#why is everyone so talented and all the time and

[ronwestbreeze]

NONBELIEVER | viktor

summary: you would think two zaunites would come together and change the world. but perhaps fate had other plans for the two...

word count: 5.7k

warning: no use of y/n, angst and ambiguous endings???

author's note: so act 3 really messed me up lol but enjoy some angsty viktor because why not? the gif is from this set!!

ACT I: MOB

Like Viktor, you lived and breathed the Undercity just not in the same way.

Your face used to be what artists would paint, even for a revolutionary.

But now it was stained with blood of your own. Beaten out of you mercilessly until cool shackles were clamped onto your hands and steel bars shielded you from the world. You have been in prison for some time now. Months, maybe a year? These days you’ve lost count. The only way you could tell how much time had passed was the growth of your hair. That was the price of being a revolutionary. That was the price of taking risks no one else would. Now you tasted blood and smelled old pipes. That was life in Stillwater Hold.

How you got here was the same story as any other inmate. You had planned to destroy a part of Piltover to make a point. To show that the people of the Undercity would not rest or become the ants under their boots. Most of your comrades had escaped from Enforcers, others were killed in the explosion, and then there was you. It was a sacrifice so that your comrades could have time to escape. And you’ve long accepted your fate.

That is until a certain professor decided to mess with fate.

After being forced out of your cell to meet this Professor Heimer—something, you weren’t really sure about. All you knew was that these Enforcers really liked to manhandle you especially roughly and took pleasure in seeing the black eye and blood on your teeth. That you were used to.

“Oh dear, could we please get her a towel at least?” The professor chided with a shake of his head. “Goodness, at least have her be presentable!”

Eventually, you got the rag, albeit it was thrown at you. After spitting on one of the Enforcer’s shoes, you wiped the blood and dirt from your face as the professor began speaking.

“Well, you certainly live up to your name. The Rebel Moon, is it? You may or may not have heard of me, but I am Professor Cecil. B. Heimerdinger and I are here as a Piltover Academy representative!”

A beat of silence went by. You realized then he was waiting for a response. You rolled your shoulder back and rubbed your aching jaw. “What are you meeting with me for?”

Professor Heimerdinger cleared his throat awkwardly, “Well….it seems you’ve left yourself a bit of a…reputation. I specifically admire your work on the bridge a year ago—marvelous work!” Sarcasm. You didn’t quite appreciate the condescension either. Seeing the unimpressed expression on your face, he quickly continued, “What I mean to get at is that we found some of your…erm, blueprints and I was surprised to see that most of them had been handwritten yourself, is that right?”

One of the Enforcers placed down a file filled with your old blueprints. They were mostly a copy of the Piltover Bridge, others were for weapons that your previous comrades built off of your drawings. Then there were the private drawings. The ones filled with naïve dreams of rebuilding the Undercity, changing it to a place where it was safe for everyone.

You snatched the files and hid those drawings in the file earning a quick yank from one of the Enforcers holding your chain. But after a subtle look from the professor, the chain loosened, and you frowned, anger boiling in your blood. “Where did you get this?”

Heimerdinger raised his hands, “I come in good faith, child, that I can promise.”

“I don’t particularly care about your promises—”

“Oh yes, very true,” The professor tapped the table thoughtfully. “But I do think you will like the proposition I have for you.”

Apparently, you had the potential talent of being an architect. One of the best in your generation it seemed—which somehow, he got from just looking at your old blueprints. And now he was convinced that you should join his Academy and that this was the perfect opportunity for you to change your life. To start over. To—

“Become one of you people?” You frowned and pushed the file away from you. “I’ll take my chances in here.”

 Heimerdinger, of course, was quite the persistent man.  “Imagine what you could do with your talents, Miss Moon. You’re still so young, you don’t have to waste your life behind bars. You can start anew!”

“I’m not wasting away in here.” You say simply, your shoulders are heavy and your face still sore. Carefully and slowly, you leaned back in the chair you were sitting in,  trying not to put too much stress on your recently dislocated arm. “That’s the thing with you Upsiders. You all don’t know anything about what it is to fight. And what it is to sacrifice just so your people can see the light of day. I don’t need your handouts. I’m doing just fine here. It’s where I belong.”

At that, he frowned. “I’m afraid I disagree with you, Miss Moon.” He pushed the file back toward you. “You have the chance to create something beautiful for your city, for your people. You have the chance to help them live. You have the chance to be something greater.”

Greater. You weren’t great. It was either great or nothing.

Somehow, Heimerdinger managed to strike a deal and get you out of Stillwater despite your rejection. For some reason, he was so determined to make you into something that you weren’t. And you were determined to fail. You were determined to prove him wrong. Even if he tried to impress you with the new uniform, the scenery, and the architect of Piltover—just to inspire you—you would not break.

If anything, seeing all this luxury only made you angrier. Even if they preached about you now being free with new chances, there were still shackles clamped on your wrists, imprinting themselves like a tattoo. To remind you that even if you’ve gotten this chance, there is always a chance for you to go back. And they wouldn’t hesitate to send you back once you mess up. Which was what you were counting on.

But it seemed that Heimerdinger was a lot more astute than you expected. The professor had you in his study during the day to work and look over some blueprints for new housing at the Academy. It left you with very little time to plan something reckless that would have you sent back to prison. Which, you guessed, was what Heimerdinger wanted. So, you entertained him and worked on the stupid blueprints, redesigning everything as fast as you could so you could get done faster and have more time on your hands.

Of course, that plan went quickly out the window when there came more demands for blueprints. Leaving you swapped and buried deep in work you didn’t even want. And yet, admittingly, it was a nice distraction. There was a small part of you—the child you—that enjoyed some of this. You would never admit that to Heimerdinger and yet you couldn’t put the pencil down. Eventually, you began receiving so many different requests for different projects that Heimerdinger got you a lab over your own, so all your stuff didn’t get overcrowded in his study.

Requests were filled with more designs or redesign for specific buildings they were hoping to update to catch up to the times—and then there were a few that had you designing weapons. The more you worked, the more of a reputation you began to build in the Academy. The new Undercity kid. Rebel Moon. Hephaestus. It was all ridiculous.

That’s when another fellow Undercity student finally found you.

“I fear those papers would catch on fire the more you glare at it.”

It was an accented voice that stirred you out of your spinning thoughts. You definitely had been glaring at the blueprints of a recent request for an apartment just a few walks from campus. You briefly glanced over your shoulder toward the man—he seemed a little bit older than you, walked with a cane, intrigued amber eyes, and a small, amused smile tugging at his lips.

“If you’re here for a request then just leave it over there with the rest.” You murmured before turning your attention back to the blueprints after pointing toward a desk in the corner stacked with many more requests.

There was a short breath before he spoke, “Ah, no, I actually already sent a request just a few weeks ago…I’m impressed by your work, the professor has a knack for spotting talent.”

You didn’t respond as you kept staring at the blueprints, twirling the pen in your hand, feeling the weight of the shackle around your wrist.

You heard him clear his throat, “So, you are from the Undercity?”

“What’s it to you?” You grunt before outlining.

“Well, truthfully, I didn’t expect the Academy to accept another one.”

At that, you swirl around in your seat and sized the man up carefully. He was pale, slightly hunched to hide his true height, neatly combed dark hair, and he had very fine cheekbones. “Another one? What, too many Zaunites in your perfect little school?”

“I would’ve thought they had enough once I joined.” He gave a knowing smile that made you pause and narrow your eyes.

“…You’re…from the Undercity?”

He moved toward you; the click of his cane echoed in the quiet room and offered his hand to you. “I’m Viktor. I’ve heard a lot of great things about you, Miss Moon.”

You stared at his hand for a moment, tilting your head, “Great things? That doesn’t sound right.”

Viktor chuckled, still holding his hand out. “Eh, some people might have a few opinions about you. Unfortunately, it made me all the keener to meet you in person.”

“Am I what you expected then?” You asked as you eventually shook his hand, your shackles clinking a bit.

With a small smile, he squeezed your hand, “No. Not at all.”

Your brow twitched as you studied him. He was delicate-looking. But his hand was a bit larger yet slender. They were calloused, just like yours yet warm compared to your coldness. It was then you realized that your hand was still in his and you pulled it away and turned back to your work.

“My name’s not ‘Miss Moon’ by the way.” You grunt as you refocus.

There was another soft chuckle and a click of his cane before he was gone. You couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder and stare at the doorway, a little bit too intrigued.

After that, you didn’t stop seeing Viktor. At least twice every week you’d get a request for him to polish some designs for his work. Sometimes he’d send his assistant, Sky, and sometimes he’d come in person himself.  At first, you weren’t entirely sure about him. But the fact that he was from the Undercity along with his assistant was slightly comforting. At least you weren’t alone here. Still, it was odd. Foreign.

“Have you ever gone out to see the finished product of your work?” Viktor asked you one day, deciding to linger even after delivering yet another request for something to do with a Hexcore.

“No.”

“Why?”

You frown and glance toward him. He was looking over some of your finished blueprints with a strange look accompanied by a smile. “I’m just not interested.”

Viktor blinked and met your eyes with a small frown. You didn’t say much more—truthfully there wasn’t much more to be said about it.

“Well, it’s one of the most beautiful designs I’ve ever seen. If that’s any consolation.”

You felt something in your chest at his words. Perhaps some of you did want to see the finished products of your design. And yet you were always rooted in this lab. In the dark under one lamp, barely seen by other students. Hephaestus.

Viktor tapped your workbench thoughtfully and hummed, “I’ll leave you to it, Miss Moon.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s not my name.”

He laughed and left your lab.

On another day he came into your lab in quite a hurry. He left his requests as usual before rushing out. Only he left a ring behind. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you glanced at the ring on the floor and toward your workbench before sighing. After grabbing the ring, you pushed up from your stool and left your lab. This was the first time you’ve walked around campus or went anywhere besides your lab or Heimerdinger’s study.

You asked around for Viktor’s lab until you stopped on a bridge, spotting something quite familiar.

It was the newly remodeled dorms. They glistened like gold in the sun. Build just like how you imagined them in your head. Just like how you outlined it on paper. Only in your dreams could you imagine what they would look like. But seeing it….It was real. And it was beautiful. And it came from your mind.

“Ah, Miss Moon, odd seeing you here!” Viktor approached you quite smugly from across the bridge. He glanced toward the dorms and gave a grin, “They just got done with it last week. What do you think, hmm?”

You narrow your eyes, “You scheming little eel.”

Viktor blinked almost too innocently, “I haven’t a clue what you mean—ah, I was looking for that.”

He gestured toward the ring in your hand. You gave it back to him while your eyes couldn’t help but draw back to the dorms. There was a tightness in your chest and a small ache behind your eyes.

“Glorious, isn’t it?” Viktor asked, his voice gentle as always.

You snapped out of your reserved awe and cleared your throat. “They did okay, I guess.”

With that, you darted back to your lab, the dorms imprinting themselves in your mind.

It became a routine at some point. Viktor began visiting your lab a little more often. At first, you didn’t notice this. But some days he’d come back to your lab a second time that day just to linger and see what else you were working on. At first, you thought you found it annoying. But as the days carried on and turned into weeks, you began to begrudgingly look forward to his visits.

“At least make yourself useful. Look over my work and see if there’s anything I missed.” You tried grunting when he leaned a little closer than usual to look at the blueprint you were working on.

“Hmm, I can try.” Viktor hummed as he flicked his eyes over the finished prints. “But they’re all probably perfect as usual.”

“Don’t you have some work to get to?”

“Not particularly, no.”

For some reason, he started leaving shit in your lab. Which would lead to you having to go and find him and return his stuff. Stuff like a screwdriver or some paperwork. Today it was a journal as you trudged through the campus and finally found his lab.

“Vik, I understand you’re a busy man, but you can’t keep leaving your shit in my area.” You huffed, throwing his journal onto his workbench, breaking him from his focus.

“Oh, Miss Moon,” He looked genuinely surprised to see you. “I wasn’t expecting you…”

“Yeah, right, so you didn’t leave this in my lab on purpose? You just happen to leave it there for me to find and bring to you?” You hummed, tilting your head as you got a good look at what he’s been working on—something a lot longer than what you’ve been doing. The Hexcore was what he called it. You didn’t understand it yourself—or cared much to learn about it. But you did notice some of your designs were used for his work.

“Mmm, you make me sound like a calculating stalker.” Viktor hummed as he got to his feet, joining your side. So, close his arm brushed against yours.

“Are you?” You quipped dryly while studying the Hexcore.

His slender fingers gently brush along your elbow. “I wouldn’t call myself a stalker, no. Are you interested?”

You glanced at him and realized he was talking about the Hexcore. “No. Just give me the why.”

Viktor hummed once more and leaned against the table, his fingers still brushing gently along your elbow. “For our home.” At that, you felt a tightness within your chest, your features falling slightly. Viktor, who had become very astute with your expression, gently grabbed your arm and squeezed it. “What’s with that face?”

You remember your life before the Academy. You remember your determination to prove Heimerdinger wrong. “Sometimes…I feel as if I’ve gotten too comfortable…too used to all of this….”

In the end, it was always your people above everything else. A revolutionary never dies, that was the simple truth.

“I think I’ve gotten too comfortable too.” Viktor frowned softly, tilting his head a bit to get a better look at your eyes when you averted your gaze. “And it’s all your fault, Miss Moon.”

You rolled your eyes only for him to lean forward and capture your lips with his. A lick of fire had been rekindled within you, breathing life into your soul, into your body. When he brought his hand to the back of your neck, when he practically cradled your face and brought you closer so he could deepen the kiss, when he touched you so gently as he always did, it was as if for a moment that heavy weight on your shoulders had been lifted. Leaving you weightless for even just a moment. That bit of relief was a breath of fresh oxygen in your lungs.

The heat from his lips moved from your mouth and down to your jaw and to the crook of your neck. Your back was pressed against the workbench as he practically clung and draped himself over you. And you let him. Even when he desperately wanted to feel you and kiss you all over, he was gentle. He always was.

The days didn’t change much except for whenever he was free, he’d head straight for your lab. Whether on a break or in a hurry, he’d always stop by and pepper your face with quiet kisses and touches before leaving for his lab. It was routine. You were getting comfortable. Comfortable in his warmth. In his gentle hold.

“Just stay,” Viktor murmured against your jaw as you examined some of his work with the Hexcore. “Your presence is better than that tea Jayce always makes.”

“I can’t, Heimerdinger wants to meet with me soon, and I got a bunch more new requests on my desk.” You hummed while looking through Viktor’s partner, Jayce’s, notes. “I think that Jayce guy requested some designs for a hammer of some kind—that’s been taking up most of my time as of lately so I can’t necessarily—”

“I know, I know,” Viktor rested his chin on your shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment as he slumped against you.

His health had gotten worse, which was something you and everyone else noticed. It did worry you how much he was working lately without much sleep, but you quickly learned how much of a stubborn man he was—especially when it came to his work.

“What do you think Heimerdinger wants to meet with you about?” He voiced your constant question out loud.

“Don’t know.” You murmured, trying not to think too much about it—or his health right now. “Won’t know until I get there. Probably wants to send me back to Stillwater.”

At that, he pinched your waist, “Don’t joke like that.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“Losing you is not funny to me.”

You placed Jayce’s scribbles down and wrapped your arms carefully around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder with a soft hum. He instantly relaxed in into your hold, but of course, you could tell his mind was still half Hexcore and half you at the moment. “Be sure to get some rest, okay?”

As usual, he gave a half-assed noise of slight agreement.

ACT II: REBEL MOON

It wasn’t long before Jayce Talis became the Man of Progress and Viktor became buried in his work. And then you were promoted. The lead architect of a very important project for Piltover. No longer the Rebel Moon but Hephaestus, Piltover’s future.

But.

But.

Everyone saw you as the kid saved from the Undercity and made a new. Everyone saw you as the future of their city. You were part of the progress of tomorrow. And you kept chasing Viktor, trying to keep up with his mind but he—he had become so work driven—so ambitious on the Hexcore dream that he had forgotten everything else.

You were angry. Angry at Piltover. Angry at what you’ve become. Angry at Viktor. This wasn’t the life you had chosen. All of this was envisioned for you. This wasn’t for you. You had nearly gotten so swept up in all the glamour and success that you had nearly forgotten—

No. You would never forget your people.

So, when your lab went up in smoke when you destroyed the project that you had been assigned to as lead architect, when the Enforcers tackled you to the ground and arrested you on the spot, when one of them grinned as if they’d been waiting—waiting for you to finally mess up, you knew right then that you would never be what Heimerdinger, what Viktor, or what anyone saw for you. You were a Zaunite after all. And a revolutionary. A rebel. Always.

It wasn’t long before you were placed back in Stillwater Hold. In the same cell. With the same shackles. You didn’t even get to tell Viktor goodbye. Would he have even realized it? Or perhaps, it was better off to leave him to his Hexcore dream. Perhaps, that was best. Yes.

But your mind was no longer settled with just staying in a cell and living out your sentence. One thing Piltover did give back to you was your fighting spirit. Rekindled your fire. And breathed life into your dead soul. And so, you weren’t quiet in the cell. You made noise. Cried out for war until the rest of the prisoners joined you. It wasn’t long before a riot broke out. The prisoners overpowered the guards, and you led them to escape.

The streets of Zaun were screaming for the Rebel Moon once more. Even now more so than ever when rumors began flying around about a rocket hitting Piltover, resulting in a few councilmembers’ deaths. Your thoughts wandered to Viktor, you wondered if he was okay, if he hadn’t killed himself working so hard. But your focus went back to your people. To the escaped prisoners as you all went into hiding underground. They followed you. Their chosen leader. You had no wish to be a leader, but you did want to be free and help your people.

ACT III: NONBELIEVER

Hiding in the Underground for months began to wear everyone down, even you—their supposed fearless leader. The sickness in the Undercity knew no bounds. Many of your people were getting sicker and dying as the days passed. You did your very best trying to supply and care for them—but you could only do so much.

That’s when you started hearing strange rumors about some healer in the Undercity. A herald or whatever that meant. At first, you didn’t think much of these rumors while being so focused on caring for your people.

Soon, sightings of strange people began appearing. Shouting about the Herald and how he could save their people. You were…wary of this. It almost seemed too good to be true. And you hadn’t seen these strange people yourself, so you thought it was all fake, stories made up to give the people false hope.

You came back from the small local market with more food than you could scrape up. Somehow, you’d have to figure out how to make it last throughout the month. But there were so many people. So many people are coming for refuge, and so many people in need of help.

“Are you the Rebel Moon?”

At the voice, you stop and glance over your shoulder, only to find no one there. Had you imagined it? Were you too wary after months of people coming to you and seeking refuge? The name Rebel Moon became a beacon of hope as much as it was for the name Jinx or that Herald.

Deciding it was just exhaustion messing with your head, you turn to continue forward, only to gasp and stop when you nearly ran into someone standing directly in front of you.

And they had appeared out of nowhere. It was a man that you didn’t know. His face void of any emotion except for a simple smile on his face, strange crystal-like fixtures embedded into his skin, while wearing white fabric far too clean to have come from the Undercity.

“You are Miss Moon, yes?” The man asked.

You stiffened. No one had called you that in a while. No one except… “Whose asking?”

The smile remained on the man’s face, “The Herald has been searching for you, Miss Moon. And he would like to speak with you.”

You gripped the basket of fruit and near stale bread in your hand and gritted your teeth, “I’m not interested, thanks.”

Just as you nudged past the man to continue down the crowded street, he spoke again. Only this time it wasn’t his voice coming from his mouth.

“You’re a hard woman to track, Miss Moon.”

It was like the air had been stolen from you as you whirled around to stare wide-eyed at the man with Viktor’s voice. The basket fell from your grasp, but the man was quick to catch it—somehow so fast—as he handed it back to you. “V-Vik?”

He nodded and slowly blinked, “I feared I wouldn’t see you again. You disappeared so suddenly, almost as if you weren’t there to begin with.” The man’s hand came up to gently brush his fingers along your jaw sending a sharp shiver down your spine. “Almost as if you never existed.”

You flinched almost and stepped back. Thoughts swirled within your mind as you tried to reel from the man speaking in Viktor’s voice. “What…what is this? How are you doing this?”

“I don’t want you to be frightened of me.” He instead said, taking another step forward but didn’t reach out to touch you again. “I only want to help you. I can save those people from that sickness.” You opened your mouth, ready to ask how he knew but stopped yourself which allowed him to continue, his voice gentle. “Only if you let me.”

“You’re the Herald.” It was mostly confirmation for yourself as you let the words slip out.

The man smiled softly, “I wish to see you again, Miss Moon. There is so much I wish to show you. But I will come to you first.”

Before you could ask what, he meant by that, the man’s voice returned, and Viktor’s voice was gone. “The Herald will come tomorrow, Miss Moon.”

And with that, watched this vessel of a man walk away. Leaving you feeling as if you were in some type of nightmare. No, alternate reality. It must’ve been some hallucination. Yes. That had to be it.

Only when the next day came, one of the children at your camp came running to you about the Herald being here, did you know right then and there that this was not a hallucination.

You watched as he entered your camp with those lifeless people that followed him.  Viktor had changed. Covered in indigo metallic skin, his hair slightly longer, his posture straighter yet still relying on a cane—or staff in this case.

Viktor’s eyes found yours almost instantly as if they were magnetically drawn to you. It looked like him.

“Miss Moon.” He hummed as he drew closer, staring at you with the same gentleness despite the distance in his expression.

It sounded like him.

You led him to the tent he would be staying in, watching the lifeless people tend to your people with baskets of fresh fruit and food. Viktor called your name in his accented voice, drawing your attention back to him, finding him already staring at you with an intense expression.

Even in this form, Viktor’s body couldn’t help but be pulled toward you. He let the staff rest while his hands slowly came up to trace and feel this human skin. Distantly he was all too aware of it. How he still reacted to you. With the remnants of Sky lingering in his mind, his thoughts had always wandered back to you. The image of your divine being. If he could still dream, it would’ve only been you he would’ve seen.

There was a strong pull that led him to you. Perhaps sensations of desperation. Even as he leaned his forehead against yours, feeling the little warmth coming from your body against his metallic yet pallid skin—he still wished to mold himself to you. To never stop touching you. To never let you slip from his fingers again

And then there was that look on your face. The furrow in your brow running heavy with exhaustion—you hadn’t slept. At that realization, his hand gently squeezed the side of your neck absently.

“You’re so quiet.” Viktor hummed finally, quietly for only you and him to hear in the stillness of the tent. His thumb traced your cheekbone. “You’re always keeping your thoughts from me.”

You tilted your head, trying to stir yourself out from the haze of his touch. “Are those…those people….are they the ones you ‘saved’?”

“Yet, so honest.” There was a hint of a smile on his face as he selfishly pulled your hand against his chest, keeping it there, selfishly. “Yes. They’re healed. No more…senseless pain. I can offer your people this peace. And you can come to stay at our new home. I think…you’d like it. You need peace.” He rubbed his thumb under your eye, making your shoulders grow heavier. “And rest.”

You couldn’t come up with a response. His lips linger on your mouth, and your jaw, and your neck. His fingers thread through your hair which had grown longer since the last time he had seen you. Gentle traces, cool breath fanning along your skin, his arms wrapping around your weathered and scarred form. Even your fingers traced his new skin. Refamiliarizing yourself with him.

But.

But.

It wasn’t him.

Even when his lips pressed gently yet hastily against yours, his body clinging to your human flesh, it still felt like a stranger. Familiar yet unfamiliar.

Confliction warred at your mind as you watched him move through the camp, your people looking at him as if he were a savior. As if the gods had sent him when it was only magic and remnants of the Hexcore embedded into his body. Your eyes couldn’t stop falling onto the lifeless people he ‘saved’. The ones that followed him without much thought. Would your people look like this? Void of themselves? No breath. No heartbeat?

But then you wanted Viktor. You wanted to go to this peaceful land he had created for himself and these people. You wanted to be with him. To be wrapped in his gentle embrace once more. To hear his voice whisper gently into your ear, easing the exhaustion from your muscles.

But.

But.

But.

Viktor reached out toward a boy. Sparks danced along his fingertips. The boy stared in awe. It was instant, your reaction.

Your hand grasped his wrist, stopping him. Viktor’s gaze met yours in an instant. You didn’t know what your face looked like, but it made Viktor falter.

Viktor saw your face and absolute dread filled him. A sense of it at least. It made his body go slack in your grasp—surrendering to you instantly. The glassiness of your gaze and that expression. He had never seen such a thing on your face. Fear. Desperation. Hurt. Sorrow. Grief.

He’d lost you. No. No. He’d…He’d get you back. He couldn’t let you go again…he couldn’t let…

What was this strange feeling in his chest?

You pulled him away from the boy and Viktor allowed himself to follow you. Gazes unwavering. But you forced the words out of your mouth. “This isn’t what I want for these people. This…this isn’t saving them…”

He couldn’t let you slip from his fingers.

You couldn’t let him take your people’s humanity.

He needed to keep you. To keep his humanity.

“Revolutions never rest.” Was your whisper as you released his wrist.

He called your name, but you forced yourself to turn your back on him.

“Show him out.” You murmur to one of the stronger men in your camp. You couldn’t turn back. You couldn’t look him in his eyes. If you did….

Then this conflict would disappear in an instant.

Viktor and his followers left without much problem. Maybe that hurts too.

The yearning for Viktor never left you and yet it wasn’t your job to bring him back. This Hexcore…all of it was beyond you. Maybe all of it wasn’t meant to be for you. Maybe…Maybe he wasn’t meant to be yours….

Days later you had heard the Herald had changed.

Days later the Herald was gone from this world.

Days later your exhaustion and grief wore on your shoulders.

Days later you’re trudging through the Undercity, more baskets filled with fruit in your arms.

Days later, you find a blue shard on the ground, somewhere near where Viktor’s utopia had been.

You picked it up from the ground, a remnant of what remained of Viktor and his work. You saw the manmade tents that were now abandoned, the builds similar to your past designs of what you wanted for the Undercity.

Silent tears fell from your cheeks as you gripped the shard. And you clutched the shard so tight in your hand that you could’ve sworn you felt a soft hum from it. Or maybe you were imagining things. Maybe you were too exhausted. Maybe you really did need rest.

And then.

You heard that accented voice.

“Miss Moon.”

Your breath hitched as the shard suddenly began to glow.

And Viktor’s voice came from it.

“May I show you something?”

And then. There was a bright blue flash.

[auroras-zenith]

what doesn't kill you // prologue

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

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It didn't make sense, the way you and Bakugo worked.

See, for everyone else in his life, he seemed to gravitate towards people opposite his nature.

Take Kirishima, for example–the blonde's best friend and wingman since high school. It was obvious how they clicked. The red heads steady, calming tendencies serving as the anchor to Bakugo's ship, lost in the storm of his brash, reckless ways.

The same could be said about nearly every other person in his life.

All but one.

"Yeah? Try me." He hissed, teeth gritted and eyes narrowed. The telltale scent of burnt caramel had already begun to propagate through the street.

"Dynamight- stop! Don't engage with the villain! Detain without injur–"

"Shut the fuck up, Deku!" Bakugo spat, ripping his comm off and tossing it to the side. "This extra wants to go, so let's go!"

"Hell yeah!" You grinned cockily, appearing at his side.

Where the world served to calm Bakugo Katsuki, you were the opposite. You were the oil, and he the flame. It shouldn't have worked.

But it did.

The world could say what it pleased about the two of you. At the end of the day, it was undeniable that you were an effective pairing on the battlefield.

"Start an agency with me." He demanded that foggy high school day, staring at you with such intensity anyone else would've confused it for a glare.

"Why should I?"

"Who else could keep your dumbass in check?"

You hadn't spoken for a week after that. He had spent those seven days sulking around–temper even shorter than usual, Kirishima tailing him, apologizing on his behalf.

"Because I can't do it without you."

"Sorry?" You asked, looking up snootily. You had heard him–he wasn't exactly a quiet person after all–and he knew it. The small quirk upwards in the corner of your lips gave you away.

Still, he humored you, rolling his eyes. "I can't do it without you." He huffed, louder this time. "I can't start an agency without you by my side."

Two of Japan's up and coming heroes–and boy were they coming in hot. Dynamight and Cordelia. Two wildly talented people on the battlefield, fearsome as they were reckless.

"Congrats, L/n." Kirishima smiled proudly, raising a glass.

You smirked fondly, lifting your own to meet his.

He was here for Bakugo, but it was nice to see him nonetheless. It was odd; despite the individual bonds you both shared with Bakugo, the two of you had never built a close friendship of your own. You simply enjoyed your respective time with the blonde, each holding respect for the other's unique relationship with the hot head.

"Thanks, Kiri." You grinned, taking a sip from your glass.

"To the Dynadelia agency!" A voice shouted over the chatter, a glass seen lifted over the sea of people.

The crowd erupted into noises of approval–hundreds of drinks lifted into the air.

"That's for us." Hot breath tickled the back of your ear.

You scoffed playfully, grinning wildly as you turned to face the voice. "Really? Couldn't tell."

"I'm serious, N/n. That's us. We did it."

You softened. "Yeah. Yeah, Kat. We did."

There was no stopping the two of you after that. The Dynadelia agency quickly rose to the first ranked agency in Japan, fourth in the world, each of you easily securing spots number two and four on the Japanese hero charts.

You didn't spend all your time together. You were both far too chaotic for that. Instead, you often found yourself allied with Deku and Shoto, and he with Redriot.

But when the two of you met on the field, boy were you unstoppable. Each a raging storm, fueling the other as both charged head on into danger.

"And another victory for pro hero Dynamight and the Dynadelia agency. As we hurtle into a dangerous, villain filled world, we thank our heroes for all..."

You hummed as you brewed yourself a pot of coffee, the news playing in the background as it covered your partner's latest tussle with a villain.

The finished mug was warm between your hands as you moved to sit on the couch.

You took a deep breath, allowing yourself to appreciate the slow day. It was warm inside despite the rain that could be heard pelting the floor just outside the window.

There was something so soothing about your cozy apartment on days like these. The plants that hung from the ceilings, the skylights overhead, and the mantle where you had placed old photographs of your high school days.

It was so authentically you.

"Could Cordelia and Dynamight be more than just partners on the battlefield?"

You paused your thoughts to tune back into the news, giggling as you heard the speculation. It was nothing new. The whole civilian and media world assumed the two of you were together–and even amongst those who knew you well, your friends and family all joked about the same.

It was obvious to the world that the two of you liked the other; and had since high school.

Maybe one day you'd settle down together. Retire and raise a family. But for now, you were both far too deep into your careers for anything as serious as that–and you were quite happy being his best friend.

You felt a buzzing in your pocket and set down the cup of warm coffee in your hand. Speak of the devil. You grinned as you answered.

"I just got home. You missing me already?"

"Fuckin' Deku's getting his ass kicked. Shoto too. Get over here."

You could hear sirens blaring in the background as he breathed heavily into the mic. It wasn't every day that someone could take on Japan's top three heroes and live to tell the tale, let alone leave them scrambling for more support.

"Tell them I'm on my way. Are you with them?" You were already up, coffee long since forgotten as you grabbed your costume, comm and phone.

"Shitty hair and I are about to take over while they handle evac."

"Be there in five."

You barely heard his affirmative before he hung up, screaming orders. It wasn't unusual for calls like this to occur, but something felt different about this one. Worse, somehow.

You sprinted out the door, whispering a thank you to the heavens as you stepped into the heavy rain.

The ground lowered away almost immediately, quirk like second nature as the water around you propelled you level with the clouds.

"Cordelia," they called you; heart of the sea.

a/n: been on my mind for a while so why not hehe

taglist: none yet

permanent tags: none yet

[galactic-magick]

For You: AU!Claggor x Reader

Summary: In the alternate timeline, Powder encourages you to admit your feelings for Claggor.

Words: 800+

Author's Notes: Adult alternate timeline Claggor is fine af so I wrote this short oneshot. Also I just needed to write something more lighthearted and cute after writing that devastating Viktor fic earlier. Enjoy <3

“I don’t get why you can’t just tell him,” Powder huffs, shuffling through her drawers for a particular brush. She glides on eyeshadow in your favorite colors, endlessly teasing you while she works, “It’s obvious he’s liked you since we were kids.”

“Oh, like finally admitting your feelings to Ekko was so easy,” you roll your eyes, causing her to scold you for opening them. “Besides, that’s not even true. He probably just sees me like a sister.”

“Look,” Powder tilts your chin up as she applies blush to your cheeks. “As someone who was actually raised as his sister, I can promise you he treats you differently. I catch him staring at you all the time, and he goes out of his way to be nice to you. Like, he literally made a new hybrid flower for you for your last birthday. What is it you’re not getting?”

“He gives plants to everyone, I don’t think I was special,” you shrug, pressing out your lips so Powder can swipe on some gloss.

“You’re a lost cause sometimes,” she sighs with a laugh. “Come on, it’s time to make our entrance.”

-

The Innovator’s Competition is crowded as usual, with loud music and ambient lights showering the entries and guests. Powder meets up with Ekko while you go to grab a drink and browse the inventions.

People start dancing, and you sway back and forth a bit to the beat. You don’t particularly want to third wheel right now, so you make do on the sidelines. You’re closer to the snacks here, anyway.

“Wow, Y/N. You look beautiful.”

You whip your head towards the voice, your mouth stuffed with one of Jericho’s famous, sloppy appetizers.

“Oh! Hi, Claggor!” You swallow as quickly as you can and wipe your face with your sleeve. “Sorry, um, thank you.”

“Anytime,” he chuckles. “How come you’re not out there dancing?”

“I...I just don’t like dancing alone,” you say, your eyes darting back to Powder and the other couples and friend groups on the dance floor.

“Well let’s go then,” he extends his hand to you.

You smile and take it, weaving through the crowd as he pulls you towards the middle. You see Powder give you a thumbs up before your attention is back on Claggor, and suddenly the crowded room feels less overwhelming.

You let lose, showing off your most ridiculous dance moves without a worry in the world. That was the thing about Claggor, he always made you feel safe, like you could be yourself whenever he was around. There is never a glimmer of judgment in his eyes, never an inkling of unkindness. He’s been your most stable and trusted friend for years—he played with you, explored the city with you, mourned with you, rejoiced with you. He’s just that kind of guy, with a heart of gold that never wavers.

But if you told him how you really feel—how you’ve felt since you were young—things might not be the same.

-

After the competition, Claggor takes the scenic route while walking you home, showing you a couple new gardens he’s been working on around the city. He hopes that one day plant life can be the key to the pollution problem in the underground, a dream that isn’t too far off with the latest hybrids and prototypes he’s made. It’s fascinating, and you’ve always admired his natural talent with nature.

He picks you a flower from one of the gardens, the kind he knows are your favorite.

“For you,” he says, slithering the stem into your hair. His hands, his face—it’s all so dangerously close now. You can feel his warmth, feel his gentle gaze.

Maybe Powder’s right, no man who saw you as just a friend would look at you like this.

You take the chance and close the space between you, kissing him quickly before stepping back to gauge his reaction.

He immediately pulls you back in, grabbing you by the waist and kissing you harder. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers twiddling with his soft wavy hair.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he says, your lips barely moving apart.

“I think I have some idea,” you giggle.

“Would you look at that, what did I tell ya?” You see Powder and Ekko coming around the corner, clearly ecstatic about this new opportunity to tease you. “Finally.”

Claggor keeps holding you close as you fire back, “Did you follow us just to say ‘I told you so’?”

“Nah, I didn’t even know you left the party yet,” Powder laughs. “But boy am I glad I saw this!”

She keeps walking with Ekko, whispering and chuckling as they go. You and Claggor can’t help but burst into your own fit of laughter as well, basking in the hilarity of the whole situation.

“We’ll never live this down, will we?” Claggor smirks.

“Absolutely not.”

[neverwalka1one]

I got to see Wicked last night, and whoo boy I have thoughts. Cut for spoilers, you've been warned.

I'm looking forward to seeing the 'Good News' song at the end of the second movie - Glinda already looked conflicted about the Giant Elphie Effigy (good lord those munchkins work fast)

Also, I thought the movie highlighted better that those in Munchkinland knew Elphaba her whole life, and this is still how hard they bought in to the propaganda.

The little hint that Glinda's bubble is all mechanics. Chef's kiss.

Glinda's bubble has a Designated Landing Place. Just. Consider all that implies, with Glinda having been until very recently the Wizard's goodwill ambassador.

'Take it away' will never not be heartbreaking. Also, of course Elphaba is going to grow up a fierce defender of animal rights, she was raised by a talking animal, and that bear was the only one to be kind to her consistently through her childhood. Dafuq.

Baby!Nessa!Rose's little meeps. Just. I died.

'Oh, they're going to miss me.' Galinda I love you you ridiculous gal.

I like this twist on why Elphaba was at Shiz. I loved the way she so desperately wanted to go, but couldn't ask for herself. I loved her trying to defend Nessa Rose's independence... and then still being blamed for stifling her. Excellent.

Also did y'all see the picture of the animals behind the cracked and fallen fresco of the Wizard in that scene? Foreshadowing my beloved.

Galinda writing a little 'it's great' card put on top of the saddest pile of bedding you've ever seen.

'What is this Feeling?' omfg. I loved Elphaba putting her foot down about the roommate situation.

I also liked that they moved Elphaba's talk with Dr. Dillamond off-campus. It makes more sense that this status-quo challenging talk would be done away from the powers that be.

Also it sets up Fiyero running into Elphaba (literally) better, and omfg. I love that horse, he's great, more horse in the second movie please.

Omg Galinda flirting. And Fiyero flirting back, but Galinda (and Elphaba) missing that at that point Fiyero was flirting with pretty much everyone because hey, it's fun, it's easy, and it works.

On that note, Fiyero flirting successfully with the librarian. <3

The whole Ozdust scene. All of it. The outfits, the dancing, the prolonged social anxiety/social embarrassment. The way Elphaba refuses to show she's been hurt. The way Galinda finally understands that. THE DANCE APOLOGY.

I did find it a little weird that one of the only lines cut from the musical was the 'Lemons and melons and pears. Oh my' bit between Boc and Nessa Rose.

Also can we talk about how excellent Jonathan Bailey is as Fiyero?

'Popular' is, as always, fantastic. And highlights just how good Galinda is going to be at the politics of this world.

'That might be your secret, but that doesn't make it the truth' AUGH GALINDA just rip out my heart why don't you.

I liked that when Elphaba rescues the lion cub, she's more restrained/talented than in the beginning of the movie. It makes sense, she's been learning all this time.

THE BIKES. THE LION CUB IN THE BIKE BASKET. THE WIZARD OF OZ CALLBACK. LOVE.

The mushroom things during 'I'm Not That Girl', idk what those were but they were so so pretty lord I love the world-building.

That scene of Nessa Rose, Boc, Galinda, and Fiyero all together, and Elphaba on the outside in the dark. Fiyero looking out over the courtyard as he's being pulled away. Augh, all of it.

The way the students turned on a dime the second Elphaba got that invitation.

That. Train. Steampunk my beloved.

Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth getting singing roles, YES, THANK YOU, that was such a great surprise, I was squeaking like bebe Nessa Rose.

On the flip side... sigh. I called it. Jeff Goldblum was... very Jeff Goldblum. That guy, while a lot of fun, is the exact same character in pretty much everything he's been in for the last few years. I still think that casting was a mistake. Hear me out: The original Wizard was Joel Grey. Joel Grey was also the Emcee in Cabaret. ... so tell me it wouldn't both be great casting and an awesome call back to have casted Alan Cumming as the Wizard. I can't have everything I guess.

Also, and it might be just me/the effects of a late night screening, but when Elphaba and Galinda are walking into the palace, with the doors slamming behind them, and there's a scene with the torchlit hall behind them? Didn't the fire look like how the flames in the original Wizard of Oz movie looked? Just sort of... fuzzier and blurred than how film tends to pick up fire these days? It might have just been me.

Also this movie does have a bit of the Les Mis problem - you've got some cast members with serious vocal chops... and theeeeeen there's the ones that... tried hard. Great actors every single one, but would it have killed the director to find people for those roles that could match vocally as well? This movie doesn't need big names. We're not going for the big names, people.

I liked how the movie explained better why the Wizard not being able to read from the Grimorie was such a big deal.

The monkeys. Oh, the flying monkeys. Also the scene of Madam Morrible framed by flying monkeys. Thanks for breaking my heart.

'Defying Gravity'. All of it. Every bit of it. Holy. Shit. Holyshit. HOLY. SHIT.

So yeah, I'm going to have to see it eleventy-billion more times before it leaves theaters.

[6esiree]

𝟐.𝟑𝐊 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫!

Before I set up this contest, I knew that deciding to pick a winner would not come so easily, especially considering that the people in this lovely community are skilled writers with creative minds that I admittedly envy. Still, I never anticipated the amount of time I’d spend going back and forth between the two stories I eventually narrowed it down to, rereading them, jotting down what I loved about them, and all while trying to stave off the idea of disappointing anybody. Sorry, I’m an overthinker.

Again, I really enjoyed each and every story that was submitted. I don’t care if I’m doing too much by adding this next part, but I’ve been in this community for quite some time already, and though I have not formed any deep connections, I can say with an overwhelming amount of confidence that everyone here is amazing. Seriously. Mutuals or not, your kindness, your passion, your dedication, and many more wonderfully admirable and unique traits you hold, they—you—are the reason why I’m still here.

I don’t think I’ll ever summon up the courage to befriend anybody. It’s intimidating starting something new, but that’s okay. The mere knowledge that I’ve positively interacted with such wonderful people through likes, comments, and reblogs is enough to satisfy me. I wasn’t that confident about my writing—and I’m still not—yet I decided to give tumblr a try, to distract myself, to make me feel better, and it was the best decision I had ever made. Life is tough again, but it’s okay. I’ll push through, like I always do.

Anyway, let me push the sappy shit aside and finally say that I decided that @xalygatorx’s fic has ensnared my heart. When I reread it, I found myself just as absorbed and profoundly affected by her writing style, the personally flawless manner in which she executed a prompt I had admittedly forgotten about, like the first time I read it. It’s always satisfying when a character is captured so well, especially one as complicated as Alastor, but God, the entire story was just phenomenal.

Unfortunately, my poor brain is spent from all the energy I’ve put in as of late in researching and writing my final projects for two different classes, so I don’t have the ability to delve into or outline each and every little detail I enjoyed. It would take me a while to do that. Nevertheless, I hope with even the simplicity of my statement that anybody who reads this understands that this decision did not come easily. There’s too much talent in one place—it’s overwhelming, but in a good way. That just means that the Hazbin community is blessed!

[witchezandwonderz]

The Ice Between Us- Part One

Pairing: Sihtric x Reader

Word Count: 4,786

Summary: Sihtric is forced to protect a woman who he hates to like.

Part 2 coming soon

Likes, reblogs and comments are unbelievably appreciated!

Requests are open

Masterlist

The clamor of the hall pressed down like a storm cloud, voices rising in argument and accusation. Sihtric stood with his arms crossed near the door, his expression one of practiced indifference as Uhtred leaned over the long table, pointing to the crumpled map before him.

“We need her to get through,” Uhtred growled, his voice sharp and low. “She knows the roads, the safe houses, the people. And I need someone I trust to keep her alive.” His piercing gaze landed on Sihtric, who let out a low laugh in return, assuming that Uhtred was jesting. Everyone knew how much Sihtric and Y/N detested one another. Uhtreds face did not change, indicating to Sihtric that he was being deadly serious, and with this, the smile the wore disappeared off of his face in a matter of seconds.

“You are not serious, lord” Sihtric stated. Uhtred responded with a nod, his gaze still fixed on the crumpled map before him, squinting in order to understand the details. Sihtric spoke again. “Why must it be me?”.

Uhtred’s eyes flickered from the map to Sihtric, while still leaned over the stone table. “It just must be, please Sihtric just do it” he responded, clearly both impatient and tired from the situation at hand. Sihtric did not respond with words, but instead made a tutting noise and folded his arms, similar to how a toddler would when things are not working out in their favour.

The others never quite understood Sihtric and Y/N’s hatred for each other. Y/N had a sharp tongue, yes, but that had never bothered Sihtric when it came to any other women he had met.

It was then that she entered the room, and all heads in the room turned as a consequence. This was another reason that no one understood Sihtrics hatred for Y/N- she was beautiful.

Uhtred’s gaze, once again, flickered from the map to Y/N, and then back to the map.

“Sihtric will accompany you” he announced, loudly.

Y/N looked taken aback. “What do you mean?” She asked, tilting her head slightly in confusion. Uhtred rolled his eyes. “We need you to get through, as discussed, so, Sihtric will accompany you” He explained, now standing up and walking towards her. Y/Ns face screwed up in annoyance, before opening her mouth to speak, and then quickly closing it again.

“But why does it have to be me?” Sihtric asked once again, now in a much louder and harsher tone. Y/N now rolled her eyes at his words. “Because we are such good friends” she retorted, sarcasm dripping from every word. Sihtric glared at her in response before turning his attention to Uhtred. “She is insufferable” he muttered, putting a hand to his temple, already thinking of the stress he will undergo from her whining.

“Insufferable?” she repeated, tilting her head. “Coming from a man whose greatest talent is glowering in silence, I’ll take that as a compliment. Perhaps some time with me will teach you how to form a complete sentence—or is that asking too much?”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and Sihtric’s jaw tightened as his fingers itched to reach for the hilt of his sword. He, once again, ignored her and turned his attention to Uhtred. “When do we leave?” He asked. Uhtred thought for a moment, before replying “tonight”.

Hours later, the group gathered once again to see off the pair.

Sihtric stood beside his horse, his arms crossed as he waited, his face shadowed and unreadable. Nearby, Y/N tightened the straps of her pack with swift, practiced motions. She didn’t look at him, but the tension between them was obvious to everyone watching.

“I think she should change into suitable clothing” Sihtric announced, seemingly to anyone but the subject of his words. Y/N rolled her eyes at his words and shook her head. Finan let out a small laugh. “Good luck with that”.

“I think that you should focus on what you are doing rather than being so concerned about my attire” Y/N snapped, refusing to look at Sihtric and instead, stroking the neck of her horse.

She wore a long, deep green gown of fine wool, the fabric tailored close to her waist before flowing into loose, practical folds. The bodice was intricately embroidered with golden threads, forming the subtle shapes of leaves and vines, and her sleeves were fitted tightly to her wrists, ending in delicate cuffs. Around her shoulders, she had draped a fur-lined cloak, fastened at her throat with a bronze brooch. Her boots, barely visible beneath the hem of her gown, were sturdy but refined, made more for walking castle grounds than the rugged roads ahead.

The overall effect was undeniably striking, but it was painfully obvious to Sihtric that her outfit was anything but practical.

“So you are still going dressed like that?” he asked flatly, breaking the uneasy silence as he swung himself onto his horse.

Y/N glanced down at herself and arched an eyebrow. “Is there something wrong with it?”

Sihtric made a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “We’re riding into dangerous lands, not attending a feast. That dress will get caught in the brambles the first chance it gets—and then what? You’ll be tripping over yourself while I’m trying to keep us alive.”

Her lips curved into a faint smirk, and she tilted her head at him. “Are you worried about my safety, Sihtric? How touching.”

He frowned. “I’m worried about having to stop every five minutes to untangle you from a bush. You should wear something practical.”

Finan, leaning against the gate, snorted. “I think she looks fine. She’ll blend in with the nobility if anyone asks questions. Isn’t that the point?”

Osferth nodded, clearly trying not to stare too long. “She... uh, she looks well-prepared to me.”

“Yes well you are not the one who has to keep her safe in such ridiculous conditions” Sihtric grumbled.

“Sihtric” Y/N’s voice was raised, all three men turned their attention towards her as she now stood with her hands on her hips. “I can assure you that I am perfectly capable to ride in this dress. Despite what you think of me, I am not an imbecile”. Finan and Osferth laughed. Sihtric did not appear to be as amused. Although, did crack a small smile when Finan whispered “I bet she can ride more than just that horse”.

“Enough”. Uhtred announced, storming through the doors to the outside area where they were gathered. “The sun is now setting, you must leave”.

Uhtred stepped between them, his sharp gaze moving from one to the other. “I don’t care what either of you think of this arrangement. The road ahead is dangerous, and you’ll need each other to survive. Sihtric, protect her. Y/N, trust him. If you can’t manage that, we’re all wasting time.”

Y/N crossed her arms, the fur-lined cloak shifting around her shoulders. “You do realise I’m not completely helpless, don’t you? I’ve made this journey before.”

“Yes,” Uhtred said, his voice as firm as the steel in his grip. “But never with Danes hunting you, and never with the stakes this high. I trust your skill, Y/N, but I trust his sword more.”

Sihtric suppressed a smirk, which quickly disappeared when Uhtred turned on him.

“And you—no sulking. She’s sharp, and she’ll see things you might miss. Work together, or I’ll send Finan after you to knock sense into both of your thick skulls.”

Finan chuckled from where he leaned against the stable wall. “Don’t tempt me, lord. Sounds like fun.”

Both Sihtric and Y/N called out a brief goodbye, before encouraging their horses to trot away. From behind them, the others watched in silence until the pair disappeared into the growing night.

"Anyone else think that I have made the worst decision? They will kill each other before they have even reached their first village" Uhtred moaned, no longer needing to be stern. Finan laughed. "Nah, lord, they think they hate each other but I give it a day before he's ripping that dress from her body" He smirked. Uhtred shook his head in return.

Days passed since Sihtric and Y/N began their journey; the first day was full of arguments, sly comments and harsh looks. However, as their tiredness grew, so did their lack of care of being horrible to each other- to put it simply, they could not be bothered.

The silence meant that Y/N had a painful amount of time to think- think about her life, her losses, her current situation. She always ad a way of passing things off as jokes, or pretending that they are not happening. But here she was, in the middle of a dark, freezing cold forest with no one but a man who despised her. She never really knew why he hated her so, but ever since the day she discovered his hatred for her, she vowed to treat him in the same cold manner.

Y/N could not believe that the Danes sought to capture her, in all honesty she was absolutely terrified. The only reason in which they wanted her is because due to her high status, capturing or eliminating her would weaken Uhtred's alliances and bolster their own. She did not know whether she would prefer to be eliminated or caputered... at least if she was killed she would suffer less. There is no way, she thought, that Sihtric would ever actually go out of his way to ensure her safety.

She hung back, on her horse, trailing behind Sihtric in order to have a moment where she allowed herself to feel saddened, scared and alone. In fact, she could not help but have a moment of weakness. The problem is, however, that once one tear falls, others flow uncontrollably.

Sihtric glanced her way, catching the slight slump of her posture. Normally, she held herself with defiance, her head high and her gaze sharp, as if daring the world to challenge her. But tonight, something about her seemed... diminished.

He frowned, pulling his horse alongside hers, the creak of leather and the soft clop of hooves the only sounds between them. He was about to ask if she was tiring when he saw it—a faint glint on her cheek, catching the moonlight. Tears.

Y/N quickly turned her face away, pretending to adjust her cloak, but it was too late. Sihtric had noticed.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure what to say or why it even mattered to him that she was upset. She wasn’t helpless, she’d made that clear enough. And yet, seeing her cry stirred something in him—an ache he didn’t entirely understand.

“You’re trembling,” he said finally, his voice low. It wasn’t entirely a lie; the chill of the night was biting. “Are you cold?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, her voice too tight, too brisk.

“No, you’re not.”

She glanced at him, and to his surprise the look on her face was not angry, as it normally is, but instead was innocent, helpless.

"I am fine" She stated, nodding as she spoke, almost as a way of convincing herself. Sihtric sighed in response. "It is ok to feel scared" He told her, trying to look at her face again.

"I am not scared" Her words would have sounded brave, if her voice did not crack towards the end of her words.

“Liar,” he murmured, but there was no heat in his tone.

That one word made her shoulders sag. She looked down at the reins in her hands, her fingers pale from gripping them too tightly. “Fine,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared. Is that what you wanted to hear? That I’m terrified of what’s out there? That I’ve never felt so alone in my life?”

Her words hit him like a blow. He hadn’t expected her to say it, to admit it, least of all to him.

"oh, I.." He did not know what to say, truly.

“You’re not alone,” he said gruffly, finally finding few words.

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “That’s rich, coming from the man who can barely stand the sight of me.”

Sihtric fell silent, his jaw tightening. For a moment, the only sound was the crunch of hooves on the dirt path. He hated that she thought that, hated that it might even be true.

“You’re not alone,” he said again, softer this time. “And I don’t hate you.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, once again. "you cannot stand the mere sight of me! I do in fact feel quite bad in all honesty that you have been forced to keep me safe, it is not your responsibility" Sihtric winced at her words. They had always argued, yes, but he did not despise her this much. He never really understood why they argued as much as they do.

“You have no idea what I think of you, Y/N,” he continued, his tone rough around the edges. “You assume it’s hatred because it’s easier, because it’s what you want to believe. But maybe—just maybe—the problem isn’t me not standing the sight of you. Maybe it’s that I can’t seem to look away."

Y/N did not respond with words, as she could not find them. She was not sure if he was too delirious to have heard him properly- what was he trying to say? She hummed in response, gently reaching over and touching his arm with hers, slightly lingering there momentarily before placing it back on her reigns. He stiffened instinctively, unused to such gestures, but the warmth of her presence lingered longer than it should have.

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. In the pale light, her face was softer, the sharp defiance he was so accustomed to replaced with something gentler, almost fragile. She didn’t meet his gaze, instead keeping her eyes on the path ahead, her fingers flexing slightly on the reins.

For a moment, he wanted to say something—to acknowledge the gesture, to bridge the uneasy silence—but the words tangled in his throat. Instead, he gave a subtle nod, more to himself than to her, and let the quiet settle between them once more.

The hours dragged on, the dark cloak of night giving way to the soft blush of dawn and eventually to the golden light of mid-morning. Neither Sihtric nor Y/N spoke much as they rode, the unspoken truce between them holding steady. The forest around them began to thin, the trees giving way to open fields and the gentle gurgle of water in the distance.

"Water, finally" Y/n breathed as they approached the clear, inviting lake before them. The pair came to a complete stop and quickly dismounted their horses- Y/N doing so much quicker than Sihtric. The sun hung high, casting a warm glow over the landscape. Y/N did a 360 turn, looking around her. Once she had confirmed that they were alone, she began unlacing her boots. Sihtrics brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you doing?" Y/N looked up at him, the sun highlighting all of her features. "We have been travelling for days, I am filthy, as are you" She muttered, now removing her boots completely. "would you mind looking away?" She asked, now stood up straight. He nodded, as he knew if he argued her stubbornness may have caused her to jump in fully dressed just to prove a point. He turned his body away from her, to ensure her privacy.

“I can’t get this dress off by myself,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Would you undo it for me?”

His heart skipped a beat at her words. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected it—she was used to commanding people—but the request still took him by surprise. His eyes flickered to her face, catching her gaze.

"Me?" He asked, still facing the trees as opposed to the woman that he was alone with. He heard her laugh. "Who else?". His lips curved into a small smile at her comment.

Not wanting to seem eager, he turned around slowly to face her and nodded in agreement.

Reluctantly, he stepped forward. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable, but he couldn’t deny the pull to help her, to obey the strange request she’d made.

“I’ll make it quick,” he said, though his voice was quieter than he intended. He could see the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she slowly turned to face the river, her back now to him.

His hands trembled, but he forced them to steady as he worked the knot free. The laces loosened easily, and as he slid them down the back of the dress, he felt her body shift slightly under his touch. He lingered there for a moment, staring at the skin of her back which was now exposed.

"Done?" She questioned, pulling him back to concentration. Realising what he was doing, he took a large step back before repeating, "done" and turning back around to the position he was in before.

"You should be careful" He called out, aware that by now she was probably already at the river bank.

"Careful? I think that you are the one who should be careful, Sihtric" She retorted. His breath hitched at her words, it is almost as though she knew how badly he wanted to look at her.

He stood for a long moment, attempting to find other thoughts and focus on the trees before him, but he could not help himself. He briefly turned his head, justifying his actions by telling himself to check on her safety.

The cool breeze brushed against his face as his eyes locked onto her once more. She was standing in the shallows, her back to him, her hair slicked wet against her shoulders. The water lapped gently around her waist, the ripples catching the sunlight in a way that seemed to make her glow. And then, in that moment, she turned.

The movement was slow, deliberate, but it didn’t matter. Sihtric’s heart stuttered in his chest, his breath caught in his throat as she faced him fully, her bare skin exposed to the air. He couldn’t look away.

His pulse quickened, his mind spiralling into a chaos of thoughts he couldn’t control. She had always been a source of frustration, of irritation. But now, standing there before him—completely unguarded, completely unashamed—something else began to twist in his chest. The sharpness of his attraction to her was almost painful, an ache that he couldn't ignore no matter how much he tried.

He forced his eyes shut, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. This was wrong. They hated each other. She had never shown him anything but disdain. But in the quiet, still space between them, everything felt different. He wanted her.

He shook his head, and turned once again. "Are you nearly done?" He called out, attempting to pretend that he had not seen anything. She responded with a quiet response that he had not fully heard, perhaps because he was too distracted to listen to anything properly.

Sihtric stood rigid, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t control. His heart thudded in his chest, the blood rushing to his head as his body responded instinctively to what he had just seen. He swallowed hard, his throat tight with the overwhelming heat that had suddenly flooded his system. His gaze remained fixed on the distant trees, though it was impossible to ignore the tension in his lower body—his growing arousal, a reaction he hadn’t expected and certainly hadn’t wanted.

shit

He had to hide his quite clear arousal before she returned, so in an attempt to do so, he fixed his eyes on the floor, allowing his mind to drift to sad thoughts, anything that would make his desire less obvious.

“Sihtric?” Her voice cut through his thoughts, and he forced himself to glance over, keeping his face neutral.

She was back, her dress now carefully pulled over her head, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders. Without exchanging words, they both mounted their horses once again and continued their journey.

After a few more hours, the quiet began to feel more like a companion than a curse. The landscape changed as they rode deeper into unfamiliar land—a dense forest lined the path ahead, and the air grew colder.

They reached a bend in the road where the trees opened up to reveal a small clearing, the perfect spot to rest for the night. Sihtric was about to speak, to suggest they set up camp, when a sound broke the stillness.

A rustle, low and dangerous, followed by the faintest of whispers.

His heart skipped a beat. He immediately stiffened, looking around with heightened senses. He knew what it meant.

He stopped riding, instantly, swiftly turning to Y/N and putting his fingers on his lips, signalling the need to be silent. Sihtric climbed off of his horse with ease, and a strange eerie skill of silence before approaching Y/N and lifting her off of her horse, scared that if he allowed her to walk, she would make a sound. He silently carried her behind a tree, where the two huddled closely together-their breaths hitched, and their hearts beating vigorously.

The sound grew closer, and then—voices.

Danish voices.

There were at least three of them, their footsteps now unmistakable as they moved through the underbrush, oblivious to the pair hiding just off the trail.

Sihtric’s mind raced. They can’t find us. Not now. Not like this.

He looked at Y/N, her eyes widened and her breaths controlled- fear plastered upon her face. A tear escaped her eye, and for the first time in a while, Sihtric felt hopeless. He did not know what to do, but he knew he hated seeing her in such an uncomfortable position.

Without thinking, his fingers gently cupped her face, wiping away the tears that had escaped, one by one. The contact was tender, intimate even, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin.

When he saw another tear slip down her cheek, his eyes darted to her lips, then back to her eyes. His gaze softened, and before he could stop himself, his lips pressed gently to her forehead, brushing against her skin in a fleeting, quiet kiss.

Y/N was shocked, but felt an instant relief from the intimate moment, causing her breathing to relax slightly, for a moment at least. That was until they heard the dreaded words...

"I can see something behind the tree".

[hoesluvjude]

Soulmates || jobe bellingham

Word count: 2k words

Genre:angst? Fluff?

Trope:childhood friends to lovers(requested)

Author's note :I feel like this is bad😭enjoy:) ig

Masterlist

---

Growing up in Birmingham meant there was always a field to kick a ball around or a quiet alley to explore. Jobe and I met when we were just seven years old, both of us waiting impatiently for our parents to finish chatting after a school assembly. He had a football tucked under his arm, his eyes brimming with excitement, and a wide grin that seemed to light up the room.

“Do you play?” he asked, holding out the ball.

I wasn’t much of a footballer, but that day I nodded. It didn’t matter that I missed more shots than I made or that I stumbled trying to keep up with him. Jobe had a way of making you feel like you belonged, even if you weren’t the best at something.

From that day on, we were inseparable. Weekends were spent racing through the streets, climbing trees, and, of course, playing endless games of football. Jobe was always the star, his moves so effortless that even at ten, people said he was destined for greatness.

But to me, he wasn’t just Jobe Bellingham, the future football prodigy. He was the boy who shared his snacks during school trips, who stayed up late talking about his dreams, and who made even the dullest days feel like an adventure.

---

By the time we were fifteen, life had started to change. Jobe’s football talent wasn’t just a rumor anymore; it was a fact. Scouts would show up to his games, taking notes and nodding appreciatively. Everyone at school knew his name. He was always the center of attention, but somehow, he never let it go to his head. Around me, he was still the same Jobe—goofy, kind, and always up for a laugh.

My world, on the other hand, was far less glamorous. While Jobe was off playing matches and training at the academy, I was studying, dreaming of becoming a writer someday. I’d sit in the stands at his games, clutching my notebook. He never failed to wave at me after every goal, pointing at the stands with a grin that said, "See? I told you I’d do it."

---

“Do you ever get tired of it?” I asked him one day as we sat on the swings at the local park, the orange glow of the setting sun bathing everything in warmth.

“Tired of what?” he asked, kicking at the stones beneath his feet.

“Of everyone expecting you to be perfect all the time.”Jobe shrugged, leaning back.

“Sometimes. But it’s not so bad when I’ve got you around.”I looked at him, surprised by his sincerity. It wasn’t like Jobe to get serious, but when he did, it always left me a little speechless.

---

One day, It was a warm Saturday afternoon, and I was sitting on the porch, chatting with a new friend I had met recently. His name was Alex, and we had quickly bonded over our shared love of books. We laughed about silly things, and I could feel the connection forming.

Then, I heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Jobe walking up the driveway, his usual confident stride replaced by something I couldn't quite place. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Hey," he greeted, though his tone was a bit off. "Who's this?"

"This is Alex," I said, introducing them. "We were just talking about hiking spots."

Jobe’s expression faltered for a moment before he forced a grin. But there was something in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before—a flicker of... jealousy?

"You guys seem to be getting along," Jobe said, his voice a little too casual.

Alex and I both laughed, unaware of the tension rising in the air.

Jobe lingered for a moment longer than usual, then suddenly muttered something about needing to run errands. He turned and walked away quickly, leaving me confused.

Later that night, I called him to ask if everything was okay.

"Why are you hanging out with him so much?" Jobe’s voice cracked, betraying the jealousy he had been trying to hide.

"What do you mean?" I asked, surprised.

"I don’t know, it just feels weird," he admitted, his voice softening. "You’ve always been my best friend. It’s just... different now."

I paused, realizing that something had shifted. Maybe it was because Jobe and I had been inseparable for so long, and the idea of someone else taking my attention made him uncomfortable.

"I’m still here for you, Jobe," I said, trying to reassure him. "Nothing’s going to change that."

He didn’t answer right away. After a long silence, he finally sighed. "I know. I just don’t like sharing you."

I smiled, understanding now that even the closest friendships could face moments of jealousy. But I knew we’d find our way back to normal.

---

By the time we turned eighteen, our friendship had evolved into something deeper—though neither of us had admitted it yet. Jobe’s career was skyrocketing. He was being called up to play for England’s youth team, and everyone was talking about how he’d soon follow in his brother Jude’s footsteps.

But despite everything, he always found time for me. We’d sit on the roof of his house, staring up at the stars and talking about the future. He’d tell me about his dreams of playing in the Premier League, and I’d share my plans to travel the world.

“You know,” he said one night, his voice quieter than usual, “I don’t think I’d be where I am if it wasn’t for you.”

I laughed, nudging him playfully. “Oh, please. You’d be just fine without me.”

“No, I’m serious,” he said, turning to look at me. His brown eyes, warm and familiar, held a depth I hadn’t noticed before. “You’re the one who’s always believed in me, even when I didn’t.”

Something in his tone made my heart race, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The air between us felt charged, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. But just as quickly as the moment came, it passed, and Jobe looked away, his familiar grin back in place.

---

It wasn’t until a few months later that everything changed. Jobe had invited me to one of his matches, and after he scored the winning goal, he sprinted toward the stands, pointing directly at me. His teammates cheered, the crowd roared, but all I could focus on was the way his eyes searched for mine.

After the match, he found me waiting outside the stadium, shivering in the crisp autumn air. Without a word, he pulled me into a hug, his sweaty jersey pressing against my cheek. I should’ve pulled away—it was freezing, and he smelled like grass and adrenaline—but I didn’t.

“Come with me,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

It wasn’t the answer I expected, but it was exactly what I needed to hear.

---

That night, we ended up back at the park where we’d spent so much of our childhood. The swings creaked under our weight as we sat in silence, the cool breeze brushing against our skin.

“Do you ever think about what life would be like if we weren’t friends?” Jobe asked suddenly, his voice quiet but steady.

The question caught me off guard. “Why would you ask that?” I said, glancing over at him, trying to understand where this was coming from.

“Because sometimes… I wish we were more than that.” He shrugged, a small, almost sad smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

His words hung in the air, their weight settling in my chest. I turned to look at him fully, my heart pounding. His eyes met mine, and there was something different in them tonight. Something vulnerable. “You mean that?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

Jobe nodded, his gaze unwavering. “I’ve felt this way for a while now, but I didn’t want to ruin what we have. You’re too important to me.”

My throat tightened as I struggled to find the right words. My mind raced, my chest tightening with a mix of emotions I couldn't quite name. The memories of years spent together—laughing, arguing, supporting each other—flashed before me. And yet, there was something else I hadn’t acknowledged. Something deeper, something that now felt undeniable.

“Jobe, I…” I began, but the words escaped me, tangled in the whirlwind of everything I was feeling. The space between us seemed to shrink, the air around us thickening with unspoken confessions. It felt as though the world had paused, waiting for me to respond.

Before I could finish, Jobe leaned in. His movements were slow, measured, like he was giving me a chance to pull away if I wanted to. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. In that moment, the years of hidden feelings, the glances we’d exchanged and the unspoken understanding between us, all poured out. My lips met his softly, the kiss tentative at first, as though we were both testing the waters of something we had never allowed ourselves to explore.

I could feel his breath against my skin, his hands at my waist, pulling me closer as the kiss deepened. It wasn’t like the kisses I’d imagined in daydreams. It was more—more real, more raw, more us than I could have ever expected. I felt the years of our friendship transform in an instant, a new kind of closeness unfolding between us, one that felt inevitable yet completely new.

His lips were gentle, but insistent, as if he had been holding back for far too long. I responded, my hands gripping the front of his jacket, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric. I didn’t want to pull away, not now, not when everything inside me seemed to come alive at the contact.

When we finally broke apart, my breath came in shallow bursts, and my heart was racing in a way that made me feel like I was still spinning. My hands lingered at his chest, unsure if I should step back or stay right where I was.

Jobe rested his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as he let out a soft exhale. For a long moment, there was only the sound of our breathing and the distant hum of the city, but it felt like time itself had stopped.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” Jobe murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

I looked up at him, my mind still reeling. “What now?” I whispered, the question more of an echo of everything I was feeling.

His eyes opened, and he met my gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment before a slow smile tugged at his lips. “Now… we figure this out, I guess.”

I felt a strange warmth spread through me at his words. He wasn’t pulling away, wasn’t treating this like some fleeting moment. He was here, with me, and he was willing to take this step forward. Together.

“But we’re not just friends anymore, right?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, like I was afraid to hear the answer.

He shook his head, his smile growing. “No, not just friends.”

For a brief moment, there was silence again. I could hear the distant sound of a car passing by, the rustling of leaves in the trees, but it was all background noise to the pulse of excitement, fear, and hope that filled me.

“What does that mean?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around it, still unsure of what to expect.

Jobe leaned in again, but this time, it wasn’t for another kiss. Instead, his hand gently cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he spoke. “It means I want to be with you. I’ve always wanted that, but I didn’t know if you felt the same way. I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I… I feel the same way,” I confessed, the words tumbling out like a dam breaking. “I’ve felt it for a long time. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Jobe’s grin widened, and he laughed softly, a sound that was pure joy. “Well, now we’ve said it,” he said, his voice full of relief and something else—something tender.

I nodded, still processing everything. “So, what now?” I asked again, but this time, it didn’t sound uncertain. It sounded like the beginning of something new, something exciting.

Jobe looked out at the park around us, his gaze softening as he took in the familiar sight of the place where we had spent so many hours together as kids. “Now, we take it one step at a time. No rush, just… us.”

I smiled, feeling something light and free inside me that I hadn’t known I’d been holding onto for so long. “That sounds perfect.”

We sat there, side by side, the swings moving slightly with the wind, our hands brushing every so often as if testing the new boundaries between us. But nothing felt awkward, nothing felt wrong. It felt like the next chapter of our story was finally unfolding, and for the first time in a long time, I knew exactly where I wanted to be. Right there, with him.

[shannara810]

The 666 Club was one of first Outcast speakeasy bars ever built in the USA during the Prohibition era.

The solid wood walls, the soft lights, the long red velvet curtains: nothing had really changed from that infamous night when Bartholomew "Barty" Addams had won the bar in a heated poker game against Al Capone. A game, the legend said, which had lasted three days and three nights, before Gomez’ ancestor had defeated his opponent and was forced to flee to save his own skin.

"You cheated!" the gangster had said.

"Maybe" had been Barty's answer, but now The 666 Club was legally his.

During that tense game some patrons swore that even the Devil had been sitting at Addams' poker table, but whether it was legend or truth didn't matter: an invite to The 666 Club could open you doors everywhere.

Secret alliances, murders, wicked pacts. Much of the Outcast history had been written within the walls of that gentleman's club.

Xavier Thorpe hated being here.

He hated his father for forcing him to take part in this ridiculous show of power and money. He hated his father for showing him off to his business partners like a stud to breed for their pre-teen daughters. He hated his father for making him feel once again as a child unable to rebel.

However, more than his father tonight he hated Calhoun Blair.

A waiter passed by and Xavier reached out to grab the umpteenth champagne flute. He had no intention of leaving his comfortable hiding place and, above all, he had no plan to stay sober. It was time to take extreme measures to survive this horrible night.

The long velvet curtain hid him from those old baboons, so he could observe them all without being disturbed. His father's orders were to not embarrass him or the family name and that's what Xavier was going to do: get wasted in silence and be done with it.

Ugh.

He could feel those dark eyes on him again.

Those warm baby eyes that made him want to run and paint them again and again, till he got their shade right.

Fucking Cal Blair.

The Prodigy Painter.

The Dreamseer.

The son his father had wished for.

Fucking Cal and his fucking talent, with which he had stolen the first prize from Xavier at the most famous Art Contest of the country. And what was worst was that the fucking bastard had tried to congratulate him for his work. Had dared to call his painting wonderful and terrific, before Xavier had yelled at him to fuck off.

Bianca was right: he couldn't accept a defeat even if his life depended on it.

Xavier gulped down his champagne. He really needed another one.

"Should we kill him?"

"The fuck?!"

Without making any noise Tyler Addams had appeared at his side and for a moment, Xavier thought his heart had stopped.

Fucking Hyde and his fucking scary powers. Gods, his head was spinning. How much had he drunk tonight? "Why are you here, Addams?"

"I saw you hiding back here like a loser, so I thought I’d say hi. Are you not happy to see me, roomie?"

"Don't. Call. Me. That."

The Hyde looked like a male model, confident in his skin and uncaring of everything and everyone who wasn't Wednesday Addams or their family.

Xavier envied the other boy. Maybe not his murderous tendencies or his spooky quirks, but it must have been nice to be so unconcerned about the expectations of the world.

"You should be gentler with your best friend, you know?"

"I've never said we were friends, Addams!"

Tyler gave the other boy one of his "I know something you don't know" smirk and looked back at the dark haired painter who was still talking with his father on the other side of the room.

Not for the first time, Xavier felt leery of the Hyde's interest in him. The monster's obsession with Wednesday Addams was well known after all, and with his old crush on the girl Xavier had been sure that Tyler would not have had any issues to rip his throat. Instead, the curly haired boy had started to treat him almost as the Thorpe heir was a pet to care for.

"So why do we hate him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about".

"Xavier, Xavier, Xavier. You're a lousy liar, my friend". Silent as only a predator could be, the Hyde moved to his right side, getting in his personal space. Xavier could now feel the other's warm breath on his neck.

"Don't you have some poor fool to tear to pieces?" His voice was shacking, but he kept staring straight ahead. He would never give Tyler fucking Addams the satisfaction of seeing how uncomfortable the other Outcast could make him feel.

"Mmm, nope. I promised my cockroach I would have been on my best behaviour tonight. And it wouldn’t be polite to start a bloodbath without her, would it?"

"You're crazy".

"Aren't we all?" Tyler's expression was that of a dazed man and Xavier granted himself a nervous laugh. How pathetic you had to be if even a crazy Addams - this crazy Addams - would try to cheer you up?

The Hyde put an arm around his shoulders, bringing him closer. "Smile, mon cher. As if I had just told you the funniest joke in this world".

"What are you playing at, Tyler?"

A strange new dizziness struck him and Xavier felt his knees fail. The music, the lights, the smoked air: everything was too much. His heart was racing, the pounding echoing in his ears.

"Your boy is looking at us, mon cher. Are you sure you want to kill him? Because I would go for Plan B".

"And what's that?"

His father still had his back to him but now Cal was silent, staring at Xavier with a pleading look in his eyes. His big dark eyes.

Such nice eyes.

"He wants to fuck you, roomie. Or, not. He wants for you to drag him in the broom closet and make a man out of him". Tyler put his chin on the painter's shoulder. "Uhhh, I can smell his fear from here, you know. Poor lovely boy. He is scared I will take you away from him".

"You don't know what you're talking about".

Tyler merely shrugged off. He fixed Xavier's hair, raising an eyebrow like the other boy had just said something ridiculous. "Don't be such a sourpuss, Xav. I'm not stupid. Only differently sane".

The Thorpe heir tried to swallow his nerves. Perhaps it was the alcool or maybe Tyler's mind games, but the idea of kissing Cal had suddenly become not so bad. "I'm not gay".

"Never said you were. But that boy over there wants to jump your bones, so why not take advantage of it?"

"What do want, Tyler?"

For a moment Tyler's eyes flashed red and Xavier could feel a shiver run down his back. The eyes of a Beast, possessive and dark. "You're a friend, Xavier. And I always take care of what's mine".

"Won't Wednesday be jealous?" It was a weak joke, but better than nothing.

Tyler laughed heartily, his Beast asleep yet again. "Mon ange de la nuit knows I would never betray her. I'm hers and she is mine. In this life and the next. Keep up, Xav".

"Why am I still hanging out with you?"

"Because you're a douche and what other choice do you have? Ajax?"

"I. Fucking. Hate. You".

He wanted to say something witty, but his words died when Calhoun Blair made his way towards them. The Dreamseer's smile was bashful and cowed, like a deer in the face of a hunter. "I hope I'm not disturbing".

"Nope, I was just leaving. I'm sure Tio Gomez is looking for me".

"Oh". Cal offered the curly haired boy his hand, like the perfect gentleman he was. And for the umpteenth time Xavier could not decide if he wanted to bash his face in the wall or kiss him senseless. "I'm Cal Blair, nice to meet you".

Tyler narrowed his eyes almost as he was weighing Cal up, before shooking said hand. Cal’s face writhed in a grimace of suffering even though he tried to conceal the pain.

"Tyler Addams, le plaisir est pour moi".

A strange awkward silence fell between them, before Tyler shook his head amused and left them to meet the older Addams. When he passed by, the Hyde gave Xavier a pat on the back. "Let me know if I have to help you with the body, mon cher".

Cal looked at them like he was not sure what was going on, but in that moment Xavier decided that he really didn't want to know. The night was still young and perhaps it was about time he took a page out of the Hyde's book.

What could possibly go wrong?

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

@fullofwoe5321 for you 🖤 Thank you for my new headcanon of Xavier being Bi and for Tyler as his amazing and creepy wingman 🤣

* She runs away because what the heck is this? And it's late and you should never fight with English grammar this late 🥲*

[carus26]

I also want to comment on some of the *judgments* about him, with which I disagree, and add my own.

Yes, I've been doing *analysis* a lot lately Just give me some time I've been saving all this up since 2013  And I won't rest until I say it all In my personal blog lol

*Sulley cheated at games just for himself, It was a purely selfish act*. No, not just for himself. Because before that he literally defended Mike in front of the dean, and sincerely believed in him, but after her words *do you really think he's scary?* he began to doubt. Yes, he did all this so that everyone could get into the scary program, including Mike. Yes, he did a bad thing (which he already regretted a thousand times), but he did it not only for himself, otherwise the scene between him and the dean would not have existed. If he didn't care, he wouldn't have protected Mike, or tried to train him, he would have just done what he did. *That conversation between Mike and Sulley (lake scene) is meaningless because Sulley doesn't understand him*. He honestly admitted that he doesn't understand him, and honestly responded to Mike's claims that *everything comes easy to monsters like you, no matter what you do, you always win*. As it turns out, no? Everyone needs to try to achieve something, even when you have talent. If Sulley didn't try himself, he would not have achieved anything. And he admitted that everything in his life goes wrong, only because of him, and nothing can just happen if you don't try. So the reproaches about this scene are pointless, they both expressed their point of view and both understood each other. *After fear was replaced by laughter, employees are now working overtime, Sulley is a bad boss*.

I don't really agree. This is not the moment when you get a ready-made business and you just do exactly what was done before you, this is a business from scratch, there is a complete restructuring, and this takes time, besides, no one is forced to work here. Seriously, what can you expect in a situation like this, when you don't have enough workers, and the management demands FAST results. Especially when you were made a boss on someone's whim, and now you have to clean up all the mess. In the future working hours should return to normal. By the way, he also works overtime. And also my personal opinions on why I didn't like some of the scenes from maw related to him: 1. That episode with baseball, I still honestly don't understand why everyone, including Sulley (who suggested it himself), got mad at Tylor, who literally did what he had to do. Some weird childish grievances, he suggested it himself, and he himself got offended. 2. With all due respect to the scene with the *revelation* of Tylor in the eighth episode, it was very strange.... Everyone just went and believed that Tylor did all these crimes, and the company does not even have banal security cameras? Sulley just believed all the accusations and did not even think that they could be false? Considering that he KNOWS Tylor, and they have a good relationship in general. To all this I can only answer one thing, do not blame the character for a lazily written script... Everything happened so conveniently, just so that the script would work out as it should. It's a children's series, no one will ask questions, right? And this applies to ALL the characters in the series, which is why I sincerely hope for a sequel in the form of a full-length film, and not a continuation of the series.

At least with writers who care about how they portray the characters and the franchise.

🔹A few thoughts about Sulley, why i like his character and his relationship with Boo🔹

(personal opinion and views, I can say the most predictable basic things, and yet I want to express my personal feelings, it's corny but it's honest work)

(also a lot of words..and doodles)

I apologize in advance if I expressed myself in some way unclear or incorrectly and for grammatical mistakes, since I am not strong in english ")

Personality and appearances:

All of the Monsters Inc. characters have great designs that complement their personalities perfectly, and Sulley is no exception.

I LOVE how his design perfectly captures his character. He has soft and sharp features, just like he himself can be *soft and sharp* at the same time. He has a gentle nature, but under the right circumstances can become formidable and even dangerous. In other words, I like the fact that while he is calm, you may forget or even not know HOW scary he can be in the moment, that is, exactly until he HIMSELF shows it. A great way to show a character's kind nature without forgetting who they are and what status they have in their world.

I olso like that he is not a *perfect do-everything-right* protagonist. He is impulsive, he listens to himself and his opinion is based on his own considerations, often incorrect or risky. 

People can say that only at Monsters University Sulley is so *rebellious* and only does what he wants (hinting at how calm and humble he is in the first film as opposed to the prequel) and, based on my personal observations, I can say that he is ALWAYS like this, he acts for his own reasons, and yes, he acts from considerations of *do what is right*, but what is *right* everyone understands in their own way.

For example, like when he risked his and his best friend’s life/career for the sake of a human child whom he had known for a couple of days, or when he cheated at games and then goes to save Mike from the human world. Always impulsive decisions based on feelings and one’s own understanding of what is *right* at the moment.

He also thought that it would be right if he was in the company of high-status monsters and behaved the same way as them (because his family and those around him expect this from him, I believe), and he realized that he was wrong only when he understand (and saw) that he could be himself and that he can’t judge everyone by their appearance and *status* (specifically in that scene when Mike secretly brought everyone to the MI in order to show the uniqueness and dissimilarity of each monster) 

What I mean is that his worldview is always changing based on what he sees and feels, and he always acts based on his personal understanding of what is right and don't, which I find actually a very interesting character trait for a protagonist (not that it's super rare, but still).

Also how many different emotions he can express, from joy to rage, I always liked characters with a rich *baggage* of emotions, and who at the same time do not irritate, do not become hysterical with or without reason, and who simply use emotions at the right moments, not going too far, that is, not capricious and not *drama queens*. 

Another small detail I really like is the fact that Sulley is very aware of his physical strength and never brags or uses it unnecessarily. He is VERY strong, and somehow communicates and contacts with the smallest creatures without any problems, and does not even really use his full strength in a fight, only as self-defense or protection of another.

I also see a lot of different opinions about his prequel version, but honestly? I only started to like him more after university. He was shown from a completely different side, as was his development from who he was to who we know from the first movie. Showed what kind of character he is without Boo. What he thinks about, what he worries about, what kind of relationships he builds, his goals, what did it take for him to get to that point in his life that is shown in the first movie. Love how he went through his arc from "worst to best", how he accepted and realized his mistakes, and how he gradually became attached to those who are dear to him.

(the way he expressed himself to Mike at the end? Being the only one who told him the truth, while highlighting his virtues, thereby showing how attentive he is to those around him and how much he values ​​​​those who help him) 

Although I’m not really a big fan of the prequel, and I also think some scenes from there are little...questionable, and how Sulley turned out different from the version from inc, but in GENERAL I can connect these two images together, I can understand why Sulley behaves this way (given his problems with family and self-esteem), and how in fact it fits with him as an adult.

I can also say that in general I like the way he is written in Monsters at work, despite the fact that he and Mike don’t play a special role for the series, I’m just glad that he act's like himself and hasn’t been spoiled, he’s still trying to make the right choices in life, dealing with a situation that he never even thought about or was ever prepared for, and I just like the little funny moments with him.

Of course, you can't do without *questionable scenes* and sins (and animation ")), but overall I'm quite pleased.

(and I noticed that the writers kinda combined his images from mu and mi, big fan of this decision)

Overall, we have an interesting, well-written protagonist, with excellent design, a great movie as a solo film, and even prequel/series as a good bonus.

Why I think his relationship with Boo is so beautifully written:

First of all, I like the way they met for the first time.

Namely, HOW Sulley reacted, because we know that children are not only *toxic* for monsters, they are literally consumables for them, without feelings, without any rights, which means do with them what you want, your conscience will not torture you.

But Sulley never harmed her, although he could have used any means to get rid of her, because at that time he did not perceive her as a *person*, and still acted with caution. Tried to calm her down, cheer her up, and even sang her a song before bed, although he shouldn’t have even tried?

He understands that she is a living being after all.

And he actually care about this *creature*, he himself decided to bring her home, stayed up all night making a costume for her, he even realized that she is a girl and referred to her correctly all the time, and not as a *thing* (even worried that she was in the men's locker room? ")).

I just love the fact that he treats Boo well INITIALLY, he doesn’t hate her, he doesn’t think she’s a burden that needs to be gotten rid of.

He truly begins to worry about her when he finally becomes attached, but even at the very beginning he treats her tenderly as possible. And it’s just very cute to watch how they gradually get closer and Sulley becomes more and more attached to her, which makes him openly ignore all the advices of his best friend, whom he listened to and supported unconditionally before. He begins to worry about her so much that he no longer pays attention to everything that happens around him, he doesn’t just want to get rid of her quickly, but wants to protect her and do everything possible so that she gets home safely, and does not end up in wrong hands. And this attachment became SO strong that he was ready to leave his friend alone in the human world, risk his life saving her, and he no longer cares about HIS position and condition, she became his number one priority, and this is very damn touching honesty.

And, of course, THAT ONE scene, key to Sulley's development as a character, a scene, where he accidentally scares Boo.

A moment, where his whole consciousness is turned upside down, all the experiences that he went through became meaningless, and the work to which he devoted his life turned out to be cruel exploitation, in addition, a huge feeling of guilt, which will be difficult to get rid of for a long time, and everything that was important in his life ceased to have value, everything except the safety of this one *thing*, the *thing* he shouldn't have felt anything for.

I really love this scene, it perfectly conveys the mood of what happened, when you feel pity, compassion and understanding for both sides.

(you'd think that Sulley stop scaring kids just because of this scene, but honestly? I’m more than sure that it would be difficult for him to do this after meeting Boo, after what he experienced with her, it would be difficult to continue working in this direction)

And one of the best details for me is the fact that this event does not remain without a trace for the characters, this experience has consequences, they don't just continue to live as if nothing happened, Sulley realize that people are also living individuals with feelings that should not suffer, as a result of which he not only changes himself, but also changes his environment for the better, considering that the majority simply will not understand him, he considers it his duty to do something to somehow change and influence the situation (even without the fact that the energy of laughter is stronger than scream), and never again connect his life with what he feels guilty about.

The final scene with them is also so touching. 

The way Sulley says goodbye to her, knowing that he will never see her again, everything he had to go through for one single moment.

Betrayal, discovery of a conspiracy, expulsion, a quarrel with a close friend, disappointment in himself and his life, he even almost lost his own life several times, and all this was experienced in order to bring home one little girl.

And I'm just sincerely glad that they didn't end there, all this time I wish I had seen at least a little short with them (because I just have to squeak with joy every time Boo is mentioned in the series :"))

I know that the first movie ended perfectly and there is no need for a sequel, but as a fan I’m too weak :)

Honestly, this is the shortest and most general “essay” I can write about him as a character, if I had my way (and enough strength/knowledge in english) I would describe every key scene with him.

So, that’s all, I'm glad I was able to express my thoughts about a character that is important to me, at least in this format, and if you read to the end, thank you for your attention! 💙💜

(still waiting for a full-fledged sequel from Pixar and hope that it will come out acceptable...)

[shrimpler]

i’ve never so violently wanted the entire world to Look At This Thing as i do with the silt verses

it’s truly one of my favorite fictional works like. ever. and i’m constantly fighting the urge to grab everyone i see by the shoulders and start shaking them while aggressively begging them to listen to it because what else do i do with myself after experiencing something like this

[innerxsanctum]

Happy birthday to the reason I became a Pethead in the first place. There aren't enough words to express everything you mean to me, so I won't even try. But you've changed my life in ways I never thought possible. Thank you for being unapologetically yourself, and most of all, for being the driving force behind Pet Shop Boys.

“Writing new stuff and doing new projects and everything is really what I live for.”

[milquetoad]

of the many injustices put forth toward the show by fans i think the most overall damaging and telling of a complete lack of critical viewership is the idea that sam riegel builds his characters with nothing more than the bit in mind. like you are only telling on yourself if you think characters like scanlan shorthalt and veth brennato are one-dimensional and depthless

[blobsky]

I am

Just in

AWE

The final video for the #EveryFrameAgainstTheWall project is live!

Congratulations and thank you to everyone who took part! ♥️ You can also find a slowed-down version which shows all the frames in more detail here.

Twitter • Instagram • Website

[cluescorner]

I cannot imagine being a Damian stan right now. You've got both Zdarsky's bullshit (where he clearly doesn't give a shit about your boy) and The Boy Wonder (where Juni Ba clearly gives so many shits about your boy) coming out on the same day. The whiplash must be insane. I hope y'all get some nice warm soup for your efforts jfc

[vaguehotels]

SICK. "right person, wrong time."

[aeolianblues]

I'm not an extrovert. At all. In everyday life, I'm a yapper, sure, but I need someone to first assure me I am okay to yap, so I don't start conversations, even when I really want to join in sometimes! It's just the social anxiety acting up. God knows where from and why I lose a lot of my inhibitions when it comes to talking to people about music. I don't know where the confidence has suddenly sprung from. I've made a crazy amount of friends in musical circles, either just talking to people about common music or (since it is after all in music circles) talking to bands about their own music. I let out a sigh of relief any time an interaction goes well, because in truth it's going against my every instinct. I wish I could do that in everyday life