jayce. 

“She caught me up like 10 minutes before we started.” 

“It doesn’t bother you?” 

“Why would it bother me?” 

“She did it behind our backs.” 

“I wouldn’t call it that.” 

“What would you call it?” 

“Can we talk about this later? I wanna listen.” 

But Viktor wanted to talk about it now. All of a sudden, you were the most proactive person in this mystery, after weeks of not doing anything unless absolutely necessary. It was... not suspicious, but Viktor liked to know things. 

Jayce was good at faking, though. Perhaps he was pretending to not be bothered to save face. 

“...the delay in Enforcer arrival was caused by an issue with the radio system,” you were still talking, “The Public Emergency Radio on the docks were down, so none of the calls that bystanders on the docks made went through to the station. The Enforcers only heard about a crime from the PER by the bridge. I looked at the maintenance reports, and,” you put a new piece of paper on top of the pile, “it said that the resistor inline of the PER on the docks was soldered somewhere it clearly didn’t belong. This is an error that can only be done by human hands and by someone who would have the key to the fusebox.” 

You inhaled through your nose. 

“The obvious conclusion is sabotage from within the Enforcers, which is something that many people in the station have suspected for a while. If you want to focus your efforts on something, you should conduct a thorough internal investigation of the Enforcers, because there’s at least one spy in there.” 

Self-assured doubt began to cloud the Council’s expressions. You glowered.  

“Look, pirates expand, okay? If you let this slide, then one day, they won’t just be after Hextech. They’ll go for your jewelry, your booze, your spices...” that got a few of them to straighten their spines, “The longer you leave a spy in there, the harder they are to find. I’ve seen entire enterprises destroyed this way, and it will happen again, unless you nip this in the ass by finding that spy now,” you strained slightly. 

Viktor realized that you’d been paying more attention than you let on, with the way that you targeted the specific business interests of the Councilors. For someone who never made an effort to please them, you could be quite convincing when you wanted to be. All that haggling expertise didn’t come from nowhere, he supposed. 

It was silent. You didn’t sit down yet, practically challenging one of them to say something. 

Finally, someone did. 

“Councilors, all due respect, that would be an utter waste of time” the voice was irritated with pride. 

Its speaker left the shadowed corner; he had a precise black mustache, geometric brows, and an Enforcer helmet tucked under his arm. 

“So is bringing a Helmet to a Council meeting, Mister...” your fingers tightened against the tabe.

“I’m the Sheriff of Piltover,” he stated, directly to you, before turning to the Councilors, “and in all the years I’ve been working for this city, we’ve only increased our internal defenses against spies due to the threat of Undercity subterfuge. Our hiring process is thorough, and we screen for them regularly, which is why I can safely say that there are no agents of the Undercity, or anywhere else, in the Enforcers.”

Somehow, even when the subject was entirely unrelated, the Undercity always came up in Council meetings. Viktor scoffed, but said nothing. 

“But how can-” 

“Further,” he interrupted, focusing on you again, “I urge the Council to question the integrity of her argument. For all we know, she could be the insurgent, trying to distract us while the real problems go unnoticed,” he folded his hands, “Her character would suggest so.” 

“This isn’t about me,” you growled. 

“Our testimony would suggest that it is about you, actually,” he pulled a piece of paper from his brest pocket, “One witness reports that you were, and these were their exact words, ‘brutal. without remorse, didn’t even bother with talking, just went straight for the vitals.’” 

Viktor’s heart fell into his stomach. 

“Now, Councilors, that doesn’t sound like someone who has anyone’s best interest in mind, let alone Piltover’s,” the sheriff concluded, and Viktor felt a new level of guilt. 

“You’re taking that out of context,” you said.

“Is that so?” the sheriff put the paper away, “But you still were engaging in such behavior, weren’t you?” 

Viktor cringed, sinking down deeper into his seat. His internal logic sounded a lot less valid coming from this pompous asshole’s mouth. 

“It was self defense,” you said.

“Right,” the sheriff returned his focus to the Council, as though you were a speck of dust on his shoe, “now, I recommend that we...” 

Your palms relaxed. You plopped back back into the chair, defeated, and Viktor never thought that he’d see you give up an argument that easily.

A vote and a disappointment later, you three regrouped in the lobby.

“They’re screwing themselves over,” you tutted, “all the work we’re doing to shut this down is gonna mean nothing.” 

“This isn’t our last chance,” Jayce nudged your elbow, “we can always ask again. That sheriff can only damage control so many times.” 

Jayce was very convincing. If Viktor hadn’t actually seen him break down yesterday, he would’ve believed that you two were pals and nothing ever happened. 

“Right,” you said into your hands, “godsdamnit, of course they had some random asshat’s testimony on file like that,” you surveyed Jayce and Viktor, “I didn’t even know anyone else was watching.” 

You locked eyes with Viktor, and before he could anticipate how it would come off, he found himself quickly looking down at the floor with the confidence of a frightened rabbit. If he had to under the spell of the discerning, yet unsuspecting, crinkle in the corners of your eyes for any longer, he might just confess. 

Which wasn’t even warranted, he told himself. How was he supposed to know that they would use his words like that? 

When he poked his head back up and caught your face, your expression wasn’t unsuspecting anymore. 

“I gotta go,” you said suddenly, getting up from your chair, “Alex and I have a dinner date. But I’ll be there early tomorrow.” 

“Sounds good. We’ll get started on lockdown. See ya, Pen.” 

Viktor only felt that he could breathe again when you closed the door behind you. 

“Are you alright, Vik?” Jayce patted his friend’s back without warning. 

“Yes-” Viktor regained his composure, “yes, I am fine. I do wonder,” he narrowed his eyes, “how she read those Enforcer logs by herself, though.” 

“Oh, Caitlyn helped her,” Jayce said, “they met up at the station.” 

“And that doesn’t bother you at all?!” 

“Why would it bother me?” Jayce frowned, “Does it bother you?” 

“Well-” Viktor swallowed, “I thought that you were interested in keeping tighter security. Penny doing things without us knowing does not align with that.” 

“Look, I was a little freaked out earlier, but once I processed all that shit,” Jayce sighed, “I remembered that it’s just Penny. She’s still the same person. And I trust her.” 

Ah. Jayce wasn’t faking earlier - he was actually comfortable with you. And so was Caitlyn. Even after everything you’d done. After everything you’d shown yourself to be. 

If there was one thing he learned after moving here from Zaun, it was that, despite all the glitz of Piltover, people will eventually show their true selves to you. Especially if they don’t see you as an equal.

And you should always believe them. 

“Now, we better get started on clearing out the lab,” Jayce grunted. 

“We should divide the labor,” Viktor said lifelessly, “I will remove the test circuits.” 

“You sure you wanna do that alone?” 

“Yes.” 

Viktor refused to be near the Academy any longer. He needed time, away from the vestigial defensive reflexes of his Zaunite heritage, away from reminders of his work, and away from the notion that you ever existed. 

*****

You squinted, as though it were any trouble to recognize that silhouette. 

You could recognize a lot of things about him now. He stood out from the crowd. Those weren’t just keys on the table, those were Viktor’s keys. That wasn’t just sloppy handwriting, that was Viktor’s sloppy handwriting. And, earlier today, that wasn’t just anyone’s evasive maneuver, that was Viktor’s evasive maneuver. 

And he was never evasive. The bastard was hiding something, and you hoped that you were wrong about what it was. 

“She had a knife like yours,” Alex said. 

Right. You were supposed to be bringing him home. You were sure that he could make it by himself, but given everything that had happened in the last few days and the fact that it was approaching midnight, you weren’t taking any chances. 

“Hm?” you tilted your head to the side, refocusing your attention on the winding street. 

“That lady. Pearl. She had a knife like yours. I saw it when I went to the bathroom.” 

“You sure about that? Mine’s as custom as they come.” 

“I didn’t look that close,” he paused, half his face shadowed by the street lamp, “but it did look like yours.” 

“Maybe I’ll ask her to see it next time,” you looked at him from the side, “You liked her though, right?” 

Though you very much enjoyed dining in the servant’s quarters of the mansion she worked in, you had other reasons to consider the visit a success; she basically confirmed that you could house sit for the winter, starting next week and lasting for a month. 

“Oh, yeah,” he said, “I just wish that there were more Rats in Piltover. Monty says I’m not allowed to go to the Undercity.” 

You clicked your tongue. You didn’t know much about the family that he lived in, but that sounded like standard fare for Piltover. 

“I’m not allowed to go there either,” you said, “but hey, it’s not gonna be like this forever. I’m sure we’ll get to meet them eventually.” 

Even if the entire godsdamned city, including Viktor, was working against you. 

In the meantime, you could make do with Pearl’s company. 

She was happy to find a kindred spirit and you were desperate for one. You got the sense that both of you were not considered worthwhile company by most of Piltover, so it was nice to be wanted for a change. And, despite your initial caution, she was fun to be around; she’d retained her Bilgewater slickness. 

You hardly got through your request for a housesitting recommendation before she was on board, saying that she did something similar in her youth and that it was “only right that the people who would actually use a property like this should get to live in it.” Apparently, she’d thrown some wild parties in the ballroom, with her employers none the wiser. 

She’d even taken her employer’s best booze from the cellar for that night, though you had to decline since you were on proper painkillers now.

“I don’t get tired of the luxury, because it was never really mine to start with,” she had said, “though, if you ask me, I think being bored out of my skull but filthy rich is a pretty good deal.” 

“Maybe so,” you had answered, “though something tells me we’ll never get to find out.” 

After you dropped Alex off at his house, you closed the door and leaned against it, resting in the porchlight oasis. Finally, one damn thing had gone right in your life, and you worried that the minute you walked down the stairs of the deck and surrendered yourself back to the quotidian night, you’d lose the feeling. 

But Viktor was still there, by himself, looking like a mugger’s dream. You should probably make sure that he didn’t get himself killed.

“You shouldn’t be here by yourself,” you said when you approached him from behind, holding back a smirk when he flinched, “did you learn nothing from that bar ambush?” 

His screwdriver stilled, then gently floated away from the open test-circuit reactor. The light around Viktor’s shadow on the cobblestone melted from brassy street lamps to hex crystal blue, which glimmered in his exhausted eyes when he faced you.

“I know that you don’t get out much, but you really ought to find a better hobby than following me,” he leaned against his cane with that smug, self-assured lack of fear that he always had when he realized it was just you.

“Alex’s house is that way,” you jerked your chin towards the street, “in case you forgot. And I think following you is a more worthwhile hobby than giving vindictive, inaccurate testimony to Enforcers.” 

He wasn’t surprised at your retort. He just winced, like he’d seen it coming, which had the frightening implication that he recognized the signs of your mood just as easily as you recognized his. 

“I did not know they would use it like that,” he said, all too defensive for your liking, “but it was not inaccurate. I was merely telling the truth.” 

Something rustled in your coat pocket. 

“Oh, bullshit. Jayce saw a lot of the same crap you did, was even more disgusted by it, and they weren’t quoting him in front of the Councilors, so obviously there was a right thing to say, and you didn’t say it.” 

“I’m not arguing with you,” he said, though he didn’t turn around.

“Right, because you were so busy working on that circuit,” you gestured to it, “c’mon, I saw you there like five minutes ago. It doesn’t take that long to deactivate,” you curled your lips cruelly, “What? Too worried that you’ll feel some remorse?” 

The mass in your pocket was... warm against your upper thigh.

“I’ve been standing here,” Viktor’s words came from the back of his throat, “for four hours, because you could not stop yourself from going fucking berserk and how Hextech is suffering for it. You couldn’t think for a moment about how this would affect anyone other than yourself,” he swallowed, “I am losing everything.” 

“I’m sorry?!” you crossed your arms, “Am I hearing that you’d rather lose your life?” 

“Oh, don’t start with that,” Viktor rolled his eyes, “no one’s-” 

Blue light cracked from your coat pocket. Viktor stopped as a similar surge of magical energy stretched out behind him in bolts. The pen reactor. 

You went dead still, wondering if this was really how it ended.

But a few moments passed, and you were both still alive, goggling each other with empty, frightened eyes. You bit your lip and reached down into your pocket with a trembling hand.

The long, smooth grip of the pistol was raging with internal magic, like there were storm clouds lashing out inside of it. You followed the energy back to its cylinder, wrapping your fingers around the center and rattling your bottle of painkillers on the way out of your pocket. 

Viktor stepped aside to examine the reactor. 

Blue embers radiated from the pistol’s cylinder, as though hot coals burned inside. It didn’t feel like a solid object anymore, but an extension of your body, united with your hand. 

Viktor pushed the shutter away. The reactor’s hex crystal emanated the same muted embers. THey were less flashy than normal, but still fluttered with life. 

The pistol and the reactor chittered back and forth rhythmically. 

You unsheathed your knife from your belt and pressed the tip into the blue edge at the bottom of the cylinder, applying the slightest amount of pressure to open it. 

Pop.

You saw the hex crystal inside for only a second before everything went white. 

*****

Falling, falling, falling, but with no air careening against you. 

It was so godsdamned bright. The inverse of outer space, where, instead of the absence of light, every single molecule reflected it at you all at once, bursting and flashing with lurid vertigo. It felt like you stared into the sun too long and now the rays were extending past your scope, consuming you whole. 

It lasted for only a second. 

Your feet were on solid ground again, and traces of salt water tickled your nose. Spots clumped in your vision, mitigated by the steely cobalt color of the sky. 

The sky... wasn’t like that before. Storm clouds herded above, still an opaque mass as the last strands of light dipped below the horizon. It was not the clear, inky night that you’d come from. 

“Hhhng.” 

Viktor. 

You blinked harshly, forcing the disorientation from your system. You were outside, it was nearing night time, and... and the familiar sound of clinking glass and drunken whoops spun from your right. A strip of dull lantern light came from an open door. 

Viktor materialized into focus, standing up, in the same physical condition as he was before, but just as lost as you were. And past him... that couldn’t be.

It was the alleyway that Jayce was attacked in. You’d recognize it anywhere. Scuffed, aging buildings formed a lane to the docks, but as your eye followed them down, the street was lacking something that should’ve been there, and it made you sick. 

It should’ve been coated with thick, white snow, shoveled into small piles on the side so the crunchy salt could break apart the thin sheet of ice on the road. 

But there was nothing. The streets were clear, like it had never snowed at all. And the ocean was angry. 

Anxiety twanged in your chest. 

You looked at Viktor, distracted by the street, and apparently coming to the same conclusion as you. Something was very, very wrong. 

And then your own voice, scratchy and free and spent, and curled around your ears. But you hadn’t said anything. 

You cleared your throat, confirming that, yes, your vocal chords were still under your control, but the onslaught of your own words, entirely divorced from your being, continued. 

Jayce’s brazen voice replied. 

“Do...” your voice cracked, and Viktor turned around, “do you hear that?” 

He paused, listening intently to the inside of the bar. And his eyes were wider than you’d ever seen when he heard his own voice blurt something out, the unmistakable accent even thicker with booze. 

You crept into the doorway, barely touching the edge with your fingers. Another sensation would send you overboard. The asymmetrical beat of Viktor’s footsteps followed behind you. 

Moving just one eye out, you took a peek at the bar. 

Every poet from every country from every lifetime could not describe the uncanniness of seeing yourself from the outside. It wasn’t real, it didn’t feel real, because there was no way that was you, because things like this did not happen. You were not supposed to be an object on a plane, you were the damn plane. 

It was like those trick paintings, where everything looks okay on the surface, but as you notice more macabre details the only picture you get is just how little you know about the world being presented to you. Every small thing about yourself sent a rolling wave of dissociated, horrified deja vu. And yet you couldn’t pull yourself away.

You felt faint. 

And it only got worse when you saw the back of the original man with the pistol, the motherfucker that drugged your friends and tried to shoot you, sitting at the bar. The same young man hiding behind a still-developing beard. His pistol, a creamy silver, was sturdily attached at the hip. 

He didn’t see you spying on him, as he was intensely focused on other you getting up from the table with a half empty mug of rum and beckoning to the bartender. 

You took a seat right next to him and faced away, leaving your drink on the table. 

Gods, you were an idiot. 

You were watching everything go wrong in slow motion. The bartender went around back to get you some fresh mint, and you passively engaged in conversation with someone sitting farther down the bar. 

The pirate fingered a bottle of clear liquid, passed it over your drink like a ghost, and left the bar counter without you noticing. He faded into some far off corner, waiting for you to take the bait. 

He must’ve already gotten Jayce and Viktor, then. So what stopped this drug from getting to you? And better yet, what would stop you from beat his ass this very moment instead of letting past you take the lead an hour from now.

You couldn’t just attack him, you knew better than to run head first into... whatever was going on.  But, for comfort, your hand raced down to your belt and closed around the hilt of your knife. Your bottle of painkillers rattled in your pocket.

Painkillers. The ones that made you vomit when combined with alcohol. 

You’d asked the bartender for mint. You were making a mojito, which you’d thrown up that night. 

And then you understood that all of this had already happened to you, and your intervention was an important part of saving this night. But you had to do it now. 

You edged further into the bar, pressing your palm down on the cap of the painkillers. 

This was a bad idea. 

You crammed a chalky white pill between your fingers. Your drink was open. The bartender was gone. No one would notice. 

This was a bad idea. 

Jayce and Viktor were enraptured by a debate with each other about... something stupid probably. Your heartbeat was fast. 

This was a bad idea. 

“Wait here,” you said to your Viktor, the one looming over your shoulder, who was too stunned with anything to reply. 

This was a bad idea. You can’t change the past. 

But clearly, you already had. 

You blacked out for a bit. You forgot to breathe the entire time as  you snaked out from your hallway and hugged the edge of the bar, trying and failing to act casual. 

You were less than a foot away from yourself when you stalled, because that was you, right there. Your back was facing you, and you could’ve reached out and touched it. 

But this timeline was meant to be changed, even if you had to be the one to do it. 

So, when the pill slipped from your hands, into the shallow pool of Whalefall and rum at the bottom of your mug, with past you none the wiser, you felt a rush of raw determination. Everything would be okay. 

You retreated into the hallway, a stop on your way back into the alleyway. Viktor just watched you, shaking. 

“Did... did you-” he whispered as you gave yourself a final glance before you left the premises. 

Your attention returned to your drink after the bartender gave you the mint you asked for. You scooted off the chair and joined Jayce and Viktor again, about the mix the mojito that would’ve been your doom. 

“C’mon, let’s-” 

A fading conversation bounced down the alleyway. You saw them from the corner of your eye.

Jayce’s attackers, lying in wait. You were fucked if you went back down the alleyway. 

“Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Shit,” you muttered. 

You couldn’t just walk through the bar either, not when you looked like you had just seen a ghost. You needed time to think. To come up with a plan.

But you were trapped. 

You hastily backed into the bathroom, brushing against Viktor’s chest as you pushed his immobile body with you. 

You shut the door and twisted the lock with numb hands. 

“This can’t- I can’t- what the fuck-” Viktor panted. He was on the verge of hyperventilating. 

You turned and leaned against the door, realizing for the first time since you’d arrived here that the gun was gone. 

Well, shit. 

The bathroom was tiny; the bare necessities of a rusty sink, soap, a hand towel, and a toilet were surrounded by aged wooden walls reminiscent of a ship’s head. 

Not the time to reminisce.

“What- what did you do?” Viktor collapsed onto the toilet, rubbing his face with the heels of his hand. 

“I, uh- I think I just drugged my own drink,” you said blankly, “so that I would throw up that shit they put in it. And then I could...” you trailed off. 

“No! I mean-” Viktor caught a breath, “what... what happened? Why are we here? Is this... this is real, right?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “this... is real.” 

“The reactor, and the... it must have been affected, and transported us...” 

“Into the past,” you finished slowly, “when it connected with...”

“What was in that gun?!” his voice cracked, “Why did...” 

“It came from the guy,” you said, “the first one I killed when I... when I came for you. The one we just saw. It was his...” 

“And it connected with the gun from the past, meaning that we-” he groaned, anger gradually replacing the confusion, “And you- why did you have it?!” he snapped. 

“Hey! This isn’t all me, okay, it did some shit with that reactor too!” 

“Of all the godsdamned places we could go!” he threw his arms in the air, “And now we’re stuck here.” 

“We’re not stuck,” you said, “We’ve got time before... everything happens. We’ll just wait for our opening and then-” 

“And then what?! Get involved with all of this crap again?” he chuckled mirthlessly, “Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“I was making sure that we don’t die just now, dickweed!” you howled, “I don’t wanna see any of this shit again!” 

“If you don’t want to see it again, then maybe you shouldn’t have done it to begin with.”

And finally, the cord inside of you that was wound so tight around your emotions broke in hafl. 

“Alright, that’s it!” you slammed your hand down on the sink counter, “Did I do something wrong? I don’t understand how saving your bitch ass could possibly be a fuck up on my end, but I assure you I will not repeat that mistake.” 

“Again with this rescue drivel! You can give it a rest, no one else is here.” 

“You think I did all that shit, to them, to me, for fun?!” 

“I don’t know why you did it, but it’s not because you wanted to help me,” he hissed.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” 

“You may have everyone else on your side,” he pointed a bony finger at your chest, “but you made a mistake. And I’ll tell you where you made a mistake.”

HIs spit shined in the artificial light, disturbing the dust mites suspended in the air. 

“You came back for me,” he barked, “and if you think for a godsdamned second that I believe you came back, risked yourself, not even for my life but just for my wellbeing, with no ulterior motive, then you are dumber than you look,” he said, “You did not do anything for me. You did it for yourself because you wanted an excuse to do all that. I know it.” 

He was sweating. He was hurting. And you were so, so close to channeling your turbulence and bewilderment straight into your fists, because you didn’t even have a good answer. 

But then he said those words, and everything fell into place. 

*****

“I’ve seen who you are in the dark, and you’re a monster.” 

None of the catharsis that was supposed to be there came. You blinked once, twice, overflowing with nothing, like a dormant volcano. 

The patter of footsteps outside was deafening. 

And then your hands moved, and Viktor thought you were going to kill him. 

BUt instead your fingers, steadier than he’d ever seen, met at the collar of your shirt and undid the first button. The fabric shifted as you inhaled. 

“See, the thing about a lot of what happens on ships,” your cadence was stony, “is that it’s designed to not be debilitating, but to still hurt like hell.” 

Viktor didn’t answer, watching as you weaved down to the second button.

“Injuries that you can still do your job with. You get this little jolt of pain every time that you move.” 

You crept down to the third button.

“And you can see it for a while after if you look. Because they don’t want you to forget.” 

The fourth. The placid mauve color of your bra poked through, and though Viktor was very briefly tempted to follow the luscious line of your chest, the rapid descent of your hands and the severity in your voice killed the thought. 

“And if you’ve been sailing for a while, and it happens over and over again...” 

The fifth.

“Then you get something to show for it.” 

The sixth. You turned around and peeled the shirt off your back. 

Starting at your shoulder blades and extending to beyond your pants was an explosion of scars. They were raised, long, and straight, overlapping with each other but occasionally grouping together in parallel rows as though they’d come from some vicious, clawed animal. There were so many.

The craggy lines reminded Viktor of a map, perhaps a conglomerate of rivers or mountains, but only on the surface. These were far too angry, tangled with each other like they were trying to suffocate themselves, yet aged into your skin like hieroglyphics. 

Whip scars. Viktor did not need to ask where they came from. 

After a small eternity, in which Viktor fought off the urge to reach out and trace them with this finger, you pulled your shirt over your back and turned around, leaving your clavicle exposed as you addressed him. 

“Because everywhere has monsters,” your voice was almost a whisper as you snared his eyes with your own, narrowed ones, “and I’ve seen Bilgewater’s. I’m reminded of what they’re capable of every single day.”

You straightened your posture, and the sharp corners of your eyelids softened in a way only Viktor could notice. 

“Is it so wrong of me to want to protect you from that?” 

The silence sighed. 

Peals of laughter - laughter from you and Viktor and Jayce - bled through the bathroom door. Yet Viktor said nothing. 

And he wanted to say everything.

He had a million answers to your question, and a million questions for you to answer, and a million grievances to take up with the gods themselves, and as they were all tearing his mind apart in every direction and giving him a searing headache, he couldn’t stop plunging himself into your frustrated, yet painfully earnest gaze as you waited for a single answer that he would never have. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you said, pressing yourself against the door and buttoning your shirt. All the ire had evaporated, and left disappointment in its place. 

You expected him to be better - not just expected, even, but worked for it. Put yourself out there, in the cold, cruel world to keep him on track, because you thought he had something worth protecting.

And the worst part was that he could be better than this, but the thought of letting you down was suddenly so terrifying, that he didn’t know where to begin,

He had to try, though. He couldn’t miss his chance. 

“I... I thought it was too good to be true,” he said softly. 

You laughed.

“Oh, really? That was what was too good to be true, Mr. Heimerdinger’s assistant who does break-ins on the side?” your fake smile dropped, “Don’t fucking patronize me.” 

Viktor raised a melancholy eyebrow. 

“Being Heimerdinger’s assistant was too good to be true,” he said, embarrassed for some reason. 

And... he’d lost you. You rolled your eyes and prepared to sit down on the floor, but, before Viktor even thought about it, he gently grabbed your knuckles. 

“No, please, you don’t understand,” he stammered, looking past your pupils. 

Your face was still, and Viktor could really focus on your ear and nose while you were awake, with everything he knew about you to evaluate it against. 

And despite his best efforts, all he saw was someone who had been through a lot, and was putting even more on hold so they could listen to him speak. The least he could do was give them a worthwhile explanation. 

“I- those years, when I had to work the hardest job on campus just to say there, to even have a chance at making something of myself... those were some of the worst years of my life. I hate the story of how I became Herimerdinger’s assistant.” 

He exhaled, keeping himself together for your sake.

“But everyone knows it, because people in Piltover love to tell it. Without my permission, too. It makes them feel comfortable in their system; that somehow, the people who ‘deserve’ to be here will always find their way to Piltover, even if they have to deal with a lot of... eh, bullshit.” 

Your hand was smaller in his own. He had your attention, but he kept holding it. 

“Every success that I’ve had here is like that. You have seen it with how people, the Council, treat Hextech. Piltover talks about my- our wellbeing in times like these, yet in reality, they could not care less about what happens to us as long as they get what they want,” he said, “And what- what I’m trying to say is that, when things started to go bad, when we were losing Hextech, and when I was very angry, and I wasn’t thinking straight, I thought that you were one of those people. And that was upsetting because-” 

Everything he thought to say here made him sound like an office manager or the world’s biggest sap. Because I value your company? Because you remind me of the person I want to be, even when I feel like crap? Because I finally understand you, and I keep wanting to know more? 

He heard himself guffawing in the bar. He remembered this laugh - you had just recounted the time that you had to pretend to be Freljordian, but only knew the swear words in the language. 

In a few minutes, Viktor would feel comfortable enough to recall the time that he accidentally brought Heimerdinger a smut novel instead of the biology text he requested, because of the similar covers. 

“Because I really thought we were starting to be friends,” he said sheepishly, “even though I have not acted like one in the past few days,” he placed his other hand on top of your knuckles, “and I am truly sorry.” 

You sharply exhaled and looked at your shoes before returning the eye contact with curious resolve. 

“Piltover doesn’t deserve you, y’know,” you said bluntly. 

Viktor understood Jayce’s apprehension with the company now. He would shut the entire thing down to prevent anything like this from falling on you. 

“Perhaps not, but... you risked your life and I still get to be here. I cannot thank you enough,” he squeezed his hand, “And Penny, I promise you that as long as I have something to say about it, you will not be in that position again.” 

However impossible that was, he meant every word. Precious few people ever considered him something to be deserved, and even fewer defended it with their bare chest and back. 

And there was only one you. 

“Psh, alright,” you pulled your hand away, leaving Viktor to grasp at the cold, “apology accepted, don’t overcomplicate it. Now you know... cause we’re both kinda fucked, so we gotta watch out for each other, right?

You smiled, slightly apologetic for killing the atmosphere, and a bit... nervous? Your hands were fidgeting. 

More laughter came from inside the bar. 

“Indeed,” Viktor sat back down on the lid of the toilet, “we do.” 

“And, uh, don’t worry about trying to make it up or anything. You’ve helped me before. We’re equal.” 

“That was different,” Viktor didn’t know exactly what you were referring to, but he assumed that none of it had the same weight. 

“It still meant a lot,” you insisted, “and besides, things wouldn’t have gotten this far if I hadn’t avoided talking about the whole, uh, murder party, so...” 

From the onset of tact in your voice and the way that your body froze as you tried to process a single emotion, Viktor could tell that you meant it. Yes, you were a tad emotionally constipated, but liked you as you were. 

He stayed silently committed to his promise. 

“We should... leave here,” he changed the subject

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be too hard, now that we’re not acting too suspicious or anything, so I think we’ll just wait for our opening and go out the front without attracting any attention,” you cracked open the bathroom door, surveying the minefield of potential sightings, “only trouble is that we don’t really have anywhere to go after that.”

“There is one place we could go,” Viktor said. 

After a nerve-wracking fifteen minutes of watching bar customers slowly clear out as the night got darker, you two left with a large wave of them, making it into the outside’s chilled embrace without a hitch. 

You broke apart the awkwardness with commentary about the snow that just started to fall, saying that you were “a fan of this frozen precipitation,” to which Viktor chuckled at through his exhaustion. 

The last stop on your journey was a call made at the PER by the bridge to the Enforcers, to report your own incident. Viktor got to hear your terrible Freljordian accent again as you faked being a Helga Olafersson. 

And you left Piltover, the memories of the bar, and any other bullshit behind as you crossed the bridge, side by side, to the Undercity.

~ End Notes ~

Your daily reminder to not tell shit to cops

End Credits Song: "The Night" by Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons

[kitxt]

TXT as stupid love tropes i like

╭┈ ↷

│    ༝ pairing ༝  txt x gender neutral reader

│    ༝ warnings ༝  fluff

│    ༝ note ༝  i'm a sucker for these tropes so...

╰──────────────────────────────────────

Yeonjun

↳ Enemies to Lovers

don't ask me why, i see him as the perfect troublemaker

like, you're the bookworm and he is the bad boy

he would tease you every time he see your face

both of you are in the same classes every year and you want to strangle whoever does that

actually, you have a soft spot for him

you are painfully aware of his charisma, everyone finds him attractive and you can't deny that he is

"i hate you"

no you don't

he would miss one week of school and you'll be like ??? why does it feel like something is missing?

would come back with bruises everywhere

and the teachers would choose you to help him catch up

his smirk which annoyed you before would start to warm you up

catching yourself daydreaming about him and freaking out

he would defend you but only when you aren't around

deep conversations instead of studying

he would fall asleep one day and you would find him cute

how do i get rid of those feelings ???

a weird routine sets in where you read while he sleeps

you can't go back to the way things were, being with him changed everything

you balanced each other out

you would finally accept a date with him

"this may be the worst decision i ever made"

it is not

Soobin

↳ Forbidden Love

ugh, this one is so good

like imagine you as an idol in another agency

even better if you're a male

your fanbases hate each other

would constantly compare you, your songs, your dances, your performances, etc...

you two would meet for an interview

it's love at first sight

pounding hearts and shy glances

after the interview: both of you would search for the other name on the internet

would create a fan account on social media just to stalk the other

i imagine a love square like in miraculous ladybug, he loves you!idol, you love him!idol but also he loves you!fan account and you love him!fan account

ambiguous relationships

twists and turns all around

you would probably end up sharing selfies after some heartwarming confessions

*surprised Pikachu face* and fangirling/boying lmao

secret rendezvous

"what would you do if you weren't afraid?"

intertwined hands and shy smiles

it gives me winter vibes too

like warm beverages, sharing a scarf, intertwined hands in pocket, pink noses and cheeks

Soobin probably out your couple stupidly

thankfully the fans were amazing about it

Beomgyu

↳ Strangers to Lovers

soft plot™

you have no idea what txt is

you like to make people happy with little gestures

like paying the order of someone in the coffee you are in

or stopping your car to give your umbrella to someone who doesn't have one

it's probably what happens with him

you gave him your umbrella and disappeared right after

he would be like wtf just happens???

your number would be on the umbrella's label so he would text you

it's common for you so you wouldn't be surprised

you'll end up texting each other until morning

sharing memes and pictures of your day

he would quickly understand you have no idea who he is

you would decide to meet each other because he would want to give back your umbrella

a break from the idol life for him

and from the boring life for you

for real, this boy is tireless, you'll laugh until you die

cute and discreet dates meetings

it's not dating, you are friends!

bro is on his knees for you but anyway

it will take some time before he tells you about his career, he doesn't want to scare you

please, understand his fears, he likes the simplicity you both share together

he would get it if you need some time to digest but would feel selfish and dumb

hug and reassure him, kiss him to show you care more about him than his career

Taehyun

↳ Childhood friends to Enemies to Lovers

you grew up together because your parents were besties

it would be like your brother, your best friend

i feel like you would have a stupid fight

such as, you helped him with his studies and he has a better mark than you

it would end up as a competition

not in a bad way, just like sibling bickering

but then he would move out of town

some years later, you two would find yourself in the same college

because after all this time you still have the same goal, the same dream

occurs a competition for the best grades in your share classes

maybe even in the entire school

side eyes, judging faces, and annoying smirks

everyone can feel the tension between you two

you would tease each other for everything

he got a girlfriend? you would find yourself a partner just to annoy him

both would break up with the two of you because you don't care about them, you always think about your rival

honestly, people would be fed up with your bickering, like kiss already

i can see your friends locking you up in a classroom for a whole night or finding a way to force you two to talk

talking as having a real conversation and not just glaring

both of you would figure out you didn't change that much

you would reconnect pretty fast

friends who bicker just for the sake of it

probably end up making out aggressively after a dumb fight

HueningKai

↳ Best friends to Lovers

soft plot 2.0

make it even softer because it's Kai

shy smiles, stolen glances, and pounding hearts

casual affection and platonic cuddling h36

cute nicknames you both share since childhood

night talks on the bed of one or another

your comfort person for when you have a bad day

inside jokes and finishing each other's sentences

sharing clothes because why not

sharing i love you but both thinking the other one means only as a friend

hurts to be that close but also hurts to be away for more than one day

dying inside each time the other has a date

both of you would think you aren't enough

even if, when one dates a person all they are searching for are things the other has

what do you mean you don't like plushies????

sad smiles when people ask how long you've been a couple

bro, someone needs to make a move

probably Huening thanks to his hyungs

he would take you on a date, you wouldn't think about it because you go out together often

baby would be so embarrassed, with red cheeks and stuttered words

you'll probably start crying tears of joy, making him freak out

please reassure him, kiss him

[bbyboybucket]

We still hate each other, right?

Bucky Barnes x F!avenger!Reader

Summary: Bucky and Reader are the farthest thing from friends, which is why she’s confused when she sees him at her door in the middle of the night. // Reader comforts Bucky after a nightmare.

A/N - (this was one of my first fic’s for Bucky so it might be a little bit rough) I wrote this in like 30 minutes so there might be mistakes, and don’t judge the quality lmao, it might be horrible. I have to put the statement of my time setting as always so here it is: This is set in my happy lil dream land where the avengers didn’t break up after civil war and iw didn’t happen, so everyone’s livin together :)

Warnings: Kinda enemies to lovers?, PTSD, nightmares, mentions of torture and killing (nothing graphic), crying, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending tho

—————————

It was no secret that you and Bucky Barnes didn’t get along. The two of you were very vocal about your disdain for one another. You always made sure you’re feelings were on display and were very clear. Nobody knew what had started this, matter of fact, you and Bucky yourselves didn’t even know how this feud came to be. All you knew was that you couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as Bucky. Anytime he was within a 10ft radius of you, your mood suddenly dampened, and vice versa.

At first, your relationship was fine, completely normal. You had a good first meeting, full of friendliness and general respect for one another. Somewhere though, things suddenly went down hill. Things got to the point were it was annoying to everyone else in the tower. Of course at first it was amusing to watch the bickering, funny to hear the battles of insults. However, it got old once neither of you could be professional towards each other. The tension was always like a tsunami, completely flooding the room. You’d go at each other’s throats over incredibly childish things, like when you sat too close to him on the coach or when he used your speaker that you left in the gym. Worst of all, you’d get into to fist fights that they’d have to break up, which always ended with Tony or Steve yelling at you like they’re your parents.

It didn’t take long for team members to pick up on the fact that you provoked each other on purpose. It didn’t slip anyone’s gaze when you’d smirk to yourself before doing something to piss Bucky off. Sam made everyone aware that Bucky’s actions were typically premeditated and he’d tell Sam in detail how he planned to bother you for the day.

Everyone eventually realized that this so called “hatred” was more like an obsession, a chaotic scheme to constantly get each other’s attention. However, anytime someone suggested that you liked each other, it’d always invoke a disgusted, stubborn rebuttal.

In short, you saw Bucky Barnes as the farthest thing from your friend. Which is why it surprised you to see him standing in your door way at 3am.

He was nervous, to say the least. Coming to his rival’s room to tell her he’s having nightmares was, well, embarrassing. He usually wouldn’t have come and would’ve just pushed through it alone, but tonight was particularly bad for him. He was on the verge of panicking and he needed someone. He couldn’t turn to Steve nor Sam because they were both on a mission. He hardly interacted with anyone else in the tower except for you, and this was a moment of desperation.

You were dead asleep when you were awoken by a pounding at your door. You groggily picked up your phone to check the time and you grumbled. The knocking continued once again and you yelled, “Give me a second!” as you slipped on a silk robe over top of your bra and underwear that you’d previously been sleeping in. You flipped your light switch on while walking to the door. Your irritated facial expression quickly twisted into a puzzled look when you swung open the door.

“Barnes?” You nearly shouted in your state of utter confusion.

“Uh, hey.” He said so softly that you barely heard him. His hands were fidgeting with each other and he didn’t make eye contact.

Still puzzled at what was going on, you asked, “um, w-what are you doing? It’s like 3:00 in the morning…”

You saw him swallow nervously. You’d never seen him like this before, despite his large stature, he was standing in your door way looking small and helpless. He reminded you of a child coming to tell his parents he feels sick. You were starting to get worried.

“Are you okay?” You spoke more gently than you had been.

“I’m…uh…I’m having a bad night.” He mumbled. “Can I…would you care if I stayed in here…with you?”

Your heart sank, you found it odd that you were feeling so much sympathy for him in this moment but you couldn’t help it. It was painful to see him like this.

“Of course you can stay with me, come in.” You spoke softly and then held the door so he could enter the room. He gave you an awkward smile before passing by. You shut the door behind you and made your way over to where he was awkwardly standing. You sat down on the foot of your bed and patted on the spot your right.

When he sat, you scooted closer to him. You weren’t sure if he wanted you to touch him or not, but you weren’t exactly sure how else to comfort him. You hesitantly and very softly placed your hand on his back. He initially flinched a little bit but settled into your touch when you gently massaged him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head. “No. Not right now.”

You sighed sadly as you continued to rub his back in a circular motion. You wished you understood what was happening in his head right now. He was thankful that you couldn’t.

“Do you want some hot chocolate? I can make you some.” You offered sweetly.

Bucky simply just nodded his head yes as a response. You watched him as you made him a cup. He looked tense, he was shaking very slightly. He looked almost scared. You always thought Bucky had rather sad eyes but right now, it was taken to a whole new level.

He wasn’t looking at you. He stared at the floor consumed by his own thoughts. He didn’t feel worthy of your kindness, he knew deep down that it was stupid to think like that. He does deserve good things even if his mind tells him he doesn’t, his therapist told him that quite often. Then again, he never really felt like his therapist was helpful.

You brought him the cup with a smile and sat next to him once again.

“Thanks.” He whispered before taking a sip, using his metal hand. He liked the sweet taste and the way he could feel the warmth of it in his stomach. It was comforting, it reminded him of his childhood that he missed the simplicity of so much.

You reached for his free hand that was resting on his thigh and caressed it, softly running your thumb across his skin. You could hear how heavy and quick his breathing was, despite him seeming to be a bit calmer than before.

“Hey, take deep breathes with me okay? In and out.” You exaggeratedly took large, slow breathes to lead him and he mimicked. He was visibly getting calmer by the second. “Good, you’re doing so good. Here, come lay down with me.” You went to your own side of the bed and placed yourself under the covers. He followed shortly after.

He felt weird laying in a bed, it was too soft, the pillows were too fluffy. This was the first time he had in months. He usually preferred to sleep and even sit on the floor but he didn’t want to seem stranger than he already did at the moment. At the same time though, he felt safe with you in his company, he felt protected even. He was appreciative more than you knew, it was one of the roughest nights he’d had in a while. He didn’t realize he was zoned out until you spoke.

“You good, bud?” You asked, turned on your side, facing him directly.

“Just thinking.” He mumbled, still staring at the ceiling.

“About?”

Bucky sighed deeply, not knowing if he should explain or not. But the words started tumbling out of his mouth before he even truly thought about it. “This one was different…um, I-I usually have nightmares about me…hurting, killing other people…or just actual flashbacks of me killing them. I’ve gotten more used to having those, I’m learning how to deal with them but…um…tonight I was dreaming about the torture, being beaten, the goddamn chair, being punished. Just all the shit they did to me. I-I don’t want to go into detail but um, that’s why I’m so fucked up right now.”

The man laying beside of you had tears streaming down his face, his wet eyes glistened in the dim light of the bedroom. The sound of his small sniffles ripped your heart in half.

“Oh my god…Bucky…” You whispered. “God, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

You moved over and laid your head in the crook of his neck as your arm wrapped tightly around his waist. He broke down even more at your touch. He turned on his side and his natural arm held you closely, since he didn’t want to touch you with the metal one. He rested his face on your shoulder and sobbed. You could feel the heaving of his chest against your own and his wet teardrops hitting your skin.

“Shhh…” you hushed comfortingly. “It’s okay, you’re safe now, everything is okay. I’ve got you.”

Your voice was soothing, filled with care, it sounded peaceful to him even though on the inside, you were hurting from the mere sight of seeing how hurt he was.

“They’re not going to hurt you ever again. Nobody will hurt you like that again, because if they do I’ll kill them.” You cooed even though there was a threat in your statement. He couldn’t help but laugh a little bit.

“Most of the time you want to kill me.” He practically giggled.

“Yeah, you’re right, I do some days…but not right now.” You joked along with a smile that he couldn’t see. You repositioned yourselves to cuddle more comfortably, his tears had stopped and he was relaxed in your arms. You heard him yawn and you hummed quietly at how cute it was.

“We still hate each other, right?” He whispered in your ear.

“Of course.” You played along as you snuggled against his warm body, with a huge grin on your face. “We can go back to fighting tomorrow.”

“Good.” He said as he ran his hand through your hair.

You leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek. “Night, Bucky.” Then you cozied back up on him before letting out a tiny yawn of your own.

“Good night, doll.”

—————————

Three years later, that was the night that changed both of your lives. The two of you definitely did not keep fighting like you had before, it was more so light and enjoyable teasing. Bucky started coming to you for comfort often and you eventually found him as a shoulder to cry on too. It wasn’t long before you started to spend all of your time together, forming a friendship that rivaled the closeness of Bucky and Steve’s.

And then it became more. It had always been there, those romantic feelings, it just took a while to come out. 6 months to be exact, and Natasha won $200 in a bet to see who could guess when you two would officially get together.

Now it’s been three years, the three best years of your life and now, today, the best day of your life. You were standing in a stunning white gown with his hand holding yours as you cut the the giant, gorgeous cake in front of you. The wedding venue was stunning, and so was the reception, thanks to Tony. You had originally defied him from paying for it, multiple times actually, but he insisted. Damn he knew exactly how to make it perfect.

You couldn’t have been happier than you were at this moment, spending the day with love of your life, making the commitment to spend the rest of your lives together whilst surrounded by all of your friends and family. You had to say your favorite toast of the night was Sam’s, who drunkenly gave a story about how you and Bucky used to fist fight until you nearly killed each other and now you’re Mr. and Mrs. Barnes.

As you had your first dance with your husband, he smiled down at you fully with those ocean blue eyes sparkling. “We still hate each other, right?” He asked.

“Oh, yes. Undoubtedly.” You responded before bringing your lips together for a passionate kiss. Yeah, this was the best day of your life. And yeah, it was all because he chose to come to your room one night.

[faggotmox]

I'm cheating at the enemies to lovers prompts: i want mox bridging the gap between Eddie and Bryan (or Claudio) where both Eddie and Bryan are pissed but Moxy just wants his boys all together: of course you do

meme i lost || @philosophyofhedonism

this is the closest thing to a madmox break up i will ever write. feel like this is set up a bit to make eddie the bad guy but i wanna be clear that’s def not what im trying to imply. this would be after many conversations, & shit. like this is the result of eddie continuing to hurt mox by being a bitch about bryan & claudio even though he pretty much knows he’s doing it. but eddie’s insecure & needed it pointed out. this ones got a little lost in the sauce & im not happy with the ending. here ya go lmao. this leads to the bridge being built.

#. Of course you do. [Mox/Eddie, Mox/Bryan/Claudio]

warnings: angst, so much angst, kind of a breakup fic, cursing, two people struggling lol

"I gotta problem with them! You know that!" Eddie growled, loud and over infused with anger. As always with this fight.

"Of course you do!" Mox was ready to rip his hair out, his hand anxiously running through his hair. "Of fucking course you do!"

"You know damn well anyone else wouldn'--"

"Shut the fuck up, Eddie!" Mox snapped. Finally fucking snapped. "Of fucking course you gotta problem with Bryan. He's a dick. He judges people. So do fuckin' you. You're a huge asshole, you judge everyone you see. And what happened with you and Claudio is so fuckin' old I don't even know if I was an adult when y'all had your falling out! He's changed. He's grown the fuck up and he regrets leaving you like that, man, but he can't fucking do shit about it because you're a fucking asshole. Of course you have a problem. Of course you do. You're made of god damn problems, Eddie! I love you. I love you more than I love anything else, Eddie, I swear to god. I swear on my mother, Eddie. But this bullshit...I can't keep doing it."

Eddie watched Mox pop off. Normally he would interject, stop Mox when he called him a dick or something. But there was a look on Mox's face that said if Eddie interrupted then it could be a heavier straw than either thought. Instead Eddie watched Mox frantically get the words out, like he couldn't breathe with them still in his chest. Like this was a long time coming and Eddie should have known, should have seen that he was suffocating Mox.

"You said--" Mox threw his hands up. "You said, Eddie. You agreed to this. When we got back together you were cool with me dating other people, having more relationships. But the second I'm with someone you have a distaste for I'm left-- I'm left--" Mox shakes his head, trying to get himself on track. "I love Bryan, man. I love the way he wrestles, the way he cooks dinner like he's building a fucking bomb, the way he holds me from behind and sticks his head under my arm. He fucking figured out some soap that doesn't give me dry skin. He listens to me when I can't put things into words. Eddie, I love him like I love you and that's why you fucking hate him." Mox finally stopped moving and was looking at Eddie with hard eyes. It wasn't normal for them to call each other on the deep bullshit. They had their walls and guards up for reasons. Mox understood that but he couldn't keep it up anymore. His walls came down and he had to break some of Eddie's too. "And you know how easy it is to fall for Claudio, huh? Don’t ya? So you're mad that I'm gonna love him too."

"Mox, look, I'm sorry I--" Eddie started to step forward but Mox stepped back quicker.

"Nah, man. You're scared, and you're being a bitch about it. You could just tell me, talk to me! You're insecure and you think I'm gonna leave you because Bryan and Claudio are something you're not." Mox growled. "I can't do it. If you don't want me dating them then we have to have to a serious fucking conversation about our boundaries, and I fucking hate you for making me have to talk like some fucking asshole. Boundaries." Mox scoffed at himself. "We've always been straight up with each other, man. That's what I expect from you. You just hide behind your fucking quips, and make snide remarks about a dude I love. That ain't fair to me, Eddie. You lied when you told me you were cool with this."

"...You're right."  Eddie nodded, his eyes on his boots as he stood with the weight of it on his shoulders. He fucked up. "You're fuckin' right."

"Hey." Mox was suddenly very close, his hand on Eddie's shoulder then sliding to rest on the back of Eddie's neck. "Need you to look at me, Bear." Mox whispered, his private nickname for Eddie never sounded so sad.

"Don't call me that right now, Moxie." Eddie looked up, meeting eyes with his partner to the harsh reality he knew was coming his way. "Not right now. Fuck."

"You know I love you right, Bear? I need to know that you know." Mox had water obscuring his blue eyes, threatening to become tears. "I love you."

"You love me, Jon. Of course you do." Eddie nodded. Their foreheads met and Eddie just knew the next words out of Mox's mouth would destroy his entire world and he would just have to accept it.

"I need a break from this, Bear." Mox finally said it and Eddie felt like he'd shatter. No one had that power over him but Mox. "I need a break from you."

"Of course you do..." Eddie nodded, and slowly started to untangle himself from Mox.

Mox tried to hold on but Eddie pushed until they parted. It stung more knowing Mox didn't want to let go. They both learned a long time ago about take care of themselves first, setting boundaries and walking away from the people that fucked them up the most. Eddie could still remember watching Mox chase after Rollins, the unhealthy obsession that Mox couldn't stop. Rollins was when Mox learned to step away, to pull himself back and make himself off limits to another person. Eddie had learned the same lesson from Claudio, but under different circumstances.

It all hit home when Mox's phone went off and Eddie could see the text from Bryan asking if Mox was okay. Why did Eddie hate Bryan so much? Why did he still hate Claudio? That was something he had to figure out because Mox couldn't take being the center of a war that wasn't even about him.  Eddie couldn't be an island anymore. It wasn't fair to Mox, and slowly as he gathered his bags he realized it wasn't fair to himself either. This had him twisted up, torturing himself like this wasn't it.

"We ain't breaking up." Mox's voice didn't sound as steady as he wanted it to sound. "I'd sooner lose everything else then lose you again, Bear."

"I know, sweetheart. We ain't breaking up." Eddie wanted to reassure Mox. "I'm not that easy to get rid of." Eddie winked and pretended he didn't feel a tear slip out.

"Of course you're not." Mox laughed harshly, shaking his head a little as Eddie was heading towards the door. There was something on Mox’s face, a fleeting look on his face that made Eddie smile a little.

“What?” Eddie stopped to watch Mox come a little closer. 

“Want a kiss before you go, Bear.” Mox admitted as they stepped a little closer to each other.

“Of course you do.” Eddie laughed a little as they got close enough.

They shared a soft kiss before Eddie had to peel himself away again. This time he got himself out before he could look at Mox again. It wasn’t their end, it couldn’t be, but Eddie was sore. He was hurt for the first time in a way that didn’t let him scorch the earth, even if it was his fault or not. Not only was this his own making but he had every tool to fix it. No drinking it away, no sleeping with whoever to get over Mox, no bullshit. Eddie had to figure his own shit out.

[carrotmakar]

here’s to us

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies To Lovers (with a twist)

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: You hate Harry more than you’ve ever hated anyone else, and he feels the same (or does he?). The people around you see the interactions that the two of you have and believe that you’re a match made in heaven, but you can’t see it, and you doubt he can either. When he’s the last option to help you with a project that you’re working on, things are either going to go very well, or they're going to crash and burn.

Warning(s): alcohol, cursing, kink talk, angst, sadness, innuendos, tension, a set of lovers trying to convince two people that they’re meant for one another, fluff

A/N: this was originally a piece written for a writing challenge but that’s been cancelled (i love u liv take your time i will still participate in any and every wc you ever do bb) so this is now just another piece haha!! Thank you to @tbslenthusiast​ and @harrysclementines​ for letting me know that this piece wasn’t as bad as i thought it was (literally forever ago like.... i wrote this a long time ago lmao)!!! Also thank you to @kiwismoon​ for letting me send you parts of the fic and scream about how much i hate myself for writing things like i did!!!

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*

Relaxing.

That’s what you were supposed to be doing tonight. You’ve been stressed out about the article that was due in less than a week and you were in need of a night out with your friends. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find the inspiration to write the piece. Plus, you had been completely swamped with your school work. Even though you were still in college, you had gotten a job as a writer and chosen to take online classes. 

Sarah had suggested that you and her go out and have a few drinks. That had quickly developed into you, her, and Mitch. Then your ‘friend’ Michelle was added into the mix.

Now, you’re standing at the bar, waiting for your next shot of tequila and wondering how you let Sarah talk you into this. You hate bars. In all honesty, you only hate them because someone always seemed to mess up your nights when they were drunk. Luckily, that someone isn’t here tonight. You had made it abundantly clear to Sarah that if she were to invite anyone, it better not include him. 

As the bartender hands you your shot, you down it and place the glass down on the bar. You wait for him to retrieve it before turning to walk back to the table that Sarah, Mitch, and Michelle are occupying. Right before you sit down next to Sarah, you catch a glimpse of a very particular head of curls. Your stomach drops at the sight, and you immediately feel the urge to exit the building. There’s no way that you could mistake that for anyone else but Harry. He’s the only person that has curls as seemingly perfect as that. Plus, he’s the only broad shouldered, muscular, tattooed man that you’d ever seen around here with hair that’s grown out to the point where it passes his shoulders. 

Fighting the instinct to be as far away from him as possible, you sit down next to Sarah and do your best to ignore his presence.

That lasts all of three seconds. It’s as if something is pulling your focus towards him, and you can’t stand that, so you quickly tell Sarah that you’re going to head out. Grabbing your coat, you give her a story about suddenly having inspiration and not wanting to lose it before offering to take her almost empty cup back to the bar. She nods, wishing you a farewell.

As you’re making your way over to the bar, someone knocks into you and the small amount of liquid left in Sarah’s cup splashes onto your chest. You scoff, turning to tell whoever bumped into you to watch where they’re going. You’re met with a pair of piercing green eyes, and suddenly your words get caught in your throat. All you manage is a scoff and a quick “fuck you” before handing him the cup and walking out. 

You stand outside of the bar, leaning up against the brick wall of the building as you order an Uber for the ride home. The stench of alcohol is radiating from your shirt, and you almost gag at the smell. Beer has never been your favorite, and you have absolutely no clue how Sarah can drink it.

You place the order and go to stand on the sidewalk to wait for the car to pull up. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” The voice seems to carry through the entire street.

“What the fuck do you want, Harry?” you snap. The chuckle that he releases at your words makes your blood boil.

“Just wondering why you’re avoiding me, love.” You don’t have to turn to know that he has a smirk plastered on his face.

“Do you have a degradation kink or something?” Your words have their desired effect as he all but chokes on the air. 

“Um, no. Why? You trying to turn me on, darling?” You roll your eyes.

“Absolutely not.” How can he be so fucking annoying all the time? “I’m just wondering why you continuously pester me after I tell you how much of a dick you are and that I absolutely cannot fucking stand you.”

“Because normally when you do that, you find some way to compliment me. And I think it’s funny how flustered you get when you realize what you said.” You hear him walk closer to you, but you keep your eyes locked straight ahead of you.

“So you have a praise kink.”

When he speaks, his breath hits your ear. Fuck, you didn’t know he had gotten that close. You have to fight the shiver that’s threatening to run down your spine. You can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s having any kind of effect on you. “Do you want to test it out?”

You scoff, stepping away from him. “You fucking wish, Harry.”

He hums. “Maybe, maybe not.”

You finally turn to him. After seeing him, though, you begin to regret your decision. Seeing him like this, in a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans, hair forming his face in the most perfect way, isn’t doing you any good.

“I’m not going to be your temporary fix, Harry. Go find someone else to give you a good time.” He puts on an exaggerated pout. “I don’t even like you as a friend, so stop fucking around like that. It pisses me off.”

Before he can say anything else, your Uber arrives and you check the plates before getting in the backseat and shutting the door, effectively blocking him out.

What he would have said if your Uber hadn’t pulled up, though, is something that Harry decides you’ll never get to know. Because just when he was about to say, “I’d want you to be more than temporary,” you found a way to break his heart yet again.

*

The Uber driver has continuously given you looks since you got into the car. His nose scrunched up the moment that you closed the door, and honestly, you can’t blame him. You smell like cheap beer and probably look like an absolute mess. He’s most likely just checking to make sure that you don’t look like you’re about to throw up all over his backseat. 

You roll your eyes, trying your best to ignore him. It’s not even your fault that you’re like this right now, it’s Harry’s.

Harry, who you absolutely despise with every bit of your being. He’s been an arrogant, selfish dick since the very day that you met. He only cares about things when they include them,  constantly dropping comments about his success, and always finding a way to insert himself into any and every situation. You can’t seem to get away from him. He seems to be around no matter what you try (at first, you thought it was a coincidence, but now you’re convinced that he just does it to get on your nerves).

Harry, who’s so fucking annoying and unbearable but also so hot that he makes your mouth all but water. He can draw a reaction from you without even trying. Harry, who you’re so fucking attracted to despite hating him, and that fact makes you hate him even more.

It shouldn’t be like this. You shouldn’t be attracted to someone that makes your blood boil. 

I’m just drunk, you repeat to yourself as you push the thought of Harry as far out of your mind as you possibly can.

*

You groan as you walk out of the kitchen. 

“Y/N you know I’m right!” Sarah yells after you. “Stop trying to avoid it.”

Plopping down on Sarah’s black faux leather couch, you roll your eyes even though she can’t see it. “You’re delusional, Sarah!”

She doesn’t say anything until she comes into the living room and sits on the couch next to you. She has a bowl of chips in her hands. When you go to grab one, she pulls the bowl from your reach. 

“Admit it, you and Harry would be absolutely great together.” You could scream. She’s so adamant about the idea, but there’s no way that she could be right.

“Dude, we hate each other. What do you mean? What do you expect from us in a relationship if we can’t even be in the same room together for more than a few minutes without arguing.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair.

“I know, I know! But Y/N, come on. The two of you are so compatible.” You laugh at her words. How could she possibly think that when she sees the way the two of you interact.

“How so?” you ask, just to entertain her theory and let her get her thoughts out.

“Okay, hear me out. You both like music, right? He sings, you write songs. That’s literally perfect right there, even if you were just friends.” You nod, not saying anything. “You’re always talking about how you want to do hair and nails and stuff for your friends and I know that he’d let you paint his nails and play with his hair.” You had in fact been telling her these things, but you weren’t aware that she would choose to use them to try and set you up with Harry. “You’re both really funny and smart. You guys talk about a lot of the same things, too. It’s just never when you’re around each other.”

“Alright, yeah, that makes some sense.” She perks up slightly but you hold a finger up, motioning for her to wait a moment before getting her hopes up. “It makes sense, but you’re forgetting a few things. I couldn’t write songs for, or even with, Harry. He’d find something wrong with him just like he does now. He’d nitpick them until there was nothing that I could find about the song that he didn’t hate.” You sigh, thinking back to what she had just said. “We’d have to be too close to each other for me to mess around with his hair or nails and you know that every time we get within a few feet of each other, there’s some kind of fight that always gets started,” you trail off, giving her a chance to speak.

“Are you going to give me a reason why the last example of why you’re perfect for each other is incorrect?” She groans when you nod.

“Yeah, actually. We may like the same things and be funny and smart or whatever, but there’s no way that we’d be able to talk to each other.” 

“Why?” 

“His communication issues.” She throws her head back and obnoxiously groans.

“He doesn’t have communication issues.”

You burst out laughing. “He’s an Aquarius. Of course he does, right on top of those commitment issues.”

She rolls her eyes at you. “Whatever, Y/N. One of these days you’re going to understand that the two of you are quite literally a match made in Heaven.”

“Not likely,” you mumble before reaching for the remote and finding a movie to put on.

*

“Wait, what?” Mitch is looking at Harry like he’s grown a second head.

“You guys were right. Always have been, really, I just couldn’t say it before now.” Harry gulps, waiting for the ‘I told you so.’ It doesn’t come, though.

“Fuck, dude, I’m so sorry.” Harry shrugs it off.

“Not letting it get to me anymore. I’m tired of letting her break my heart.” He curses himself when tears begin to line his eyes.

“If I had known you really felt that way I would have backed off.” Harry nods at his words. “Sarah would’ve too.”

“It’s fine, Mitch, really. I just, I’m just tired, you know? It’s like there’s a magnetic force pulling me to her but every time I try to get close she shows me, yet again, that she can’t stand me.” He’s never been ashamed to show his feelings, and right now isn’t when he’s going to start. He lets his tears fall down his face as he leans back against the chair he’s sitting in.

“I really didn’t know, H. Normally I can tell when you like someone but it wasn’t like that this time.” Harry nods at him.

“You get pretty good at hiding your feelings when you’re hiding heartbreak after heartbreak.” He’s silent for a moment. “Should I cut off my hair?”

“If you want. But don’t do it just because you’re sad or you’ll regret it.” Harry closes his eyes as he debates the decision. A part of him wants to do it anyway, make the sadness go away for a moment as the exhilaration of a new haircut sinks in, but the rational part of him knows that Mitch is right.

As he sits there with tear stained cheeks, new droplets wetting his face every few seconds, he really wishes that he could hate you. He wishes that he could find anything to hate about you. But when he searches his brain for a reason to dislike you, he comes up empty. It’s frustrating, really. You seem to hate everything about him while he can’t hate a single thing when it comes to you.

He hears Mitch get up, presumably to go get something to eat, but he doesn’t open his eyes. There are a million memories with you flashing through his mind and it hurts him even more to know that every single one of them have been bad.

*

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Your voice is high pitched, some would even say a little whiny. “Sarah, you promised me that you’d sing the song for me.”

“I know, Y/N. But something urgent came up with Mitch’s family and I have to be there.” Even over the phone, you can hear how worried that she is, so you can’t really bring yourself to be upset with her.

“It’s fine, Sarah. Really, I understand.” You hear her sigh of relief and a small smile graces your face, glad that she now has one less thing to worry about. “I’ll just find someone else to do it.”

“Ask Harry.” She suggests.

“Why would I do that?” The way your mood changed was immediate and it’s almost sad, how fast he gets you worked up.

“Because, Y/N, this project is due in like two days and he’s available.” She says in her duh voice. “Plus, he can sing really well, so just ask him. The worst thing he can say is no.”

“That’s a lie. The worst thing he can say is yes.” Sarah laughs before wishing you good luck and hanging up.

You groan, thinking about what Sarah said. She’s right, honestly. There’s nobody else that you’re going to find on such short notice, especially not one that can sing as good as Harry can. Admitting to yourself that you need him (which is something you never thought you’d say), you pick up your phone and click on his contact.

“Y/N?” His voice sounds deeper than usual, a little raspier, too. Almost like he just got out of bed. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t have an effect on you, the way your name sounds coming out of his mouth when he sounds like that.

“I need your help.” You grimace at the words.

“Alright. What do you need.” Your mind races, trying to figure out why he didn’t have a sarcastic comment or a snarky remark to throw at you. You ignore it for now, though.

“I need you to sing a song that I wrote for a project.” He hums, and you can picture him pulling his bottom lip between his fingers and then running his hand through his curls.

“Okay, when do you need me?” 

“Does tomorrow work? Around noon?” You hold your breath as you hope for the best.

“Yeah, I’ll be at your place then.”

You thank him and hang up, letting your phone fall from your hand down onto the couch. Harry Styles, the man that you swear you hate, is coming to your house tomorrow. 

*

When he arrives the next day, you almost immediately hand him the song and let him read over it, not necessarily wanting to spend any more time with him than needed. When he says he has a few suggestions, you’re terrified that he’s going to tell you how awful he is, but he actually only has a few suggestions to help with the flow of things. Besides that, he promises that it’s a really good song. 

You go to grab your camera and set it up while he strums on the guitar that he brought. Once you’re ready to begin filming, he sets the paper with the lyrics on it to the side and nods.

He begins singing after the camera has started recording and you get entranced by him almost immediately. His eyes close as soon as the first word leaves him mouth and with them shut you feel much more comfortable while looking at him. His hair is flowing all around him and you have the intense urge to tuck the strands behind his ears. There’s a small crease between his brows, that of which she wants to smooth out with a kiss to his forehead. He seems so concentrated, and something about it pulls at her heartstrings.

You shake your head. He’s your enemy, remember? you think to yourself as you divert your eyes to somewhere else in the room. 

After you’ve looked away you find yourself wondering why. Why do you hate Harry so much, really? Yeah he can be arrogant and cocky and rude but who isn’t? Yeah he talks about his famous life and his awards and chart placements a lot, but you would do the same in his shoes.

Plus, he really is pretty funny now that you stop to really think about it. He’s all the things that Sarah had told you over the past few months, and you can’t believe that you didn’t realize until now. You don’t hate Harry, you’ve been convincing yourself that you do to hide the way that you really feel about him.

You’re broken from your thoughts when he clears his throat. Once you turn to him, there’s a smirk on his face. “Could feel you watching me, love.”

Your cheeks burn at the statement. Regardless of the truth in it, you’re still not very keen on admitting that you were ogling him only minutes prior. 

“It’s alright, I find myself looking at you sometimes, too.” You don’t say anything to that, and the room falls quiet. 

With that stupid smirk, that’s way too hot for it to natural and fair, he picks up his keys and his coat and walks to your front door. “See you later, sweetheart.”

You raise your hand in a pathetic half wave goodbye and try your best to smile. As he opens the door, cold air sweeps through the room and you can see the snowflakes falling outside. “Great, there’s a storm.” He groans, but still continues to walk out the door.

“Harry, wait!” He stops, turning to face you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Um… leaving?” He gestures towards his car that’s most likely covered in snow by now.

“Not in this weather you’re not.” Your voice grows hard as you glare at him. You know that he’d most likely rather not be around you, but there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to allow him to risk his life by driving home.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t put up a fight, he just shuts the door and shrugs his coat back off. He hesitantly comes back over to take a seat on the couch. You stay silent, struggling to find the words to say.

“So, um, do you want to watch something?” He asks after a few minutes of nearly unbearable silence.

“Yeah, I’ve been watching Lucifer on Netflix, but if you don’t want to watch that, we can watch a movie or something.” You offer, looking over at him.

“Yeah, we can watch that.” You grab the remote from the table and walk over to sit next to him on the couch. 

Pulling up Netflix and starting Lucifer, you let your eyes wander to Harry for a split second before noticing that he’s already looking at you. You immediately divert your gaze. Your cheeks begin to heat up, but you try your best to ignore it.

*

After watching almost an entire season of Lucifer, you’re just about ready to go to bed. You’ve gotten increasingly more comfortable beside Harry and you’ve even started to lean into him slightly. Not a single part of your body is touching yours, but you can tell that you’ve gotten closer.

You’re about to get up and brush your teeth when the lights go out. You groan, throwing your head back against the back of the couch. “Great, power’s out.”

He doesn’t say anything, just hums in response. 

“Stay where you are. I know where the candles and the flashlight is, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to get around.” You stand up, feeling your way through the living room towards the kitchen. Opening the cabinet closest to the wall, you pull out the three candles and the flashlight. Fuck, you forgot that there are only two candles. That’s not enough for there to be one in the hallway on the table, in the bathroom, and in the living room for Harry. And fuck, your extra blankets are in the washer.

You shake your head, lighting the candles and walking to the bathroom to place one down, and then through to the hallway to do the same. Making your way back to the kitchen, you pick up the flashlight and switch it on.

Once you reach the living room again, you clear your throat. “Okay, bad news. There were only two candles, and they need to be in the hallway and the bathroom.” You cough awkwardly. “Also, my extra blankets are dirty and I don’t want you to lay out here in the dark and freeze to death so,” your voice gets quieter, “do you maybe wanna come lay with me?”

He chokes on his spit and then clears his throat. “Um, yeah, yeah, sure. If that’s okay with you, of course. Remember, I can always go home.” You shake your head as his words.

“Nonsense, come on.”

Once the two of you are in your room, you climb into your bed and wait for Harry to do the same. Neither of you say a word as you get comfortable as you try to get to sleep. Without the heater working and there only being one blanket, though, it’s a little hard to stay warm and comfortable. “Um, Harry, I- can I- you- can we maybe… fuck I don’t know.”

You feel him turn towards you. “Are you cold, love?”

“Yeah.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, letting you lay your head on his chest and wrap yourself up in his embrace. His arms come to wrap around you and one hand finds its way to your hair as the other rests on your hip.

As you bask in his warmth, you try your best to not let yourself think about the way that you feel so perfectly comfortable in his arms. About how he smells so divine and he’s so warm that you’d be content with never leaving his embrace. About how, without even realizing it, you’ve been letting yourself believe that you hate Harry when really you’re in love with him. However, you’ll never tell him that. Not a chance. If there’s one thing that you absolutely will not do, it’s let Harry Styles break your heart.

*

When you open your eyes the next morning, you’re still in Harry’s arms. He isn’t awake yet, so you let yourself appreciate the way that his hair is tickling your face and the way that his arms are holding you tightly to his body. You let yourself enjoy the way that he’s got ahold of you like he can’t bear to lose you. 

You know that when he opens his eyes, everything is going to go back to normal. You’ll have to hate him again and he’ll pretend that none of this ever happened. That thought shouldn’t hurt you as much as it does.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by his voice. “Mornin’, love. Did you sleep well?”

You nod, all but entranced in the way that his voice is so much raspier when he first wakes up. “Sorry for being all over you, it was cold last night.” 

You go to move away from him, but he keeps you hugged to him. “Don’t apologize, like having you here, dove.” The words confuse you, but you don’t question them. Instead, you let yourself relax back into him.

Everything is silent for a few minutes, but the air is comfortable this time. “Do you wanna go get some coffee if the roads aren’t bad?” Harry whispers.

“Yeah, sure.”

The two of you climb out of bed and get ready for the day. You let him use an extra toothbrush and once you brush through your hair, you hand the tool to him. He gives a small “thanks” and gets to work on taming his hair as you walk out of the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he’s walking towards the living room with his keys and then he’s leading you out the door to his car.

The ride to the coffee shop is silent besides the hum of the radio, neither of you really knowing what to say.

Once the two of you slide into a booth at the little diner that he drove you to, you order a coffee and something as he does the same.

“So, tell me about yourself, Y/N. I don’t really know much about you.”

You hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out what to tell him.

“I write. My job is to write articles for this company. But I’m still in school technically, so I’m taking online classes to finish getting my degree. I like songwriting. Um, I think that’s about it.” Your cheeks heat up as you tell him about yourself, although none of the things that you’re listing are embarrassing.

“Why haven’t you ever talked about your songwriting before?” He ponders, placing his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand.

“Um, you hate me. Or.. hated me? I don’t know. I don’t want you to tear it apart just because you’re some hotshot writer. Or because you hate me.”

He pulls back, looking down. “Never hated you.”

“What?” You had to have heard that wrong.

“Ever stop to think why I was only rude when you got rude first?”

Your jaw drops as you think it over. “No, um, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, well. I never hated you.”

“So, you’re telling me that I hated you and you just… never hated me?” He grimaces.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He offers you a soft smile. “It’s fine.”

Throughout the next few hours, you sit there with Harry and talk about any and everything that comes to your mind. He pays for the bill, although you insist on letting you help. As you’re walking out to his car and he’s about to drive you home, he stops. “Um, hey would you maybe want to hang out some more?”

The question takes you by surprise, but you agree nonetheless. “Yeah, I actually would really like that.”

He nods, climbing into the car as you smile to yourself.

*

It’s been six months since you made Harry stay over at your house because of that pesky snowstorm, and you’ve never been more thankful for the weather.

You’ve spent the majority of your time together, going out to eat when possible and staying over at your house most nights. His is too big, as you’ve always said, so for the simple sleepovers, you insisted that he came over to yours. You’ve grown closer and closer to him, and now you can confidently say that he’s your best friend.

Along with the growing friendship, your feelings have gotten deeper. There’s not a single part of you can deny that you’re absolutely, head over heels in love with Harry. And you don’t want to anymore. You still don’t want to tell him, but you’re no longer lying to yourself in the slightest.

Today is the only day thus far that you’ve even slightly regretted how close that you’ve become with Harry. And that’s because you’re currently standing at the airport, head buried into his chest as you try to find a way to say goodbye for the next six months. 

“Don’t want you to go.” You whine as you hold him as close as you possibly can.

He murmurs a “fuck it” before pulling away from you.

“Come with me.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “I know, it sounds crazy. Absolutely ridiculous. But listen, we’ll go home, back to your place and we’ll pack your bags and then we’ll go. I’ll reschedule my flight. I- I can’t do this without you, Y/N.” He reaches up and runs a hand through his curls (which you’d begged him to let you braid, but he said it was easier to have it down for flights). “Listen, you’re my rock. I- I feel like I can breathe when you’re around me. Fuck, Y/N, I’m in love with you.” 

You freeze, completely shocked by the words that fell from his mouth.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that. That was stupid. Forget I ever said anything.” He’s rambling because he thinks there’s no way that you can feel the same but you do.

“I’m in love with you, H. Have been for a long time.” Before he can respond, you surge forward and grab his face in your hands. Bringing his face closer, you slot your lips with his and allow the kiss to envelop you. After a few moments, you pull back. “Let’s go home and get my bags packed.”

*

[touyasdoll]

Ash? 👀

Shouto and enemies to lovers! No details, I wanna see what you come up with, you're free to do whatever you want! 🤍❤️

Raffy? 👀 I think I actually have a wip like this that hasn’t seen the light of day in like a year lmao.

yeah, I have something I started a while ago that’s kinda like this, but it was hella vague, so I’m going to expand on it bc I honestly don’t think I’ll ever actually write it now.

warnings: this one is angsty & toxic. cheating, manipulation, revenge sex, violence. reader has a personality and it’s not always a good one.

au: altered timeline. follows canon events, but everyone’s older. Shouto’s an adult & a Pro Hero.

You’re part of the league and you’ve been with Dabi for a little over a year now. You love each other, but not healthily.

It seems like you’re always fighting for one reason or another. You make up quickly, but his jealousy is a very sore spot in your relationship, as is yours.

After a particularly nasty fight, you set out on a mission to make him jealous and you succeed with flying colors by hanging off of some new recruit all night during a party.

He deals with that by getting blackout drunk and burying his insecurities inside of someone else.

You walk in to his room at the hideout the next morning and find him in bed with someone else

The look on your face makes him realize that maybe he took things too far. No, he definitely did. He regrets it immediately and he’s hopping into his boxers to chase after you, but you’re gone.

You don’t know where to go, but you know that you can’t go back to face him, so you end up wandering the city, looking every bit as miserable as you feel.

You almost literally bump into someone, but you stop yourself before you can and apologize without looking at them, then go to continue on your way.

All of a sudden you feel a warm hand on your shoulder. One that feels almost as warm as Touya’s.

Shouto asks if you’re alright, noting that you look upset. You insist that you’re fine, but now you’re panicked bc A) he’s a hero & B) he’s Touya’s brother.

And then you realize. He’s a hero. AND he’s Touya’s brother who he despises. So when Shouto asks if you’re sure and offers to buy you a coffee, if you might like the company, you don’t hesitate to say yes.

You’re surprised to find that you actually do like him. He’s kind and charming, in a way. You know that it’s stupid. You’re running with a league of villains, so this is destined to fail. There’s no need to get attached.

There is a need to get even though. You chat and shamelessly flirt with Shouto, explaining that you’ve just had a bad day. He says that he has all day to fix that.

He’s completely taken with you. He thinks you’re gorgeous and sweet and just so easy to talk to, which is huge for him, because talking to people isn’t usually this effortless for him.

You sit there until sometime in the afternoon and he invites you to lunch where you continue your conversation.

Afterward, you stroll around until you conveniently end up near his apartment and he very nervously invited you up.

You start to feel guilty for using him to get back at his brother, because he is such a nice guy. And there’s nothing wrong with that, right? Why does Touya hate him so much anyway? He doesn’t actually even know him.

Regardless, you head up with him and you chat for a while longer before you make the bold move to sit in his lap. He’s flustered, but he doesn’t ever stop you.

You two hook up and you can’t help but compare the experience to the first time you hooked up with Touya, back when you knew him as just Dabi.

Shouto’s so sweet and careful with you. It feels like more than just a shallow hookup, but you keep telling yourself that’s all it is. That’s all it can be.

Unless….no. You can’t.

He ends up falling asleep beside you and you take a picture of you laying naked with him in bed, but when you go to send it to Touya, you can’t. You feel too guilty and Shouto has been so kind. He seems so understanding. Maybe if you tell him the truth..

You don’t. But you also don’t leave and you don’t send the photo. You stay and reason that maybe this could be a fresh start. He doesn’t have to know who you really are and you can leave Touya and the League in your rear view.

Except you’re not getting away from Touya that easily. He gives you space, reluctantly at first, but then he actually tries to live without you. Out of pure spite, of course. Especially when he hears a rumor that you’re dating a pro hero.

When he realizes after a couple months that all the meaningless sex and substances in the world can’t replace you, he goes looking for you. He’s shocked and enraged to find that the rumors are true and that you’re dating his brother of all people. But he reasons that he deserves it after what he did to you.

He tracks you down at your new apartment and waita for Shouto to leave before he lets himself in through the window.

You’re less than surprised to see him. You’d been expecting him to turn up eventually, but what you don’t expect is that he doesn’t seem angry.

He’s not all fire and brimstone like he usually is. He seems genuinely remorseful and he actually starts begging you to come back. Says that he loves you and that he knows he hasn’t proven that. That he hasn’t done with the right way, if he wants to. Says he needs you. That he’ll fix things if you’ll please just give him once last chance.

And you do. Despite the fact that you’ve come to realize that you love Shouto, you love Touya and he seems like he means what he says. So you ghost Sho. You block his number and disappear to be with Dabi again.

It devastates him. He doesn’t know what he didn doesn’t understand what went wrong. He agonized over it for months.

Until Touya’s big reveal.

You’re there to witness his fight with Shouto and you know that he’ll try to kill him, so you get between them. You tell Touya the truth. That you slept with Shouto initially to get back at him, but that you fell in love with him.

You beg for him to spare Shouto and swear that you’ll never forgive him if he hurts him and he just looks at you, a tear of blood on his cheek and asks, “Why? Why him of all people?!”

Meanwhile Shouto is just being emotionally beaten with one trauma after another and this is the icing on the cake. He snaps and tries to capture you, swearing that you’ll rot in prison where you belong, but Touya grabs you and you escape.

You and Touya never speak of the incident again, but it leaves an obvious gap between you two.

Shouto spends the next few weeks coming to terms with his anger. He knew that he loved you. He had debated telling you so the day that you left and he wishes he had. He wonders if maybe you’d still be here with him.

He reasons that you’re a good person. He knows that. He saw it. You’re good and kind and you deserve better than the life you’re living.

So he reaches out to you again a nod is surprised to find his number isn’t blocked. He calls and texts and begs you to meet with him, but it doesn’t take much for you to agree.

You slip out one night and remain oblivious to the fact that Touya has followed you. He slips in through the bedroom window when you go up to Sho’s apartment to speak with him and listens in to your conversation, as tough as it is for him to hear.

Shouto doesn’t let you speak. He says that you don’t need to. He understands and he believes that you are a good person who can do good things. He wants to help you and get you on the right path, so that you can be safe and happy. That’s all he wants for you, even if he can’t be with you, because he loves you too.

That’s when Touya bursts in and sucker punches him. Starts beating the ever living fuck out of him. Sho gets in a few shots, but neither of them will use their quirks with you standing so close.

You try to pry Touya off of him, begging him to stop. He knocks Shouto out and goes to continue beating him to death when you throw yourself over Shouto’s unconscious body.

You look up at Touya with tears and promise that you’ll be his. You say that you love him and you’ll never leave. You’ll always be his if he will just let him live.

Only this time he realizes that you’ll never just be his. That you can’t be. That you shouldn’t be. He vibrates with rage and blue flames run along the right side of his body. For a second you think he’s just going to kill you both, but he doesn’t.

He turns and punches a hole through the wall as his flames recede. You can see the trickles of red tears on his cheek when he breaks down for just a moment and says that he doesn’t know what he’s going to do without you, but he knows that he can’t have you. That he shouldn’t, because you deserve everything that Shouto can give you. A home. Marriage. Kids. Happiness. He can’t offer you any of that.

“I’ll always love you, doll. Just remember that much, please,” is all he says before he goes to disappear from your life for good. You promise that you’ll always love him too and that you’re sorry things turned out this way. Maybe in another life, you could be happy together.

He clings to that thought as he goes, dreaming of a world where the two of you could have your own happy ending, because he knows that he won’t find one in this lifetime. He had hope when he was with you, but no longer.

Shouto comes to a moment later and you tend to his wounds, apologizing and telling him that everything will be okay. He just looks at you and nods, a tender smile on his face, despite the pain he must be in, and tells you that he knows it’ll be okay. He has you and that’s all he needs.

[thatsthetriick]

Y/n looking at Jojos as competitions/rivals (hcs)

Summary: You consider the Jojos a rival, and competition when it gets to grades and all, they never did anything to you but you’re just generally annoyed at them because you think they’re better than you and you’re annoyed that they are better than you, you’re not jealous just annoyed that they exceeded you. (basically enemies to lover for short) Inspiration: Based on real life thoughts with a person honestly lmaO I really think they are a compeition(they don’t know) but in the end it’s just a friendly thing. Disclaimers: Underage smoking (Just because this action is being done here it doesn’t mean you should do it too, for both my adult and teen audiences i rlly don’t recommend this and just because I used it in this fic doesn’t mean you should do it as well) , and  mentions of violence, or implied violence, drugs are also mentioned( i repeat i do not encourage these behaviours in real life) Header: Orange Other writings: Masterlist/Taglist Requests/questions: Ask/Request Box

Jojos as your Rivals

Jonathan Joestar

  ✧ God. To you he was really annoying, teachers praised him and he was a top student in the rankings and a teacher’s pet, you’d never see him complain, cry, or anything at all.

  ✧ Of course he was the class president and a student council so it annoyed you more since he was kind of like a mary sue in your eyes, the fact that he got good grades and doesn’t seem to have a hard time in the things he does really annoy you.

 ✧ You were in the top 3 top students except you’re in 3rd place and you could never beat Jonathan, moreover he’s also an athlete and you were bothered that girls were practically drooling to him. But despite this you’ll never do anything to seek revenge, you won’t embarrass him or frame him because you still have morals.

 ✧ Though you were just grumpy and passive agressive to him sometimes whenever the teacher asks him to help you, you really didn’t like receiving help from him because for you, you think that’s a sign of weakness.

 ✧ Of course you get parterned up with him a big project that was considered as your examination and you hated it. You treated it more of a individual work, but after knowing him a bit from that project you kinda like how he acted, polite, kind and patient.

  ✧ Everytime he sees you struggle and you decline for help he’ll just go behind you or besides you and either guide your hands to fix it or he’ll fix it himself and he’ll just smile afterwards, it was really cute and you’ll mentally slap yourself for liking him, were you forgetting he was rival?

 ✧ He’ll slowly consider you as a friend and he would really really feel guilty for assuming that you were a rude person base on you act towards him but he eventually thinks that you’re a kind person in the inside but a bit stubborn and he finds that cute.

 ✧ If it’s a love story you and him will secretly date and its not obvious to the world that you two are dating, you were never touchy with him in public, you two still acted the same honestly, a bit stubborness coming from you and stubborness from Jonathan because he’s really willing to help you with everything, eitherway you two only have playful fights and a few REAl arguments here an there but you two eventually make up again a few days later.

 ✧ If it’s a platonic relationship you two would be the bestest of friends and you two would have playful arguments and some people would literally ship you two because of your friendship.

 Joseph Joestar

 ✧ This guy was intelligent but lazy and yet he still gets 1st place in the class as a top student with A+ grades, and you found it also annoying that he was naturally talented and effortlessly got them, you sometimes wonder if he cheats.

 ✧ And because you think he cheats you go out of your way to site his essays and public works to see if he uses references or anything, but no this guy is just naturally talented and you felt like he didn’t deserve especially with his laid off attitude.

 ✧ Now you don’t show your passive aggressive side to him because you know better not to make him think that you’re literally angry at him, for you he’s just a competition and another boss level to defeat, it’s not personal just a fun thing you do so you don’t take out your anger out on him.

 ✧ He is also an athlete, of course the Joestar bloodline and legacy literally revolves around the sports they take, so it was no surprise, you on the other hand is also an athlete and you would most likely take the competition seriously whenever there’s a boys vs girls basketball game, you were the MVP let’s just say, sports was like your whole life.

 ✧ Of course there’s an annual event that the high school hosts where as every student will be competing against each other, the remaining 4 players will be the ones set out to compete to another sports festival in a different school. They will choose 4 players per sport.

 ✧ Of course you chose to marathon since you were honestly swift and that was more on your main sport, running. And it was Joseph’s as well and you two had to compete with each other among other students, he’ll say something cocky to you that is enough to motivate you to defeat him.

 ✧ Eventually you and Joseph were one of the 4 people chosen to compete in another school, and though it took awhile for you two to agree on things you two won the tournament with teamwork and ever since then your friend consists of constant and non stop teasing and playful banters.

 ✧ “What do you mean? I clearly made our team win!” he’d say and you’d just roll your eyes at his cockiness. Though you’d retort with something cocky as well.

Jotaro Kujo

 ✧ You honestly don’t know why this guy was even a top student he often gets into fights and the teachers just shrug it off,  you find it annoying he gets to answer everything before you and finish quizzes before you and you get so pissed and can’t understand why is he quick and he doesn’t seem like a type to review.

 ✧ He’s pissed at every fangirl he has and he is pissed at you sometimes as well because you try avoiding him, yeah he’s aware of your competitiveness and he doesn’t really care that much.

 ✧ But you do so you basically you’re like legit pissed at him and you think that he also doesn’t deserve his intelligence since he’s just wasting it away by smoking cigarettes at the back of the school and fighting people it was honestly annoying and you wish you had his intelligence at the same time.

 ✧ Unlike the others maybe in this one you’re being constantly pressured by high grades so you started smoking as well to relieve your stress, you’d somberly sulk at the back of the school as well smoking your problems away it made you feel calm for some reason.   ✧ He sees you there and mumbles a “Tch” while he adjusts his cap and walk near you and light up his cigarette and doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t honestly care what you were doing, anyone was allowed to do anything they want to do so he left you there.  ✧ Honestly he started getting concerned of you when you were often doing it, even he knew that too much is too much. “ That’s enough” he’ll say and take your cigarette pack away, “Touche” you’ll just roll your eyes and walk away. He’d always stop you from smoking, you were getting addicted honestly and it’s not helping since every minute you were getting stressed out.  ✧ When you’re not listening to him he’ll agressively tell you to “cut it off bitch.” or something along those lines, and you didn’t really know he was a person who hid his feelings so you snapped and scolded him that you were a mess because of him  and took out all of your anger and left honestly.  ✧ He couldn’t care less what you said about him and tried to accompany you at the back of the school or in the rooftops everytime it’s break or the end of classes, he didn’t speak that much but he was a good listener and constantly listened to your problems, eventually this is a routine and you treasured every second of it.  ✧ It became a thing that you two basically  sit on the rooftop talking to each other, from then on he’d accompany you outside of school as well and you two would hangout and it would be nice quiet moments when he’s around, he’s also a very protective friendship. Josuke Higashikata  ✧ This guy really doesn’t care about his grades and yet he gets high score it was also annoying that teachers adore him, and that every girl adores him as well. Unfortunately you two were partners for a spelling Bee. Only professors were allowed to choose who participates, and though Josuke might not be accurate with his english pronounciations and spellings he still had high grades and it annoyed you that he got to participate his weak subjects just because he has high grades.  ✧ Honestly he’d hate it as well and would just play games all day long instead of studying or anything, and during the spelling bee he didn’t help at all and you were pissed at him. Even though you were softly and passive agressively scolding him he didn’t get mad back and just said a “Okay okay! I’m sorry.” he’ll apologize and try to study but he’ll get distracted.  ✧ Teachers still continued to praise him and gave no praise to you at all even though you carried your partner to the finish line, that’s why you hated Josuke, he was loved by everyone and you never understood why, was it his personality? Smarts? What was it?   ✧ From that then you’ll break into his house with no permission and catch him playing video games. You’ll scold him to study the words and act like a strict teacher towards him, he dozed off a lot and was laid back and distracted, yet he was still able to answer some of them.  ✧ This is why you didn’t like him he was too laid back and didn’t seem to take things seriously, because of this you suggested a break and he went back t o playing his video games and getting frustrated, and even though you were tight while teaching him he was kind enough to still offer you to play with him. You were going to decline but you still accepted it.  ✧ This is where you saw his true personality, he talked about a lot of things and you two ended up having fun as you two play, you didn’t mind this moment and you’d want it to treasure it forever honestly. You brought up your personality as well to him, you started showing your true colors and he really liked the fact that you weren’t an overbearing person at all.  ✧ ever since then you two manage to win the competitions and manage to play at the same time. You two became the bestest friends which was unexpected since you considered him as a rival, though you’re still annoyed because everytime you ask him to teach you he’ll teach really badly and you wouldn’t understand anything from him. Giorno Giovanna   ✧ This guy was a quiet yet smart type, he often sits at the back of the class dazing off the window and yet still able to answer questions of the teacher even when not paying attention.   ✧ Though you compete with him you know not to mess with him honestly, though a lot of really negative rumours constantly spread about him. Like his family problem and things like that so you pity him at some times.  ✧ Girls adore him, something about the Joestars getting fangirls annoys you a lot. They baby him, and even though sometimes he gets annoyed and straightforwadly tells them to go away sometimes he’d entertain them and be kind. Teachers always saw him as a role model student it makes you barf.  ✧He’ll also probably hangout with his school gang, nobody knows what this gang does honestly, the teachers just leave him be just because they want to just leave him be and they’re too naive; thinking that it’s just a normal innocent gang where it’s a group of kids hanging out.  ✧ You caught up his ‘gang’ beating up someone and since you were a witness he saw you as a immediate threat(or so you though) and this quiet kid did a whole 180 with his personality and looked at you menacingly.  ✧ You don’t know how to approach him that you won’t tell anyone you’ve witnessed and always ran away everytime he approaches you or everytime his gang approaches you. Now your rivalary and competiting against grades is now ruined because this guy could always beat you anyday when it gets to physical fights, or so you thought.  ✧ You always ate lunch at the rooftop so he kind of took this opportunity to calmly sit besides you and talk to you about what you saw, he just wanted to give you context so that you wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Apparently that guy was an adult selling drugs to a bunch of graduating elementary kids.  ✧ You were relieved he wasn’t gonna beat you up and put you in the sewers, you took this time to also talk to him to actually see he was a nice guy, a gentle man and that you thought he was a cocky student because you always assumed him like that, not only that but you assumed him being a playboy as well since he gets so much attention.  ✧ You confess all of this to him and he let’s out a quick chuckle and you just laugh as you confess all of your thoughts and competitiveness against him, he was a good listenered actually, and didn’t take it really personally, he knew deep inside that you were a good person even though before you used to give him a scary glare when you two didn’t talk yet.  ✧ From that day on you start catching up to him in the hallways and talk and all his fangirls would practically hate you and give you glares as you two are having a good time.  ✧ He’ll make sure you’re out of his school gang businesses and arguments with other gangs, he may not say or sometimes express it but he always cares for you and tries to be supportive in littliest ways such as listening and remembering to every detail you tell him.  ✧ you’d still playfully compete with him and if he wins you’re okay with it unlike before

Thanks for reading! Reqs are open! My only requirements is no nsfw and probbably not part 5 yet since im not there hihi.(P.s I do canon x oc :) ) Sorry for not uploading for awhile

[sunmoonandeddie]

as long as i’m living

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 4,097

summary: Battles are always hard, especially the aftermath and what’s left behind.

warnings: Parent death.  Cussing.  Violence.  Angst.  Hurt to comfort.

a/n:  Lmao I don’t always get the motivation to write, but when I do...  Please let me know what you guys think.

There’s a certain feeling that lingers in the air in the ending moments of the battle.  When the dust has started to settle and you’re not quite sure whether or not that was the last of your enemy or if you need to prepare for another wave.  The wariness clung to your skin like sweat as you look around, heart still racing a million miles an hour.

The scent of blood hadn’t yet been overtaken by the scent of death, but it wouldn’t be long before it did.  It’s tangy and metallic and you could just choke on it.

This particular battle was at a Hydra base, and the reptilians that you’d been fighting for hours covered the ground.

As you looked around and your eyes met a pair of lifeless orbs, you’re reminded that even though they were horrible, despicable people, they were still people.

They were human.

Their blood ran just as red as yours, their fingerprints a pattern just as unique as yours.  There would never be someone just like them.  There would never be someone with the same marks on their skin, their moles and freckles and stretchmarks.  They wouldn’t have the same experiences or memories, and the ones that the people on the ground had were gone forever.

But you scoffed as your eyes made out the Hydra symbol on an agent’s shirt.

Hydra’s members might’ve had the bodies of humans, but every single one of them had a monster’s mind.

You couldn’t bring yourself to believe there was anything human about choosing a life of killing people in the name of hatred, of taking down mankind.

But the worst part of the aftermath of a battle was when you had to comb through after to find survivors.  You had to take those that had survived in for questioning and then they were usually thrown into a prison cell for the rest of their lives.

“Honey?”

A good amount of the tension that resided in your chest and leaked out into your shoulders released as you heard the sound of your lover’s voice.

“Bucky,” you breathed out in relief as he came down the hall.

But there was protocol that had to be followed.

He stopped six feet away, taking a breath.  “How many dates did it take before I kissed you?” He asked.

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.  “Four.  And I kissed you first because you were too nervous.”

Security questions.  Things only you and your teammates would know.  The lot of you had been through enough cases of stolen identities and imposters attempting to infiltrate the team for you to go without them.

The hunk of a man that you called yours rushed forward and cupped your face like you were made of fine china before kissing you soundly.

Every logical thought left your head as you melted against him.  Butter.  That’s what you were anytime he touched you.  Fucking melted butter.

You had never thought that you’d meet someone that could make you feel so at home until you’d met him four years before.  It had taken you a little while to let him in, and most people were surprised when they found out that he was the one that was breaking down your walls and not the other way around.

“You okay?” He asked, even as he was already pulling back to check you over.  He lifted your arms to check for any injuries before doing the same to each leg while letting you lean on him.  A sly smile spread over his face as he then began to pat down your tummy and your back, ending with playfully squeezing your ass.

You knew part of it was actually to look for injuries, but the bigger point of it was him trying to unfurrow your brow and relax, to get you to laugh.

And it worked every time.

But a whimper cut through the air and you froze.  “What was that?” You asked as your head whipped towards the direction it had come from.

“I’m not sure,” Bucky said, his hand going to the gun that rested in his holster.  “Wait he—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, you were rushing towards the sound.

You had a gut feeling that it wasn’t an enemy.  That hadn’t been the sound of a cold-hearted Hydra agent.

“M-Mommy?”

Heart hammering, you stopped in the doorway of what looked like a mini laboratory, stopping in your tracks as you saw the scene laid out before you.

You jerked awake as you heard the sirens going off, the alarms.  You’d been through enough safety drills to know that they meant trouble.

Your mother reached for you, her loving hands picking you up and wrapping you in a warm blanket.  “There we go…  There’s my baby girl.  All nice and warm,” she cooed.

Why was she in her work suit?  You didn’t understand…  She wasn’t supposed to work until morning, right?

The only light in the room was coming from the window, moonlight streaming in and landing on your bed, where your pile of stuffed animals rested.

“Mama?” You yawned, eyes still fuzzy from sleep.  “Mama, what’s going on?”

“We’re gonna play a game, okay?” She whispered, bringing her finger to her lips in a shushing motion.  There was a look in her eyes that you couldn’t name.  It was a foreign wobble in her lower lips, a glassiness in her eyes.

The fabric of her black suit was rough as you clung to her.  “What kind of game, mama?  I’m tired…  Why can’t I go back to bed?”

She grabbed your favorite stuffed animal from the bed, a stuffed elephant named Pinky, and placed her in your arms.  “Because we gotta, okay?” She said, a tear trickling down her cheek.

For some reason, the tone of her voice got you to stop complaining, and you nodded.  In your short life, you’d never seen her so… panicked.

Your mother plastered on a smile as she carried you to the miniscule kitchen of your apartment, over to the lazy Susan in the corner.  “We’re gonna play a game of hide and seek, okay?  And we gotta win, yeah?  You like winning.”

That was true.  You’d had a bit of a competitive streak.

After you confirmed what she said with a nod, she hugged you tight, tighter than you’d ever been hugged before.  “Mama loves you so much,” she said, tears openly rolling down her cheeks as she pressed kisses all over your face.  “You know how much mama loves you?  More than anything.  More than the moon and all the stars in the sky.”

Her sadness was starting to spill into you as you looked at her, your chubby hands holding onto her cheeks.  “M-Mama?  Mama, what’s happening?”

“Everything’s gonna be okay, baby girl.  Mama loves you.  And I’m always gonna love you and I’m always gonna be here for you, okay?” She said, sniffling as she wiped at your eyes.  “No more tears, okay?  No crying in hide and seek, yeah?  We gotta win and we can’t win if we’re crying.”

“I love you, mama,” you said, feeling the overwhelming urge to tell her over and over.  “I love you.”

“I know, baby girl,” she said with a weak laugh as she kissed your cheeks.  She opened up the door of the corner cabinet, pushing everything inside back to make enough room for a four year old.  Your mother wrapped you and Pinky up in the blanket a little tighter, a weak smile on her lips.  “You’re gonna hide in here, okay?  And you’re gonna go all the way to the back, yeah?”  She set you in the cabinet, holding your face in her hands.  “And listen.  Look at me.  Look at me.  You have to be completely silent.  No noise at all, okay?  We gotta win hide and seek.”

Your brows furrowed as you started to get out of the cabinet.  “B-But I wanna hide with you, mama.  Where are you hiding?  Who are we playing with?”

She shook her head as she urged you back into the cabinet.  “Shh…  Shh…”  She glanced back towards the front door before looking back at you.  There were footsteps running by outside, but so far no one had attempted to come in.  

“Mama?” You whispered, your eyes round with fear as you glanced towards the door.  “W-Who are we playing with?”

The shaky breath she took alarmed you.  “It’s a surprise, okay?” She said as she got you to sit back down in the cabinet. “But listen.  Mama needs you to cover your ears, yeah?  And no coming out or peeking until the sirens stop or I come and get you, okay?”

A nod.  “O-Okay, mama…”

She pressed her lips to your forehead, and you could feel her tears on your scalp.  “I love you so much, baby girl.  So much.”  Your mother closed the cabinet door after urging you to scoot towards the back, Pinky clutched to your chest.

The cabinet was pitch black except for the little sliver of light that came from the crack at the bottom of the door.

Heart pounding, you covered your ears just like she said, squeezing your eyes shut for good measure.

You could hear the blood pounding in your ears.  Despite your mother reassuring you that everything was going to be okay, you couldn’t stop crying.

There were random bangs here and there, and then you heard the banging on the front door of your apartment.  There was another bang, and then a loud thud, like a door being slammed against the wall.

You couldn’t quite hear what else was happening as you sat inside the cabinet.  Pinky’s soft fur and the warmth of the blanket was the only comfort you had.

There was a commotion outside, but your mother’s words rang in your ears.  No peeking or uncovering your ears or getting out of the cabinet until the sirens stopped or she came and got you.

But this was bad.  Really bad.  You could feel it in your gut.

Your mother had always told you to trust your gut, but you could tell this wasn’t the time.

But maybe just a peek wouldn’t hurt…  You just wanted to know what was going on.

Palms sweaty, you opened the door just a crack to peek out into the kitchen.  Your blood ran cold as you saw your mother pointing a gun at a man that was standing in the doorway.

“Get the fuck out,” she snarled.  You’d always known she was a powerful woman, a lioness, but you’d never gotten to see it in person.

The man sneered, the look of the devil in his eyes as he shifted his gun in his grip.  “You’re not the one in charge here, are you?  Not exactly one to be giving orders.”  He turned his head slightly as someone spoke into his earpiece.  The look that settled over his face was horrifying.  “It’s not personal,” he said as his finger twitched on the trigger.  A loud bang echoed throughout the room, your hand slapping over your mouth as you fought the scream that bubbled up in your throat.

Blood splattered across the pristine white cabinets of your kitchen as your mother fell.  Her knees made a thud as she cried out, falling onto her side.  There was an indent on one of the cabinets where the bullet had hit after it exited her lower back.

“Like I said,” the man said with a snort.  “It’s not personal.”  He left with his boots thudding against the tiled floor, leaving the door open.

Your entire body was trembling as you pushed the cabinet door open, your heart racing.  “M-Mama?” You said as you slowly left the cabinet.  “Mama?”

She had curled up on the ground, pressing her hands to the entry wound on her tummy.  “B-Baby girl…  Y-You need to g-get back in the cabinet, okay?”

Shaking your head, you crawled towards her, not caring that your purple pajama pants were getting soaked.  Your lower lip wobbled as you went to her side.  “Mama?  Y-You’re hurt.”  You needed to get help.  You had to.

You had started to get to your feet, your legs wobbling, when she grabbed your hand.  “Baby girl.  Baby.  C-Come here,” she said.  She knew there was no way she’d be able to convince you to get back in the cabinet now.  Her slender fingers, which you had always thought were so pretty and elegant, reached up to cup your face.  “It’s gonna b-be okay.  I promise.  B-But I need you to stay right here with me.”  Your mother shifted, wincing in pain.  “My baby.  I love you so, so m-much.  And I’m always g-gonna be with you.  I promise.”

“Y-You pinky promise?” You whimpered, holding up your pinky for her.

A weak smile brightened her face for just a second as she nodded, wrapping her larger pinky around yours.  “I p-pinky promise.  Now can you come over h-here?  Get real close.”

Sniffling, you moved closer to her and let her guide your head to rest over her heart.  “I love you, m-mama…  You’re gonna b-be okay, right?”

“Yes, baby.  I’m g-gonna be okay,” she said, her voice cracking.  “I love you more than the moon and all the stars in the sky.”  Her arm wrapped around you, keeping you close as she started to softly sing the lullaby she sang to you every night.  “I’ll love you forever.  I’ll like you for always.  As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be…”  It was from your favorite night time book, Love You Forever.  There wasn’t a single night that you could remember where she didn’t read it to you before bed.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as she sang the lullaby over and over, her free hand smoothing over your hair.  Her heartbeat was getting weaker.  You could feel it.

She was fading.

“I’ll love you forever.  I’ll like you for always.  As long as I’m living…”

Silence.

Her hand had stopped moving.  Her arm around you went limp.

“M-Mama?”  Lower lip wobbling, you sat up a little, turning to look at her face.  Your hands moved to her face.  “Mama?  M-Mama, you gotta wake up,” you said as you shook her a little.  The panic was starting to set in when she still didn’t move, even though her eyes were open.  Everyone had always told you that you’d had her eyes, but now they were strange and unnatural, unfocused.

“Mama!” You cried, literally begging at this point as you shook her even harder.  “M-Mama, you gotta wake up!  Wake up!”  You slumped against her as you realized she wasn’t going to wake up, sobbing into her chest.  “Mama…  Mama, please…  Don’t go…”

It was several hours before anyone found you.  At least four.

There were footsteps coming down the hall, but you hardly noticed.  You were curled up against her body, holding onto her hand even though her fingers had gone cold.

“Shit.”

Your head slowly turned to see several agents in the doorway.

“Hey, kid,” the one in front said after a rather pregnant pause.

Hiccups shook your chest as you looked at him.  “M-Mama’s gone.  And n-no one came to h-help.”

The man sighed, rubbing his temples.  “Come on.  Let’s get you out of there,” he said, walking over and picking you up. “NO!  NO!” You screamed, kicking out at him.  It was the most energy you’d had in hours.  “PUT ME DOWN!  I WANNA STAY WITH MAMA!  I WANNA STAY!”

“You said it yourself, kid,” he said as he carried you out of there.  “Your mom’s gone.”

There was a little girl sitting on the ground, her hair in pigtail braids.  “Mommy?” She repeated, her little voice wavering as she shook the woman that was lying on the ground.  “Mommy, wake up.  You gotta wake up.”

It was like a mirror had been forced in front of your face, and then someone had smashed your head into it.

It was jarring, being reminded that Hydra agents, just like any other humans, had children.  And when they died for their cause, those children were left behind as orphans.

“Honey…,” Bucky whispered behind you, but he stopped once he realized what was happening.

He knew your past.  Of course he did.  And he visited your mother’s grave with you every chance the two of you got.

You did always get to see her name on the Wall of Valor anytime you went to any SHIELD facility.  You could never bring yourself to pass it without kissing your fingers and pressing it to her name.

It was hard sometimes.  You didn’t really get to know her as a person or an agent.  You knew her as your mother, of course, but you wanted to truly know her.  You wanted to know who her first love was, her favorite brand of jeans, what her favorite movie genre was.

And this little girl would be just like you if you didn’t do something about it.  She’d end up in the foster system, being passed around until either someone adopted her or she aged out, like you had.

You couldn’t let that happen.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you said softly as you moved closer to the little girl.  “What’s your name?”

She jerked in surprise, backing away towards her mother as she looked up at you and Bucky with wide brown eyes.  “W-Who are you?”

A fierce urge of protection came over you as you gave her your name, crouching down and watching her closely.  “Can you tell me your name?”

You were doing your best to fight the grief that was welling up in your chest.  It wasn’t often that you allowed yourself to think about the night that you’d lost your mother, but now you were reliving it.  Colors and sounds and scents were flying through your mind at an alarming pace as you tried to focus on the little girl in front of you.

“V-Valerie,” she said after a second.  She sniffed as she looked back at the body behind her.  “C-Can you h-help my mommy?  She’s not waking up.”

Taking a shaky breath, you moved towards her.  Your shaking fingers pressed against her pulse point in her neck, and just as you suspected, there was nothing.  She was almost cold to the touch already.

Valerie was younger than you had been, but only by a few months.  Her round cheeks were stained with tears as she watched you examine her mother.

“Val, can you look at me?” You asked gently as you took her hands in yours.  Your throat felt tight as you tried to find the words to explain.  It hadn’t exactly been done gently for you.

She nodded, her soft eyes hopeful.  “C-Can you help mommy?”

A deep breath.  Count to five.

“You know…  When I was your age…  When I was your age, my mommy had to go away,” you said quietly, squeezing her hands.  “She got hurt.  And…  And she had to go somewhere better.  Somewhere she wouldn’t hurt anymore.”

“But…  But I want her here,” Valerie whimpered, a fresh wave of tears coming over her.  “Why can’t she be not hurt here?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” you admitted as you smoothed her flyaways back away from her face.  God, your own tears were threatening to overwhelm you.  “But my mommy is always with me, just like yours will be with you,” you said.  You pointed to her heart.  “Right here.”

You’d have to explain in more detail later on down the road, or maybe she’d just come to understand as she got older.  In all honesty, you just really hoped that she would grow to understand.

Her brows furrowed as she looked down at your joined hands.  “But…  But mommy feels better now?  S-She’s not hurt?”

Pressing your lips together, you nodded.  “Exactly.  Her body is here, but her heart and her soul is not, yeah?  And she’s looking down on you right now.”  You looked around, trying to find any sign of another parent.  “Do you have a dad?”

She shook her head, her thumb going to her mouth.

Bucky’s heart hurt for you and the little girl as you searched the suite, eventually finding birth certificates and everything you’d need.

“Bucky, can you take these?” You asked, knowing that you two needed to get back to the quinjet.  There was no doubt that your teammates were shouting into Bucky’s comm, since you’d turned yours off.  After the documents were safe in his arms, you turned to Valerie.  “Sweetheart, can I pick you up?  We need to get out of here, okay?”  It took a second for her to agree, but you easily lifted her into your arms and rested her on your hip.  “Do you have a favorite blankie?  A favorite stuffed animal?”  Once her stuffed animal was in her arms and her head was covered with the blanket, her vision obscured from seeing the carnage of the battle, you nodded to Bucky, and the three of you quickly found your way to the quinjet.

“Not a word,” Bucky warned the others as the three of you climbed on.

The others were watching in confusion as you took Valerie to one of the seats farthest away from everyone.  “Okay, sweetheart,” you said as you gently uncovered her head.  “It’s gonna be a few hours until we’re home.  You wanna get some sleep?”

She nodded, still sucking her thumb.  “W-Will you stay with me?” She asked, clinging to you.

“Yes.  I will,” you said reassuringly.  “Can I change out of these clothes first?  They’re a little uncomfy, huh, baby?”

Bucky moved over to her, quietly introducing himself as your boyfriend as you changed into civilian clothing in the bathroom.

“What are you thinking?” Natasha asked the second you emerged.  “Taking a kid?”

“We killed her mother,” you said, watching Bucky and Valerie over her shoulder.  It definitely seemed like they were getting along…

“Her mother was a Hydra agent.”

Your brows furrowed as you met her eyes again.  “And?”  Out of all people, Natasha should’ve understood why you brought the little girl along.  “She’s a child.  One that deserves a future.”  A grin spread over your lips as you moved back to the two, relaxing as you saw the faint smile on Valerie’s lips.

“I may have promised Val that we could get ice cream tomorrow,” Bucky said, giving you puppy eyes as he looked up from where he was kneeling in front of the little girl.

“Yeah?  I think we can do ice cream,” you said with a slow smile as you sat down.

The little girl immediately crawled into your lap and curled up against your chest, closing her eyes.  She was dozing on and off the two hour plane ride home, and you immediately took her to bed once you got back.

Bucky and you tucked her into your shared bed, knowing you’d have to go and get her a bed and everything the next day.  But you didn’t mind giving up your bed for her.

“I’ll love you forever.  I’ll like you for always,” you sang sweetly to her as you unbraided her hair, smoothing it away from her face.  “As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be…”

“She’s so tiny,” Bucky whispered, looking at the little girl with a soft reverence.  “She reminds me of Becca when she was small…”  He couldn’t help but smile as he rested his chin on the edge of the bed.  “We need to get her a bed and things…”

“Tomorrow…,” you said quietly, shushing him gently.

Maybe the universe had intended for you to find her.  Maybe Valerie was meant to be your daughter, because the second you had seen her, you’d known that you’d do anything to protect her.

Just like your mother had done for you.

She was still teaching you things even now.

There was a certain feeling lingering in the air.  It was the exact opposite of what you always felt at the end of a battle.

The smell of baby shampoo.  The sound of her soft snores.  Bucky’s head resting against your shoulder.

The both of you needed to shower, but you didn’t care.  It could wait just a little bit longer.

Your eyes felt hot as you caressed the little girl’s cheek, swallowing around the lump in her throat.  “I’ll love you forever.  I’ll like you for always.  As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.”

[angelicmichael]

hoax - chapter two

Michael Langdon x Mallory

Summary: Mallory tries her best to put her feelings aside and to tolerate Michael; however she finds that she gets tested in other ways that aren’t so easily predictable..

Words: 6.3k+

Warnings: more death and general mentions of it.. sorry lmao, angst, blood, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, mentions of satan and satanism, slowburn, plot heavy, enemies to lovers, also reminder that this is a dark fic so.. it’s just generally not that happy of a story lol

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry if this seems random since we just got new cody content and a new character but I thought I would just upload this anyway since it’s finished 👉🏻👈🏻. But this is also the longest thing I’ve ever written.. like ever so hopefully y’all like it haha. Also fyi; Michaels and Mallorys POV switches quite a bit throughout this chapter lol.

Previous Chapter

Michael watched Mallory intently. Looking as she continued to be lost in thought. Her gaze fixated downwards at her black boots, which twitched slightly as she continued to most likely debate whether he was worth it or not… to say yes or no..

Michael swallowed, wishing he could do something to make her say yes, to maybe offer something but after all; he had absolutely nothing. Even Michael by himself seemed to be too much of a burden on its own, to Mallory.

He let out a dry cough; hoping to bring her back to reality, back to him.

Mallory’s head snapped up - brown eyes looking up at him curiously.. as if she really did forget that he was still waiting for a response or some type of agreement. She tried her best to relax her shoulders as well as her mind before speaking. Trying to silently convince herself to not snap at him, no matter how much she still truly wanted too. However, looking at him made that far more easier..

Michaels words; the pleading and begging that Mallory was almost convinced would never stop.. The pure desperation and urgency only really reflected onto his appearance. Sandy blonde hair that nearly looked brown due to the disgusting amount of dirt in it.. clothes that were still horribly stained and nearly doused with blood made him look hardly short of intimidating anymore, but the urge to yell at him still didn’t wane.

Anger still stayed present in Mallory’s chest, but it was starting to become something she couldn’t just ignore anymore.. it flowed through her veins, hot and fresh. It made her skin warm and her cheeks flush cherry red. Something she was typically insecure about but she really didn’t have the time or patience to try and hide it.. she doubted Michael realistically was even paying close enough attention to notice anyways.

“Fine,” Mallory finally answered. Her voice was soft and low which was merely a result of her biting her anger back - something she still desperately wanted to show but knew realistically would get her no where with him.

She tried her best to avoid Michaels gaze which still stayed solely focused on her figure. He seemed almost taken aback by her words, as if he was expecting to be further yelled at.. which wasn’t exactly a wrong assumption. The only reason Mallory found it in her to be nice was merely sympathy. After all they both had a long day - it wasn’t just her discomfort she had to take into consideration anymore.

“Do you trust me?”

The words almost felt impulsive to say but she didn’t regret saying them - after all; if they were really going to be sticking around by each other for a while then.. it was a valid question.

Mallory knew realistically what he was going to say and she tried to brace herself as she saw his mouth open hesitantly.

“I feel like I should.. why?” He asked in a tone which sounded purely dismissive and a bit annoyed.

Mallory wanted to smile, she wanted to grin and laugh that she was finally starting to get what she wanted but.. she did neither of those things. Instead she found herself immeadietly distrusting him.. wanting to know why on earth she would ever think to trust his words for a second when she literally killed him in the past.. and that’s not counting the other times where she attempted to do so or even thought doing it but; this Michael didn’t know that. This Michael barely even knew her name, let alone anything else about her but that didn’t matter to him - and she couldn’t help but to be a bit relieved at that feeling of finally being able to be free from her past.

Atleast for the time being.

“I need to go somewhere but I can’t go alone.. I think it would be good if you went too.”

Michaels brows furrowed at this; his face almost upturning in a sneer. “Where?”

Mallory took in a deep breath but didn’t exhale at first.. feeling irritated that he just had to keep asking questions that she didn’t have the answer too.

“I’ll tell you later, when we get closer, okay? But we need to go before the sun sets,” she explained.

Mallory hoped desperately that what she said would be enough reason for Michael to go along with her.. but thankfully it seemed to be. Or he seemed convinced for the most part, anyway.

“What happens before the sun sets?” He asked.

His blue eyes glared into hers - as if he was trying to get a read on her.. just like how he used too at the outpost.

Mallory’s throat suddenly grew dry at this realization.. Feeling incredibly uncomfortable at how he looked at her, and his question. Not necessarily knowing what to do about either situations but - she hoped for a second he would retract his words or rephrase but he didn’t.

He still waited.

“That doesn’t matter, we just need to get going. You said you trusted me right?” Mallory reaffirmed.

Her face was mostly expressionless as she watched Michael solemnly nod in response.

“Yeah.. sure. I trust you.”

His sentence cut off almost abruptly; as if he wanted to keep talking but knew that Mallory wouldn’t have the patience to hear him out - or that she simply didn’t want too.

Michael couldn’t really pinpoint exactly how he felt around Mallory. Every time she met his gaze he couldn’t help but to be overtaken briefly by far too many emotions than he could count. It mainly was a fight over feeling intimidated and being in awe. Even though Mallory hadn’t really let her powers show since she basically assaulted him earlier; he knew to keep his distance now.. to a degree.

He approached her now; feeling a little less intimated than he was before since she seemed to be acting civil.

Michael couldn’t help but to blame her behavior on himself; maybe he was too straight forward.. maybe it was him who was the true freak in this situation.. It wouldn’t exactly be the first time that he found himself in a situation like this, another situation that was surely his fault.

God.. why was he such a fuck up??

The closer he approached.. Mallory.. she said her name was right?? He felt almost sick to his stomach when he saw the look in her eyes when she finally bothered to look up at him. Her eyes (which he remembered were a golden honey brown when she stood directly in the sun) were nearly black now.. maybe it was the fact that the sun was finally dipping behind the trees.. or.. something else? Annoyance was really the only emotion he could read from her at the moment - the rest of her face was even harder to read. He guessed she was trying to remain expressionless on purpose.

Mallory was the first one to start walking - and Michael let her lead. She seemed to have a some kind of idea on where she was going since she had claimed she said a destination in mind, or somewhere for them to go.

Hopefully that wasn’t a lie.

Mallory didn’t look back once as Michael continued to walk directly behind her once the path she had chosen to walk on had thinned down to a trail. The sound of his footsteps were good enough proof that he hadn’t wandered off or turned around. She didn’t want to necessarily look at him longer than what she had too - she was more than certain that he still wore that kicked puppy look he had earlier. It was pathetic and painful.. and only a sharp reminder of why things currently were the way they were. Why she was here; still in the forest with twigs and leaves snapping onto her overly expensive dress which now had to be ruined.. (as if it wasn’t already from Michaels death fiasco’s) and not back at Robichaux.. with the witches where she belonged. Even if none of them necessarily knew her anymore.

Mallory belonged with other witches, her sisters. People that actually understood her and gave a fuck - not.. whatever she could even call Michael now. Who was not quite human but probably not the antichrist now, either.

That was just something else that Mallory would have to do and figure out on her own but, this wasn’t something that was meant to be done solo - she knew that deep down.

Michael was following her diligently and actually listening now for a reason, she came to the forest for a reason, and as much as she tried her best to avoid thinking about it; she also talked to satan for a reason.. And even though he was mostly a manipulative asshole- no.. not mostly. That’s exactly what he was. Michael was also proof of that.

No matter what, her and Michael would figure it out together.. on their own or certaintly without the help of him. They didn’t need him, not again.. not now.. not ever. It didn’t matter if he apparently owned her soul or not - she still felt the same.. nothing could’ve changed that quickly. Right?

That’s what she would tell herself anyway - and there’s no way she would ever dream of telling Michael any of that shit ever happened. It’s not like he would remember anyway.

Mallory continued to keep her head down as they kept walking .. deep in thought and trying to focus on just finding their way out until she felt something soft brush up against the back of her arm..

Mallory immeadietly paused when she felt Michael touch her, looking at her arm almost awkwardly and bearing witness to how Michael was now gently gripping her.. Hoping naively that it was something that happened accidentally but of course it wasn’t. Nothing happened by coincidence with Michael.

He let go after a couple seconds of awkward eye contact.. most likely realizing that she wasn’t exactly a touchy person. Not with him anyway. Not after the kind of day they’ve been through.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” Michael said sorely.

His voice shook when he spoke.. and even though it was tempting to ask exactly why he was apologizing - she figured it didn’t necessarily matter. At this point it was the effort and the fact he even cared enough to say anything, that made her feel a bit better.

She gave a slight smile, not really wanting to say that any of this was ‘okay’ or that it was ‘fine’ because she was truly tired of lying.. it was something she lost the energy for a while ago.

“Let’s keep going. I think we’re almost there.”

Mallory turned around to keep walking - looking up and realizing that she could finally see something beyond the tree line.. something that looked like vaguely like a skyline of a city.. Was that Los Angeles??

Biting the bullet and choosing to make small talk had its perks - Michael affirmed her suspicion that they were in L.A which was really neither a good or bad thing. She definitely felt more unsettled now that she knew for a fact she was farther away from home than she would like to be.. and also scarily close to Hawthorne, and god knows what else.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to reach the city; and now that she was here.. she really didn’t know what to do next or why she had the odd instinct to walk here in the first place, but thankfully Michael seemed to know.

It was obvious that Mallory didn’t exactly have a plan, in the way that she was starting to physically stall.. her steps slowed, her fingers fidgeted a bit more and picked at her clothes, and her gaze kept falling down to her shoes.. All little, minuscule things but Michael picked up on them all.

He didn’t bother to ask outloud if she knew where she was going. Instead he took the lead.. walking in front of Mallory suddenly and only briefly pausing to turn into a dark alleyway. Something that seemed entirely random but honestly wasn’t. He had a feeling, an urge that they were meant to go this way.. something was waiting for them both.

Michael only looked back to make eye contact for a brief moment; hoping that just for once Mallory would trust him.. but as he looked back into her dark brown eyes which still abnormally almost appeared black - she was still reluctant. He wasn’t necessarily thinking when he reached out to grab her hand. Something he knew that she would hate but he couldn’t help it. Physical touch felt nice, and her hands were soft..

They still were.

He still held onto her hand as he gently pulled and tried to lead her into where he was going - frowning slightly when he felt her grip loosen but he continued to keep walking into the alleyway. He kept going, nearly stumbling on the garbage and various shit that was left on the ground.. but he managed to find a door that was left slightly ajar.. just enough for him and Mallory to slip through.

Michael quietly opened the door further; the room that they suddenly found themselves in was barely lit. A dark, dim, red light was omitted along with several small candles but other than that, the room was kept blanketed in a thick darkness. Both physically and emotionally.

As soon as Mallory entered what she now knew had to be some kind of church.. she felt almost as if she had been punched in the stomach. She noticibly winced, physically withdrawing from Michael and reflexively pulling her hand back even further than she had previously but he wouldn’t let her hand go. Not completely.

The nausea and just the sudden heavy energy she felt made the rest of her body tense up.. and she found herself sort of being thankful that Michael still held onto her and seemed to be leading her to a seat.. but the gratitude she felt only lasted for barely a second. Just until she could actually take a deep breath and focus..

Where exactly were they?

It was clear as day that they happened to be in a church.. but no.

No.

Something was wrong. Something wasn’t right.

This wasn’t a normal church, nothing about this seemed normal in the slightest - the dark red interior and dim lighting, the candles, the late timing of the service and just.. what everyone happened to be wearing seemed horribly wrong.

Just like earlier, and so many times before today she felt herself starting to submit to panic. Her breath quickening and her skin started to grow incredibly hot.. she felt as if she was suffocating from the inside out but she felt foolish for feeling this way as she looked at Michael, as well as everyone else.. they all appeared nonchalant and completely unbothered. Particularly Michael, who didn’t look upset but instead almost caught in a trance listening to the high priestess of the church talk.

Mallory didn’t even notice the woman was talking until she finally bothered to make eye contact. Whom of which walked straight down the isle way that divided the two rows of benches apart; her blonde curls slightly moving as she spoke and moved. She continued to slowly pace up and down, speaking about.. exactly what Mallory had feared.

Fucking exactly what Mallory was trying to avoid.

The immeadite gut reaction to stand up and leave was nearly impossible to resist; and that would be incredibly easy to do given that they were sitting in a otherwise empty back row. But.. instead she didn’t move. She sat still. Barely moving, barely breathing but merely watching and listening.

Now that Mallory actually bothered to listen; she felt completely dumbfounded that Michael was actually buying any of this shit. However, that didn’t make the words that she heard coming from the blonde woman, the leader, any easier to digest. Currently she was boasting and bragging about her sins and how ‘evil’ she was.. or something along those lines. It was still nearly impossible to focus with the feeling that still layed dormant in her gut that refused to leave.

She winced at the words she heard being spoken. Her black nails curling into the soft skin of her palm and gently digging in. Something she consciously chose to do to try to distract herself but it still wasn’t enough. She needed to know that they were atleast sort of safe here.. or that Michael had a vague idea of what he was doing.

“do you know where we are?”

Michael turned to look at Mallory slowly.. looking almost furious - his lips slightly parted as if he silently debated on how to tell her off for interrupting his focus. She waited with baited breath for him to ignore her or to say some snide remark.. only exhaling when he did neither.

“Yeah, don’t worry. We’re in good hands here,” He said. Barely speaking loud enough for Mallory to even hear.

She couldn’t help but to slightly pout, not wanting to argue anymore but not really trusting his judgement yet either. She waited for him to turn his head back to blonde ‘cult’ leader but instead it dropped down her to palm where her nails still cut in.. pressing down until the point where blood was about to be drawn.

Mallory didn’t wince or show any signs of discomfort but Michael still noticed anyway. His gaze quickly flickering down from her palm up to her eyes in pure confusion in what the fuck she was doing..

His hand quickly went to hers without a second thought.

His fingers gently pried hers off of her own hand.. She didn’t try to fight what he was doing but rather looked into his eyes in a questionable manner.. probably wondering why he bothered to touch her again. Something that he truly knew better than to do but couldn’t help from himself from.

“Stop.. Why are you doing that?” Michael asked genuinely. His gaze lingered on her fingertips which now had blood lightly indented on the tips of her nails.

Mallory looked at him awkwardly. Sort of appalled that he even cared enough to notice or to even stop her.. his kindness wasn’t necessarily unwanted but it was something new.. and strange to say the very least.

Mallory wanted to apologize or to just give him a reassuring look but instead she carefully met his gaze and found herself muttering a careful confession, “im sorry I just.. I can’t stand it here. This place-“ her voice broke horribly as she whispered.

She suddenly grew paranoid that the members of this.. ‘congregation’ could hear her sudden disdain for the establishment; which made the feelings of dread and guilt she felt only multiply. She wanted to keep apologizing or to convince Michael to leave but.. that wouldn’t work for the sole reason that she couldn’t even pinpoint exactly why she felt this way. But all she knew is that she had to say something else. Something to make Michael not stare her like how he currently was.

Mallory was still terrified to make eye contact with him. Only bothering to briefly do so to simply affirm that he was actually looking at her - and it wasn’t something she was imagining.

Reality was starting to become something Mallory nearly craved; the day still wasn’t over and yet the fact that some of the earlier events weren’t real.. was something she still needed to process.

The fact that Michael even dared to follow her here, sit next to her, and let alone even give a fuck that she was unintentionally harming herself was beyond her. She wanted to know why, but she knew she still wouldn’t trust his answer if she were to ask. He’d lie.

Mallory spoke again in a tone that was far more quiet than the last, “Where are we?”

Michaels gaze bore into hers.. his face nearly void of any expression as if he was weighing his options on the best response.. calculating and thinking but he stopped the eye contact before he spoke. His eyes went to examine his hands instead which were loosely clasped together over his knees that he slouched tiredly over.

“Somewhere I thought I could feel close to my father.. I know- you don’t want to talk about it-“

“No.. it’s fine,” Mallory reassured hurriedly. Her voice was light and high pitched - happy that Michael was finally managing to communicate and be honest with her. Even if he was inherently right, this wasn’t a topic she wanted to remember or discuss at all but if this was how she got him to open up.. then there was no other option.

“Before you ask.. no. It’s not working. I don’t feel shit here,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “All I feel is just fucking overwhelmed.”

His hands were brought up to his face and Mallory watched him deeply inhale. His finger tips rubbed his temples and fell down the sides of his cheeks - and Mallory didn’t know what to do.

Should she offer him sympathy that.. as bad as it sounded, that she didn’t necessarily really feel? Sure she could relate to him but it wasn’t in the same way in the slightest - and it wasn’t fair to either of them to pretend that it was.

“People here are beyond pathetic.. their sins,” he sneered with something that almost could’ve been considered an chuckle that followed.

Michaels hands fell down to his lap again - suddenly refusing to meet Mallory’s gaze. Perfectly intent on watching whoever the high priestess was, someone that Mallory was more than thankful that she didn’t know the name of.

“Michael.. I can’t stay here-“

He gave Mallory an apologetic look, and for a second she thought he might almost finally agree but to no avail.

“Please. Just ‘till the end,” His face reverted back to the kicked puppy look. The one that finally made her not necessarily forgive him but.. made her realize that at this point he didn’t necessarily deserve to be yelled at.

After all, he wasn’t exactly the same Michael that had planned the death of seven billion people.. not yet.

“Okay,” she quietly agreed.

So they waited until the end of the ‘ceremony’. Or Mallory waited while Michael watched and listened- looking both completely horrified and elated as he did so.. However, Mallory waited and counted each minute that passed.. every one seemingly longer the last.

Even when the blonde woman that was apparently named ‘Hannah’ finally finished talking and most members of the congregation had left; Michael still didn’t budge.

His back, instead of slouching was now pressed up against the bench as he sat.. looking for exhausted and more tired than ever. Tears (or what Mallory suspected were tears anyway) made his cheeks glisten in the dim lighting. She stared at him for a moment - wondering if she should ask if he was okay or if he needed a moment when she felt someone suddenly tug sharply on her clothing.

It was her top, a quick pinch but it was enough to make Mallory’s head turn back immeadietly.

Her resentment toward touch wasn’t just exclusive to Michael, then.

“What is this? Chanel? Loui V? Do I want to know what it took for you to take this?” Hannah spoke in a amused tone.

Hannah stood behind their bench, both equally between Mallory and Michael - like she had the intention of speaking to them both and not one or the other.

“I didn’t take this.. it was a gift,” Mallory answered truthfully and a bit.. bashfully.

She felt insulted that Hannah assumed she would ever steal but then again, with where they were, maybe that wasn’t exactly the insult that Mallory thought it was.

“Yeah.. okay. Like I’m supposed to believe that,” Hannah laughed with a snort.

Mallory was about to retort anyway, but Michael cut her off to her surprise.

“What do you want?” He asked curtly.

His words were cut short. Obviously irritated and put on edge - the fact that he still had tears left on his cheeks explained his behavior plenty.

Hannah immeadietly looked taken aback - disobedience wasn’t something she was used too.

“What do you I want? Do you even know who you’re talking too?” Hannah answered without missing a beat.

Mallory’s eyes darted to Michael. His jaw was clenched, his eyes sharp and focused and his mouth was drawn in a straight line that slightly curved downward.. he looked pissed.

Why was he bothering to argue with Hannah? Someone who he should inherently love or atleast respect with the shared connection of their love for his father.. And over something as trivial as Mallory’s dress? This wasn’t making sense..

“I think I could say the same to you,” Michael answered with a clenched jaw, standing up as his hands started to go to the left side of his face. Inevitably headed for his ‘666’ mark that Mallory heard he was rumored to have.. but certainly wouldn’t have anymore. Not after what she had done.

Michael.. couldn’t. He wouldn’t. This couldn’t happen.

It was clear he was still under the false impression that he had powers, but Mallory wasn’t going to let him find out otherwise this way. Not right now.

“Michael-“! Mallory said urgently.

It worked for a second, just long enough to make him stall.

His hands came to a stand still, pausing as his eyes watched her. Waiting for her to continue but her mouth went entirely dry once she saw Hannah’s hand quickly fly to his shoulders. Screaming words that Mallory didn’t even try to listen too - blood suddenly roaring through her ears louder than any sound that Hannah could make.

Mallory didn’t think when she suddenly felt herself stepping in front of Michael; her feet accidentally stepping onto his as she tried her best to push him back beforehand with her arm but even so - the space in between benches was minimal enough as it was.

Maybe under normal circumstances, Michaels body being pushed up directly behind hers would’ve been distracting but.. Michael was really the last thing she was thinking of now.

Mallory’s hands flew to Hannah’s shoulders - grabbing them (and feeling almost sick with herself how she had done this to Michael not too long ago) with the intention to push her back as hard as she could naturally muster up the strength too. But, of course, that didn’t happen.

Her powers came flooding out unwillingly - the sudden loss of control and ache that was rapidly being released caused her to scream.. something that almost sounded quiet with the contrast of her adrenaline still pumping full force.

Hannahs clothes suddenly sparking a bright orange didn’t cause the immeadite alarm to Mallory that it should’ve; however.. maybe it was due to the fact that the color already blended in with the red atmosphere of the church.. She could only hope.

Hannah’s clothes quickly erupted in flames - the close proximity of the fire made Mallory’s skin quickly grow uncomfortably hot. Forcing her to act on impulse. Selfish impulse.

She stumbled out from the bench and grabbed Michaels wrist clumsily, nearly dragging with him with her as they both stumbling back and away from her.

Mallory’s back was turned to Hannah.. her body shook as she hauntingly realized that the sound had stopped. Hannah wasn’t screaming anymore.. and neither was Mallory.

She couldn’t bring herself to turn around and look, only braving enough strength to look up at Michael who faced the general direction that Hannah was in.. or used to be in. She stared into his eyes and watched the reflection of the fire dance in them - not in wonder but rather pure dread and regret.

Fuck.. what the fuck?

Michaels expression was something she couldn’t really decipher.. the fact he wore a neutral face when she just.. had done something like this wasn’t going to be something she found solace in.

After all; he was still Michael Langdon.

And what she just did.. saying it was stupid wasn’t simply enough.

Forming more complex thoughts was simply impossible, she found herself stumbling away.. going the opposite direction as the room started to spin and melt into a blur of red and black. The ceiling, walls and floor quickly became indistinguishable - her legs were starting to feel weak..

Fuck!

Mallory’s vision flickered to black and her legs gave out from underneath her; but she felt someone’s arms hook underneath hers and pull her up before she could hit the floor.

Her eyes snapped open immeadietly - trying to balance herself back on her feet as quickly as she could so that Michael wouldn’t have to touch her.. still feeling entirely out of it from nearly losing consciousness.

Mallory knew immeadietly it was him without even having to look… and she hated that she was becoming familiar enough with his touch to even recognize that it was him so easily. The tempature of his skin - his palms gripping her upper arms a bit too tightly - was a dead giveaway.

She wanted him off.

Mallory stumbled forward, trying her best to appear nonchalant as she brushed his fingertips off of her arms. Trying not to look bothered by the smell that started to raid the church.. a mix of burnt flesh along with just general fire. She wanted to feel bad but if this really was a satanic temple; it probably had seen worse..

But that wasn’t the point.

Mallory’s gaze searched the walls, wanting to leave but not.. actually leave.

It was too much; she needed time alone. Time to maybe cry or to throw up until she couldn’t breath.. perhaps both, but she still didn’t want Michael to see her vulnerable. Not if she could help it.

Her hands gripped onto the sides of the benches as she passed them; stubbornly intent on walking on to the bathroom which she could now see - selfishly not giving a fuck that she would be leaving Michael but.. she deserved to be selfish for once.

After all, all her choices recently hadn’t been for her own sake.. it was for Cordelias, Madison’s, Zoe’s, The Coven, seven billion people, Michael.. but not her own. Never her own.. none of her choices were really her own lately.

Mallory tried her best to ignore the sound of footsteps following her. Pushing the door of the women’s bathroom open quickly but stopping once she heard Michael whine.

God, why was he always fucking whining?

“What the fuck was that?” He nearly hissed. His tone had no malicious intent but it still set Mallory on edge.

He looked alarmed, bewildered. Blue eyes widened and his lips slightly parted, his teeth clenched.

“What part?” She asked cynically with a dry laugh.

She met Michaels gaze for a second before fully slipping inside the bathroom - hoping Michael would get the memo to leave her alone but she paused once she didn’t hear the door shut behind her..

“Michael-“

“I know you don’t like talking to me but I’m asking you, just once. What the fuck just happened?? Did you-?” His voice quivered, breaking softly as he spoke.

Mallory was in tears, the thought and realization alone of what she did finally sinking in.

“No. No.. I-I didn’t.. that wasn’t me, okay? I would.. would never..” She spoke as a confirmation to both Michael and herself.

Her back was still turned to Michael - thankful that he couldn’t see how fucking close she was to full on sobbing.. her vision blurred by all of the tears that had gathered in her eyes that wouldn’t spill. Her throat clenched, growing tight and forcing her to stop breathing - but there was no way she was going to let herself cry in front of Michael out of all people.

Showing weakness, even now.. even when it was proven he was no longer a threat to her, was never something she would let herself do. She wouldn’t let herself become that stupid.

Pain centered itself in her chest, but the grief she felt, rapidly spread throughout her body. Consuming her until she felt herself succumbing to the feeling.

Fuck.

Mallory wanted to push past Michael and run out the door.

Mallory wanted to scream at him and tell him to get the fuck out of the women’s restroom.

It was so easy to blame him for everything she felt - but she knew better than that now. Even though it was easy; it wasn’t the right thing to do.. and it’s not really like she was used to take the easy route to things, anyway.

She didn’t exactly welcome the feeling but she gave up trying to fight it.. letting the first tear run down her cheek. She still tried her best to stifle her sobs, her throat still clenching almost painfully.. not really giving a fuck about showing weakness in this moment but more so just.. embarrassed.

Michael stared at her almost blankly - wanting to say something but he couldn’t help but to feel stuck.

He wanted to feel bad, and he did.. she was clearly hurt but he didn’t understand exactly how.. Did she feel remorse for what she did? Did she think that Hannah or whatever the fuck her name was, didn’t deserve it?

Sure he didn’t exactly know her intentions but it wasn’t anything pure.. and Mallory needed to know that.

He approached her carefully, knowing damn well that she had the capability to do the same that she had done to Hannah.. or to perhaps throw him up against the wall without even so much as laying a hand on him, but he wasn’t scared.

Mallory wasn’t intimidating.. she wouldn’t hurt him.

Her head was tilted up and her eyes watched the ceiling - avoiding eye contact. She slowly moved to the wall, leaning against it begrudgingly but still avoiding Michaels gaze. Patches of dirt and bruises decorated her arms along with some blood stains and a couple of nasty cuts. Her black dress looked like nothing special anymore. It was torn in some parts but - Michael wanted to laugh that he was critiquing her appearance in the slightest as if he had any room to talk.

He watched her carefully and curiously as he decided to stand next to her and mirror how she was standing until they were nearly shoulder to shoulder. Mallorys eyes which were previously closed suddenly opened. Darkly peering over at him and their sudden proximity, something Michael wasn’t going to apologize for this time.

“I still don’t understand you, or why you did what you did but it was completely unnecessary,” Michael said.

He felt flattered that Mallory was fond of him enough to apparently kill for him but - this wasn’t adding up. And plus, Michael still had his powers (or atleast to the best of his knowledge he did) so it’s not as if he was completely defenseless. He felt almost insulted that Mallory would assume that he needed to be protected. He wasn’t a child.

But didn’t she hate him? She could still barely make eye contact with him and resented every time they touched - something which hurt Michael a bit more than he would like to admit.. No one (except for his family, of course) had ever reacted to him like that before.. most people, espically women, practically died for his touch.

Mallory was different.

That was one thing he was certain of. Every move she made, every word that came out of her mouth was never something he could predict.. and to think he once hated unpredictability.. but he didn’t trust her. Not for one second.

“It wasn’t a choice. I-I just.. it just happened and I don’t want to talk about it,” Mallory answered sheepishly.

Michael wanted to argue but instead he merely nodded.

“That’s fine.”

Mallory looked at him almost apologetically after she heard the tone of his words; which were a bit too harsh and forced in nature.

“So.. did it work? What you came here for.. to feel closer to him-“ She asked out of sheer curiosity.

“My father?”

“Yes.”

Michael swallowed and broke eye contact. “No. I still don’t feel a fucking thing.. Do you?”

Mallory’s eyes narrowed and she shifted her weight back onto her feet, ceasing from leaning on the wall. “What?”

“My father sent you to me, so I figured naturally you would have some kind of connection with him.. you do, don’t you?”

Sneaky bastard. Mallory knew this conversation was for the sole purpose of him finding out more information about her; perhaps to better manipulate? She didn’t exactly know.

“I don’t know. That’s something I still have to figure out,” she admitted truthfully.

“Together?”

Mallory nodded.

“Yeah. I won’t leave you,” she said. Her tone a bit softer than she would have liked.

Mallorys lips started to upturn in something that was reminiscent of a smile - their eyes lingered on each other for only a second but it didn’t last.

The door suddenly was pushed open; both Mallory and Michael snapped their heads up. The sudden intrusion gaining both of their full undivided attention - fear both running abundant in their veins.

The first thing Mallory noticed was the loud clicking of high heels against the tile floor of the bathroom.. something she was sure meant nothing to Michael but.. Mallory knew better.

This wasn’t a coincidence. After the day she had - nothing was a damn coincidence anymore.

The first thing she noticed was long blonde hair.. a black, tight fitting dress along with black high heels.

It was too familiar.. she knew all too well exactly who this fucking was.

Another witch.. her sister.. someone she was far too accustomed too but also.. no.

No.

Sure the woman who just entered the bathroom was Madison Montgomery but it wasn’t her Madison. After all, why the fuck was Madison at a satanic temple?

Taglist: @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @instinctsxbaby @melodylangdon @littledemondani @celestialrequiem @sojournmichael @ritualmichael @twilightzone24

Let me know if u would like to be added or removed to the taglist <3

[folkloreguk]

Gold Rush (optional bias)

A/N: I honestly don’t know a lot about the middle ages, so if anyone is a history genius, pls bare with me if I write something that doesn’t make sense asfghjk PS: feedback is greatly appreciated!!

genre: optional bias (male), thief!au, strangers to enemies to lovers, medieval!au, suggestive content, reader is always ready to fight lmao, a tiny bit of angst

summary: As thieves, you both try to steal from the same royal carriage. Only it doesn’t go as planned for either of you. Will you get away before the king sentences you both to death?

words: 8.9 k  

You had been tailing the royal carriages for an entire day now. You were sure your horse was getting exhausted, but the sun was setting and you knew what that meant. Soon, the transport would come to a halt. They would find a clearing somewhere, with trees as shelter from all sides. Then, they would set up their camp for the night, only to pack up everything in the morning and travel another two or three days, until they reached their destination: the castle. Only instead of delivering the full carriages, with gold, silver, pearls and gems, a few handfuls would be missing. It would be almost nothing to them, you suspected. They might not even notice it disappeared.

To you, however, it meant existing. You had to admit, being a thief hadn’t been your first choice when it came to choosing an occupation for the rest of your life. You had tried to integrate into different businesses. You were going to learn to be a baker, a glover and even tried to keep a job helping out on a farm. But none of these professions were for you. You were tired of being commanded around by men who tried to make you their little maid or worse – ask you for your hand in marriage. The judgement was tedious. “Aren’t you too old to be unwed?” “Where is your husband?” “How many children do you have?”

You wished you could talk back. “No, I’m just fine, he doesn’t exist and none – is it any of your business, by the way?” But you had learned that arguing with elders would only get you in trouble, and perhaps your decision to refrain from living the typical life was exactly what made it impossible for you to keep a job. That was, until you discovered your talent – a sleight of hand that was invincible. Some would call it avaricious; you would prefer to describe it as a passion. It wasn’t evil, just a thrill you enjoyed chasing. The beginnings had been humble. A few coins out of someone’s pocket here and there, some food from an unsuspecting marketer; you had to keep yourself afloat somehow, right?

But the seasons went by, and you became more audacious and greedier for your beloved adrenaline. Plus, you realized that stealing from the rich had something weirdly rewarding. Maybe it was the anger you felt at the king for hoarding the wealth of the land whilst letting his people starve in the streets. Either way, stealing from those who had power made you feel a sense of benevolence. You gave away some of your stolen goods to those who actually needed them, instead of letting all the money and jewelry rot away in someone’s bag and around someone’s neck. Sometimes you hid in the shadows after your theft had been settled, only to see the reactions of your victims. It might have sounded obsessive, but it gave you assurance, when they moved on after only minutes of complaint, because you knew those few coins were miniscule to all of them.

And currently, you were on to one of your most reckless thefts. You were well aware this could get you killed. Yet you couldn’t help it, the glimmer of the jewels and the gold was hypnotizing. Finally, the carriages had come to a halt. From a safe distance, you observed how they unloaded their tents and checked especially carefully where they kept the most desired goods. The wares would stay in the carriages, probably guarded all night long. You would need to wait for the right moment.

“Good job today, my dearest Dorato,” you whispered to your horse as you tied the reins to a tree. Gently, you pat his nose. He pushed his head closer to you, demanding more affection, but your eyes were already on your objective. For at least an hour you stood, hidden in the thicket, waiting for the sun to set completely and some of the men to lay to sleep. With a hawk’s gaze you counted the men and made sure you knew each of their whereabouts. One of the wagons stood with its back opening facing you – which was perfect. It was like they were presenting the goods to you on a silver plate. To the left of the wagon, some of the men had lit a bonfire and were seated around it. Judging by their laughter and lively conversations, you doubted they would go to sleep soon. One of them was sitting on the edge of the carriage, meant to guard the inside. He, who should have been paying the most attention, however, was fast asleep. And that was your chance.

“Wish me luck, Dorato,” you whispered to your horse, running your hand over his warm neck. Then, you slowly moved towards the carriage. Outside the shielding cover of the trees, you felt you needed to act quickly. The gales of laughter were helping against your vulnerability in reminding you that the men around the fire were trusting their sleeping guard to have everything under his control. Sly as a fox, you kept your distance and approached the opening of the wagon only when the bonfire was out of sight. You pulled the fabric to the side and with a swift jump, you landed on the edge of the carriage right next to the dozed off man. It only took one maneuver and you had opened the wooden chest nearest to you.

You grinned in triumph at the jackpot in front of you. With eyes sparkling just as much as the diamonds and gems, you grabbed handfuls and transported them into your bag.

“Henry, change of shift!” someone suddenly shouted. Their voice sounded scarily close to you, and then you heard footsteps approaching. Even though you had wanted to be greedier and steal some more, this was definitely your cue to get out of there. If they saw you inside the wagon, you’d be done for. So, without second thought, you yanked the cover away and leaped off the edge.

“Thief!” the surprised man howled as you passed him. Luckily, this wasn’t the first quick escape you had ever had to make. Your feet carried you rapidly, over the grass and into the trees where your horse stood. One quick pull and the reins had come off the tree trunk.

“Over there!” a hoarse man growled. Now more voices were heard, curses and angry shouts directed your way.

“Let’s go, boy,” you said and hauled yourself into the saddle. You pushed your legs against his belly, quickly signaled your horse the way and he knew the drill already. He took off sprinting, out of the forest cover. The wind in your face momentarily forced your eyes to tear up a little and you squinted against the cool night air. But just as you thought you were getting onto the gravel road, one of the guards jumped out in front of you. The fire from the torch he was holding danced aggressively in the wind. As he pointed it high, it was a blaze against the darkness of the night sky, and Dorato whinnied in terror. He jumped and reared up, and you lost balance.

“Seize her!” a man shouted at your disoriented figure on the ground. You wanted nothing more than to get back on your feet and flee. But it was no use. You were surrounded by a number of gravely livid men, and should you try anything stupid now, it would cost you your life, probably. Somebody grabbed your shoulders and pulled you up.

“Take the horse,” one of them ordered and your eyes widened. If they hurt your best friend it was the last thing they would do, you swore in silence. But to your dismay, as the men dragged you over to the wagon, they ripped your quiver and your bow from your back. You sat still as they tied your hands and feet and hurled you into the very wagon you had just stolen from.

“There you have your gemstones,” a guard spoke. “Look at them as much as you want, because soon you won’t be looking at anything anymore.”

Giving him a gaze so spiteful it should have hurt him physically, you spit right into his face. Lucky for you, he wasn’t up for a fight. It wasn’t on him to convict you for anything just yet. A complacent smile spread on your face as he walked away, wiping your saliva out of his eyes. At least now you had a guaranteed roof over your head for the night.

You were in slight trouble, you had to admit that. In two days, you would arrive at the castle. Depending on what the king decided, your punishment could be as severe as death. But until then, it would be a while. There was still plenty of time to escape, you assured yourself.

All night long, no matter how much you forced your eyes shut, you didn’t catch a minute of sleep. The men’s chatter was simply too loud and maybe you were concerned for your safety, after all – even if you would have never confessed it to someone other than yourself. The heavy chests of luxurious items sat across and next to you, as if they were mocking you for your foolish actions. For hours you sat staring at them, cursing your greed. Only in the morning, when the carriages continued their journey, the rocking of the wagon lulled you into a slumber.

~

You awoke later that day. Judging by the dim light falling into the carriage, it must have been the early evening. Curious, you scooted to the edge, lifted the fabric that was covering your sight and checked. Your assumptions had been right. The golden sunlight of the last hour of daytime shone into your face. The wagon you were in was the last of them, behind you only the bright gravel and trees left and right. For a while you daydreamed the boredom away. You went into another world, in which you didn’t have to steal to survive. In your real life, you were either born into luxury or you had to toil each day for the rest of your existence. There was no hard work that could have transported you out of your peasant-state and into something more carefree.

Suddenly, shouts ripped you right out of your dreamworld. The wagon had halted, but when you looked out the back, nothing was there. Trying to learn what the commotion was all about, you concentrated on the chaos of voices. Had they all gotten into an argument? The men were all talking at the same time, so there was really no use but to wait and see.

“You will be delighted to have some company until you receive your sentence from the king,” a man said. Footsteps drew nearer. Someone pulled away the fabric at the end of the wagon. Before you knew it, a figure was pushed inside. It was a young man but clearly not one of the guards, as he was dressed like a peasant. With a groan, he was bracing himself up across from you.

“Enjoying the ride?” the guard outside the wagon taunted you with a sneering grin. You spat in his face. Again.

“You little-“ he snarled.

“Let’s go! We can’t lose any more time!” someone yelled and unknowingly saved you from more trouble. The man disappeared and the carriages began to move again.

You welcomed the newest addition to your wagon by staring him down like he was about to take all the gold and diamonds clearly reserved for you. When he had sat up and checked his surroundings, he noticed your look.

“Is there a problem or something on my face?” he asked.

“Were you trying to steal from them?” you asked back. “Didn’t go as planned, did it?”

“Were you not?” he replied. “My highness, we’re in the same situation, so don’t you try to aggravate me out of tediousness.”

“Don’t you mock me, or you’ll receive the same response as the guard did,” you threatened. “And you are very wrong. You are going to be brought to the castle and thrown into a prison. I will escape.”

“Is that so?” he asked. “I see you’re making great progress with getting out of these ropes. You better hurry, or I’ll get away before you do. I can carry a lot in my pockets.”

You huffed.

“The diamonds are mine,” you stated, matter-of-fact.

“Whoever gets out first will have them,” he replied. “I’m betting on myself.”

“God…could you not have chosen a different day to steal from the royals?” you asked, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was your highness’ turn today,” he said, and his smile was taunting and cocky at the same time.

“I told you to stop calling me that!” you hissed, one second from collecting your saliva in your mouth.

“What do you prefer then?” he asked. His smirk made you wonder whether he was contemplating to suggest some more stupid pet names for you. He better not, you thought.

“I don’t know…what about my name?” you said. “It’s Y/N.”

“All right, Y/N,” he said. “And would you consider sitting on death row one of the more entertaining parts of your job? Are you used to it?”

If only looks could kill, he’d be torn to shreds.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been caught,” you said. “But judging by how lightly you’re taking this, you must spend more time in jail than outside of it.”

“What can I say? The guards love me,” he said. “But didn’t they teach you to be honest? I don’t believe you. Or maybe you were a coward for so long and this is your first time actually trying to steal. What’s the truth, sweetheart?”

There was nothing you despised like people who underestimated you. And with that, you spat in his face and turned away from him. Know-it-alls weren’t going to be granted a second of your attention.

“Hey, talk to me,” he said. “We’ll be here for another while, so we might as well become friends.”

“Missed your chance,” you said. And it was the last thing you said to him for a long time. Even when he tried so hard to lure you back into a conversation. You knew if you gave in, he’d never learn.

“My name is H/N, by the way. Oh, that’s right. You don’t care. I forgot,” he said. And he was right.

~

Having to rot away by yourself in the back of a carriage was already exhilarating enough. But rotting away in the back of a carriage while an irritating young man filled your head with stupid stories you could care less about? It made hell sound inviting. Even when the guards had set up their camp for the night, he occasionally tried to get you back into conversation. Because you had slept throughout the day, you knew you’d be awake until the early morning hours, a fact that only made your situation more unbearable.

Your ears picked up the crackling of the wood as the bonfire fed on it next to the wagon. Suddenly, a guard pulled aside the curtain. Without a word, he slid a plate with a piece of bread and a bowl with some water inside and left.

“This is going to be hard to eat with my hands on my back!” the young thief in front of you shouted, but the guard only laughed.

“Nice try,” you said, eyeing the food.

“Oh, she speaks after all,” he said. “And at least one of us is trying.”

“If I had one coin for every time you’ve provoked me since we met, I could buy my freedom,” you said. And again, he was in the wrong. Obviously, you had tried hard to figure out a way to get out of the restraints digging into your skin. If only you had a sharp object or –

“Are you gonna eat that?” he asked, pointing his head at the bread. He was willing to share, at least.

“I’ll bite off half and you get the other side,” you announced and bent your head down to the plate.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, shoving you out of the way so you tumbled onto your side with a huff of surprise.

“What the fuck is your issue?” you asked, regaining you posture.

“I’m taking the first bite,” he said. “I don’t know where your mouth has been.”

“I’ll show you where my mouth is,” you snapped. The next moment you tackled him, teeth digging into his shoulder. He groaned in pain, ferociously pushing you off him. His foot hit your thigh and you realized if you had any chance of getting away, an injured leg wouldn’t make it easier. So, you trudged away slightly.

“Are you out of your mind? Did you just really fucking bite me?” he growled.

“Go ahead, eat your damned bread,” you snarled. With a sulky sigh, you leaned back against the chest behind you, shut your eyes and tried to keep your fury in check.

You sat that way for an hour, maybe a few. With time, the roaring laughter from outside had died down. It must have been the middle of the night when you opened your eyes again. The silence let you conclude that your fellow captive had fallen asleep. Finally, you bent down to where you suspected the water bowl to be and took a few gulps. Only now you realized just how empty your stomach was. But your nose picked up something. Bread. In the darkness, you could hardly make out the half of the piece he had left for you. His humble act redacted your opinion of him from 100 to 98% dickhead. Like a starved animal, you gobbled the food. When you took your place against the chest once more, even you managed to snooze off into a much needed rest.

~

When the carriage steered through a pothole it shook you out of your slumber. Surprisingly, it was completely bright outside.

“You’re just on time,” the young thief across from you announced. “We’re about to arrive at the castle.”

He hadn’t woken you up. Maybe he had earned a few more sympathy points – with emphasis on a few. Only twenty minutes later, you were lead trough the cold halls of some dark part of the castle, down into the dungeon. While the guards dragged you around, even your loudmouth shut. This was new territory and made you slightly nervous. Were you going to make it out of here? So far, nothing was decided. You dearly prayed the king would be in a fantastic mood when he convicted you.

Your whole body was sore from the hours of sitting in the same position on the hard wood of the wagon, so you almost welcomed being shoved through the uninviting halls. One of the guards cut the remaining ropes from your hands, before pushing you into a cell. Much to your dismay, your fellow wagon inmate would also join you in this prison.

“The king will tend to you lowlives when he has time,” the guard said. The loud metallic clash of the prison bars closing and the lock sliding in place sounded like your demise. Your eyes followed the guard’s figure helplessly, until he had disappeared down the dark hallway. A slam of a door indicated that he was gone. Like a nervous animal, you paced from one wall to the other over and over. Your arms were crossed in front of your body and you were trying hard not to have a nervous breakdown. You needed your brain for more vital things right now – like contriving a plan to escape this hellhole before you could be sentenced to death.

“Would you sit down, goddammit!” the young man remarked. He was leaning against the back wall of the cell, eyeing you closely. “I need to think!”

“Do you think I don’t?” you replied. The moment of panic in your voice was short-lived, but he probably noticed it either way.

“I can’t focus if you’re losing it in front of me,” he said. “If you’re already processing your inevitable death, that’s cool with me. But I’m still planning on getting out of here, so please try to process in silence.”

Your nostrils flared in anger and you clenched your hands to fists by your sides.

“You idiot!” you said. “If you hadn’t done everything in your power to make me despise you right when we met, we could have tried to flee together.”

“Last time I checked, you were the one biting me for having a sense of personal hygiene,” he fired back. “We’re stuck in here. But get it together, we’re not on death row yet.”

In disbelief you stared at him, your irritation almost drowning out the restless pounding inside your head. He held his chin high as if to challenge you. And you could have gone for it. Down here in this cold, forlorn dungeon no one would hinder you from fighting each other. No, you knew for a fact that not a single soul in this castle gave one last damn about whether you lived or died. But you were completely drained. After all the sleep you had gotten, you should have been wide awake, and maybe your body was – but your mind was in the middle of shutting down. So, even though it hurt your pride, you stopped your uneasy walking and mirrored his behavior on another wall. Arms crossed and eyebrows furrowing, you kept your eyes on the ground. Maybe he was right. Giving up wasn’t characteristic for you, so why was your head spinning from dread?

In desperate search of some sort of hope, you caught glimpse of his rather relaxed stance. If he could keep up a calm front, maybe you could too. Luckily, he wasn’t looking at you, and not noticing how you drew strength from his so simple but enheartening behavior.

~

Three days into your stay in the dungeon, you had found a daily rhythm. Your mornings consisted of pretending to be asleep for as long as you possibly could, then holding yourself back from attacking your beloved cellmate because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut for more than five minutes. By midday your arguments had usually turned into playful bickering, because you couldn’t cope with being angry all the time. And frankly, you were bored. Even though standing his endless interrogations about your life was exhilarating, it was still better than losing sense of time and in the process also losing your sanity. Late, when darkness had fallen upon the land, a guard delivered a small ration of food for both of you. This was the part where your bickering morphed back into serious conflicts. If you were going to live on tiny amounts of food, you wouldn’t settle for the smaller ration of the two.

The fourth day was different. When you first reached consciousness, you heard nothing. Usually, he was already awake, noticing like a stalker when you awoke, only to tease you from the moment you woke up. But that day, you opened your eyes to a seemingly empty cell. Until you spotted him in the corner. His body was shaking, and his tiny, husky cough concerned you further.

“H/N?” you asked quietly. Considering the amount of loathing you’d thought you held for him, you sure worried an unnormal amount. But it wasn’t the mere thought of him being ill that concerned you most. It was the idea of having to suffer in the dark, murky dungeon all alone, day to day, until you’d have to face the king, who likely wanted you dead for your crimes. An ice-cold fear crept over you. You didn’t want to – no, you couldn’t – die lonely. Even if he was the last person you could have wished to be thrown into prison with, he was still company. This loathsome cell, the horrors of the near future, the neverending progression of time and the uncertainty that came with it – it all terrified you to the bone. Only now you realized just how much comfort he gave you, all by existing in the same space as you.

Carefully, you approached him. He wasn’t answering you, and he never not answered you. It was a heartbreaking sight. He was curled up in a fetal position, hands clenched to fists on his chest. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his forehead. Whether he liked it or not, you sat down with him. Gently, you reached for his forehead. A second was enough to determine he was burning up.

“Get off me,” he said, slapping your hand away. His voice was so frail.

“Hush. Let me help you,” you insisted. He huffed in annoyance.

“Are you a doctor when you’re not a thief?” he asked.

“No. But improving your mentality will help your body recover faster,” you said. “And you seem to be in a very negative headspace right now.”

His mouth opened to speak, but then a shiver rippled through his body and he wrapped his arms around his knees tightly. All this time, he hadn’t even opened his eyes.

“We need to keep you cool,” you said. “Take off your jacket.”

“This isn’t the time to ask me to take off my clothes,” he said, almost whispered.

“Will you just do as I say so you can get better? Do you want to die in here?” you said, brushing off his words. Something flashed across his face. Fear? Disappointment? Aware that it could invade his comfort zone, you very carefully took his hands. Lucky for you, he let you. When his jacket came off, you noticed the sweat stains that had formed on his thin shirt.

“You can lie down on this, it’ll be more comfortable,” you advised. Without arguing, he followed your instructions and allowed you to spread out the jacket underneath him. This behavior was new, you thought. But you could surely get used it. You knew it must have been serious, if he didn’t give you a silly remark for everything you said.

“I’ll get you more water,” you said, as you retrieved the almost empty water bowl from the center of the stone floor. Set on not spilling a drop, you lifted it to his lips and watched as he swallowed the last few sips. You used the sleeve of your shirt to wipe his wet hair out of his face, as he sunk back down onto the hard ground.

“Sleep now,” you said. You didn’t need to tell him twice. He had been almost unable to keep his eyelids open, so without hesitation, he drifted off into dreamland. For hours, you sat, hugging your knees to your chest, eyes on his anguished figure. Just as you had thought you could deal with the scary ordeal of being held captive in a castle dungeon, this had to happen. Stricken with sorrow, you waited for time to pass. If only you could have slept too, it would have made all the anxious thoughts go away. But someone had to look after him, and you weren’t tired.

His slumber must had been a hag-ridden one. Sometimes, he made small sounds, like whimpers, other times his brows furrowed, and his muscles flexed from whichever terror it was that haunted him in his head.

“Shh, you’re going to be okay,” you assured him, and maybe also yourself. But his tireless stirring only became worse, his body twisting and turning on the uneven ground. He groaned in agony, and your heart clenched like a million little daggers had slashed it.

“I’m here to keep you safe,” you whispered, bending down to his level. With utmost care, you lifted his head and let him rest in your lap. You weren’t really planning what was happening, but your hands found his hands. Softly, you stroked them, waiting for him to calm down and relax his tight fists. His mumbles and quiet moans of distress continued, until you realized. He was trying to tell you something.

“I can’t go like this,” he said.

“You’re not go-“ you started.

“No! My- parents need- me,” he stuttered. By now he was grasping your hands desperately. You sighed and his eyes opened ever so slightly. The anger he had held for you was vanished. You almost teared up at the delicateness of his gaze.

“I need to help them... they’re old and sick and can’t be alone,” he added in a small voice.

“We will get out of here,” you said. You had no idea when there had first been a ‘we’, but now there apparently was. “You have to be strong now, do you hear? Then you can meet your parents again.”

He was looking almost through you. His eyes were so dark, it was like staring right into the deepest part of the ocean. You stroked the back of his hand with your thumb, whilst trying hard to keep a hopeful gaze. For him, you had to appear strong. Or else, how else was he supposed to be?

“I’m sorry- I was such an asshole to you,” he suddenly confessed. “I thought you would steal away the gold before I could. And now look where that brought us.”

“This isn’t your fault. We were both being reckless,” you said. “I’m sorry I bit you. And threatened to spit on your face. And then spat on your face.”

The tiniest smile spread on his face. Success. Any sort of positive emotion could help him now.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he whispered. “I’ll think about whether I can forgive you. You must know, I’m very vindictive.”

His grin was playful, and his eyes were closed, as if he was on the brink of falling back to sleep.

“Forgiveness hurts less than holding a grudge for the rest of your life,” you said. Who knew? Maybe even the king could show remission. All you knew was that you would crumble, would you have to encounter the king alone. Your brain had set on the need for H/N. For years, you hadn’t formed any meaningful relationships – not counting your bond with your ardently loved horse. Now, with his head on your lap and your fingers intertwined with his, you ached for more. Was it really him you wanted? Or had you denied yourself of any affection for such a long time, the smallest contact with anyone appeased your yearning? Would you have felt the same, if it had been somebody else in his place?

~

At night, the metal noise of the door at the far end of the hallway outside your cell made you lift your head. Gently, so that H/N wouldn’t be awoken, you lifted his head to lay on the jacket instead of your thigh. In impatience, your foot tapped on the ground while you stood in the middle of the cell.

“Sir,” you called the guard with a fake-soft voice. “Will it be possible to receive another cup with water? My fellow inmate has fallen sick.”

The grumpy guard unlocked the metal bars, entering with the usual small ration of food and drink.

“What does it matter if he dies now or by command of the king? Do you think I care?” he growled, not sparing you a glance. You had been almost convinced this would have happened. So, you’d have to resort to different measures.

“Please-“ you begged, suddenly stepping towards the guard, who was on his way out of the cell. Without second thought, you threw yourself onto him, making sure to look extra-devastated and helpless. What could a weak, little young woman do to a guard, other than fall on her knees, right?

“Touch me once more and you’re dead, too, bitch!” he barked. One quick move of your skilled fingers and you eagerly backed off, hands hiding behind your back.

“Sorry, sir!” you said, lowering your head in false shame and guilt. “Please consider my request.”

All he gave you was a grunt of disapproval and he stomped out of the cell, the lock falling into place in a loud crash. Feigning inferiority and intimidation, you didn’t dare move until he was out of the dungeon. Then, you spun to the young man behind you on the ground.

“Open up,” you commanded, suspecting the shouting could not have kept him asleep. Finally, you could pull the flask you had stolen from the guard from behind your back. It seemed to be almost filled to the brim, too. Perfect. He did as he was told, and you let some of the water spill into his mouth.

“I take back what I said in the carriage,” he confessed. “Only full-time thieves have a sleight of hand like yours.”

“It was my pleasure proving you wrong,” you said. “Now, drink up.”

That night, you let him have the full ration of food. For at least ten minutes, he refused to have all of it. But you were stubborn and even though he hadn’t known you for long, he knew that much about you. If you wanted to escape with him, he would need to be fit to run. You had deemed your chances small to begin with, but in his state, you estimated them close to zero. After you had emptied the guard’s flask, you reached through the prison bars and tossed the item as far away from the cell as you could. He should never assume you’d had anything to do with its disappearance. The next day, a different guard would find it there, and bring it back to him under the assumption that he had carelessly dropped it.

~

Two days passed by. In the first night of the two, you had to comfort him through another few nightmares. During the day, he was sleepy, but had enough energy to have a little conversation with you now and then – something you read as a good sign. The second night, you were able to sleep all the way through, and when you checked his forehead in the morning, it had cooled down a little. On the second day, he had regained his strength enough to be able to sit, leaning against your shoulder.

“Will you stop moving? My head’s pounding,” he said.

“Your complaints make me wonder if you’re doing well now,” you asked, smirking.

“Like I said…my head’s killing me,” he repeated.

“Drink the rest of the water,” you suggested. “I think it’s almost evening. The guard will bring a new bowl soon.”

“It’s your turn to eat tonight,” he stated.

“We’re sharing,” you said. Lucky for him, he didn’t fight back. You wouldn’t have cooperated, either way.

“It’s time to make a plan now, if we want to get out of here. What do you say?” you asked. When he lifted his head, you looked over at him. The color was back in his face, the beads of sweat nonexistent and his cheeky smile bright as ever.

“I wonder…about what your little magic hands did to that guard’s flask…could they do the same with his keys?” he suggested. The way you mirrored his mischievous grin, he knew you agreed. But it would be trickier, this time. From days worth of observation, you had learned that the guards behaved differently. Some adamantly made sure the keys remained in their clenched fists – an instance you couldn’t work with at all – while others preferred to leave them in the lock by the door. You knew you’d never get close enough to even attempt to steal them from there. What you needed was the careless type of guard. The one who snuck the keys into their pockets or left them hanging on their clothes by the keyring. All it took now was to wait and hope the king would keep you locked away for long enough to give you a chance to flee.

That night, luck wasn’t on your side. The guard kept his hands on his keys as if they were his most precious possession.

~

“Do we really have to go over this again? I told you your pacing is driving me insane,” he said. It was midday of the following day, and you were deep in thought – or you had been – until he had to interrupt you.

“What do you expect me to do? We’re jailed like animals,” you countered. “I can’t stand around like you all day.”

When you saw him open his mouth, you read in his expression what he was about to do. It was his bickering face.

“If there’s one thing I’m not in the mood for currently, it’s getting lectured by you over nothing. Come up with a topic of conversation, please,” you said before he could speak. His smirk concerned you.

“What are you in the mood for, then?” he asked with raised eyebrows. Your death glare said more than a thousand words. “Fine, here’s a conversation topic…let me think…why are you not married?”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” you said in the most impassive tone you could muster.

“Oh, alright, if that’s not good enough, I’ll go back to flirting,” he said. The steps he was taking towards you made your brain activate fight mode.

“I’ve never met a man good enough for marriage,” you said.

“And what qualifies a man to be good enough for you?”

“Hm…where do I begin? I’m not a good cook, nor do I enjoy being a maid, nor do I know how to take care of children. Most men want those things in a woman.”

“You took pretty good care of me, didn’t you? But why waste your thieving talent on running a household?” he said.

“That’s where the issue lays. Men don’t favor women who sneak around the village at night and make their own money from being a criminal.”

“Nothing wrong with being a criminal,” he went on.

You laughed out loud.

“You know what? I like it this way. Why settle for staying with one man who might turn out to be a monster, when I can have them all for a night?” you said.

“Well, right now you’re not having anyone.”

“Seems like that’s bothering you more than it bothers me,” you replied in a feisty tone. If you didn’t call him out for the flirting, who would? Although you had to admit, you greatly preferred being courted to his unnerving teasing.

“Why would that bother me?” he asked. “You hate me, don’t you?”

He was right in front of you now, tilting his head and giving you a smirk that made you consider biting him again. And at the same time, something in your body – not your head – wanted to close the small distance between you two.  

“If I hated you, I would have let you die,” you said.

“I assumed you kept me alive because you need me to get out of here.”

Now you had another reason to get up in his face. You gripped him by the collar, looking into his eyes.

“Excuse me? You think I wouldn’t be able to escape by myself? If you’re only trying to rile me up, you better let me know, because I already told you I can’t stand to be underestimated,” you said.

“Alright,” he rose his arms in defeat. “After your little stunt with the guard I’m actually pretty glad I have you in here with me. Honestly, I don’t think I’d get out without you.”

“Was that so hard to spit out?” you said, self-accomplished.

“No. But you only come close to me when you’re mad or worried,” he said. By now, his eye contact was captivating in the most confusing way possible. His eyes occasionally skipped to your lips. “And since I’m not sick anymore, I had to opt for the former.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you said. Unbelievably handsome, your brain added. And yes, maybe he was. Perhaps it wasn’t so much his beautiful face, but the way he spoke, understanding, even encouraging your lifestyle. You had just forced him to be honest with you. So, maybe it was time to stop holding back the truth from yourself, too.

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked. It’s time to give in, you told yourself. Therefore, rather than telling him, you showed him. With a sudden rush of hunger, your lips crashed against his. Momentarily, he seemed taken aback and let out a surprised groan. But within seconds he caught himself, hands grabbing your sides desperately. You thought addictions needed more time to develop, but the feeling of his mellow lips on yours already seemed like one to you.

You had never kissed anyone who had truly made you feel things. Now, your knees were weak in an instant when his tongue grazed yours only for a moment. After so much arguing, it was hard to believe your hands clasping the fabric of his shirt couldn’t be a product of you cursing him but derived from mere want. The way he claimed your mouth silenced even your most invasive thoughts. It was a serenity you had wished for ever since you had gotten caught a few days ago. A moment to breathe freely, make whichever noises you desired and be as close to him as you could.

You pulled him along, stumbling backwards until you hit the cold stone behind you. Being trapped in a dungeon was horrific – but being trapped between his body and the wall left you feeling safer than you had felt in a long, long time.

But the peace didn’t last long. You suddenly heard the all too familiar metal noise from the distance. Alarmed, you sprung apart. As the unexpecting guard walked down the dark hallway, you smoothed out your clothing hastily.

“Congratulations! Your time in here will be over. Tomorrow the king will see you,” the guard announced. You shot your fellow inmate an alerted gaze, which he returned. Silently, he nodded at you. It was time to do something. The guard was now opening the door, bringing inside your food. His key was in his hands – this was going to be an issue. He set the plate down in the front of the room, and was in the process of spinning around, when H/N spoke.

“Sir, may I attract you to a magic trick?” he asked the guard. “I have been practicing it for so long, and it would be a shame if I had to die before I could ever present it.”

“Go to hell,” the guard said.

“I have a coin here,” H/N added. The guard raised his head. “If you win, you get to keep it.”

“Give it to me,” the annoyed man said.

“That’s not how it works. First, I will need both of your hands,” H/N explained. You smiled slightly when the guard sighed. He complied, letting his keys disappear into his oversized pocket. Retrieving them would be child’s play for you.

“Stick up your hands ahead of you. And keep your eyes locked on the coin. Be quick, or you’ll lose it,” H/N said in his dramatic voice. As he lifted his own hand with the coin in it, the guard followed and looked upwards. This was your time. Like a cat, you tip-toed around the guard’s back, not even paying attention to what H/N was doing anymore. Ever so swiftly, your hand slid into his pocket, fingers closing around the chill metal. As quickly as you had approached him, you stepped away, the key sliding into your sleeve and out of sight.

“Incorrect!” H/N called. “But you know what? I will grant you the coin either way. By tomorrow, I might not need it any longer.”

The guard even went so far as to laugh – even if it was a gloating sort of laughter. The only thing left to do now was hope he wouldn’t discover his missing key. But luck was on your side. Without another word, the man stepped out of the cell, shut the door, and walked off. The tune he whistled became smaller and smaller, until it faded out completely.

“Guess who’s getting out of here?” you asked, triumphantly revealing the key.

“You did it!” he exclaimed. You weren’t sure whether it was a spur of the moment decision, or maybe he was just too ecstatic to stop himself, but he flung his arms around your frame and squeezed you tightly.

“Hey, hey, you can’t crush me so close to my escape,” you laughed.

“Our escape,” he smiled. “We need to act fast. He could notice the missing key any second.”

Nodding eagerly, you grabbed half of the bread and downed half of the water bowl. You weren’t going to leave that behind. After all, you never knew when your next meal would be.

“If we make it to the stables, we can get a horse,” he announced. “I saw them on our way here. They’re to the west. The sun should be setting now, if my sense of time is still correct. Let’s hurry, or else we’ll be out of directions.”

“Dorato!” you exclaimed. “They took my horse!”

“The black horse that was tied to the carriage when we came here? I saw him,” he noted. You nodded, swearing you would leave here without Dorato only over your dead body.

~

Ten minutes later you had successfully exited the cell and approached the door at the end of the hallway.

“Out there it’s on both of us to keep running, okay?” you whispered.

He only nodded. “Towards the setting sun.”

The second you had slipped past the door you were spotted by a maid.

“Prisoners!” she yelled. Your plan to slip away unnoticed had gone down the drain quickly. With one last glance at the young man next to you, you both took off. The way out of the castle was still burned into your brain from when you had been brought inside. Back then, you had already planned to get out, so you had payed an extra amount of attention. When you reached a turn, you barely had time to think about the right way. By now, two guards were after you and you were forced to trust your intuition. H/N was a little ahead of you. The sudden exercise after being refined to a tiny cell for so long made your chest burn in exhaustion after only such a short while. But the adrenaline drowned it all out easily.

You knew you had to be close to the outside, it was a feeling. But then, all of a sudden, a guard cut off your path in front of you. H/N was racing far ahead, so that he could get away. You, on the other hand, had no time to overthink your actions. Before the guard could catch you, you had ducked under his outstretched arms. Now, sprinting down an unfamiliar corridor over the marble flooring, your sense of direction was gone, but your will to survive vigorous as ever.

For minutes you ran, collecting a horde of guards behind you the longer you kept going. When you turned a corner, you were greeted by another long corridor. Only this time, it was a dead end.  Nevertheless, you kept up the speed. What else could you have done? By now, your calves felt like they were on fire, breath coming in short gasps. You suddenly took notice of the precious paintings and statues that adorned the hallway. Maybe this was the answer.

Without slowing down, you took hold of a stone vase. Just for a moment, you gathered all your might. Then, you dashed it forward, against the window at the very end of the corridor. Your body followed shortly after, but it was enough time for the glass to shatter before you. In a protective manner, you folded your arms over your chest and shut your eyes tightly as your figure flew through the opening.

When you had passed the window, your eyes opened, and you ducked. Soft grass caught your body as you rolled onto the ground. The impact knocked the air out of your lungs momentarily. But within seconds you were back on your feet. Aggressive shouts from behind you only motivated you to keep going. Faster. Just a little longer. Dawn had broken in, but the sky was still a bright blue to your left. That’s where you were headed. A market place close by acted as the perfect cover for a while. You barely had time to watch out, crashing into people’s shoulders and knocking over bowls and baskets. An enraged shout followed you, but you were already far gone.

And he had been right. Your nose picked up the scent of hay and animals. You had to be close. What if he wasn’t there? What if they caught you again? A short panic bubbled up inside of you. Stealing might could have been forgiven, but for your current deeds no king would let you live. The wooden stables were in sight by now.

You could barely breathe anymore, but something inside of you kept you up and going nonetheless. Every breath burned as you entered, stalls of horses and other animals to your left and right. But no sight of H/N. Nor of your horse. Did he leave without you? Had he assumed you had been caught and tried to save his own life, at least? Your head spun as you scanned the animals one last time. Then, the men’s deep shouts caught up with you. You needed to get out, or else this stable would turn into a trap.

When your feet hit the cobblestone outside, you spotted the mob of angered men and women coming at you. They were holding spears, torches and pitchforks and were livid.

“Y/N!” someone suddenly yelled from your right. The sound of his voice had never sounded better to you. He was on your horse, careering towards you. One last look at the furious crowd of peasants and guards, and then you only focused on him. Only a little more strength, and you could get out of here.

The second he was close enough to you, you started running again. Like you had done so many times, you hauled yourself onto Dorato behind him. Your hands caught his shirt and you pulled your body flush against him. You needed no words. Now, you only needed to trust your horse to get you out of here. Just for a moment, you closed your eyes in exhaustion and took a few, consciously deep breaths. In lightning speed, you raced across the grass and towards the archway out of the courtyard.

And you made it. He shouted in a boisterous tone, and while at first you laughed, you couldn’t help but join his happiness loudly.

 ~2 months later~

 The rough bark of the tree was digging into your back, but you couldn’t have cared less. Not when he was all over you. Not when his scent was so intoxicating, and his busy hands made you forget about any other sensation on your skin. It took no time. You had escaped together, thinking it was your time to part ways after what you had gone through with him. Now, each day you hung on his every word and couldn’t even bear to be away from him for minutes at a time.

Not far from you, your two horses stood, grazing on the grass by their feet. Meanwhile, the two of you, supposed to be on the lookout for your next target, had found another occupation in the cover of the trees. The market close by wasn’t exactly your goal – it was the nobles who would arrive in their carriages like every weekend to spend time by the beautiful lake. While they had their picnics and gossiped about each other, there was enough time for you two check for some gifts to retrieve from their carriages.

You sighed happily as he kissed your neck ever so softly. In him, you hadn’t just found a partner in crime. He was your muse, your comfort and your home. His family was your new family and finally, you had someone to tell all your most unbridles stories and dreams to – someone who could actually reply, with no offense to your horse. Going out stealing was as exciting as hiding between the sheets with him. In such a short time, he had learned to read your face and knew every curve of your body like it was a part of himself, and you had no problem with that.

Suddenly, he pulled away. He looked over your shoulder, gaze changing from tranquil to fierce.

“There they come,” he announced. That moment, you heard the sounds too. Hooves and the crunch of gravel under wheels. Smiling in excitement, you turned to check the situation as well. But you had to be honest, he was much more entertaining to look at. Like in so many cases, you found yourself tied to his gorgeous features and the way his jaw clenched when he was plotting.

“Eyes on the prize, sweetheart,” he said, not peeling his look from the carriages.

“Don’t you know, I’ve already won the best prize there is in the world?” you asked, hearts in your eyes and a cheeky smile on your face.