#backstreets after having been left with nothing to work with

[arolesbianism]

Cleaned up Juliet Loki and London's toyhouse pages a bit so that their info is more up to date, and I'm definitely going to have to do the same for the others I already typed stuff out for because man was I way too generous describing them these guys all fucking suck <3

[soullesscinders]

Keegan Russ x Reader Songfic - Eastside by Benny Blanco, Halsey, & Khalid || Puppy love grown up trope.

His.

Keegan Russ' whole adult life has been spent in the military. First, the Marines, then the Ghosts. He doesn't do love, or relationships. At least... Not anymore.

She used to meet me on the Eastside

In the city where the sun don't set

Long ago, before it all, Keegan was twitterpated. Absolutely enamored with a girl he dated in high school. His love. Always together, laughing, finding nothing but joy, pure, unadulterated affection and adoration in her. The way the sun reflected in her eyes, on her hair. How soft her skin was, the way she looked at him like he was the only boy she'd ever look at...

And every day, you know that we'd ride

Through the backstreets in my blue Corvette

And he bolted. Watched his parent's marriage fall apart, didn't want to make the same mistake they had in getting married too young and having a family. The pressure from his dad to join the Marines took hold and well, the rest is history.

The day he left put a scar on his very soul that no amount of one night stands could heal. The way she broke, sobbing and trying to get him to stay, to run away with her, anything to keep him... It broke a part of him that he didn't know could ever heal.

So come away, starting today

Start a new life together in a different place

So baby, run away with me

But that didn't stop him wondering. For years, he thought about her. If she'd moved on, if that broken look on her face when he told her he was leaving town and not coming back was ever replaced with a smile, and a ring. If she'd ever moved on from him. He thought about the life they might've had, if he'd just been a bit braver. If familial pressures hadn't gotten to him, hadn't... ruined his love.

Baby, you know just wanna leave tonight

We can go anywhere we want

Drive down to the coast, jump in the sea

Just take my hand, and come with me

Until the Ghosts were dissolved, and he found his way back to the city where the sun didn't set. Until the very moment he'd made eye contact with her again after 15 years, working at a cash register. Suddenly, he's 16 again, shaking her father's hand and being terrified that the older mechanic would dislike him enough to make her stay away from him.

I know your daddy didn't like me much,

and he didn't believe me when I said you were the one

Before he knows it, he's walking toward her.

Hers.

She hadn't seen Keegan Russ in years, but he never left her head. She'd wanted nothing but him, all these years. Pining after a ghost that'd left her behind years ago to pursue a dream driven by his father.

Seventeen, and we got a dream to have a family

A house and everything in between

And then, oh, suddenly, we turned twenty-three

Now we got pressure for takin' life more seriously

Nowadays, a cashier in a grocery store. Never moved on from Keegan, and how could she? His eyes are home, even in her dreams. Icy blue, dark eyelashes. Dark hair. Stunning in the way a statue is.

Her mom held her for days after he left, and the crying continued for weeks after that. His hoodies he'd left behind held their scent of him for almost a year, the inner collars stained with cheap mascara and tears.

It took two years more for her to hide them. She still can't bring herself to throw them away. Her job is shit, barely pays enough to live but she manages. Day by day, night by night, she manages.

Her cat helps, in the endless monotony that her life is. Wake up, brush teeth, eat something, go to work, get home, eat, read, brush teeth, go to bed. The city where the sun never set stayed exactly the same.

Her friends left her alone. They didn't know what to do, what to say... So, she worked. And hoped against hope that she'd see him again.

We got our dead end jobs, and got bills to pay

Our old friends are now our enemies

And now, I, I'm thinkin' back to when I was young

Back to the day when I was fallin' in love

The thoughts of Keegan got her through most days. The way he looked at her like she'd be the only girl he ever looked at, the way he held her, kissed her, touched her like she was something precious.

The way falling for him was so easy, as natural as breathing, and how lucky she felt every time she saw him, waiting for her by the train tracks in the abandoned mill district.

He used to meet me on the Eastside

In the city where the sun don't set

But, all of that now meant nothing, or almost nothing. Just puppy love. Until she looked up, and saw those wintry eyes again. A set of eyes, so unexpected in her place of work, that made her heart jump and simultaneously relaxed her entire body.

Theirs.

Across a busy storefront, their eyes meet for the first time in 15 years. Hers and his, finding an unforgettable lifelong familiarity. She never breaks eye contact, holding it as she asks her boss to take her break, and walks off the register without looking back, making a beeline for the 6'1" former Sergeant.

He's half expecting to get slapped, told to pound sand, told to fuck off. He braces for the impact that comes in the form of two arms around him, a face buried in his neck. Keegan's arms wrap tightly around her, breathing her scent in, noting that she feels smaller- or he got bigger in his time away.

"Sweet girl-" He starts, but she cuts him off with a pinch to his bicep he winces at.

"That," She states firmly. "Is for leaving me." She pinches his forearm harder. "That is for letting me think you died."

She softens. The anger leaves her, eyes softening and misting with tears. "This is for coming home." She whispers, and presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "And this," she whispers again, leaning closer in. "Is for coming to get me."

So, baby, run away with me.

[ducklooney]

I haven't commented in a long time, but I have to say this. I was recently on the Disney Wiki and next to the article about Max Goof I found this Trivia where it says this:

Huey, Dewey and Louie in House of Mouse are young adults?!

If so, then they should be a bit taller and be the same age as Max Goof, not still look the same height and sound the same as Donald (I know Tony Anselmo did their voices after Clarence Nash, but again no changes). I mean look at this:

Mickey is taller than them by a few inches. So how can Huey, Dewey and Louie be young adults when they haven't visited Mickey or their Uncle Donald? Max Goof is known to be tall and most likely 18 at the time (something between A Goofy Movie and An Extreme Goofy Movie). I mean look at this picture:

Max is known to be taller than Minnie and the rest of the Sensational Six characters except his father Goofy.

Let's face it, I love House of Mouse and enjoyed it a few years ago and I still think it was definitely a great Disney series with good crossovers from Disney movies but my gripe with that series is that almost everyone acts like assholes except for a few characters like are Mickey, Minnie, Daisy, Pluto, Goofy, Max, Ludwig and other characters from Disney movies that turned out great. Unfortunately this is especially true for my favorite characters like Donald and his nephews Huey, Dewey and Louie who turned out to be bad in that series. But I will dedicate this critique post to Donald's nephews. Still Donald had his good moments, but I can't say the same for Donald's nephews Huey, Dewey and Louie who turned out to be desperate.

Yes, I'm aware that they took the models for them from the Quack Pack, but whatever the Quack Pack was, they still did a thorough and better job of distinguishing Donald's nephews and they sounded like boys their own age thanks to the voice actresses who played them . The House of Mouse totally mixed them up so Louie became Huey, Dewey became Louie, and Huey became Dewey. And yes, they had their own band, the Quackstreet Band, which is fine, modeled after the 1990s Backstreet Boys, but the problem is that they had nothing to do but play. I also don't like how they sounded. I wonder why Russi Taylor didn't play them? I have nothing against Tony Anselmo, he remains a great actor, but I prefer him playing Donald and someone like him, rather than playing boys. Everyone says how badly Quack Pack did the triplets which I don't agree at all, House of Mouse did more. Of course too many characters so they can't all focus on each one individually, but certainly my point is that Huey, Dewey and Louie are not young adults as allegedly claimed in House of Mouse, and they are not teenagers either but as pre-teens as they were in Mickey Mouse Works. Certainly, in my opinion, one of the worst versions of Donald's nephews and I don't want them to sound like Donald at all, because even though they look like their uncle, they still have their own selves and their own specific speech. As much as I have complaints against Ducktales 2017 triplets, they still turned out better there than in House of Mouse and certainly remained in the memory of many, the version of triplets from House of Mouse not so much.

Certainly in my opinion the Quack Pack did a much better job with Donald's nephews and giving their personalities as well as their relationships with their uncle Donald which were on a high level, but it should have left Huey being Huey, Dewey being Dewey and Louie being Louie. If House of Mouse had taken them the right way with their different teenage voices it would have been much better, and there would certainly have been a focus on the relationships between Max Goof and Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck, who certainly have some common personalities. That's my opinion, so I'm asking whoever works at Disney Wiki to change that Donald's nephews in House of Mouse are not young adults, but still boys entering the teenage period. Apologies to the others, but that's my opinion. I like House of Mouse, but I like Quack Pack Huey, Dewey and Louie much better than the rip-off House of Mouse version.

P.S. Maybe one day I'll make my own version of House of Mouse where the Quack Pack version of Donald's nephews along with Max, P.J. and Bobby formed a music band and they would be peers and they would get along great. At least in my headcanon.

[stargirlwritingjourney]

Running Wild

Fandom: Descendants

Pairing: Jay/Carlos de Vil

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning/Tag(s): Graphic Description of Violence, Forbidden Love

Summary: What if Carlos had never been taken in by the core four, instead left to squalor for a few years longer before Uma discovered him? Taken in by the pirates of the Isle, chains of events are altered and certain VKs are left to run wild for a few years unaffiliated before being swooped up and shipped over to Auradon. In saying this, certain friendships--maybe even relationships--are left forbidden.

Event(s): @fandom-free-bingo with 'mutual pining' | @multifandom-flash with Beehive: 'forbidden friendship' and Double Flash with 'after action patch-up' | @eclipsingbingo with 'slammed into a wall'

Can be read here

Carlos whirled through the streets of the Isle, never trying to stay in one spot for too long. If living on the Isle had taught him one thing, it was either stand out and make sure everyone knew you were there so they would cower, or blend into the crowd as much as you possibly could until you could get back to your crew and have safety in numbers. 

So that was exactly what Carlos was doing, hiding within the crowd as he made his way from his mother’s manor to the other side of the Isle with hurried steps so no one had the chance to recognise him where Ursula’s fish and chip store was located. 

Though his name held weight with it, both from the insanity his mother had dissolved into and the recent growth in Uma’s name, and therefore his own. Though it had never been on his list of goals to be a recognisable figure on the Isle, rather sticking to the shadows as much as possible as he got by, he couldn’t say it was terrible to have an extra few seconds of hesitation when people ran into him and realised who he was. That didn’t mean he liked to hang around when he didn’t have the comfort of his allies. 

He had become quite skilled at avoiding unwanted eyes even though everything about his presence seemed to scream for them. From his pearly white hair to the red, black and white leather jacket he wore, in most cases, you would expect Carlos to stick out, but when on an Isle where almost every second person was wearing something similar it became easier. 

So Carlos believed that the surprise he felt as he was yanked from the street by the scruff of his jacket and pulled into one of the many backstreets was warranted, as well as the humiliating yelp that he let slip. Blind as to who had grabbed onto him, Carlos flailed his limbs around, trying to both hit his attacker and dislodge himself from their grip at the same time. It seemed nothing Carlos did work though as he was pulled further into the alleyway with only a grunt being pulled from the person who had dragged him.

It was only when a wickedly familiar laugh ran out around him, bouncing off the walls as Carlos was flipped around, his eyes landing on Harry Hook moments before he was slammed back, going crashing into the wall behind him as the air was knocked out of him and his vision went foggy for a few short moments. 

“What the hell, Harry?” Carlos spluttered once he was able to suck a proper breath of air into his lungs, his brows narrowing down into a glare as he did so. In the few years that Carlos had been aligned with Harry, he had become accustomed to his out-of-pocket actions, all of which were rough and without much warning, but that didn’t mean he favoured any of them. 

“Don’t act so surprised, Pup,” The nickname was whipped at him with a hiss, making him flinch back at the words. His reaction seemed to pull another laugh from Harry’s lips, knowing all the right ways on how to get under Carlos’ skin. Pulling Carlos from the wall and tucking him into his side with an arm hooked over his shoulders, Harry began to lead them in a new direction, helping them weave their way to whatever end destination Harry had in mind. “Uma wanted yer now and yer were takin’ too long to get yer boney arse over to the fish an’ chip shop. Someone had to come and get yer.”

“I was literally five minutes away. You’ve probably wasted more time going out of your way to do all this,” Carlos bit out, trying and failing to shoulder his side into Harry’s, the taller and bulkier simply smiling sharkishly down at him for his attempt. Though the two of them had come to tolerate one another, it didn’t mean Carlos could put up with him most days. “What’s so important anyway? Normally Uma would just scoff at me if I was late.”

“She wants the lot of us to go onto little ol’ Mal’s territory and stir up some trouble,” A bark of laughter shot out of Harry, echoing off the walls as if he were a hyena. It only worsened when he got a glance at Carlos’ face. “Don’t give me that look. We aren’t goin’ to kill anyone, just lightly wound. Besides, you’ll hopefully get to just sit pretty for us since Jay will be there.”

“What does Jay have anything to do with me being there,” Carlos grumbled, already feeling his face heat.

“Because that boy seems to be infatuated with yer,” There was an obvious amount of disgust in Harry’s words as he spoke, the ‘infatuation’ between the two bringing up vile into the back of Harry’s throat, the very idea of it being almost blasphemous. “Yer just have to bat yer eye and he’ll be rendered useless for a few minutes. Now come on, Gil and the others are goin’ to meet us there.”

Carlos wanted to say more, object to his words about Jay and even his presence at whatever this clash was meant to be, but instead swallowed his words and allowed Harry to pull him along. The best-case scenario was they didn’t run into Mal and her crew, or he was able to slip away when they did, hopefully, if Harry’s words were true, Jay would let him do so easily. Worst-case scenario Carlos was forced to fight and hopefully not get his arse kicked too much.

The closer the two of them got, the more Carlos doubted anything good would come from this. When they met up with Gil and some more of Uma’s crew it only solidified Carlos’ worse hopes. 

It didn’t take long to locate Mal, Jay and Evie, the three of them with some kids their age that Carlos hadn’t seen before, a rare occasion due to how small the Isle was. He was sure if he had learnt their names he would recognise them more easily. 

He didn’t pay attention to the words spoken between the two groups, his focus set on slipping away until his eyes landed on Jay. It seemed he had been staring at him since Carlos had first arrived since he seemed shocked that their eyes had finally met, his widening a little bit more. Taking him in quickly, Carlos seemed to notice every minor detail that made Jay up, seemed to not be able to pull his eyes away until someone’s fist came knocking into his arm, telling him to get ready.

That easily tore his eyes away, sending Carlos whirling back as he got prepared to back away. He didn’t mind if Jay noticed since he seemed to always have his eyes on him. It was the rest of the people he was met with that mattered. If someone on Mal’s side noticed him trying to dip out then they would surely point him out or try to go after him. If Harry or someone in Uma’s crew noticed they would either pull him back in or would make him pay for it later. Sneaking away had started to become more of a challenge than it had once been.

But as the VKs started getting fired up, each side only taunting the other more and getting ready to bring the worst out of one another, Carlos used this opportunity to slip away, making his moves quick and dashing as he slunk back, disappearing just before everything had gone to shit. 

Slipping in between buildings and reaching for a fire escape that was haphazardly attached to the brick wall, Carlos had all of seventeen seconds before two large hands were gripping his shoulders. A hiss was the first thing that escaped his lips as he tried craning his shoulder away from the hold as fingers dug into some newly arising bruises thanks to Harry. It only occurred to him that he should try and figure out who had grabbed him when both hands had quickly vanished, reattaching themselves lower and around his waist. 

“What are you-” Carlos cut himself off as he turned around, his eyes meeting with Jay’s almost instantly. Having to crane his neck back to meet his face, Carlos couldn’t help but stare as he felt the warmth from Jay’s hands spread across his midsection, almost burning. In a breathless whisper, Carlos said, “Jay.”

“Carlos,” Jay greeted with a nod. It looked as if his lips wanted to curve upwards but Jay had to stop himself. His hands didn’t leave their perch even as Carlos stared at him with questioning eyes. Jay should be worried that he was this close to Carlos since he was part of Uma’s crew, but he couldn’t help but not feel the slightest bit threatened as he stared into Carlos’ eyes. “Funny seeing you here. I thought you tended to keep your nose out of turf wars.”

“Normally I would,” Carlos agreed, his voice slightly spooked from the proximity, though he did nothing to change it. “You just happened to catch me at a bad time.”

“Really?” Jay asked, earning a hum in return. The white-haired boy seemed to almost lean into him as they stood close, breathing in each other's space. 

Jay had so much he wanted to say, words waiting to spill out of him as they burst at the seams. For someone he should’ve hated, Jay couldn’t help but be interested in the shorter stray. At every opportunity he would steal glances at him in the crowd, would purposely not start anything just so he could attempt to steal some moments with him, most of which didn’t work out.

He wanted to say more to Carlos but didn’t have the opportunity as some imploding voices rang out around them, silencing him.

“Where’s Carlos?”

“He must have gone after Jay since that meathead went missing.”

“If that’s the case then I’m sure we’re going to hear some very entertainin’ stories from the Pup when he gets back.”

Harry’s voice was easily recognisable, making Jay’s teeth grind together. They seemed to have a similar effect on Carlos as he took some hurried steps back, both hiding from the voice even though they were out of sight and dislodging him from Jay’s light hold. 

“I have to go,” The words rushed out of Carlos as he began looking for an escape room. Jay couldn’t help but wish he would stay longer. Once his eyes locked on a way out, he almost began running immediately, though he took a few seconds to turn to Jay, a half smile that looked both a little too strained but genuine. Carlos said before racing off, not waiting for Jay’s response, “I’ll see you around Jay. It was nice seeing you.”

“Bye Carlos,” Jay couldn’t help but whisper, a smile splitting across his face as he did so.

[kyuuppi]

Have to share this dream I had last night cause it's so ooc of me but god it had me feening--

I had a dream about motorcycle gang leader Arataki Itto. Like, Itto in a black leather jacket, stretched tight over his biceps and fat tits. Itto insisting you always wear a helmet when you ride with him, even if he only has one. Itto whose always pulling risky tricks and breaking street laws when it's just the gang but the moment you're seated behind him, arms wrapped around his thick waist like a koala, he's suddenly the safest driver ever. Itto who's big, tattooed and pierced, with a booming voice--the epitome of intimidating--and yet he's touching you like you're made of glass and always always asking for verbal consent.

"Can I go further?" He asks earnestly, harsh breaths warming your cheeks as he holds you close.

His hands stay firmly on your hips and waist, fingers twitching in anticipation not unlike his hips that threaten to thrust against your own when you accidentally brush against the hardness in his leather jeans.

You wonder why he bothered asking--your legs are wrapped so tightly around him, trapping him against you to the point it would take nothing less than a divine force to separate your two. And yet his thoughtfulness, the sam phrase you'd heard countless times before, still causes something to flutter in your chest before you vocalize your consent.

Before the syllables have even fully left your lips, Itto is lifting you up in an impressive show of strength. In just three short strides you're dumped onto the soft mattress of his studio apartment, his own body coming down with you and slightly crushing you beneath his weight before he adjusts himself, lips and teeth attaching to your neck while his rough hands make quick work of your clothing.

Itto who would do anything for you. You're the only thing he possibly loves more than his bike and his gang--its obvious but they don't hold any resentment towards you at all. Quite the opposite. After all, how could they ever think badly of the person who makes Itto smile so brightly?

He's head over heels and everyone knows it. Sometimes you wonder if it's all moving too fast--a biker gang leader is a far cry from the elegant fairytale princes you grew up reading about.

"When ya gonna move in with me?"

He asks with weakly feigned nonchalance, large hand kneading you bare thigh partially in nervousness but mostly because he's obsessed with the softness of your skin.

The two of you sit huddled under the canopy of some random shop in the forgotten backstreets of the city, rain pouring buckets in front of your faces. Neither of you brought an umbrella.

"Are you sure you want to be roommates with me? We haven't been dating for that long, who knows what secret bad living habits I could have," you try to jest. You attempt something lighthearted and dismissive, something that's the complete antithesis of how your heart rate picks up at just the thought of moving in with him. It sounds so intimate, so long-term, so real.

It's terrifying.

It's everything you've ever wanted.

[silversatin2105]

Hello. I hope you are doing well. I was wondering if I could please get a Baji x Female Reader where the reader is Baji's tutor and he protects her from some guys who are bullying her. Thanks Silver!

Hi

Yeah sure, I had fun coming up with this one, I tried to imagine it playing out as best I can, Sorry for the delay I went though a period of ill health during the weekend and thus only started back up the other day, I am back and raring to go and without much delay here you go !

Trigger warnings:

Bullying

Harassment

violence

“I don’t want you to cry!”

A Baji X Female tutor scenario.

It had been around two months since you had transferred into the same school Baji attended, you were an upperclassman of his and to make a little extra money without getting in trouble for having part time work, you became a freelance tutor for your school, People would pay you to help them learn and understand the core material in a way that helped their needs.

Recently you had began tutoring Baji, He approached you as mid-terms were coming up again and he didn’t want to be held back again, at first it was strictly tutoring, professional as to not cause any conflict of interest, but alas the heart wants what the heart wants and after a slightly awkwardly written love note from Baji you two started going steady and to make it even out you stopped charging him for your tutoring sessions with him as they just turned into hanging out.

One night after a tutoring session with a girl that was cramming for a make up test the next day, you ran over your tutoring hours and as a result it was dark when you left for home, you called into the nearest 7/11 for supplies for your evening meal of katsudon, you had been served and were making your way through the backstreet shortcut to your home when some strung out punk in a gang uniform approached you with his gang mates, he had decided that for walking on the turf of his gang that you were now on the list of things he wanted to mess with today (Beat up).

“Hey do you know who’s territory your on missy ?” He questioned you with an intimidating tone, slamming his hand against a nearby wall, you tried to find the words to say but nothing came to mind, He snapped the same question at you again as fresh tears began to fall from your cheeks making his gang members laugh out in amusement, in your heart you were begging someone to come as you had completely frozen up, in the past you had a bad experience with bullying in your last school, in truth that’s why you transferred to another school, this situation mirrored that previous experience too much and so you were just muttering in fear at this point.

It all felt hopeless at this point in time, you were alone and scared, trapped in the memories of your past, they snarled and jeered at you elevating your desire to run, but like before you couldn’t move, your legs locked in fear, it wasn’t until you heard a familiar voice that you began snapping back to reality as a kick flew past your head straight into the blonde haired gang member, with you (Insert colour) eyes you gazed up at him, it was your boyfriend but he looked different, even his aura was different as he began to speak.

“You fuckers are gonna pay” Keisuke screamed out and went into action, it was wild and intense, the nerdy guy you had come to love couldn’t be this howling beast, his hair wild, a serious expression upon his face as he rolled with the punches, your heart leapt in your chest as you noticed after a few attacks he appeared to be enjoying making those who made his wifey cry.

When the dust settled your attackers laid upon the pavement, bloody bruised and beaten, some of them tried to stand as Keisuke stood infront of you and with an aura of deep intimidation spoke the following.

“Now you bastards listen up!! You see the girl over there, she’s under the protection of Tomans first division captain Keisuke Baji, and if you ever show your faces here again of ever approach her again you’re fucking dead!!”

After his little speech the gang members stood and began to clear off and if any of them gave you dark looks they earned swift punishment in the form of a harsh kick to the face, when everyone had left and it was just you two Keisuke let out a nervous laugh and scratched the back of his neck.

“Well shit, the cats out of the bag now I guess I have some explainin to do eh” keisuke sat you down and began to explain everything, how he was in a Gang called Toman, how he was its first division captain, how he was a founding member and then he explained why he didn’t tell you sooner, he worried for your safety if you found out, the though of tears on yours and his mothers cheeks broke his heart,

After that he promised you, no more secrets and that he’d do better to keep you safe as he made the effort to now be there to pick you up anytime it went dark from your tutoring job, for he was a wolf and you were now part of his pack, two wolves of Tokyo within a pack of renegades.

END SCENE   

[scrapsovereign]

That One Time I Got Kidnapped By An Evil Vampire Lord Ch. 9

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57838303/chapters/151278898

Summary:

Mac has an unexpected visitor with an unexpected message. She learns more about Astarion's mysterious past and receives an intriguing offer.

Pairings: past Ascended Astarion x Evil male!Tav, Ascended Astarion x Original Female Character

Trigger warnings/Tags: DnD in-universe racism, Self-gaslighting, Astarion's past trauma (heavily redacted for manipulating his target aka Mackenzie), Possessive Astarion

A blanket of fog covers the peninsula that makes up the neighborhood of West Seattle, the sleepy mist muting the vivid colors of late summer. Mackenzie breathes in and can almost taste the crispness of fall in the air alongside the onshore flow. She makes her way mindlessly through the backstreets that lace around the hem of Beach Drive, finding herself standing in her grandparent’s driveway.

She raises her head to gaze at the eaves of the slate blue 1920s style bungalow house.

Mackenzie knows then she must be dreaming. Developers had torn down her grandparents’ home years ago to make room for a neat row of townhomes. 

Tracing a curious hand over the freshly warmed hood of her grandfather’s forest green 1993 Ford Ranger, she registers a tune floating from the detached garage she hasn’t heard in a very, very long time. 

“Ohhhh~! 

Gja’vok farurm sjolmz 

Heth’fjad vothlag kvinnr 

oz sjolm krenl th’ras vothlagr!

oz sjolm krenl th’ras vothlagr!

oz sjolm krenl th’ras vothlagr! Hei!”

“Gramps?”

The thinning snow and copper hair belonging to her grandfather shoots up from the floor of his hand-restored wooden Chris-Craft boat, grinning from ear to ear.

“Mi aeling! Just in time to help get the daily catch to the greenhouse!”

Mackenzie shudders, his nickname for her doing nothing to soften the blow of his request. Of all the bonding activities her subconscious had chosen, why did it have to be cleaning the fish in the greenhouse sink?

“You could turn over the compost instead,” he lilts with his heavy Scandinavian accent, erupting with a good-natured laugh when Mackenzie visibly gags at the suggestion.

“That obvious, huh?” She wonders, holding her arms up to assist with lowering the cooler containing the mystery seafood.

“I remember you making a similar face the last time we were out on the water together,” he admonishes a crooked and stubby, calloused finger at her. “Glad we went when we did. Your grandmother left us shortly after that, and I couldn’t help but follow.”

Mackenzie’s arms flop to the side as her strength drains away with her color. How many years has it been since they’d passed away, fifteen? Twenty?

“I bet you’re old enough to have a beer with me this time, eh?” He asks with a soft voice and a wry, cheeky wink. “I’d make you a Manhattan, but we don’t have enough time to enjoy one.” 

“Beer really isn’t my thing,” Mackenzie explains, only to be shushed by her grandfather.

“Keep it down, I don’t want your grandmother knowing I’m drinking with you. Here- catch!” he launches a white, gold, and red can into the air with a whistle. It arcs above her and she hops back a couple of paces, just barely catching the ice cold projectile in her hands.

Mackenzie cracks the can open with visible distaste and takes a polite sip while her grandfather rips the aluminum tab open and guzzles it down. He crushes the empty can against his head and tosses it overboard, cheering for himself when it lands in the recycling bin. 

“And that’s how I passed my try-out for the Seattle Supersonics,” he guffaws at himself, his boisterous glee quieting when he doesn’t hear Mackenzie laughing with him.

“Copper for your thoughts, child?” He asks softly as he opens up another can of the bitter, pale beer, taking a noisy sip to punctuate his question.

“I have so many questions, and none of the words to ask them.”

He leans out the side of the boat with an arm made of corded muscle, gazing down at her with amusement. 

“I’ve got some! How’s: I’d like to see the look on that knife-eared prick’s face when he finds out yer heritage after playing 'hide-the-pickaxe' with you?” 

Mackenzie had chosen the wrong time to give the vile drink another go. She coats the ground in front of her with a sputtering spray of beer, shocked by his boldness. Her grandfather chuckles, using the moment to drag the cooler closer to the rudder while she gathers her thoughts. His stocky frame climbs down the metal boat’s ladder and grasps at the cooler’s handles, jerking it towards him with a wheezing grunt.

“Knife-eared? As in pointy ears? They look like mine, Gramps-“

Her grandfather plops the cooler down in front of him, wiping his forehead with the front hem of his grey, ratty Boeing 737 tee shirt. 

“Mi aeling. By the hammer. You saw them this morning, didn’t you?” He crosses his arms, arching a bushy eyebrow as high as she’d ever seen it go.

“Yeah, actually I did…” She mirrors his pose, stroking her chin in sync with how his stubby fingers pet the wiry fibers of his beard. 

“And you saw them out of the corner of your eye…didn’t you?” He prompts her, his eyes gleaming with warmth.

Mac shakes her index finger at him. “Well, now that you mention it…”

He steps over the cooler with an “uff-da”, bending her index finger into a curve with his perma-dirt stained hands.

“There you go. Never want to point directly at someone, lest you be pointed at in return,” he mutters softly. He embraces tightly around her middle, squeezing her with a pressure that pops her back.

“Pay attention to the thin times and places. They reveal what is concealed. Where the elements meet, such as the earth and the sea. Transitions, like the rising and setting of the sun,” he lists somberly in a voice that doesn’t sound like his, pulling away to look up at her with his kind, laughter-etched face. 

“Hmm. You’re taller than I remember,” he grouses, comparing their heights with the flat of his hand. He grunts when his measurement reveals Mac to be a full head higher than him, narrowing his eyes as the gears turn over in his head. “You’ll have to duck when the time comes. It’s the only thing I’ll make you promise.”

Mackenzie is so lost. “Gramps, what on earth are you talking about?”

“Not what, WHOM,” he clarifies for her, scratching at his beard. “Mi aeling, all the gold in Fort Knox couldn’t prepare you for what’s going to happen tonight.”

He tsks, shaking his head. “And could you believe your guardian spirits were going to sit with their thumbs up their incorporeal asses?! Bunch of lazy stiffs, leaving it to ‘ole Torben Eriksson to do their damned jobs for them.”

Mackenzie’s mouth tries out different shapes as she shuffles through her useless brain, searching for the right question to pry him for answers.

“In case you’re wondering, it’s not your new beau,” he sighs, his eyes flickering up to the wooden beams of the garage coated in cobwebs. “I couldn’t tell you to keep your mitts off that prancing, plank-shaped ninny if I tried. I don’t get why you’d want to get tangled up with that in the sheets, and I suppose I don’t have to.”

“After all, you’re a grown woman now!” he reminds her with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows, “Free to make your own mistakes…”

West Seattle, Washington 

Friday, August 25th

7:15 PM

Mackenzie startles awake with a gasping breath, the sheen of sweat that coats her brow feeling cool in the evening breeze. The world spins around her as she sits up to lean on her elbows, her pulse rattling the bones that cage her pounding heart. She slows her breathing, her dizziness and ringing ears subsiding as she eases back into consciousness.

“Are you quite alright, darling?” 

Mackenzie feels Astarion’s cool hands rubbing reassuring circles on the small of her back. 

“I…think so?” She sits up to face him, her breath almost stolen by how handsome he is, illuminated in shades of gold against the azure blue sky. “I had a dream about my gramps and he was real candid about his feelings towards the end, there.”

Astarion’s brow furrows in concern. “Do you have these…’dreams’ often?”

Mac shakes her head, looking out towards the red ball of light beginning to set over the horizon. “No, they aren’t as vivid or self-aware. Truth be told, I’m a little freaked out by it.”

”I can’t believe it’s already sunset. How long have I been out?” Mac yawns, politely excusing herself for doing so.

“Mmm…a few hours, give or take,” he muses, looking off to the side as he recounts the passage of time on his elegant fingers.

“Oh. Oh my goodness. I’m sorry for falling asleep on you. I didn’t mean to just pass out. I hope you weren’t bored,” she apologizes, feeling a pang of guilt for having left him to his own devices for so long. 

Ari would have expected her to remain awake and ready to serve his needs, no matter how badly her body needed rest. Her therapist would tell her this was called ‘hypervigilance’ and ultimately contributed towards more fatigue later on. Mac always figured that was a problem for her future self. Current Mac had to survive the day, no matter the cost. 

“Hush now, my sweet. I’m not surprised. You’re likely exhausted from how much we’ve exerted ourselves,” Astarion reaches out to Mac, gathering her in his arms. She relaxes against him with a contented sigh, listening to the slow beating of his heart intermingled with the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. 

Astarion brandishes Amanda’s dog-eared copy of A Court of Thorns and Roses in front of them before setting it back down on his lap. “I had plenty of entertainment to occupy my time whilst you slumbered so peacefully.”

Mackenzie’s stomach feels like it might turn inside out from shame. “Oh. Oh no, oh God. You found the faerie smut.”

Astarion’s chuckle rumbles in his chest, his lips pressing a kiss to her temple. “If you’re embarrassed, don’t be. It’s an interesting little read. Not my usual fare, but still amusing nonetheless.”

“If you finished it, don’t spoil it for me. I haven’t gotten very far, I’ve only read the first few chapters. Not because I don’t want to read more. I don’t want to see the story progress,” she opens the re-usable shopping tote she’d used as a beach bag, shoving the novel down to the very bottom.

“And why would that be?” Astarion tilts his head in curiosity, watching Mackenzie busy herself with packing away their things.

Mac stops to consider his question, her eyes meeting his when she finds the words a beat later. “I don’t want my delusions shattered. She goes from barely making ends meet, starving and struggling to care for her family to living a life of luxury. She has no responsibilities aside from showing up for dinner.”

“Does that sort of lifestyle sound appealing to you?” Astarion turns on to his side to face her, leaning on his elbow against a massive driftwood log.

Mac snorts out a noise of agreement, nodding her head enthusiastically. “Oh yeah. I’d love being a fae prince’s consort. Who wouldn’t want to wear pretty dresses and paint all day? But alas, we live in a late capitalist, dystopian hellscape and let’s be real here: nobody in their right mind would want me as a trophy wife.”

Mac holds the moment between them in uncomfortable silence, waiting for Astarion to respond to her self-deprecating humor with anything but staunch disapproval. When she realizes he wouldn’t deign her with a reply, she changes the subject. 

“Anyways. Sorry for passing out super hard when you started petting my hair after we ate lunch. I’ve never felt more relaxed in my life. You make me feel really comfortable, and you’re pretty good at that,” Mac puts her hand on his thigh, feeling the captured heat of the sun on the fine, lightweight woolen fabric. “That being…uhm. It’s like you know exactly how to touch me.”

“It isn’t difficult, if you know what to pay attention to. Gods, I’ve had more than enough practice,” He scoffs with a flourish of his hand.

“You…have? Oh,” Mac stammers, her mouth going dry. She sneaks a sideways look at him, his mention of having had other lovers making her feel uncomfortable in her own skin. He tries to take her hand in his, but she wriggles out of his grasp, perching atop the driftwood log he leans against.

“I suppose that sounds awful without context,” He solicits, holding up an open palm. 

“Context? As in your past?” She narrows her eyes with her inquiry. 

“Precisely. After all, it’s only fair that I show you mine after you’ve entrusted me with yours,” he winks at her after muttering his entendre, joining her on top of her driftwood bench.

Astarion breathes in deeply through his nose, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Shortly after I graduated from law school, I served as a magistrate. One evening, on my return home, a group of vagrants assaulted me. They’d taken issue with a ruling I made, beating me within an inch of my life.”

Mac turns to face him in open-mouthed alarm, noticing the far-away look in his eyes as he begins his tale.

This isn’t at all how she’d expected his explanation to start.

“That’s when…he showed up,” Astarion continues, the muscles of his jaw tensing at the mention of the unnamed man. “I told him I wanted to live, and he saved me. In the years to follow, I would spend every minute wishing he hadn’t.”

“After that fateful night, he enslaved me, along with six others. I would go out into the streets every night at his command to bring him the most beautiful souls I could find, playing the part of the whore, the rake. Lure them into coming back to his estate where I would…’entertain’ them until he appeared,” he sneers, his body going rigid. 

Regretting her jealousy, Mac connects the dots of why he’s so talented at making her feel good as his truth is revealed. She had felt his arm gradually stiffen, recognizing the guarding of his muscles as he recounted his past. She does what she feels would comfort her the most by leaning into his sideways embrace, nestling her head against his shoulder. 

“I attempted to escape only once. It wasn’t successful- shocking, I know. He found me before I could leave, and I…I was locked away by myself for a year. And that’s hardly the worst of it,” Astarion shudders, horrors unspoken replaying behind his haunted eyes.

“How did you get out?” Mackenzie boldly places her hand on his forearm, stroking the rough spun fibers of his shirt with her thumb. 

Astarion smiles at her touch. “I, along with several other individuals selected seemingly at random, were abducted by a cult and transported together. Chaos ensued onboard, and we crash landed hundreds of miles away from proper civilization. Making our way back to where we were taken was a challenge, but when we arrived back in the city, our merry band of weirdos successfully dismantled the cult.”

Mac shuffles closer to Astarion. “Did your abuser try anything when you got back in town?”

“He most certainly did. And oh, he paid dearly for it,” Astarion savors the memory as he drawls out the words slowly.

“What happened to him? He’s not still after you, is he?”

Astarion snorts. “Heavens no, he’s long gone. When they found his will after his death, I had been named to inherit it all. His estate, fortunes, lands, and his title. You could say all’s well that ends…not as bad as it could have.”

Mac stiffens, pulling away to look into his eyes, seeking the truth. “Wait a minute. Did you say lands and title? As in you’re…a lord? Like an actual landed noble?”

“Indeed. I am Lord Astarion Ancunin. Pleased to meet your acquaintance, darling,” He raises Mackenzie’s hand to his lips, peering up at her with eyes that sparkle like rare jewels in the waning light.

“Holy shit,” Mac whispers to herself, a line of red rising up her neck. “Yeah, uh…pretend that I didn’t say what I said earlier. You know, the thing about living a life where a hot fae prince just takes care of me and I wouldn’t want for nothing? Oh, fucking hell…”

“Are you not allowed to daydream? I too used to wish a handsome prince would appear out of nowhere and sweep me off my feet,” he murmurs to her, nudging his head against hers like a cat marking its territory. 

Mackenzie notes how affectionate they’ve been with each other, feeling a catch in her throat when she realizes at this time tomorrow she’ll be alone. Her time together with Astarion has an expiration date. Her ‘handsome prince’ will be gone at the stroke of midnight, continuing on with his life and she’ll go back to the mess that’s become hers. A bittersweet tear escapes that she quickly wipes away, facing the reality that they’ll have to part ways soon. 

“I…I wish you didn’t have to leave. A single day isn’t much of a sample size, but you’ve been so sweet to me. Nobody has ever treated me so well or been so patient and understanding. I’m not going to forget you. I’m grateful for the time we’ve spent together,” Mac steels herself for their eventual parting, preparing to shift away from him. “I’ve never met anyone who’s like you, and I don’t think I ever will.”

Astarion refuses to let her turn away. He rises, impossible to ignore as he looms above her, his index finger alongside the hinge of her jaw.

“Oh, you sweet thing. I’d already decided on what to do regarding your person, but that about settles it.”

Mac feels her core throb and tighten from his tender gesture. “Settles what?”

“Come back to the Gate with me, Mackenzie,” Astarion pleads as he gets down on one knee before her, taking her hand in his. “I couldn’t bear to depart without you.”

The sun nestles itself in between the far-away Olympic mountains, the last of the day’s light illuminating them in a ruby glow. Mac flinches, her field of vision clouded, overtaken by a torrent of mist surrounding Astarion. Crap, are her eyes dry again? She tightly squeezes them shut, hoping it helps to clear her sight. 

All the air in Mackenzie’s lungs evacuates from the dramatic shift in Astarion’s appearance.

She follows the connection between them with trepidation. Her eyes widen at the replacement of his fine linen shirt with an intricately detailed, opulent ensemble befitting a vampire lord. Her lips go numb as she notices how well the red and black jeweled jacket melds around his muscled frame, how perfectly the rich blood-red silk-velvet cloak around his shoulders drapes around him. 

Mac inhales sharply in awe as her sapphire blues meet his, crimson and aglow with dark, forbidden power. An aura of regal authority emanates from him, rolling off him in waves. Her gaze travels along of the outline of his figure, all the way from the sharp obsidian crown and pointy ears nestled in his silver waves to the painstakingly crafted breeches, ending at his kneecaps nestled in the beach's greige sand.  

The sun fully sets in the distance, disappearing beneath the Sound. The wind picks up then, causing a full body shiver to ripple through her. She closes her eyes in reaction to the breeze, her shoulders temporarily squeezed all the way up to her ears. 

When she opens them again, the vision of the wicked prince on bended knee is gone, replaced by the kind and beautiful man she’d spent the last day with. A dull headache sets in as she recalls something vague, a whisper of a thought about sunsets and where the land meets the sea. 

She ignores it, troubled by the possibility she might need to make a quick trip to the psychiatric urgent care in the morning. It wouldn’t surprise her if she’s at the beginnings of a breakdown from the stress. She’s been through more in the last day than some people experience in a lifetime.

“Come with me. Help me make the ridiculous things we’ve vowed to one another in the heat of passion real. I want you to be mine, and mine alone,” Astarion’s expression darkens with his confession, his voice growing husky at the mention of claiming Mac as his.

“You’re serious,” she thinks aloud, still rattled by her hallucination moments ago.

Astarion’s jaw twitches. “Absolutely. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

Mackenzie idly wonders if Astarion hit his head while she was passed out earlier today. “You really want this. Me? To go with you? Why?”  

“Because I desire it. That reason alone should suffice,” he clips, becoming visibly irritated with her repeated disbelief.

Mac tries to tug herself away from him, rising swiftly to her feet. Astarion holds her steady in his grip, his eyes tracking her as she moves, watching her silently for a few seconds before he speaks.

“My treasure, is your reluctance in part to believing you are unworthy? You shouldn’t believe the things you tell yourself. They couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Mac sighs softly when Astarion kisses the tops of the hands he holds. “All that aside, I am fully aware of how mad it is of me to ask this of you. It’s terribly short notice, and so soon after you’ve ended things with Ari, but I couldn’t care less. I’m quite taken with you, more so than I expected. My affections for you have grown from a single drop of rain to an entire ocean; to part ways with you now would surely be the ruin of me. Return with me Mackenzie, nothing else would make me happier. Please.”

Mackenzie’s eyes brim with moisture, her earlier misgivings dissolving as she takes in his ethereal beauty in the twilight. Astarion was unaware that his request to come away with him is how she wished Ari had proposed to her- on bended knee at sunset at the most special place in the world to her. 

His tepid hands grip hers, his pleading crimson eyes flit back and forth, searching her flushed face for an answer. 

Well…she has the next few days off. What’s the harm in throwing caution to the wind and seeing where fate takes them?

She nods, a shy smile spreading across her face. Twin tears fall in tandem from eyes colored ultramarine in the early dusk, tracing a crystalline path down her flushed cheeks. 

“Yes. Okay. I’ll go with you.”

[dajaregambler]

HeliosR - Fight out vivid colors! - Chapter 8

Translation of chapter 8 of the event ‘Fight out vivid colors!’ from ‘Helios Rising Heroes’.

Junior: Hmm~... This kinda angle after all?

Junior: No, but it’s a different style than usual too…

Faith: Still stuck on the costumes?

Faith: Won’t the design department whip up something nice if you just write down how it should match the feel of the game?

Junior: Isn’t it boring for it to only play into the aesthetics of the game?

Junior: Which means, it has to be more wild or going more hero-like could do it too maybe!

Faith: ….Like full black with a ripped feel, that type of design?

Junior: How did you know!?

Faith: I knew it… Ochibi-chan’s sense of style is way too easy to guess

Junior: Oh shuddup!

Faith: Since you’re at it, in order to match the game’s world it has to be more on the brighter side.

Junior: Brighter…

Junior: Then what about going the complete opposite and making it super colorful?

Faith: Nice one. Ah, how about this then?

Junior: Ooh, who woulda thought this shitty DJ got a sense of style!

Junior: Hold on, aintcha a fan of Splashy Colors after all?

Faith: It’s all everyone’s talking about, and I only know this much because I played some of it while hanging out with Billy and Gray 

Faith: More importantly, why not this sort of design for the weapons? It’s it a perfect fit for that hero-like image you went on about?

Junior: It’s kinda like, fitting to Yellow West’s backstreets. In that case--

-

Dino: Good morning, Junior, Faith

Junior: Mornin…

Faith: G’morning… yaaawn…

Dino: Both of you look sleepy

Junior: We were making the papers for the costume designs, and stayed up late before we even realized it….

Faith: We might’ve put in too many detailed requests though. Would you like to go over these too? 

Dino: Lemme see…

Dino: Oooh~! These would make for some really cool costumes!

Dino: The design of the weapons match the costumes too… How do I put this, it’s like…..

Dino: It has the same kinda feel as the backstreets of Yellow West!

Junior: That, exactly that! We made it with that image in mind★

Dino: I’m glad I left this up to you two! I  baked pizza so go eat your breakfast. I’ll be off to bring this to the design department

-

Junior: N’other day of Keith being at meetings since morning, huh

Faith: And right after he has to make those “old man Keith’s cookies” and immediately be off to that kids space. 

Junior: Huuuh…

Faith: Ochibi-chan, you pity Keith or something?

Junior: He’s been in the wrong since the start, I wouldn’t go that far but…

Junior: This whole street fair, for us heroes it might count as work but, it can be fun too right?

Junior: It’d be nice if Keith could enjoy himself and yet….

Faith: Uh, Keith’s bad at games though. Neither does he even care for them, wouldn’t it be tough for him even if you told him to take it easy?

Faith: Ah, but, he plays billiards so there’s a chance with hands-on type of games? 

Junior: ….Wonder if there’s anything we can do so he’ll have a good time too

Faith: Ochibi-chan, seems like you do pity him.

Junior: Just a teeny tiny bit!

Junior: I do think of him as a good for nothing shitty mentor, but he has been working properly this time around… so like…!

Faith: Yes, yes sure. Well, since I feel inclined to I’ll think of something too

Dino: Kept you waiting, you two. The costume requests were easy to understand and received really well!

Dino: Bianchi-kun got excited and is gonna whip up some cool costumes. Nihi, I’m looking forward to it☆

Junior: Yeah! Can’t wait for the street fair!

Faith: Hey, Dino. What’s with that paper bag?

Dino: Aah, this?

Dino: We’re going to be using this as training for Splashy Colors!

Junior & Faith: ….?

-

Faith: Was thinking what these were, but they're waterguns, huh

Dino: Yep. I thought that we should do a simulation of Splashy Colors with these today.

Dino: Doesn’t this feel more realistic compared to regular target practice?

Junior: True. It’ll be good training for a gunfight

Dino: Alright, let’s fill ‘em up with water and get started

[lastedqz]

 KIT HARINGTON ] – have you heard about [ THEO CARTER ]? [ HE/HIM ] lives at the qz. i think they’ve lived there for [ SEVEN YEARS ]. they’re [ THIRTY ] yrs old and seem very [ HEROIC ]. i’ve also heard they can be very [ DISMISSIVE ] as well. they’ve been assigned as a [ SOLDIER ]. they often daydream about [ GOING TO AN ARCADE TO PLAY A PINBALL MACHINE ]. i’m curious to know more. | vi. cst. she/her.

BASICS - 

name: theo carter

age: thirty

birthday: july 29th

zodiac sign: leo

birthplace: aspen, colorado

age at outbreak: 7

job: gunsmith

siblings: missing in action (presumed deceased)

positive - charming, cunning, flirtatious, witty, enthusiastic, fearless, heroic, alluring

negative - reckless, impatient, impulsive, quick-tempered, coarse, destructive, imprudent

children: none(?)

FUN FACTS -tw- mention of death & murder

theo was born and raised in aspen, colorado until the outbreak.

his mother was one of the infected, due to her working in a major city at the time of the outbreak. his father took him out of town and they lived in the woods for six years, fending for themselves.

his father died during a raid when theo was 19 years old, and was left all alone.

before passing, his father taught him how to fight, steal, and kill.

his favorite weapon is a longsword he found at an abandoned knife shop in louisville, kentucky.

he is very charismatic, and always looks for a good time to cure his loneliness.

fedra has no idea he sneaks out almost every day to forage for anything he can find— it’s like an addiction at this point.

he is a full on adrenaline junkie, and is often at the alley in the fighting ring.

MAJOR trust issues— being that he’s had to be alone most of his life and watched everyone around him die.

he likes to walk around the qz singing old nsync & backstreet boys songs when he’s bored.

NOTHING is serious to him, and if it is he will make a joke like it’s not. unless he’s mad.

his love language is physical touch & words of affirmation.

he’s VERY protective over what he feels is his, and is not afraid to fight for it.

a little unhinged because he’s not scared of the consequences of his actions and will do almost anything.

AFTER PITTS -

coming soon

wanted connections:

brother / sister / half sibling

practically siblings

father figure (positive influence)

friends turned lovers turned exes to friends on bad terms

ex-spouse 

enemy - a friend of a person he killed outside of the qz

partners in crime - they sneak out of the qz together and just get into MESSES

first love in the qz

“you can’t be pregnant….” - past or present friends with benefits that he accidentally got pregnant (up to YOU if you want them to keep or not but he would be a very irresponsible father right now lmao)

[tartagilicious]

right where you left me, viktor 🧪

"the sky is overcast and i'm sorry, one more or one less, nobody's worried. i'll believe it all, there's nothing i won't understand. i won't let go of your hand."

note: so, i finished arcane about a week ago and immediately got started on this, we need a formal investigation into the epidemic that is viktor i have no idea what’s going on. anyways, there was a common theme i really noticed while watching and i really wanted to do something with it, so here we go!! arcane really highlights the importance of its characters’ choices. a few things said differently, the presence of another person, not reacting too quickly — these are just a few of things i noticed, and i thought it tied into viktor’s unfortunate story really well </3 if a few minuscule things had been different, maybe he would’ve had an easier time :( so, my mentally ill ass has decided to forcibly give him a zest for life in the form of you, enjoy ;D

tagging @cr4yolaas !! because i finally finished!! also, thank @kazuharem for not only encouraging my shenanigans but also convincing me not to kill viktor off at the end 🙄🙄🙄

synopsis: you have always been alone. after the undoing of the undercity and the disappearance of vander and his daughters, your naive mind fell into the hands of the wrong person fairly quickly. but, your fate changed the day you came across a boy tinkering with a toy boat; and by simply being the one to pluck it from the river, you changed the course of your lives forever. you spent years by his side, changing, learning, and growing to love him through everything you experienced together -- until you're both offered a position at piltover's academy, and the decisions of your younger self finally catch up with you. now a lost scientist with merit that works for the man responsible for running the undercity, you are led back to your old friend in the strangest way possible -- by his own invention.

warnings/tags: gender neutral reader (please let me know if i slipped up anywhere!), descriptions of illness, seperation, childhood friends to lovers, we bent the timeline a little bit here aha

word count: 11,000

You had always thought you would die young and angry. It’s how life played out for many around you, after all – the Undercity is many things, but it is hardly kind. Promises and money are the things that weave the threads of the unkempt streets, and relying on such notions are easier said than done.

It’s why you tended to fall back on yourself.

Safety was a hard thing to gain when there were so little people you could trust. Consequently, when the death of Vander and the disappearance of his daughters struck the Undercity, you were among the first to flee. Simply because, there was nothing waiting for you in the darkness. Having your parents taken from you at such a ripe age, the damage was never something you quite understood – but, then again, the enforcers of Piltover weren’t looking for your understanding.

When you saw the surface for the first time, you felt hope. Albeit, the sun hurt your eyes and the warm temperature made you acutely aware of the skin on your arms, yet you couldn’t help but want to pick apart the blazing feeling in your chest. Because, despite the selfish nature that had sustained you until then, it was a hope you knew that you would do anything to share.

However, until such a disciple came along, you would run until your legs could barely stand it. Even if you repeatedly took shelter under a man with a false red eye in the Undercity, from the cracks of the upper levels of Zaun to the backstreets of Piltover, you were wholly on your own.

Until him, that is.

You met the young inventor when you were eleven years old, perhaps similar in age to him, on the edge of the river that bordered Piltover and Zaun. He had been far too entranced by his own ministrations to notice you peeking at him, and for the longest time, you would return by the day to watch him tinker with the peculiar contraption.

Though, the day you had finally accidentally revealed yourself, he had been startled into pulling a string that finally kicked the makeshift machine to life. Strangely, it had excited you. The young boy stared at you for a second then, unsure of what to do between the sputtering boat in his hands and the person spying on him with uncharted curiosity.

Eventually, he chose the latter, letting the boat go while waiting in anticipation of your reaction. Two pairs of eyes watched it move down the shallow river, though perhaps it worked a bit too well – as he stood up with his cane to trail behind it, you began to realise it was close to outrunning him.

You were very rarely seen with others at that time, Taught to be resilient and private, you had often wondered if you were incapable of feeling the things others did – happiness, anger, even sadness, were things you rarely had the capacity or luxury to experience.

So, you aren’t sure what propelled you forward then.

The young boy should have been well aware that his cane would hinder such a chase, and the loss of his work would be no one’s fault but his own. And yet, when you jumped down from the rocks that loomed over the bank, you knew you didn’t want that.

Trudging through the shallow water, you pulled the boat from the water with a small grunt. As you took a look at it up close for the first time, you began to realise just how much work had really gone into the invention – each part was unfamiliar, but meticulous to your eyes.

Was it sympathy that bloomed in your chest when he cautiously took it from your hands?

Hope, you reminded yourself. Is a subjective thing. While the sun may be what guides you, inventions such as this may be his.

You let yourself smile for the first time in a long time to appease him, grateful when he returned the gesture.

“My name is ___. How does your boat work?”

The innocence of the words had betrayed your slightly battered appearance. Even with Silco’s protection, there was little you could do against the world’s hardships as a child. You weren’t nearly as adept as his daughter, the blue-haired bomb technician with an unorthodox fighting style, and it showed in the slight curve of your cheekbones.

You had never been given a fair chance before he reached out a hand to you, before he requested that you come back the next day and help him with the boat a little more. His introduction into your life was as seamless as the way he offered a polite hand, manners oddly refined for a child of the Undercity.

“My name is Viktor.”

You don’t know what you were thinking when you agreed, but you continued to return anyway. You learned to sneak through the crowds in the same way your older peers did, counting on the assumption that Silco had better things to do than keep track of you when making your way out of Zaun.

And each time you returned, it was always worth it. Viktor never ceased to amaze you, his young and curious mind mapping ideas out constantly – some were outlandish, and others too simple, but one thing each inkling had in common was the sheer amount of thought put into it.

Much like his mechanical boat, he worked silently and efficiently. It was months before you felt comfortable enough to call him a friend, but you never necessarily needed words to communicate, so long as you were able to create together.

In no capacity were you gifted in the arts and sciences like he was, but as children of similar circumstances, it didn’t matter – you were his legs, and he was the brain that moved you.

Apart, you may have faltered, but together, you excelled.

Even as you grew up together, you learned slowly. Being under Silco’s umbrella, such activities were kept a careful secret on your part, so perhaps it was convenient that nothing in Viktor’s mind was ever quite your expertise. No matter the time Viktor set aside to teach you the intricacies of the things he created, you could only ever manage to dive beneath the surface levels.

It was a mix of this and a concern for your safety that made you think it only appropriate to take no credit for the inventions, even as he insisted on noting your name beside his in patents.

“It doesn’t work like that,” You’d insist, motioning for him to hand you the pen he twirled between his fingers. You were seventeen when Viktor began working on his projects to alleviate pollution in the Undercity, six years after you’d first encountered him. Though you would describe your efforts towards the reformatory gadgets created thus far as menial, Viktor didn’t seem to think so.

“Isn’t it, I don’t know, enough to note me somewhere else?” You offer, dropping your hand when it’s obvious he won’t let up. “I didn’t create this, you did.”

He nods. “It was my hands, of course. But it would be unfair to omit the parts that required your help.”

Viktor taps a part of the air filter on the table in front of him – it’s a more recent invention of his, meant to purify the toxic air that lingers in certain shimmer factories below ground. You avoid his eyes. The part he references is indeed something you had taken the time to understand on your own.

“A part here and there doesn’t mean anything.” You mumble. He looks at you incredulously, one thick brow slightly quirked.

“A machine is composed of many parts. If one doesn’t work, the entire mechanism is at risk of failing. No matter how small, every contribution is important.”

You narrow your eyes.

“You’re talented, ___.” Viktor sighs, a resigned hand letting the pen in his grip meet the page. “It would be a mistake to let you go uncredited when you’re just as responsible for this as I-”

“Vik, please.”

Eyeing you carefully, he looks down at the pending patent and back at you. You nudge him on with the slight raise of your brows.

“...Fine.” His accent piques on the word, and relief floods your system to witness him writing a few adjustments in. Of course, you’ve considered telling Viktor of your fears countless times. You’d divulged certain worries about your caretaker to him before, and even without explicit name dropping, he could surely guess who it was that was the source of your troubles.

But, still unbeknownst to Viktor, you walk a fine line around him. To be credited for an invention you spent time on with him, it’s something you want desperately – because your friend is right. Each piece that goes into any machine passes through two sets of eyes, and though you may never reach Viktor’s level of understanding, you’ve worked hard to be able to call yourself his partner.

And yet, the right is something you are barred from. To be credited for an invention with such prestige, it would surely only make you a target for Silco’s own ingenious plots. You may be tethered to the man by a deal lost to time, but you will not stand for your knowledge to be used to hurt those you have sworn to help.

Years ago, you had come up to the surface for the first time, the sun’s light birthing new, selfless ambition into your young and confused mind. Viktor had given you an outlet for your dreams, and you will not let your shared aspirations die for anything.

Truthfully, though, you wouldn’t be completely surprised if Silco had caught wind of your activities with the inventor long ago. He’s an unfortunately clever man with eyes everywhere in the Undercity – at times, you wonder if Viktor’s own lab is even safe. But, so long as you keep yourself in the dark, you know he wouldn’t dare to seek you out for fear of misunderstanding your role.

It’s why you can’t tell Viktor of your real worries. You couldn’t, also not by risk of his inventive nature – he’d surely attempt to create a solution, endangering himself and everything you’d worked so hard to keep hidden.

It would hurt you too much to tell him that some things just can’t be fixed.

Viktor had been the only one there for you even in the most tumultuous times. Losing him to Silco would only mean losing another part of yourself to the vile man, and you are not ready to give him anything else – your contracted loyalty is far more than enough.

It’s something the man takes very seriously, and for him to discover that you’ve been hiding something so important from him, it could mean the death of you both.

And so, you continue working in secret. Fixing inept systems and saving lives, bringing people of the Undercity up to the light, and providing an example as if to tell those around you, things will change.

At eighteen, you turn around to the familiar sound of a cane clicking on the floor. Viktor greets you with a jovial smile before dropping a small stack of papers in front of you.

You joke, “Jeez, Vik, I know we agreed to share the work, but this is–”

He cuts you off with a chuckle, pulling a few particular papers from the pile with a quiet hum. “Mmh, don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s not paperwork.”

You watch him unfold the papers with rapt attention, a prying hand on the locket around your neck curious of what he’s leading up to. Viktor leans haphazardly on your desk, rifling through everything until he comes up with what he’s looking for: a map.

As he puts a hand on the back of your chair to steady himself after letting go of his cane, you lean in to get a better view of what he tries to show you. It’s marked heavily in red ink, and you recognise most of the littered sites of forges and shimmer containment sites, though the purpose of the markings are still lost on you.

You take a quick glance at the man next to you, only to discover he’s already looking at you. A smile splits his lips as continues,

“This is the official number of facilities our mechanisms have been implemented at,” Viktor flips the page over. “And this, is the tracking of accidents these same facilities have reported over the past two years.”

The line graph slopes downwards exponentially.

An astonished sound leaves your mouth. “Viktor! This is huge!”

A smile washes over his face as you stand up abruptly, taking his support into your own hands as you wind an arm around his torso in celebration. You cheer as he reaches around your own shoulder and pulls you into him without apprehension, laughing as you do.

“But,” You lean back to look him in the eye, smile faltering a bit. “Does this mean we’re almost done? What will we do next?”

Viktor simply smiles at you.

“Ehh, why not start a new project afterwards?” He suggests, taking great pleasure in the way your eyes light up. Even if you have yet to realise, he has always watched you carefully – your tells of disappointment and vice versa are exceedingly easy to distinguish. Yet, he is still unsure how to face your raw dejection when faced with the possibility of parting with him.

“There are many more that we can help, if you’ll choose to stay to complete such a goal.”

A baited question, and his heart pumps wildly when you take it. His baseless theory of your afflictions towards him had long since evolved into a string of small experimentations, though he is no longer sure if he is doing it to figure out only you, or if its roots run deeper.

A familiar grin curls at your lips as you shake your head incedulously, hand that lies around him patting his back. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, because I’m in for whatever you decide.”

But, the notion is short lived.

At nineteen, Viktor receives a letter. Unlike the usual quickly packed thank you notes he normally receives, it is adorned with a large and regal red stamp, his name penned carefully over the front.

He holds it up to you when you walk into the lab one day, equal amounts of concern and curiosity swimming beneath his gaze.

“What’s that?” You ask, shrugging off your coat to hang it on a hook nearby. “When did-“

“It’s from the council.”

The words silence you quickly. Then, you notice that the letter has already been torn open, its contents most likely read over — probably thoroughly, knowing your partner.

And judging from the forlorn expression he wears, it must not be anything good.

“It’s from Heimerdinger, the Councilman.” Viktor explains quietly as you take a seat across from him, not paying any mind to the way you falter. “He’s heard of our endeavours in the Undercity and would like to discuss them.”

Your eyes widen, but you keep your reaction in check as much as possible — despite the outward luck of such a letter being addressed to him, there is an undoubtedly concerning aspect of the offer.

“Then… Why the face?”

“Well-“ Viktor pauses, putting a hand to his chin. He thinks carefully before he says, “The people of Piltover… they don’t reach out to people like us for nothing. The outcome of this may not be good, not for either of us.”

“You should come with me, just in case.” He says.

Shooting him a cautious smile, you shrug. “What, do you think they’d show no mercy to a crippled scientist?”

Thankfully, Viktor breathes out a laugh.

“The possibility is why I need my legs with me.”

The old joke brings a quiet smile to your face, voice gentle as you retort,

“Then, as long as you lend me your brain once more.”

After wandering the streets of Piltover in pursuit of the politician, you arrive at the gates of a particularly refined building — and considering the rest of the city, it’s saying a lot. Curious hands run over the wall as Viktor watches your awe, a silent smile at the corner of his lips.

Further inside the lobby of the building, you both stand there, unsure of what to do until a peculiar voice leads your attention towards the ground. An owl-like creature stands at your feet, no taller than the bones of your knees.

“Hello, dear children.”

You look up and attempt to exchange a look with Viktor, but he only pays attention to the person in front of you.

“Professor Heimerdinger,” Your partner smiles in greeting, nudging you to do the same. The councilman watches in amusement as you try to replicate the kind smile on Viktor’s face. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

The councilman merely waves the words off, motioning with a furry wave of his hand for you to follow him deeper into the lobby. Viktor finally catches your eye as you walk, and you share a quick smile.

“It’s a great pleasure to meet the young minds behind all of the developments in the forges of the Undercity.” Heimerdinger says, settling into a high seat with practiced ease.

He must have requested your presence at some sort of government building, judging by the formal atmosphere. The area you occupy lies not far from a front desk, in a small outcove perhaps meant for discussions such as this one.

“I’m sure you must have been frazzled to receive an invitation from me, but I sincerely hope that you will carefully consider the offer I give you today.”

Viktor nods. “Of course.”

You begin to eye your partner curiously. Viktor had seemed so worried when explaining the contents of the letter to you a few days ago, and yet now, he seems perfectly calm. Frowning, you run your thumb over the smooth edge of the locket around your neck.

A bitter nervousness festers in your gut as Heimerdinger continues.

“—Your expertise in these matters is why I would like to personally extend invitations to the Academy of Techmaturgy to the both of you.”

Before Viktor can answer, your brows knit. “Excuse me?”

The small area falls into a sudden silence, and embarrassment curls within your chest as you clear your throat.

“My- my apologies. I only mean to ask, I thought this was a letter addressed to Viktor only?”

Heimerdinger’s eyes flash with recognition before he chuckles.

“Yes, my dear, that is true. But, only because he is the only one of you with a registered place of residence. I figured the letter would also likely find his partner eventually.”

When you stare at him, Heimerdinger pauses.

“…Are you not also the inventor of these gadgets?”

He reaches into a bag by his side that you hadn’t noticed, pulling out familiar patents. They’re stamped with Piltover’s red seal, proving their authenticity in the councilman’s grip. On the first document, he points to the top line.

Your name sits next to Viktor’s in the man’s staple messy cursive, and beside it is a small scribble. Something in you deflates and rises at the same time, constricting painfully in your chest. Anyone else would look at this and merely assume Viktor was testing out the pen’s ink when printing your names, but you remember the moment clearly.

“You…You didn’t need help at all, did you? You just wanted me to see this.” A surprised laugh escapes your mouth, and you can’t help the expression of apprehension that passes over your face. You rifle through the patents curiously, and with rising horror, note the printing of your name on each one.

Viktor had never crossed out your name like he said he would — ever. Not ever in the two years since you’d begun the forge projects.

A warm feeling blooms in your chest despite the fear. You now realise the error in your secrecy, but you could never fault Viktor for being unaware of something you’d give a limb to hide. Yet still, the fact that he had always seen through to your true wishes to be credited alongside him is touching. So, however horrible the consequences for your inventor status may turn out to be, you will never forget your partner’s kind sentiment.

Viktor is truly the only person in Piltover that could manage to threaten your life and make a grand gesture all in one breath.

Viktor leans over carefully so only you can hear the words he whispers. “Only because I knew you would refuse. You deserve this chance.”

You shoot him a small nod in thanks, hoping your dread doesn’t show too much.

“…This, it's truly quite an offer.“ You nod to Heimerdinger, swallowing your protests with a strained smile. You can feel Viktor’s gaze on you, though you are too guilty to return it. “It’s just… I’m not sure this is a good idea for me.”

Taking advantage of the shock that permeates the air, you push out a strained laugh.

“There’s so much I have yet to do in the Undercity, not to mention, my skills…” You trail off, waving your hand in a motion that suggests your incompetence. It’s a valid excuse that someone might use, though you aren’t sure how much the professor will believe you in particular.

If you’re listed as the co-creator of the inventions put to use in the Undercity, he may have a different assumption of your skills — of which would, unfortunately, be closer to correct than the pitiful show you attempt to put on now.

“Perhaps you have the wrong idea about me.”

Viktor lets out a conflicted cough, and against your better judgement, you meet his eye. The man has never been particularly yielding with his emotions, though you don’t know that you’ve ever seen him so conflicted.

“It’s true, really.” You insist, placing a hand on your partner’s shoulder as you say, “Viktor, on the other hand, is an excellent choice.”

You’re extremely surprised he doesn’t swat your hand away.

“When he devised the warning system for the coal furnaces in the mines, he used his own kitchen to run tests on how well the machine could pick up changes in temperature and air quality.” You explain, a smile curling at your lip as you recall the memory. “We had to replace the stove twice.”

Your voice comes out sadder than intended when you nod. “He’s dedicated. He’s a good choice.”

“___.”

You eye your partner cautiously as he stands, grabbing for his cane. Long legs take him around the narrow couch and he motions for you to follow him.

“I’m sorry, professor, but could we take a moment?”

Professor Heimerdinger nods wordlessly even as you try to catch his gaze, seemingly not willing to offer any insight. Whatever Viktor has to say is for you to take alone, and you don’t necessarily blame him for wanting nothing to do with the fall.

You follow your partner into a more secluded area of the lobby that lies away from prying ears. But, when the sound of his cane on the marble floor suddenly halts, you’re finally forced to turn your gaze on him.

“Viktor, I–”

“Tell me your concerns.” Viktor interrupts, leaning into his cane a bit to effectively raise a brow in your direction. You try to ignore the heat that threatens to creep up your neck at the direct action. “I can see in your eyes that you’d like to accept, but this pattern of decline is too convenient.”

You stumble on your words. “What- A pattern? What pattern?”

Viktor studies you thoughtfully, eyes slightly narrowed. “Is there a particular reason you’d like to completely separate yourself from science to the public?”

When you can think of no way to respond, you look away and shrug.

“I always wanted to be credited for our inventions.” You mutter, fluffing out the back of your hair with an apprehensive huff. You don’t notice the way his expression begins to thaw at the quirk. “But before I knew you… I grew up with a different life. I made decisions to trust people then, and I can’t even get away from it now.”

“Our inventions?” Viktor repeats, taking great pleasure in the way you can’t help but smile. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard you say that out loud.”

You shake your head, pushing out a short laugh. “Don’t be like that, you always knew I wanted it more than anything. It’s why you put my name on the patents despite my protests.”

“That,” He sighs lowly. “I’m sorry. I had no idea there was such a heavy reason behind it.”

“It’s…well, I’m not sure. It’s complicated.” You explain. “I had always been worried that I was being watched, and that the patents would only give him a reason to seek me out.”

Viktor nudges your foot with his cane, encouraging you to go on. “Him?”

Eight years. For eight years you had kept most of Silco’s contract to you a secret, and from the only person who would ever forgive you for making such a mistake. However, now that you have the chance, you tell Viktor everything - how the man had taken you in after your parents had died, and how you had been contracted to him against your will at fourteen after he had caught wind of your inventive nature.

The way you would visit Viktor constantly even as you lay in bed each night terrified of the future, requesting to keep your name out of patents because you feared being used as a tool in Silco’s plots of anarchy.

But, the worst case scenarios always ended with Viktor getting hurt. Viktor being taken away, Viktor being killed, all because you had made the mistake of falling into the hands of the wrong person.

“You were thinking about my safety in the middle of this?” He tuts, leaning back into the wall to hover his cane off the ground and hold it like a club. “I’m not so easily reachable.”

“Viktor.” You laugh, shaking your head as he reverts his position. “I’m serious.”

He shrugs. “So am I.”

“All I ask, is that you consider Heimerdinger’s offer. You deserve this place, no one has the right to take it from you.” He reassures you, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair back into place behind your ear. “Silco can’t reach you in Piltover.”

You shrug hopelessly, head falling into his hand as you mumble softly, “His reach is much farther than either of us will ever know.”

“But, I’ll get out of there. I’ll figure out something, and in the meantime, you should accept the offer. I meant what I said about your dedication.” You nod, troves of unsaid words hanging above your heads. The most blatant of them however, is that should you fail, there’s a fair chance that you may never see each other again – an eye for an eye situation, product of your attempt at desertion.

You realise it’s not something Viktor wants you to bet on, but if you had the choice, you’d leave Silco’s grasp in a heartbeat. Finally, you have the chance to be who you’ve always wanted, working to help those in need and bringing light to the darkest corners of the Undercity. Yet, you are cruelly aware of what will happen if someone should defect, and you aren’t fond of the idea of becoming the next example.

Viktor lets his hand drop, and you attempt to catch his gaze hopefully.

“Maybe he hasn’t even caught wind of these inventions yet. Or, maybe he’s found someone smarter to do the work for him. But, even if none of that’s true and this doesn’t go to plan, I’ll still be able to leave eventually. It’s only a few more years, then I'll be free to go wherever I want in the world.”

Your expression deflates as Viktor simply stares at you, expression unreadable for all but the slight downturn of his lips.

“I’ll be fine.” You assure him quietly. “However easily I’m able to phase myself out of that place, it won’t be long.”

“And if you fail?” He asks, voice uncharacteristically small. “What will I do? Simply wait for your return?”

You go silent at the question, warmth festering in your chest.

“You’d be fine without me even if you chose not to.” You say quietly. “You always would’ve been.”

Viktor sighs, his unenthusiastic eyes narrowed. “...In what world would that be true?”

You’re shocked into silence.

“…Then,” Your lips thin as an indecisive hand wraps around the chain of the locket around your neck. It’s a small thing, rusted and worn from years of passive use – but conveniently easy to break. In an impulsive moment, you tear the chain from your neck, not responding to Viktor’s opposition even as you grab his hand and drop the necklace in it.

“Take this, as my promise to return quickly.”

Cautiously, he thumbs open the small compartment, a small incredulous laugh escaping his lips. Viktor raises the object in his hand with a wry smile. “You’re ridiculous. You’ve kept this, all this time?”

In the open locket sits a small picture, imperfect by every standard. The faces are barely legible anymore, and the jagged cut edges curl out from the areas that don’t quite reach the paper. However, the way Viktor had recognised it with just a glance makes you feel better about the way you still cling onto that day.

Your younger faces stare back at you, smiling with a large object sitting between your hands.

A boat.

You smile faintly, a heavy feeling rising in your eyes as you nod.

In that moment, you hear it – the slight hitch of his breath, the click of his cane as he leans back into the wall. Viktor takes you into his arms with attentive concern, with such raw apologeticness that it clouds your mind and kickstarts your faltering heart.

“I’m sorry.” You say, voice faint with tears. “I can do this. I promise.”

He nods, accent thick with heartache as he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“I believe you.”

You don’t regard Viktor as one of the smartest men in the Undercity for no reason. There were quite a few times when you’d been a personal witness to his ingeniousness, and you respected the boy greatly for his inventive nature even then.

But, when did you begin to see more than that?

Was it in the awkward boy who had given you a new chance at life, or the curious teenager who laughed when a prototype nearly exploded in his face? Though you have always looked upon these memories with fondness, you choose to focus on different aspects now.

The day he had approached you to share the success of your projects in the forgeries, how he had struggled to hold back the rampant flush building up in his ears when he’d asked you to stay with him. The many occasions where he would grab your hand without a thought just to lead you to something new. His simple encouraging words that never failed to urge you on.

But, Viktor had never outright acknowledged the idea of you as anything more until the day you’d had to leave him.

It’s a bittersweet memory.

Occasionally, you find yourself wondering what course your life would have taken if you had listened to the boy you’d always had so much faith in.

he can’t reach you in piltover.

You wish you would’ve taken the chance to find out.

Hope had blinded you in the most unfortunate way — of course, Silco was already well aware of your plans and nearly pounced on the chance to dismantle them, effectively giving you no choice but to stay.

He was once a kind man, taking you in when you had nowhere else to go. But, he had since gone cynical, left without much sympathy for anyone other than his ticking time bomb of a daughter.

When subjecting your skills to the Undercity, he had told you that you would only be continuing your work. Helping people with the mind you worked so hard to cultivate. But you weren’t so nearsighted — the gadgets you designed were for no one’s benefit but his own.

Though, you’d still worked hard in the years you’d been under him. Because, against your better judgement, throwing yourself into such a familiar craft became an undeniable comfort.

If you imagined hard enough, you could even tell yourself Viktor was sitting somewhere nearby, tinkering with a part of his own.

You were never truly able to contact him after he’d left for the academy, and his new position as a creator of Hextech in Piltver’s high society didn’t exactly make it any easier. Besides, your connections were largely cut down due to the secrecy in your role in Silco’s ranks. Your confidentiality was an important piece to his schemes, and god forbid you break it.

It had gotten to the point where you were left to assume Viktor could figure out what happened to you. But, the thought is a sour one. It left you grasping for the comfort of the locket around your neck nearly every time the thought came up, despite that you rarely forgot that it was in the hands of the man you’d grown to love.

Almost six years had passed before you finally received a messily bound notebook from Jinx, the explosive girl giving it to you with a proud smile.

“I’m handing these off to you!” She says animatedly, not waiting for your reaction before she continues in a more serious tone, “You’d better not let anything happen to them, I worked hard to break these out.”

You follow the nudge of her hand onto a lumpier part of the notebook, when you realise that the cover is a makeshift pocket. Giving her an unsure look, you open it cautiously.

A harmless blue glow emits onto her face as the fabric falls back, and you have to admit, Jinx almost looks crazier in the hue — if such a thing is even possible.

“Yeah,” You agree, eyeing the stones with attentive curiosity as you nod. “Sure, I’ll take care of them for you.”

Shouldering the burden of whatever may be in the notebook in your hands, you bid her farewell before returning to your lab. You look down at the journal with dismay. You sympathise with Jinx, you really do – rumours of her story have been floating around since before the time you were initiated, and none of them are quite bedtime stories.

But Jinx is so eager to prove herself that she barely stops to think of the consequences, even when there’s a possibility of them falling to you. But, such is the role of a scientist: your hands are often dirtied at the expense of someone else’s curiosity.

Still, the book seems important, so you don’t want to mishandle it for risk of being connected to it.

You unhook the pouch containing the crystals carefully, setting it aside as you crack open the worn spine. Your lips turn up in a grimace when it falls flat against the table, but it quickly morphs into confusion as you stare at the messy cursive that fills the page. The writer’s hand had been heavy and decisive; whoever had written it was either in a great rush, or was astounded by their subject of notation.

As you attempt to decipher the barely legible writing, you almost laugh. You had only ever known one person with such bad penmanship–

At the thought, the colour drains from your face.

Thoughtlessly, you grab for the pouch of strange crystals while peering at the page. You hope to everything that you aren’t correct, but as the seemingly random lines begin to shift into words before your eyes, you curse beneath your breath.

This is Viktor’s notebook.

Your breath catches in your throat, spilling from your lungs and into every crevice of your body. Though, as you force yourself to read on, your worry only gets worse – the notes detail a new form of Hextech, a more simple version of the magic used to power Hexgates, and their plans to utelise it for more everyday tasks.

More maps breaking down new products litter the notebook as you flip through the pages, each piece more thorough than the next. Your hands splayed out beside the notebook falter as you drop your head, a familiar tightness manifesting in your chest. Just what had Jinx done to get her hands on such a thing?

Breath growing heavier, it gets harder and harder to fight the fear that bites at you with each passing second. Silco had once promised to not lay a hand on Viktor in exchange for your work, but Jinx? Jinx is bound under no such agreement.

You fall into the chair under you, hand over your mouth as you consider your options.

Of course, your worry is baseless. Perhaps Jinx had hurt no one, intent on pleasing Silco to the greatest effect. But, the chance of her going all the way and killing anyone at the scene isn’t necessarily far-fetched, either.

Taking another peek at the open page, you fight a sigh. The work is extremely detailed, and knowing Viktor, it’s likely years were spent on these ideas. It’s for that reason that you force yourself not to dwell on his life too much for now – no matter the fate he met at Jinx’s break-in, you know without a doubt that he would prefer for his work to remain his.

So, for the next couple of weeks, you feign cluelessness.

“I’m– Look, I know that you’d like this information,” You say to Silco, brows furrowed. “But these Piltover scientists don’t write in a way any of us were taught. I need the time to decipher it.”

It’s laughable that the sole reason the information could never reach him is merely bad cursive, not an uncommon Piltover scripture. Though, of course, Silco doesn’t need to know this.

“Tell me, what good of a scientist are you if you can’t make sense of a peer’s notes?” He challenges, and you fight a frown.

“With all due respect, Sir, I can begin to understand the diagrams even without notes.” You say it slowly, testing out the waters. The last thing you want to do while lying out of your teeth is make Silco mad. “But without context, anything I find is ultimately useless.”

Perhaps against his better judgement, Silco believes you that night. Fortunately, it gives you all the time you need to focus on Viktor’s notes in secret, though, you’re not sure how it makes you feel to realise that his notes actually make sense — so much time has passed since you last saw each other, it barely seems real.

You’ve grown since the last time you’d see each other, but for now, you can only hope that Viktor is around to have the opportunity to see it.

But the fact that you can’t contact him in any way doesn’t help your worry, either. It’s not strange for someone of his status to be without a direct line of communication, and it’s even less strange that you, a scientist of the Undercity, still fail to find an easy way to get ahold of the man. Your only source of information has always been the rumours that fall from the pockets of Silco’s clientele – unreliable, but better than nothing.

Assuming that the death of a creator of Hextech would be a bigger scoop amidst the usual sea of casual gossip, you’re relieved when a few days pass and you’ve heard nothing of the sort. But, even the passage of time is a dangerous game now: you know that Silco’s patience is likely wearing thin in the lapse of any progress.

So, you give him what he wants.

He can’t read the messy scripture either, and it’s quite easy to say you’ve made advancements by tacking on a random splice of information that he wouldn’t understand anyways. Giving him the true information would be a gamble you aren’t ready to take – putting that kind of power into his hands could prove exceptionally dangerous.

Still, doing such a thing leaves you undeniably on edge. Lying to Silco isn’t an easy thing, and the fears of your secret escaping run constantly rampant in your head. It’s a difficult thing to juggle, to say the least – like your own personal show, that unfortunately includes acting a part for nearly everyone you know.

One muggy night around a week later, you finally feel as though you’re nearing your breaking point. You can’t feed Silco pieces of nondescript information forever: even he will eventually begin to piece together the mechanics of the gadgets. But, what choice do you have? You've essentially dug yourself a grave.

You think you’ve finally gone crazy when a small ticking sound interrupts the quiet atmosphere. But, another round pulls you out of your thoughts, and with a sigh, you turn towards where you think the source lies.

There is a row of large windows that line the eastern wall of your lab, put in specifically to fuel your ‘creativity’. You had assured Silco it was a useless endeavour, but he had gone ahead without the discretion of your choices, as usual.

The beauty in the Undercity is certainly unorthodox – as much as you’d like to look out the windows and see rolling hills, the mechanical city has its own charms. Everything is connected in a way underground, making for a messy but tight-knit community: an oddly heartwarming contradiction.

Though, perhaps it’s connected a bit too literally.

As you glance out the window, your eyes immediately catch on two silhouettes. As if to emphasise their point, the one kneeling on the overhanging roof knocks again. They say something that’s muffled by the thick glass.

Your brows knit as you stare at the pair. They’re shrouded completely in the dark, features barely discernable behind the panes. You know you should leave them be – who knows what someone knocking on the windows of a lab could be after. But, your curiosity gets the better of you before rationality can kick in.

Cautiously, you make your way up to the window, unhooking the latch and finally letting the quiet voice of the kneeling person flow in.

“___!” A familiar voice you can’t place says your name with relief, slipping past you and onto the counter you kneel on. When they land, the sound they make on impact has you reaching instinctively to their shoulder. It wouldn’t necessarily be hard to paint whatever this is as a break-in, but you’d rather not.

“What do you think you’re–” You fall silent after you pull the person’s shoulder back, grey eyes staring into yours as if to dare you to go further.

Barely avoiding a stutter from escaping, you ask, “...Vi?”

“In the flesh.” She remarks, getting to her feet and taking a look around your lab. “I heard you’d be lurking around here somewhere, didn’t know it would be here specifically.”

Vi shoots you a pointed look and you sigh.

“It’s a story for another time.” You mumble, taking a glance at the person who had come with her that stands still on the windowsill. Dark blue eyes flit around the room, and you don’t think anything of it until you notice the gold detailing on her outfit.

“Woah!” Jogging across the room to cover your work table, you reach easily for the gun holstered beneath your coat. Offhandedly, you wonder if they’re here for Viktor’s notebook. “I didn’t know you ran with that kind of crowd, Vi. Was your disappearance not enough of a shock?”

Vi grits her teeth in frustration, pulling out her own weapon and turning it on you. It’s then that you realise the enforcer on the window carries a sniper rifle, but oddly enough, she doesn’t move to protect herself.

“Seriously? You have no idea what happened to me.”

“Vi.” The enforcer hisses, accent smooth as she carefully eases her way down onto the counter before raising her hands. “There’s no need to be so hostile, their trust is more important.”

Your brows knit.

“What are you talking about?”

With a huff, Vi’s stance relaxes slightly. Something in you deflates at the obvious display of trust between the two – you had never been particularly close to Vi as a kid, always a few years older and a few leagues weaker, but she was still someone you respected. Your own relationship with the higher-ups of Piltover is admittedly complicated, but Viktor is no enforcer. Anyone from the Undercity would be able to distinguish the difference.

“My trust?” You prod, nudging the gun in your hand with your pointer finger as if to remind them of your confusion. “What about it?”

“We heard rumours. You work for Silco? As a…” She struggles, eventually getting frustrated and spitting out a title. “Researcher, of some kind?”

“A scientist.” You correct, shrugging the error away. “But, what does that have to do with anything?”

The enforcer steps forward, eyes unsettlingly kind. It makes you feel as though you’re the one in the wrong, even though neither of you have done anything inherently bad yet.

“We want to take Silco down.”

Begrudgingly, Vi lets the enforcer lead you to the chair by your work table and take care of explaining things to you. Though, you only lower your gun once it’s clear she isn’t there to report you or to arrest you for the things in your lab that are, quite frankly, wholly out of your control.

“The rumours we heard, they said you were here against your will.” The enforcer you now know as Caitlyn says so quietly, an apologetic look falling over her face. Your lips tick into a frown.

“If you want me to help you go against him, I’m afraid it’s not possible.” You lament quietly, leaning back into your chair as you sigh. Caitlyn and Vi exchange a glance as you continue. “I might be a valuable scientist, but I’m ultimately replaceable. He’d kill me.”

And you don’t say it, but you know the man would make it a spectacle. A warning to those thinking of doing the same, and a cruel jab at the Hexgate creator he’d taken you from.

“I know that you think you have power. But, I did too once. Whatever you think Silco is capable of doing, it’s worse.”

“I believe you.” Caitlyn nods. “But that’s not quite true. We… We were given a chance to hold an audience with the council. It’s concerning a different matter, but it connects back to the man who’s forcing you to do this.”

“We want you to give us evidence that he’s doing things beyond code. Vi suggested that if the rumours of your contracting were indeed true, you might be able to help.”

If she has any other thoughts on the situation, they’re kept behind her stumbling words by lock and key. When you don’t respond, she takes decisive steps forward, kneeling down to take your hand from where you sit.

You look up at her in shock as she says,

“Don’t fret. Silco can’t reach you in Piltover.”

Caitlyn’s words are gentle, and unfortunately familiar.

“All I ask, is that you consider Heimerdinger’s offer. You deserve this place, no one has the right to take it from you. Silco can’t reach you in Piltover.”

You always wished you would’ve taken the chance to find out.

Suddenly, your face twists as your free hand flies to your mouth. Memories you had been repressing flow into you at full force, and the feeling is nauseating as you choke out,

“....Was anyone hurt the night the Hexcrystals were stolen?”

Caitlyn’s head dips as if to earn a glimpse of your face, before she hesitantly shakes her head.

“Fine, then.” You swallow harshly. “You’re right. I should come.”

Decidedly, you reach behind you and consequently make Caitlyn back up. You grab the notebook with a soft grip, hesitant in the route you’re taking until Vi pops out a nondescript question behind you.

“This,” You start, voice quiet as you let out an embarrassed laugh. “...Is the notebook that was stolen a few weeks ago. It was stolen by someone in our ranks and passed onto me.”

The revelation makes the pair in front of you go silent.

“Ah–” You put up your hands in mock surrender, brows furrowing. “But it’s not like I asked for this, nor would I ever actually give the information to anyone–”

“You have that?” Vi’s eyes widen. “And the crystals, too?”

“Yes, both.” You wince slightly.

“No,” Caitlyn interrupts, putting up a hand. “That’s good. A high profile piece of evidence will give us credibility.”

You bite the inside of your lip as you contemplate. “But, speaking of high profile. …How sure can I be that I won’t be arrested for this information? While not of my own will, I’ve created things that have been used to commit horrible deeds–”

“I’ll protect you.” Caitlyn assures you, putting a hand to her chest. “I promise you this. You truly seem like a good person, ___, and I believe that.”

An enforcer’s words wouldn’t have meant anything to you thirty minutes ago. But now, they light a casual flame in your chest.

“Thank you.” You nod shyly.

Interrupting the heartfelt moment with the quiet clap of her hand, Vi says, “If we’re all done, let’s figure something out. And quickly.”

“Stage fright?”

Caitlyn comes up beside you, the engaging question meant to be thoughtful. Instead, it just reminds you of all you have to fear — perhaps you’ll be thrown out the moment the councilors know who you are, but even if you do stay, will they believe you?

Or, will they think you’re merely painting a picture for your own benefit? There’s no easy way to explain how the stolen materials were so easily entrusted to you without somehow implicating yourself, and the possibilities are terrifying.

You shrug, shifting the bag over your shoulder. “Something like that.”

“Don’t worry, I told you.” Caitlyn says, a thoughtful hand resting on your shoulder. “I’ll make sure you’re protected. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“…I hope so.” You mumble.

“Either way,” She motions for you and Vi to follow her. “We’ll get through it. Are you ready?”

When you both give your forms of acceptance, Caitlyn lays a careful hand on the large door that separates you from the council room, waiting for an appropriate time to enter.

“Perhaps Marcus was working independently,” a disembodied voice says thoughtfully. “But what could anyone in the Undercity offer him that he didn’t have up here.”

At the momentary pause of chatter in the room, Caitlyn takes this opportunity to enter.

“It’s not what they offered him. It’s what he had to lose.”

Guards accompany you from behind, and admittedly, you can’t muster the courage necessary to raise your head. Caitlyn seems to know what she’s doing, and even Vi is fairly comfortable with facing the officials as she glances among them.

“Councilors, my daughter has a unique insight into our situation.” An unfamiliar woman stands, that of which you assume to be Caitlyn’s mother. Curiously, you raise your head.

There’s certainly a resemblance.

She nods in her mother’s direction. “Thank you.”

“First,” She turns her head to Vi, who stands beside her. “Councilors, this is Vi. She was born in the Undercity.”

“Even though we failed her in countless ways, she risked everything to show me what life is really like down there.” They share a heavy glance that makes you wonder just what had happened between the two of them before they had decided to seek you out.

“People are starving, sick, ravaged by shimmer. They live in constant fear of the coordinated efforts of violent crime lords. And one man leads these efforts — Silco.”

A robotic councilor is the first to speak, refutting. “We’ve done investigations of Silco. They yielded no such level of organisation.”

The forefront creator of Hextech drops what he plays with in his hand, the small pin making a sound that makes the room go quiet. Briefly, you think you notice the shuffle of someone sitting behind him, but you don’t dwell on it.

“What does this Silco even want from us?” Jayce asks.

Caitlyn turns to you, and hesitantly, you clear your throat. You’ve never been a terrible public speaker, but in this moment, you have to wrest the edge from your throat.

“That— he believes the Undercity should be independent.” You explain stiffly. “He calls it the nation of Zaun.”

Jayce’s thick brows furrow with uncertainty. “…And who might you be?”

“My name is ___.” You answer. “I’m a scientist that works under Silco, and I’d like to provide concrete proof that he’s someone that needs to be dealt with.”

Finally, you let yourself get a good look at all of the councilors. They’re all quite unique in appearance, from a range of species and colour, some wearing defining pieces of jewellery while others stick to more plain ensembles.

But as your eyes make their way across the board, waiting for someone to speak, you catch something that stops you short.

You were right. There is someone sitting behind Jayce. He leans out from behind his much larger counterpart to let his eyes flicker over the faces of your companions, only pausing for a split second before they fly back to you.

You dare to meet his gaze when you feel his attention on you. Suddenly, your words die in your throat.

The man’s cheekbones are almost gaunt against his pale skin, and the bags under his eyes must be a similar hue to Caitlyn's uniform. But, there’s a deeply familiar emotion in the way he looks at you. It pricks beneath your skin as the onset feeling of recognition dawns on you.

It feels as though someone’s given you a kick to the stomach when he reaches out for something beside him, solidifying your thoughts by grasping a crutch.

Viktor?

He releases a small breath, urging you on with a slight smile.

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from letting the extent of your emotion show. Of course, Viktor is sitting in on a councilor’s meeting looking like he’d been put through a wringer, facing you as if you’re a criminal awaiting trial, but some things truly never change.

You swallow firmly as Vi nudges you, forcing you to tear your gaze away from Viktor. She gives you a pointed look that startles you back into function — she’d likely taken the room’s silence as an invitation to go on and was wondering why you hadn’t done the same.

Pushing down the rushing sensation that threatens to burst from your chest, you clear your throat again.

“I’m sorry. As- as I was saying, Silco is someone to be feared because his reach is enormous. With trade routes, shimmer, and control of the Undercity mines, he relies on fear to keep things in order.”

“He may seem kind, but it’s a show. Silco cuts people off from the outside world and makes sure they have no choice but to rely on him.”

You hope Viktor is able to pick up on the distinctions — though you will never be able to properly apologise for the way that you left him, you hope the short explanation will fill in certain gaps.

Taking a slow breath, you look at the ground as you say, “…I had my only chance at happiness taken away when I was nineteen, all so I could stay behind and fulfill the role he needed me to. It's been six years."

“He holds people I care about over my head to this day.” You frown, looking at each of the councilors meaningfully. “But, I’m sick of it. So, please. On the off chance that you will listen to my story, let me provide certain important gadgets from the last few years.”

A few beats of silence pass before an impeccably dressed woman raises her hand regally, a slight smile making the golden freckles across her face lift. A light shines over her head as she says,

“I believe this could be worthwhile.”

After her, councilors raise their hands one by one, all noting their own personal thought processes throughout. Relief builds quickly in your chest, and as the officials speak amongst themselves, you try to catch Viktor’s eye. Though, when you find him amongst the group, he is speaking to Jayce, noting something string-like tied to his cane with abstract gestures.

“Actually, convincing them to spare you punishment may not be necessary.” Caitlyn grabs your attention with the quiet statement as the last councilman ponders. “Most seem accepting of your story.”

You can’t help the smile that comes to your face as the last light shines over the lone councilman, signifying his agreement.

“I’m glad.”

The rest of the session is long and tedious. Certain members of the council, while in agreement to listen to your story, certainly don’t have much faith in you. They question you at every turn, and while it’s usually not hard to find an answer, they strain you – ask if you really did take no pleasure in being the creator of such vile weapons, in being the mind behind the tools.

But as you pull each from your bag, explaining them as a guard handles them at a safe distance, you refute each councilor that dares to doubt your explanations. While their acceptance is important, you know fear of the unknown too well. Those who are the loudest are often only scared of what they don’t understand.

However, it’s a shame that the only other person in the room that can truly grasp the situation doesn’t get a vote.

Viktor listens thoughtfully to each of your descriptions. And though you can’t exactly watch for his reactions in the crowded setting, you can practically feel the interest that radiates off the man. A pleased buzz settles into your chest as you continue on.

The moment that likely matters the most is when you finally reach the bottom of the bag, where only one object remains. Hesitantly, you reach for what could be the day’s catalyst.

“This,” You hold up the leather bound notebook in one hand, not turning around to face the council members just yet. “Is not my creation, but I felt it was important to show it today.”

Cautiously, you turn around, taking the journal into one hand to feel for the crystals kept in the front. A wave of relief goes through you when you feel them inside.

“These were stolen from labs here and passed over to me a few weeks ago, with the hope that I would be able to make use of the notes and Hexcrystals inside.”

Quiet gasps echo through the room as you take experimental steps towards Jayce. You hold them up in a silent offer, but rather than take them directly, he lets Viktor stand and reaches for them instead. You hand them over with a bated breath, noting the slight flicker that goes through his eye when your hands briefly touch.

“I didn’t let them have any of it.” You mumble, not even sure if Viktor had heard you until his lips quirk up into a small smile.

“I know.”

But, he makes a show of flipping through the pages as you stand there anyway, making sure nothing is missing amongst the notes and crystals you’d returned.

“I believe nothing is missing.” Viktor nods to Jayce, who you hadn’t noticed was already borderline studying your face. You realise then that it was essentially impossible for him to have not picked up on the exchange between you and Viktor, not that there’s anything you can do about it.

You take a step back when he nods, Viktor’s eyes lingering on yours for what is perhaps a count too long.

The session ends with the council’s promise to look deeper into Silco’s endeavours, and a collective sigh of relief is released amongst the three of you that had requested the audience. When you exit the room, it is with hope for a changed world, and faith that the Undercity will finally be acknowledged in the way it deserves to be.

But, there is one other notion of change that is more unique to you.

As the crowd begins to disperse, you tuck yourself into a more hidden corner of the hall in hopes that the person you want to see will emerge. And luckily, as the last strings of conversation leave earshot, the large doors open yet again,

Something in your chest tightens as the distinct sound of a crutch hitting the marble floor sounds through the hall. Six years of pain and uncertainty come undone the moment Viktor’s eyes meet yours. He is tired and noticeably older, but the person you remember still lies in the way he smiles at you, in the way he makes his way over to you without faltering.

When he stops in front of you, your voice goes breathy as you shrug, “I told you I could do it.”

Viktor beckons you forward and you waste no time in taking the invitation, wrapping your arms around his torso. He lets out a stagnated breath as you sink into him.

“And I told you that I believed you could.” He whispers, letting you take some of his weight and pressing his chin into your hair.

You release an unsteady breath, heart pounding against his. In a way, it's like no time has passed at all -- you're both still standing in the ridiculously fancy hostel Heimerdinger had summoned you to, connected for the last time as you waited for the unknown.

But, things aren't the same. As he holds you now, there is nothing that you would let pull you away as Silco did back then.

Suddenly, you part from him far enough to look at his face, brow creasing with worry as if you’d just remembered something. Viktor looks at you with easy curiosity as you swipe a thumb beneath his eye, over the curve of his cheek.

“...What happened to you?” You ask softly, noting the pain that strikes through his gaze.

He frowns, and suddenly, he looks exhausted.

“I’m sick, ___.” Viktor admits quietly. “And, I don’t think I can fix it.”

Your heart stops. What’s worse is it’s viable, a good explanation for the changed man you see in front of you. But you don’t want it to be true, you don’t want the possibility of losing him again –of losing him for good.

Abruptly, he pulls back, eyes roving over your face. You stare at him blankly, unable to process his actions so quickly.

“The prognosis revealed my illness was due to pollution from the Undercity.” He explains, his own gaze looking for the tell-tale imperfections of sickness in your face. “You spent a lot of time in the same areas I did, have you felt anything?”

Quickly, you shake your head, still reeling from the strong sense of concern for you that he’d never seemed to shake – not even when he is the only one blatantly in danger.

“No-no, nothing.” You assure him, wishing your heart didn’t pick up the way it does when he releases a sigh of relief. “But, you–”

You go quiet, biting the inside of your cheek as your eyes flit around. Perhaps if you think hard enough, you can think of a way to help him. Though, in your endeavours, your gaze catches on something else – the ‘string’ you’d seen tied to his crutch previously is now noticeable at the close distance.

Silently, you reach down towards it, lips parting in surprise. Viktor’s free hand rests lightly on your waist.

“You-?” You have a hard time getting the right words out as you take the small charm between your fingers, thumbing open the small cartridge to see two small faces. “You’re ridiculous. You really kept this?”

The locket you had given him the day you’d last seen each other, over six years ago, has stayed with him. The surface is more worn than you remember, attesting to the sheer number of times it had probably been pried open.

Tears finally prick behind your eyes as Viktor smiles thoughtfully, a careful hand placement beneath your chin bringing your gaze back up to his. “It was your promise, I was only waiting for you to fulfill it.”

You don’t know what you’re thinking. The moment is crude, and it’s still unclear as to whether or not Viktor still holds the same feelings he did back then – but despite this, despite everything telling you to step back and think, you take the hand that hovers beneath your chin and kiss him.

When he momentarily falters, you pull back immediately.

You suck in a short breath. “I’m sorry, I–”

Viktor cuts you off fairly quickly, guiding you by your own hand and directly back into him. He kisses you gently, tenderly, like he’d been waiting ages for this moment. And in a way, perhaps you have been too.

When he releases you, the sensation of his breath mingling with yours brings a small smile to your face.

“I’ll help you.” You promise it softly without thinking, slightly breathless. “Whatever you can’t fix on your own, we can fix together.”

“That is, if you choose to let me help you complete such a goal.”

Viktor shakes your hand a bit in mock exasperation, shocking a laugh out of you. “You’re insufferable.”

You had always thought you would die young and angry. But, you can’t quite remember the day that changed – simply put, life has always been a struggle. A constant game of tug of war between you and an invisible entity. But on the days you felt that you couldn’t handle it anymore, that the weight of your mistakes was simply too heavy to bear, you had someone to turn to. Even after those said mistakes tore him away from you, there was still always an inkling of your partner that stayed with you.

Such is the power of connection. Viktor gave you what you needed to feel alive, and breathed hope back into your fragile lungs even as dirt clouded you.

When you look at the fragile man in front of you, you don’t see him as someone who’s beyond saving – if anything, he is a reflection of the person you’d once known. Your roles have been reversed, and it is finally time to repay his favour to you.

[storiesundercandlelight]

Under the Storm

Geoffrey McCullum x F!Reader

Summary: A fight with Geoffrey leads to a late night make up in the rainy streets of Whitechapel.

Warnings: NSFW +18, angst, makeup sex, against a wall sex, female reader, swearing.

AN: a few of you requested Geoffrey fics and who am I to deny when there are literally none out there… I pray for more x reader fics for Geoffrey and Jonathan but I fear I’ll never get them 🥲

The rain was falling heavier now than it had been a few hours ago, the scent of damp streets, smoke and that unmistakable smell that always hit ones nose when in London was settling heavy as the storm continued.

If anyone asked how it was exactly you had come to be stood in the rain with Geoffrey, you likely wouldn't be able to give an exact answer. His jealousy? Your own stupidity for being caught in the act so to speak. You knew working alongside Jonathan Reid would cause nothing but trouble. But you couldn't help it. He was different.

How Geoffrey couldn't see that was beyond you. His hunter training clouding any chance of seeing that Jonathan - even Elizabeth, wasn't like other Ekons. He wanted to end this epidemic, as did you. Geoffrey had reluctantly allowed you to help bridge the gap between Priwen and Edgar - a go between so to speak. The late night trysts between you and Geoffrey had come about slightly later, when he'd finally given up playing the cold hunter around you.

Now that cold stare that you'd almost forgotten about was being directed at you. The rain hitting you relentlessly was starting to soak through your jacket, your hair hung heavy around you, strands sticking to your face. You breathing coming in short bursts from running to catch up with Geoffrey - who had only and very reluctantly stopped evading you on the border of Whitechapel when you'd almost slipped on the wet pavement.

"Why won't you listen to me?" desperation laced with frustration as you spoke. Truth be told you couldn't quite believe you were here arguing with Geoffrey in the first place, he really meant that much to you after such a small amount of time? Enough for you to chase after him? Explain yourself and your decisions? You were realizing all too quickly how close you'd allowed Geoffrey to get, how much you didn't want him to leave.

"Listen to what?" Geoffrey's voice was harsh as he spoke, his quick to temper personality shinning through as he almost scoffed at you. "You sympathize with leeches! You've been working with them this whole time?!"

"Not the whole time, just since-"

"Since good ol' Dr. Reid came runnin' into your life" a disbelieving smirk pulled at Geoffrey's mouth, his head shaking, his own hair wet and falling from it's place with the movement. "You know for a second I thought..." He wasn't sure he was ready to admit to you what he had thought, that you cared perhaps? That for once in his life maybe, just maybe he didn't have to live alone, that maybe he could have you.

"Why can't you see he's different? If you opened your mind even a little you would see Jonathan could help you!!"

"Why can't you see that he is nothin' but a blood sucking monster?!" You felt defeat wash over you, how long had you both been arguing like this? In this cramped and dim backstreet, had it been minutes or hours? It felt like an eternity of back and forth shouting, you were thankful a lot of Whitechapel had been abandoned.

"Geoffrey" He could hear the defeat in your voice, it seemed to only make him angrier at the whole situation. His growing frustration felt like it was about to drown him, his mind pulling back and forth between wanting to walk away and forget you and running to you. Everything in him from years of training screamed to run, to see this for what it was - a betrayal. But the part of him that wanted you - that cared for you begged him to stay. Your eyes never left his, your face wet from the rain, perhaps from tears he couldn't tell, even now soaked by the downpour he found it was so easy to become distracted by how beautiful he found you. "Please just... give it a chance?"

"I can't" he heard your groan of frustration just before he felt your fists connect with his chest. It didn't hurt, he didn't even flinch, but the movement seemed to ignite the fire back up in you as you looked back up to him.

"You are the most single minded, hard headed idiot I have ever met" your fists came back against his chest almost on every word, if it wasn't for the situation Geoffrey would have laughed at your outburst. But he simply reached up to grab your wrists, stopping you just before you hit him again. You tried to shake him off, clearly not finished with what can only be described as a tantrum, but his grip was strong, your arms barely moved.

You slumped against him instead, your forehead pushing into his chest. Geoffrey wondered if this would be the last time he would hold you this close. "I'm sorry my beliefs are such an inconvenience to you" he tried to sound malicious, he's not entirely sure he managed it.

You lifted your head up to meet his gaze again, those blue eyes you'd grown too fond of watched you, you could see the hard set of his jaw, the frown pulling at his brows. You weren't going to win this fight. You pulled your arms away again, and this time he let you go. You quickly pushed them into his chest, pushing Geoffrey a step away from you. You tried hard to blink away the tears that threatened to fall as you looked at Geoffrey. "I thought..."

"What that I'd change the way I am because you found a small ounce of good in one leech?"

"That you'd at least listen to me-"

"What because I fucked you? You think that changes things?" When your mouth closed instantly at his words he realized he'd done it, that those final words would be the end of the argument. Yet there was no satisfaction, no relief that you would finally stop shouting at each other, in fact he felt worse than he'd ever felt, seeing the hurt on your face, the way you pushed your lips together to stop yourself from crying more as you frowned at him.

You didn't even answer him, he watched you turn and start walking away from him, your footsteps quiet against the sound of the rain. It hurt. It hurt watching you walk away, Geoffrey didn't allow himself to think before he began following you, just as you had him, but it didn't take more than a few seconds for him to catch you by the arm, pulling you to a stop and towards him.

"Let go" You tried to keep walking but he held you, your voice almost too low for him to hear.

"Wait"

"No!" You turned to face him now, your cheeks streaked with tears and rain, your hair whipped around with you when you turned, soaked through from the rain. "You've made it clear how you feel"

"No I haven't" For the first time Geoffrey was scared of what to say next, how to tell you how he felt, how to make you believe him after what he had just spat at you. "I don't...I didn't...fuck it anyway" His hand slipped from your arm to push his own wet hair back out of his face. "I'm sorry... but I love ya, it wont change how I feel about them...but I can't let ya walk away from me after what I said"

He watched your face, the way something flashed across your features. He almost expected you to slap him, call him an ass and continue on your way. He certainly didn't expect you to pull him to you, your lips pushing against his. Geoffrey kissed you back like a man starved, his kiss hungry, demanding. Yours was just the same, both of your touches laced with desperation as you pulled each other closer, your hands clawing at the back of Geoffrey's head as he lifted you, his hands gripping under your thighs, your back hitting the wall of the alleyway. His grip was like iron holding you close to him, your bodies pressed together.

Your skirt had been pushed up when Geoffrey lifted you, the wet fabric bunched up between you, the cold long forgotten against the heat of Geoffrey as he pushed his body against you, his arousal hard beneath the material of his trousers. Your mind was fogged, nothing mattered, your body ached with want as you reached between you to clumsily undo his belt with one hand. Geoffrey shifted you slightly, lifting you just high enough to aid in pushing his trousers down just enough for his member to fall free, the wall aiding in holding you up as he pushed aside your underwear before rubbing himself against your entrance.

You whimpered against his lips, a subtle plea to hurry up. A hoarse moan fell from your lips when he pushed in, a gasp falling from Geoffrey before he starting moving into you. It wasn't sweet or romantic, the way you both moved against each other. It was desperate. Your lips moved, tongues hungrily fighting for dominance, your teeth catching his lower lip. Moans fell from you both as he moved, your back hitting the wall behind with each thrust. You didn't care, about the wall, the location, you only cared about Geoffrey moving against you.

He felt your nails dig into the back of his neck as you gripped him, the warmth from between your thighs tightening around him as he moved. Geoffrey couldn’t get enough of you, despite the harsh rain still hitting you both, the almost savage way he was taking you - so unlike the many nights you’d both found comfort in each other. He could feel your anger - his anger still, but with each thrust that anger ebbed away, his shame at what he said to you slowly creeping back in and Geoffrey found himself slowing down, his thrusts turning slow and deep.

You almost protested but Geoffrey’s lips trailing down your neck distracted you. You gripped onto his shoulders for dear life as he continued his slowed pace, soft lips making their way back up to your own, the kiss this time was slow, what you were used to. You didn’t imagine Geoffrey could do anything slowly at first, his whole mannerism usually spoke otherwise, but with you, after those first few times together you watched him take his time, enjoy every single moment with you. You prided yourself in seeing a side to the Captain of Priwen that no one else saw, that was who was with you now.

Geoffrey could feel his orgasm approaching, his hips stuttering and slightly picking up pace as he neared his peak. One of your hands moved up along the back of his head, toying and finally gripping onto the longer hairs near the top before your hand came to rest at the side of his face, keeping his pulled close as you began to push back against him, using the wall as leverage to meet his thrusts, your own orgasm knotting up inside of you.

Geoffrey’s kisses became desperate again, you both moaning and gasping against each other’s lips, faces pressed close. His hands tightening their hold on your legs, still holding you up to the wall, never faltering.

“Fuck” Geoffrey’s voice was rough with arousal. “I’m sorry”

“I know” you felt the tight coil in your snap seconds later, your orgasm washing over you, your eyes closing, head falling against Geoffrey’s completely as he continued fucking you through your high, his own came quickly after, your body warming as he filled you.

If you weren’t still so close to each other you wouldn’t be able to hear both of your heavy breathing in the rain. But when Geoffrey looked at you, his hair messed and falling in front of his face, droplets of water dripping from the dark locks you found you couldn’t care less about the rain.

Your body on the other hand did. Geoffrey could feel you shivering in his grip, he slowly lowered you to the ground, arms keeping hold of you until he was sure you were alright to stand on your own before fixing himself up quickly.

“We should get out of the rain” you spoke.

“Aye, you want me to walk ya back to the hospital?” You shook your head, home was further away, the hour was late and the rain wasn’t letting up but going back to Pembroke was the last thing you wanted now. Geoffrey looked around, as if only now taking in your surroundings and where you were. “Priwen base ain’t far from here, I could sneak ya in”

You couldn’t help smile at that. “You mean I’d get to see the Captains chamber?”

“Aye what little there is of them anyway” Geoffrey returned your smile with a smirk before pulling you close to him and turning you both in the direction of the base. “Better be on your best behaviour” he joked.

“When am I not?!” Geoffrey rolled his eyes at you, knowing too well the trouble you always found yourself in. It was so easy, to fall back into your safe bubble with Geoffrey. You knew this argument would come up again, it was inevitable. But for now at least, you had your hunter back at your side.

[jujutsuflavoredpeach]

Choso, Chapter Two.

Pairing Choso x fem!reader Content angst, hurt, choso neighbour, slow burn romance Warnings mentions of domestic violence, metions of pshysical abuse

CHAPTER THREE

Only when your muscles loosened from the tension after a hot shower did you feel it, the pain of abuse. When you looked in the mirror, you perfectly understood why Choso left the way he did. You had not realized what you had shown him without the intention of doing so. So many things were running through your head at that moment, that you didn't even feel anything when you took off your coat.

Some bruises were old, but some were fresh from last night. You dressed up and looked around the apartment for a while. No courtains, no furniture, no appliances. Only a piece of paper with an adress on it. The first thing you did was call your friend to tell him that your stay at the building would be permanent, and the second thing you would do was apologize to Choso for last night. You two had just met, and the way he acted towards you was so wholesome you kept asking yourself, over and over, how could you have been so careless and inattentive towards him.

After getting dressed, you put the piece of paper in the pocket of your jacket and decided to get lost for a little while. Apparently, the address pointed to a pastry shop located in the backstreets of Omotesando. It was quite a walk, and you hadn't slept a wink since you ended the call with Koji. You couldn't get rid of your worries so easily, coupled with the reality that you had stolen a lot from Choso's night. You felt even more guilty, because if he had to leave his house at a time like that to go to work, that meant that it must be quite a demanding job then, and thanks to you he hadn't been able to rest.

Before the thoughts that danced in your mind tired you even more, you had finally reached your destination. It was a lovely street, not too crowded you noticed, as you were trying to match a building, or a business, or whatever it was with the number written on the scrap of paper.

'808. God, I need glasses.'

You finally got it. To be fair, you were looking at a bakery, but they had pastries too. Fair to say it was pretty tucked away, but it pleased your taste. You didn't know what to expect, maybe you looked hungry to Choso last night, and he wasn't wrong because you were famished. That chamomile tea was the last thing that had entered your system since then.

The atmosphere of the bakery was so nice, and the smell of freshly baked goods was something that always made your mouth water. Also, the weather had improved and the place had something that was hard to find in Tokyo; a comfortable outdoor seating area. Your morning was set. You couldn't wait to have a coffee and eat something delicious, you really needed it. Despite the circumstances, you were grateful that Choso had guided you there. If it wasn't for that piece of paper, you would probably still be locked in that apartment not knowing what to do yet.

"¿What can I help you with?" someone from the counter staff asked you as soon as you entered.

"Actually, it's my first time here so ¿What'd you recommend?" you asked with sparkling eyes.

"Our croissants are always baked to perfection, the walnut-honey bread is so soft, perfect for today's weather, and our red bean based pastries are all the rave."

"¡Yah, totally! Give me one of each, and also coffee please, in the biggest cup that you have. ¿Can I add a piece of matcha crepe cake to my order? ¡Oh, and a batch of Nama chocolate! That one is to go."

"If you are eating at our terrace I can save the chocolates for you. ¿Would you like me to help you carry the food?"

"No, it's completely fine. Just tell me how much I owe you." you nodded gratefully.

"Oh, it's nothing." the girl looked at you reassuringly giving a few little quick nods and casually pushed the tray with the bread and pastries towards you, but you remained glued to your spot.

Before you could say anything she continued to speak as she handed you your coffee.

"It's a treat from our baker." she said with a smile plastered on her face.

"I- ¡This is ridiculous! I don't know a baker here." you told her laughingly. "I saw a woman paying just now, I'd be much comfortable doing that."

"¡Enjoy! Once you are finisihed, don't forget to pick up your chocolates on the way out." she nodded politely and soon disappeared, leaving you mouth agape.

Leaving the strange matter behind, you went up to the terrace and finally sat down without waiting a second to bring the hot dark liquid to your lips. Once you tasted the semi-bitter taste of freshly ground beans, you breathed a sigh of relief. As soon as you tried the food you couldn't stop. Everything was heavenly rich, fresh and tasty. You were trapped in a utterly delightful paradise of flavour and texture.

"¿How is everything?"

Bringing a napkin to your lips, you looked up to see Choso with your brows raised in surprise as he took a seat in front of you. He turned the chair around, placing each leg on either side and using the back as an armrest, but he wasn't looking at you, he was looking down at the people on the street while he grazed his lower lip with his thumb.

This is not at all how you'd seen him last night. Unlike his loose and relaxed style, his hair was tied into two high ponytails. He was sporting a tight black t-shirt and a pair of dark, high rise trousers. You were able to appreciate so much more of his build in that way. Round-shouldered, muscle rippled underneath the tight shirt. Biceps and chest strained against the fabric. Short stringy strands of dark hair fell across a light-skinned face. Firm jaw, thin nose, face calm and remote, with that peculiar and attractive mark that made him look so edgy.

"Yeah, it's- I love it, this place and the food. I can't even describe it. Thank you."

As soon as you finished your sentence he turned to lock eyes with you. He kept looking at you dead in the eye as you were giving him the sweetest smile you could muster, and then, you felt the brush of his index finger against your cheek as he got rid of a tear that fell without warning.

"Choso-"

"I made them."

"¿You- are the baker?"

Choso nodded quietly as he grabbed a few napkins from the holder and pressed them against your cheek, signaling for you to dry yourself. He didn't deem himself very gentle when it came to close contact, but couldn't help to stop that tear from falling as if it was your own esence that was escaping you, and it was a little unnerving to him, the way you were trying to keep your feelings bottled up.

"I'm also the owner."

In all honesty, he only wanted to redirect your thoughts. He knew that you were eager to explain yourself to him for something that you weren't even ready to talk about yet. Choso had issues with other people's pain, and he really couldn't handle what you were about to tell him at that moment. He'd only want to break the guy's neck, and he'd much rather see you calm down first, so you could tell him about yourself, rather than apologizing to him for something that was out of your control.

He could've waited last night actually, maybe a half an hour more for you to end your call with the bastard that threw you out on the street in the middle of the night, but he figured you needed your own space. You probably thought it would be a meaningless call with not much to say, but the guy had clearly ended you in those five minutes, maybe eight, that he was there. Choso noticed, because you couldn't show yourself to him in your most vulnerable state.

As a person who didn't enjoy being the center of attention, being on the background has proven to be a great tool for developing insight. Choso wasn't just going through the motions, he was a genuinely caring person. He lived each day trying to be that eldest son his mother would have been proud of, as a way to honor her memory. A strong and kind son who did not give trouble, but worked to be an example. But you didn't know that, that he did have his affairs in order, and in his eyes, you looked like your whole life had been turned to ashes.

"I really appreciate you making me come here. And the fact that you treated me to something you made, it's beautiful. I'm sure you've done this before, but that's not even the point. You did this for me today, without really knowing me. Your mom must be a proud woman, no doubt." this time you smiled from the heart, but that was soon erased when Choso drew a sharp breath at the mention of that word.

"¿Did I say something wrong?" you asked with concern.

Choso averted his gaze and cleared his throat. A slight shade of pink was visible around his mark, but his parted lips and the slight troubled looking frown made you feel differently about his reaction. His arm was resting over the table, and the only visible movement was that of his fingers playing with a piece of napkin, rolling it into a ball. You placed your hand over the mass of nervous fingers and started brushing your fingertips against his skin, making him stop immediately. Choso didn't encircle your hand with his fingers, but rather pressed his palm against the table's wooden surface.

Truth be told, you had made his heart swell.

He owned one of the best bakeries in Tokyo, and he'd gotten many compliments before. He could only dream of getting praise from his own mother, but for someone else to say that she would've been proud of his efforts and persona was something that made him flutter. You'd just done that to him. Truth be told, he'd come a long way to work in the city, having to leave the rest of his brothers behind, so he needed what you had just given to him. Reassurance.

"I'm staying, at the apartment." you blurted out. "I don't have a place to go back to, and I don't have family of my own, so that's that. A brand new start for me I guess."

Choso leaned over the back of the chair to catch your hand in his. A foreign behavior to him, born of an impulse. Something he didn't fully identify with. His energy was strong, determined and overwhelming, but serene at the same time. You didn't protest, and simply let his hand wrap around yours, so small in comparison.

"What happened?"

Despite trying to keep his composure, he couldn't do anything to stop the worry from seeping through his teeth. Taking a deep breath, you turned your head to look down from your spot beside the railing. Your gaze was fixed on the pedestrians. Children, teenagers, young adults walking hand in hand, families.

"Koji and I met at a private event three years ago. I was a waitress, and he worked at his father's company. Very cliché romance story, but it worked for me. Jitters turned infatuation, infatuation turned love, love turned to bliss, and soon enough we became stable. Comfortable around each other. Much to his father's dismay, his son had gotten together with a lower class woman. Koji never listened to him. The more his father talked, the more Koji did to make him see that he was not, and would never become, the same despotic and classist scum he was. He bought an apartment for the two of us, and a few months later he didn't want me working anymore. He wanted me to stay home, but I wasn't used to it. Apart from waitressing I had two other jobs to make ends meet, and I didn't know any other life that wasn't running around from A to B. When he said that we should start thinking about having a family, I-"

Choso squeezed your hand in reassurance, studying your face. It was puffy and swollen with grief, but that didn't stop you from continuing.

"My mother died giving birth to me and my dad was non existent. The only thing I had left was my grandmother, but she passed away six years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that. About all of it."

You thanked him with a quiet smile, as he continued to listen to you.

"I quit those jobs because the idea of having a family with Koji was like a dream come true. My own family I could turn to, filled with love and safety, something that wouldn't be taken away from me, or abandon me, but soon enough things started to change. Koji's brother came back from America, engaged to a Yale graduate, and two business mergers under his arm. ¿Guess who's ambition started flying high? ¿Guess who wasn't good enough for him anymore? ¿Guess who he took it out on everytime he came home from the office?"

Choso started chewing at his lower lip and you felt the hot wet tears starting to fill up your eyes once more. His muscles tensed, and his grip on your hand tightened. You felt it, like a ball of fire buning at your skin. It was not only that he remembered the shape of your body under your clothes, he also remembered how mistreated it was. How careless and vile they had been to you. His blood boiled, but he was trying to contain himself as you hadn't finished talking, and the last thing he wanted to do was for you to think that he had had enough, because that wasn't it.

"Koji's father passed away six months ago, and last night the board decided that his brother would be the new president of the company. Just as you saw, I took that beating. I got punished for that, and then he kicked me out. The apartment is up for sale, and- there was somebody else. Somebody that he is now engaged to, as he informed to me last night. So that's what happened."

Before Choso could say anything, he was interrupted by a co-worker who had been looking for him everywhere to fix a problem with the steam oven. He stood up to approach the boy and started to question him calmly. Their mutters were barely audible. Choso nodded here and there, with his arms crossed against his chest. You couldn't help but hide your face, feeling a little embarrassed. Choso was nothing but a good guy who selflessly cared for people, and he had already done more than enough for you. Caught up in your pain, you had completely forgotten that you were in none other than his workplace, so you decided it would be best to leave.

You weren't going to leave without first saying goodbye, but Choso thought different when he saw your walking figure out of the corner of his eye. He didn't even think, he just reacted. Choso reached out to you, placing his thick and heavy hand over the shoulder that was bruised. You winced at the contact, groaning as you felt his fingertips sinking into your flesh.

"¡Dude! That was a harsh grab Choso." exclaimed the pink haired boy as he gazed wide-eyed at the man that had become paralyzed next to him.

"I-"

Choso felt his heart skip a beat and took a step forward, but you put your hand up as a sign for him to not come any closer. He fisted his hands, turning pale as he came to a halt without taking his eyes off of you.

"I'm completely fine Choso, I gotta go."

"Y/n-"

"¡I said it's fine!"

You went down the stairs as fast as possible without even looking at him.

"¡Ms., your chocolates!"

The girl from the counter tried to get your attention, but you didn't listen.

Walking slowly down the street, once you'd gotten far enough away from the bakery, you realized how battered you were, inside and out. You knew that what had happened with Choso had been an accident. You hadn't meant to speak to him like that, but the pain had frustrated you, and you knew that until you were fully healed, you would be a prisoner. It was the only thing Koji had left you with.

[villainsandcivilians]

Hi. Regarding villain x civilian with glasses story, you probably already have a request for Part 3. If so, is it possible to request a scene idea within that story? What I had in mind is Civilian’s glasses are off (maybe they came off in a scuffle with enemies or Villain removed them while flirting or for something more practical, you can decide if you want) and Villain gently slides them back into place on her face. How does that sound?

I am back! Yes I have, and that's such a great idea. Sorry this took so long, I hope you enjoy!

Just a reminder that this is not a prompt and requests are open

Here’s Part 1 and Part 2

**Warnings; brief mention of wounds

Masterlist

-

It seemed that once Villain was done tending to Civilian’s wounds, her entire way of being changed. She was all business, typing away furiously into what must have been an incredibly expensive, highly safeguarded laptop. She poured over the array of papers littered across her coffee table as though they were the only things left in the world, as if her vision didn’t extend any further than the information before her. That said, Civilian noted with some form of unexpected joy, Villain became the caring person she had been when bandaging Civilian’s hands every time they interacted.

Civilian was curled up in an armchair across the room, dutifully avoiding picking up any details Villain’s work. Villain had given her permission to peruse the many books covering the shelves of the room and read whatever she so chose. She had been given a warm mug of coffee as well, though Villain had never actually left the room. That was the only thing about the situation making her slightly uneasy; how many people did Villain have working for her? And more importantly, who was after Civilian?

“Argh!” Civilian jumped violently as Villain slammed a hand down on the table, sending papers jolting and coffee cups rattling. Civilian could hear her heartbeat in the pounding silence that followed, waiting for a few seconds before speaking quietly.

“What is it?” Villain’s lip curled.

“It’s Nemesis. I should’ve known.” Civilian’s brows drew close, but she said nothing further. Eventually, Villain sighed. “They’re after you. They want to use you to get to me.” Civilian’s fear must have shown on her face, as Villain leaned forwards with as kind a smile as she could manage. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

-

Civilian’s heart pounded as she ran beside Villain through the winding backstreets and dark alleys of the city, places Civilian had never dared go before this exact moment. Of course, things hadn’t gone to plan.

After a few days of Civilian just reading whilst Villain planned for every eventuality and complication, Villain finally decided she’d spent long enough recuperating; it was time to head back out into the world. Civilian was not convinced. She said as much to Villain, broaching the topic carefully lest she did something to upset her – she was, after all, a criminal mastermind. Civilian couldn’t let herself forget that. Villain just gave her a winning smirk, teasing her for worrying too much. Besides, it seemed that Villain would lose face among the underworld if she didn’t show herself in public following her latest stunt. And Civilian – to her own dismay – needed to be with her. Also for the sake of showing that Villain hadn’t been cowed down by the threat against Civilian, though some part of Civilian’s mind wondered if she might have just wanted her there for her company.

Things had started out perfectly fine, the pair walking through Villain’s usual haunts and checking in on business here and there, most of which Civilian kept well out of. Villain neatly deflected any questions about her new companion, Civilian giving the name of the false identity that Villain had organised for her. They had almost gotten to the end of Villain’s carefully planned route, the final stop off point in sight, when the hairs on Civilian’s arms had lifted up at a sudden outpouring of static in the air. Villain’s eyes widened a moment later in realisation, then she had grabbed Civilian’s wrist and took off at a sprint.

“What’s happening?” Civilian asked between heaving breaths, hardly able to keep up with Villain’s harsh pace. Stony faced, the criminal had said nothing, just pushing Civilian harder still to make her keep running.

After what seemed like an eternity, the static finally dissipated and Villain allowed Civilian a small rest.

“What was that?” Civilian asked again, crouched down with her elbows on her knees and her heartbeat pounding through her ears.

“Surely you keep up to date with the news, don’t you?” Villain spat, eyes darting around to follow every little movement that Civilian couldn’t even see through the gloom.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Civilian snapped back, momentarily forgetting who she was speaking to. The next thing she knew, she had been hauled to her feet by the collar of her coat, one foot just brushing the concrete below her.

“That was Supervillain. The guy from the next city over, the one person here who can – who poses a threat. To me… and to you.” Villain suddenly realised she was holding Civilian off the ground and gently lowered her to it once more, releasing her collar and slowly shaking her head. Civilian blinked slowly, fitting together the pieces in her mind.

“I thought you said Nemesis was after me.” Villain looked away.

“I did,” she said over her shoulder. “I lied.” She bent down to pick up something of interest from the ground, though what it was, Civilian couldn’t see. “I thought if I told you that, you wouldn’t be too afraid to come out with me. If you knew it was him… I didn’t know what you’d do.” Villain straightened and turned back to her companion, her face close enough that Civilian could almost make out the details in her bright eyes. “I got you into this mess; I was trying to protect you.”

Villain crooked a finger, a sly smirk crossing her features when Civilian stepped forward unquestioningly.

“Thought you might do a bit better with these back, sweetheart.”

Only now did Civilian see what Villain was holding – her glasses. Villain carefully, almost reverently, unfolded the arms and leaned in close to Civilian, bringing her hands up to the other’s face. She gently slid Civilian’s glasses back into place, taking her time in tucking the arms behind her ears and settling the frame back over the bridge of her nose. Villain dropped one hand while the other moved to cup Civilian’s face, her thumb rubbing a slow path beneath the other’s eye.

“You should be more careful with these.” Civilian’s breath hitched as Villain leaned closer still to leave the briefest kiss on her other cheek. Villain disappeared from Civilian’s personal space not a moment later, after throwing one last wink at her when she failed to move. “You coming? Or are you gonna wait for Supervillain to get you so that I get to swoop in like some sort of a hero to see to your daring rescue?”

-

Tags -  @booberryfun @artshit208 @talkingsperm @writing-on-the-wahl @call-it-what-you-want-people @watercolorfreckles @classicplesiosaur

[yandere-sins]

One More

Genshin makes my imagination vibrate pleasantly. I just want to give Kaeya a reason to make me go “Oh?” cause he’s not even my one of my favs. But the sheer sex appeal coming from that man is dangerous.

Characters: Kaeya Alberich (Genshin Impact) x Reader Warnings: Yandere, Groping, Innuendos, Alcohol, Aphrodisiacs, Insults

»»———————— ♡ ————————««        

“Hey there, Sweetheart. What’s bringing you to the tavern so late at night?”

You had barely entered Angel’s Share and sat down at the bar before hearing the ever-so chipper voice of the cavalry captain drawing closer. There was nothing strange about meeting Kaeya here after a long day of work, but you and Charles exchanged a glance, the bartender sighing deeply. “I’ve only served him two drinks so far,” he explained, and you couldn’t help but think that was already one too many. 

But who were you to say no to the Kaeya?

Perhaps better than anyone, Kaeya knew about the little game you two were playing. The always so icy shoulder you gave him as he continued to pressure you with his flirts was only making him want you so much more. You couldn’t count the number of times he had stopped you in the headquarters, pinned you between him and the wall - in broad daylight nonetheless - asking how you’re doing and if you need help with anything. You. Were. Sick of it! If he wanted a child to play father for, he could ask Klee to hang out with him! You, on the other hand, were a remarkable knight, trusted enough with complicated orders that - luckily! - kept you out of the city for a prolonged time so you could avoid him. 

It only was hard when you weren’t on duty. Or in the city. Or close to him. 

That’s when he became frisky, rather needy too.

Kaeya brushed his face from the left side of your head to the right, taking a deep breath. If it wasn’t known that you two reached back all the way to your training days, anyone would have raised an eyebrow. But most of the other guards were able to brush off his weirdness for affectionate friendship. It was almost like only you could see behind the farce, and perhaps his estranged brother. Not like Diluc had been any help to you, though, aside from breaking Kaeya off you once or twice when he was around and noticing your discomfort.

Taking up the stool beside you, there was no prior question if the seat was taken. A rather empty keg arrived with Kaeya at the bar, and he briefly tapped the rim until Charles fished for another bottle of alcohol to fill it up with. One could say Kaeya and a drink were a good mix, but to you, they were a terrible combination. Drinking made him bold. Unrestrained even. 

Even though he offered his keg to you, you merely looked away, sipping at your own glass, one you much rather preferred to the brew he drank his night away with. Grinning, he instead took a hearty sip, leaning against the counter leisurely as he watched the bards perform near the entrance, but you didn’t miss even a single glance he sent your way every few seconds. 

It was very unfortunate that you liked Angel’s Share for its drinks best; otherwise, you’d have had a good reason to avoid the establishment. But at the same time, you couldn’t let Kaeya direct all of your life. It was no state that you shouldn’t do what you enjoyed just because he could be there, and yet, you considered it. 

“So, how was your mission? I’ve been missing your skills at training.”

“It was fine,” you answered curtly, uninterested in the conversation he initiated. There weren’t many people you talked to when you came back to Mondstadt. Somehow… it had always been hard for you to make friends with the other knights. Part of you suspected Kaeya being a reason why no one seemed to want to hang around, forcing you to spend most of your training with him since no one was willing to spar with you. Then again, you never had any evidence to confirm your suspicion, just like with many other phenomena you experienced over the years.

More than once had there been instances where your orders had been withdrawn just when you came close to solving the problems, often with the excuses that you were still too inexperienced or needed somewhere else. It had been so hard to raise in the ranks while Kaeya seemed to make leaps forward without a worry, but at least, you managed to secure your place now--one far away from the cavalry captain.

Sighing, Kaeya turned around to face the counter again, plopping his arm around your shoulders. Uncomfortably, you rolled your joints, but he instead pulled you closer to him, the smell of alcohol drafting off his lips as he spoke. “No need to play coy. You know you can tell me the truth. Didn’t you miss being home? I’m sure cleaning up those camps must have been exhausting!”

Missed being with me? seemed to be the words he wanted to say, but he packaged them in a way he knew they’d actually affect you. Kaeya had always been clever enough to poke the places that hurt. Of course, you missed home. You’d miss it more if not for him, but you had your family here, your siblings and parents that you’d like to see more often. But there was no chance with how much Kaeya liked to interfere in it. As if he was already part of your family, inviting himself and always showing up unannounced to hang out.

“‘Twas okay,” you replied after a moment of thought. 

“Well, I missed you,” he chuckled before taking another sip of his keg. “I missed you sooo much!”

That was enough for you, brushing his arm off roughly before turning on your stool to leave. You knew even finding another space to sit wouldn’t spare you from him, and if you ended up in a less crowded area, you didn’t want to imagine what he’d do. “Aw, come on,” you heard behind you as he gripped your arm, making you stop. “I get it, I get it, you’re tired. But you can’t be tired enough not to drink one more with your old pal, right?”

With his voice rising in volume, you two finally gained some attention, and you instantly felt a rush of embarrassment as you stared into quite a few pairs of perplex eyes. Kaeya might have been eccentric, but he was well-liked nonetheless. Causing a scene had never worked well for you, and since you were already deemed an outsider, you’d only catapult yourself more into the shadows if any rumors spread after you left. 

Clicking your tongue, you tore yourself out of his grip before sitting back on your chair again, holding up your finger. “One more. Only one more.”

“Of course,” Kaeya grinned, getting his will once again. “Only one.”

»»————— ♡

Hot lips brushing against each other, you had no better way to describe your state of being other than burning. For someone so cool and with an icy skill, Kaeya was not even close to being cold and reserved when it came to touching you. With a smile displayed on his mouth whenever he wasn’t using it to tease you, you could barely remember how you two ended up making out in one of the backstreets of Mondstadt. His hands were seemingly everywhere, and at the same time, lingered at the spots that created an audible cue from you when he squeezed them. 

“You’re so sensitive,” he noted as you hung in his arms, hands currently squeezing your ass from your thighs upwards. “That’s good, I like that.”

“Fucker,” you merely cursed back. “You only said one more drink! I feel like shit! What the hell was that?”

“On the contrary, you feel amazing,” he ignored your questions, pushing his leg between yours as he pressed you closer to the cold stone wall behind you. A welcome sensation, giving you back some of your senses as the chill helped to calm your heated body. “I fucking hate you, Kaeya,” you confessed drunkenly, but the time was as good as any to say it.

“Ouch,” he brushed it off with a chuckle. “Are you sure? Your body grinding against mine is giving me very different vibes, Darling.”

Next thing, he was back in your mouth, his tongue roaming and keeping yours busy as you slung your arms around him. “You’re so stupid and mean, always testing everyone. You’re probably the reason everyone is avoiding me too, and you don’t let off no matter how much I tell you to leave me alone!”

“Mhm,” he hummed as his lips wandered down your neck, making you stretch it out for him so he could reach better. “And now... I don’t even know! You drugged me?!” 

A soft laugh escaped him before you felt a suck at your collarbone, followed by the wet sensation of a tongue tasting your skin. “Bingo, Baby. Lisa really wanted to know what would happen if someone drank this potion and you were all too eager to get it down your throat-”

“To get away from you!” you interrupted him.

“Whatever.”

Finally, Kaeya came up on eye level again, the two of you staring at each other for a moment in silence. 

“Whatever?” you questioned, confused by his reaction. 

“Yeah, whatever. I think kissing you made me swallow at least, hm... half of it too. Even if we wanted to, we wouldn’t be able to stop now, don’t you think?” 

One of the most disgusting grins you had ever seen on the face of a person played around his lips as he pressed up to you, uniting you two in another kiss. Of course, you could stop it! You could, and you would right now. After all, you had allowed it to go on for far too long now! Pressing your hands into his shoulders, Kaeya let out a soft sigh against your lips, his uncovered eye closed as he enjoyed the affection. “One more,” he mumbled as he kissed you again and again, feverishly and impatiently. “I’ve been waiting forever to do this.”

With the excitement of a teenage boy, his hands roamed your body, pulling out the shirt from your trousers to lodge themselves beneath it. Skillful fingertips drew patterns over your skin, up your spine, and down your sides until you were gasping and shivering in his grasp. “Good,” he sighed against your lips, unbothered by you still trying to push him away, only ever flinching as he groped you. “Don’t you already know it? How much you drive me crazy? It’s only fair I drive you crazy too.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about--” you tried to contradict him. But Kaeya was quick to muffle your voice with another deep kiss. Intentionally or not, he met one of your sensitive spots as he explored you, causing a hitched moan to escape you, followed by a satisfied grunt from him. “I’ve been waiting for so long, I can’t have you take it from me now,” he breathed out huskily. 

“I’ll scream!” you threatened him. “Let me go now, Kaeya!”

“Ah-ah,” he rebuked you, one of his hands being freed of groping-duty to cover your mouth. “No one’s going to take you away from me now either. Come one, be good, okay?”

Waiting for the right moment, Kaeya couldn’t endure your angry stare for very long before falling into soft laughter. “All right, all right,” he chuckled before leaning forward brushing his lips against his hand. “One more kiss, okay? I will leave you alone after that.”

Furrowing your brows even more, he interpreted you shaking your head as a ‘no’, letting out a long, “Aww…” 

“Only one more, pretty please?” 

You had to give it to him: persistency was something he didn’t lack. It felt like shooting into your own foot, but part of you just wanted it to be over. You two had kissed so much up till now; how much worse would one more be? And if he let you go afterwards, you could definitely endure it. Lifting up your hand to yank his from your mouth, Kaeya didn’t expect you to take the initiative, looking at you perplexed as you leaned forward to kiss him. No one ever taught you how to kiss, and without his directions, you weren’t actually sure on how any of it worked, but he didn’t seem to mind, humming a pleased tune before returning your awkward smooches.

When was a kiss one kiss? When the lips parted? After the first initial touch? Kaeya’s definition was two minutes of continuous connection between you two, only briefly drawing back for air but never without upholding the contact by biting and pulling on your lip or having your tongue following his out of your mouth into the cold night. He gripped your head tightly in his palms, not allowing you to get away. Only when he let go did you fall back hard against the wall as you two finally broke apart, and you hadn’t noticed how much he had held you up. 

The rich flavor of alcohol on your tongue and his scent in your nose didn’t help with getting a clear mind, but nothing about you made sense anymore. Now that he had let you fall back and away from him, you felt even hotter than before, your body clearly bothered by the lack of stimulation. What part of ‘I wanted none of this’ did you not understand yourself? At least by the throbbing in your abdomen, you could tell that whatever kind of potion he had given to you definitely wasn’t a fun experience, but all the more potent. 

“Hurts, huh?” he laughed across from you. “Oh, fuck off,” you mustered to say, but the pain was obvious by your expression. You were barely able to keep yourself up properly.

“I’d offer my help, but you made it clear you didn’t want it.” The situation must have been really funny to him, only agitating you more. If it at least hadn’t been Kaeya, you might have accepted help, but you knew you’d have to get yourself home now all by yourself in a state of constant heat with no way to resolve it. 

“You caused all of this! You should at least take responsibility without taking advantage of the situation!”

Pushing yourself away from the wall, you decided it was time to step away. There was no use in talking with Kaeya, but the moment your support dwindled, you noticed how wobbly your legs felt, barely capable of holding you up. What had you trained all these years for if a mere potion could make you so incredibly weak? Before you could get back to the wall, one knee gave away, making you sink to the ground where you could barely catch yourself with your hands. 

“It’s really working you hard, isn’t it?” you heard him speak down from above. Squatting to your level, you felt his hand slide through your hair before gripping and lifting your head to face him. “Tell you what: If you ask nicely, I’ll help you. Can’t promise you’ll wake up in your bed tomorrow morning, but a bed nonetheless, wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Fuck you,” you hissed back, and he shook his head, disappointed. 

“Try again.”

What choices did you have? Risk the little bit of reputation you still had by being found in the morning, disheveled and drunk from the night before? The knights absolutely hated anything that would ruin their pristine prestige, so much even you knew. You had worked so hard to get where you were, could you really risk all of it? “... please,” escaped you before you could think it through further. 

“What was that?” he teased you, and you wondered why he could still be so clear even after drinking much more than you did and having had a taste of the potion from your lips. “Please help me get home.”

This time, he laughed out loud, obviously amused by how pitiful you had to behave to please him. “One more time. Say it one more time, and say it nice.”

Frustrated, you wished you could have punched him in the face, but you only bit your lip, taking a deep breath before complying. “Please, Kaeya. I need your help to get home. Please help me home!”

Embarrassment was all you could think about as he conditioned you to do as he wanted, but finally, after you did what Kaeya demanded, he petted your head, leaning forward to kiss your forehead before reaching under your arms to pull you up. “Look at you, all cute and begging me for help.”

Quickly being lifted from the ground, you found your new halt by gripping into his shoulders tightly and wrapping your legs around his waist as he held you in front of him. “You’re so adorable!” he chuckled as you clung to him much more in fear of him letting you fall than because you wanted it. He seemed to have similar thoughts, giving you a bit of a scare as he let go of you, having you hang from him by only your own strength, which you didn’t trust anymore. But just as quickly, your horrified expression made him laugh, and he gave your rear a teasing slap. Lucky for you, Kaeya didn’t make you fear any longer, embracing you back and allowing you to sink against him more as he started to make his way through the streets of Mondstadt. From an onlooker’s point of view, it might have seemed like you jumped him out of joy, but really, you clung on as if your life depended on it while Kaeya seemingly enjoyed the hug.

“Just get me home, you Asshole,” you grumbled, but your insults didn’t do any damage to his good mood. “Sure, I’ll get you home,” he replied chipper, but you already had bad thoughts as you heard that.

“At least, the place I call ‘home’,” he confirmed your suspicion, and inwardly, you already admitted defeat even as you punched your fist into his shoulder. 

“You know how it is,” he brushed it off lightly, patting your backside while he climbed the stairs towards the headquarters with seemingly no effort. 

“I can never refuse you or leave you be. I adore you way too much.”

[infitsovermisfits]

Volatile P1: Meeting an Old Friend

info: "It's been years since Silco, Vander and (Y/N) split up. When Silco searches for his old friend again, asking them to help him teach a child he had recently taken in their 'explosive' craft, their feelings for him are reignited. The question remains if he burns for them just as bright as they do."

i also made a seperate blog (<<click) for my silco fic :p

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

possibly will have more parts? I'll try my best i just wanted to write for him so much he's been on my mind all day ;-;

WARNINGS: gender-neutral reader, mentions of pain, violence, murder, explosions etc. Takes place roughly hours after the events of episode 3 enjoy ;)

2057 words

Another hard day at the mines left your body aching and sweating. There were times where you thought your bones and muscles would one day betray you and crumble to dust, leaving you in a broken heap from all the work you do. Trudging into the backrooms of the dingy restaurant you worked at part-time, your eyes rolled as your boss pointed out you were 'late' once again, and that's all you spoke to him in the 3 hours you worked. Finally, you were free, the usually soft grey clouds that were visible between peaks of black and brown smoke had shifted to black, the night looming overhead. Your gaze focused on the ground as you walked, not wanting to see the usual street lurkers and thieves, or the lust-filled backstreets of Zaun. All you longed for was your bed- although not the best, you at least had one. And you should be grateful for it. Miss Eclipt was doing you a huge favour renting a room so cheap with a bed in it,  even if it meant she'd complain to you about how she's wasting money.

The aching in your body seemed to only intensify the more you trudged, but reminding yourself of the knowledge that you'd be sleeping soundly soon filled you with determination. Soon you made it, as usual, Miss E. greeting you and commenting on the stench of sweat that caused your clothes to cling to your skin,

"Not as bad as the fumes, Miss E," You jested tiredly, to which the small woman tsked and walked away. You headed to the communal showers, wincing and pushing the thoughts of the germs and bacteria that had built up here for a while, and undressing. You grabbed the least grimey towel, hidden away from plain sight and washed under the cold water, shivering.

Once again, you trudged up the stairs, knees, arm, back screaming in a painful unison as you slowly ascended, gripping the towel close to you. Luckily it was too late for anyone else to be up so no one would see you, but you'd surely get yelled at for all the excess water you dripped off on your way up.

Quickly drying your body, you grabbed your night clothes and slipped them on in a trance like routine, your body acting on its own amidst the pain as usual. Finally. Finally, you lay down, starfishing and sighing deeply as the stillness surrounded you, the pain making your face scrunch as you waited for it to transform into aches. Pulling on the blanket, your heavy eyes fell shut, as your mind flooded away to sleep.

It was still dark. Your hazy dream of a saturated world faded away and in place of those happy bright colours, the usual greys and blacks filled your vision. Blinking and shuffling your legs beneath the covers you felt an unusual weight. Frowning, you sat up and let out a faint gasp, your eyes springing open and breath quickening at the figure sitting at the foot of your bed.

He was there, clad in a dark coat, his head bowed and his elbows resting loosely on his thin knees turned to the side from you. The collar obscured his head slightly, so only the top of his hair was visible, and the tip of his long nose. He made no noise entering, explaining why you didn't wake sooner- you still couldn't determine if he came through the window or door: nothing looked out of place, not even his footprints seemed to disturb the layer of dust mimicking a carpet on your floor. With a sigh, his shoulders drooped, and his face finally turned to look at you.

One of his eyes appeared hooded, the other black, and glowing red in the darkness, whole and circular, the absence of an eyelid clear. In the faint light, you made out the scars slicing down this discoloured portion of his face. His lips were pulled into a frown as he observed you- his neutral facial expression.

The initial panic of another person being in your house subsided,

"Silco," You sighed in relief. Having a known murderer and dangerous man should elicit a different response. But alas,

"This is where you live," This comment, not question, was laced in his low voice, the volume barely above a hum. You stopped yourself from whispering a 'yes', and only gave a nod as you lowered the bed covers from where you clutched them protectively at first. The weight left your bed, and you listened to his silent footsteps as he explored the small space, "No kitchen," An observant comment. Once you finished rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes you pointed to a small bot full of ash, next to a kettle and pot. He walked right by them, glancing at the shelf where most of your clothes were and he stopped at the desk under your window littered with bills, receipts and other papers. Placing a hand on it revealed it wobbled back and forth, squeaking and rattling the pen and pencil. A soft grunt left his lips, his body reducing to a silhouette in front of a window, "This is barely a home," Yet another observation.

"Did Miss E. let you in?" You asked wearily, dropping your arms to your lap and squinting to be able to see him, eyes focusing on the glowing red pupil that emanated from his eye.

"I entered myself," He said, not moving,

"And to what do I owe you this visit?" You placed your chin on your hand, leaning an elbow on your head as he had done before, "After our argument years ago, I surely thought I'd never hear from any of you again. I thought you slunk into the darkness like the sewer rat you are," you told him casually. From how you squinted, you made out his frown, appearing more pronounced. He sighed,

"Savika is in a critical state. As is Singed, and most of my men and women," This perked up your attention, and you sat up in shock,

"Stars- how?" You said, moving the covers aside to reveal you wearing tattered everyday clothes, clearly frequently used, as pyjamas "What happened- how did-"

He produced something that caught the dim green light outside from his pockets. Gingerly taking it, you felt the coolness of metal against your fingers, the shape feeling slightly heavy, and being decorated with a cartoonish monkey- mouth painted red with sharp teeth and eyes glaring with angry eyebrows. The artwork of a child,

"A bomb," He said nonchalantly, moving from you to stand closer to the door, his hands moving behind his back as he locked his fingers together. Turning to see your shocked expression again, "She lost her family and-"

"Dear Stars, Silco don't tell me y-"

"I'm not entirely responsible... In fact, she is," He looked down, with what you thought could be a hint of sadness. It was difficult to tell- as was everything with Silco, "She created a powerful explosion- Sevika's arm is completely destroyed, beyond repair... Had she not jumped in front of me, likely I would have suffered that fate," He admitted with a heavy sigh, clear he felt regret, "Bodies were found in the rubble. Children. Likely her siblings. Vander-"

"You killed him?" You asked expectantly, to which his eye narrowed and he nodded,

"Vander was not the man you knew him to be," he said as he averted his gaze. His tone indicated he had rehearsed the phrase already,

"I know, Silco. He tried to kill you," You said, frowning, "And you... I understand your... Ways are unconventional, but I can't support... It's inhumane," At that his lips lifted into a small smile,

"There's a monster in all of us," Another rehearsed phrase, "You supported me once before, didn't you?" Your annoyance grew,

"Why did you come here?" You hissed now, a glare forming, "If you expect me to help you in-"

"I need you to help her," He cut you off. You fell silent again, eyes widening in shock as your head connected the dots

"You're didn't-"

"I took her in,"

"Silco that's-"

"What?" He watched you expectantly, eyebrow raised. His other, drawn on remained still, and you eyed the corrupted side of his face. You frowned, "It's what?" he asked, his voice dropping low again, judgemental,

"Is this... The best choice for her..?" You questioned him. He didn't have a response to this, allowing you to elaborate, "You taking her. Your lifestyle isn't exactly best suited for a child- she has no one else?"

"Shall I bring her to you?" You asked, bitterness seeping into his words and you found yourself cowering slightly in shame, glancing at the grey, tattered walls of your home, "Could you offer her more?"

"Safety-"

"Believe me, (Y/N), she is safer with me than she would ever be with Vander," His brother's name was spat at you, and you found yourself defeated, a sigh leaving your lips. You pressed them together, turning your attention back to the decapitated metal monkey head in your clutched palm, and tracing the now warm metal,

"You need me to train her how to make bombs?" You asked, frowning, "You'll turn her into a weapon?"

"She needs to know the dangers of her work. I'm not creating a weapon, I'm cultivating a passion" He lifted a hand to correct you, his long fingers pressed together, and your attention focused on a scar slicing into his palm, grip tightening around the monkey head in your palm, the metal touching a similar scar on your own palm "You're the only person I know who's... As inventive as she is," He said sincerely, dropping his hand and hiding it behind his back again

"I don't do that anymore," You reminded, "V- He, you and I all walked our separate ways years ago. For a reason. A good reason. And I threw that life away behind me, and-"

"And look where it landed you," He finished for you, smugly, our glare intensifying as you looked up at him, expression neutral, and yet teasing clear in his tone,

"This apartment is fine-"

"It's barely a home. It reaks of the mines. It's cold and damp. There's mould-"

"You've got a kid one day, and suddenly you're an expert on home decor Silco?" You shot back at him, His eye narrowed again, "Next time, let me ask you for advice before you barge into my home and complain,"

"I'm offering you a better life. For a favour. A simple one at that. Help her," He said lowly, and then shocked you, "Please," You had to admit, it may be the first time you ever heard him utter the word. You didn't even think it was part of his vocabulary. He was clearly passionate and in need of help. And damn your kind heart for empathising with the poor girl.

Losing family was something you were, unfortunately, familiar with, as was Silco and Vander. The three of you met in the Lanes, and formed a bond you had hoped was unbreakable. Now one of you was dead. The other, the killer and you... The one in the middle.

"Fine," You sighed, extending the warmed metal back to him, "But I'll need the right equipment and a workshop, as well as ingredients, and books. I'm a little rusty on my knowledge and wouldn't want something to go wrong"

"Don't worry, I'll get you whatever you need," He said, with surprising care. He turned away from you without taking the object, "My people will come to escort you with your things tomorrow,"

"I have work tomorrow," you stepped closer, still offering him the monkey. He gazed at you with his blackened eye, darting quickly over your face, wide and alert, unresting,

"Resign," He said simply, opening your door and stopping for a moment, " 'The Last Drop' is in need of a new bartender," walking down the stairs of your apartment and disappearing out of your sight. You shut the door, leaning against it,

"Stars guide me towards your light..." You whispered, your hand tightening around the metal of the object and pressing it to your chest, your gaze drifting to the dirty green window, in hopes they'd still hear you over the pollution filled air, "I'm dealing with fucking criminals again," You sighed in defeat, the monkey head being abandoned on your desk, watching as you pulled a backpack from bellow your bed and begun to stuff it with the few possessions you owned.

[the-baddest-of-batches]

Dar'Aliit: Chapter 6 - Personal Business (pt 1)

Sorry, no sneak peek bc I was away from the weekend. I'm gonna include a link here and pt 2 will be posted tomorrow!

13 BBY Nar Shadda 

“Myren…” I look dubiously at the clothing bag. “You’re sure this is a different suit?”

I trust Myren’s fashion implicitly, mostly because she has a sense of fashion, and I don’t. But I cannot see the difference between this suit and yesterdays. Not to mention the day before that. The disappointed look on Myren’s face tells me that is no fault of the suit.

“Commander,” she pauses what she’s doing and faces me. “How many clothes do you own?”

I look off. “Well, two bodysuits, civvies, and a uniform. And now the suit you bought for me on Naboo.” The urge to defend myself sticks in my throat. After all, not many people own two bodysuits. You have to keep one clean at all times, given the fact we wear these things every day.

Myren nods. “I see.” She sighs. “Yes, it’s a different suit.”

I take her word on the matter and get dressed. Different or not, I do think I’m getting used to wearing clothing that would restrict my movement on a battlefield. I still don’t have to enjoy it.

I do however enjoy the slight blush on Myren’s face when I return to the room. And I am thankfully to see the dress she’s wearing is a different color. She is beautiful.

“Ready?” I ask and offer my arm. It’s awkward, I assume. I can feel the rest of the team staring. They can stare all they want.

“Yes,” Myren agrees.

“You’re beautiful by the way.” I can’t look her in the eyes when I say it. Someday, maybe.

I can however see the faint blush on her face from the corner of my eye.

“Thank you.”

With a deep breath, I attempt not to think about the comments that will be made later and lead her down stairs. We landed here three days ago. It’s harks back to a time I’ve almost forgotten, sneaking around undercover and trying to gather information. I never was good at being covert, but there’s high stakes.

And there’s high stakes sabbac, which I have to win today or else. My only two opponents left are Jabba and Molto Shore. Stopping future terrorist attacks will depend on whether Shore or I come out on top.

At least the one thing I have mastered is keeping my cool under pressure. We walk to the gambling floor. There’s plenty of spectators. I let Myren go, she probably won’t stay long today. It’s been nice to have her there, mostly because having her around is in many ways a nice distraction from the weight currently set on my shoulders.

I did win the ship wide Sabbac game, so I’m also partly to blame for throwing my lot in for this. The universe will be a better place if I win, though. And—I try not to smirk at the thought—we could buy so many weapons with the winnings. The pot is already millions.

Myren vanishes into a crowd. I take my seat. My team is with me. They make for some impressive bodyguards. I know they have my back, so there’s nothing to worry about. Nothing except the game of course.

Molto Shore isn’t my favorite person. I actually despise him, mostly because of how much trouble he’s gone to already and what he’s involved in. Terrorism is nothing light. But for now, I have to smile.

To everyone here at this table I’m Rinn, a former clone trooper who took up arms dealing after the war. Believable story, and not too far-fetched given my own disposition toward weapons. Beautiful things. Beautiful and deadly.

Here in the underbelly of the universe on the backstreets of Nar Shadda, deadly gets you places. So, I flash my deadliest smile at Shore, and let the game begin.

#

20 BBY Abandoned Outpost

“There.”

I wince as Shave finishes the injection. Bevik is already here with his helmet in his hands. He looks afraid to breathe, but clearly, it’s safe.

“How the heck does this work?” Aftermath asks. He’s messing with the medical instruments despite clear instruction to touch nothing.

Shave throws the empty injector at him, and Aftermath dodges it. It rattles onto a tray The medic glares at Aftermath. “It’s a neutralization agent what more do I need to explain?”

“Yeah but it’s not like the air is in the bloodstream.”

“This kills it off, okay? Just don’t worry about it.” Shave huffs. “Kian take you helmet off.”

“Sir yes sir,” I mutter and remove my helmet.

Aftermath snickers.

My face doesn’t burn near as bad here. Actually it’s been numb for a while along with my arm, which Shave already mostly treated. A wrenched shoulder and several fractures in my wrist. Nothing a little bacta and splints couldn’t heal.

As I look up at Shave, who also isn’t wearing his helmet now—he apparently tested the first batch of neutralizing agent on himself—I see him grimace. “You’re gonna need a real medbay for that,” he says and reaches for my head.

I close both eyes as the tape and gauze peels off. Now it hurts like hell.

“Aftermath, grab me a painkiller!”

“Thought I wasn’t supposed to touch anything.”

“I will stab you extra hard next time you need shots.”

“Coming,” Aftermath’s tone implies he’s rolling his eyes. In a few moments there’s a sting on my neck and after the briefest burning my skin is tingling and numb again.

“I’m going to clean this off and rebandage it,” Shave says. “Arm too, and then we’ll just have to wait until we get picked up.”

“Did we figure that out?” Bevik asks.

“Mer’en isn’t back, so I’m guessing now.” Aftermath comes and stands beside me. He puts out his hand. I blink sideways at him and take it and I realize why as soon as Shave touches my face with the cleaning spray. It burns worse than the acid. My hand clenches.

Aftermath squeezes my fingers. The burning subsides but I keep up the tight grip until all the bandages are applied.

“That should keep it all covered,” Shave helps me sit up. I glance at Aftermath and he just nods. It’s all the thanks he needs.

I lean forward and Bevik hops down to come over there. “Well, seeing as we’re going to be stuck here a while, shouldn’t we at least make something of it?”

“We need to stay alert in case of Clankers,” Shave reminds him.

“We are going to stay alert,” Bevik smirks. “What’s more alert than betting?”

“No!” Aftermath shoves over and sticks a finger in Bevik’s face. “I am not betting against you anymore! You cheat, and you steal and I always get stuck cleaning refreshers!”

Bevik laughs. I lean around Aftermath and cock an eyebrow at him. This is a horrible idea, but all my senses feel a little dull after the painkiller. I turn to Bevik. “What kind of betting?”

“Sabbac?”

I grin. “I’ll play.”

“You are making a mistake,” Aftermath tells me.

Shave laughs. “Not me, I’m out. You two can have fun.”

“C’mon!” I turn to Shave. “It’s no fun with only two people.”

“Nope.” Medic lifts his hands. “I owe too many rounds of beer to Bevik already.”

“And you’re gonna make good on that!” Bevik calls out. I laugh. Maybe I’m just loopy but I laugh anyway.

“Okay, so maybe not sabbac,” I offer. “How about Dejark?”

“You’re on!” Bevik slaps me on the back. “What’s the bet?”

I eye him cautiously. It’s always important to size up the other player. Aftermath says Bevik cheats, but everyone who’s a sore loser says that. Bevik is like me. He plays a good game, and he plays it well.

Take that Hook.

I blink at the thought and realize Bevik is still waiting for my answer. My head is too fuzzy to think of anything good so I hop down and just shrug. “How about a round of beers?”

“Perfect.” Bevik hooks his thumbs in his belt. “Three games. Winner buys the other guy drinks.”

“You’re on, vode.” Read on AO3 ->