Second Son (XII) | Regulus Black
Second Son (XII) | Regulus Black
Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.
— Chapter Synopsis: Dumbledore, Harry, and Y/N explore the Crystal Cave. Draco's mission proves to have dire consequences.
Part XI / Series Masterlist
Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader
Notes: Oh man. Yay for the end of sixth year ? ... haha
The rocky ventricle of the cliff side was far less exciting than the seaside, but there was something beguiling about the dim green shine and wet black rocks of the cave. Harry was careful to maintain steady footing as you all hiked through the damp cave, soon finding a rounded dead end.
Before you can question Dumbledore, he whips out a small knife from his robes, spinning on his heel to face you both. A small pang of panic shoots through your body before you realize that your headmaster was cutting his hand and not attempting to maul you both with the ornamental paring knife.
Tilting your head, you search the man’s calm expression for an answer, “Sir?” Your voice trails off as he swipes his bloodied hand against the rocks beside him.
The man turns to you both with an undisturbed smile, “To gain passage, a payment must be made. Payment intended to weaken the intruder.”
You mask your bewilderment and simply shoot a fleeting glance at Harry, who did not even attempt to suppress his bafflement.
As the blood seeps into the crevices of the rocks, the stone wall begins to flake and crumble. Stepping back as the rocks fall towards your feet, you feel your mouth drop open at the newly revealed sight of opaque crystals. The new cave pocket was alight with a dull gleam, displaying a likeness to a troll-size geode.
“Voldemort never did skimp with such extravagances.” You muse, ignoring the unimpressed eyebrow raise Harry shoots towards you.
As you all clamber over the seemingly endless hills of jagged crystals, you decide to reach out to Regulus, no longer able to ignore the persistent blaring of the hundreds of magical signatures around you.
‘Reg, there are countless different magical signatures in here.’
‘I think I might know what this place is.’ Regulus’ words are hushed, clearly deep in thought as he tries to untangle the foggy web of memories that Sirius unlocked.
Darting your eyes around the darkness, you nearly slip as your concentration splinters into a dozen different directions.
‘You do? How?’
‘The ocean. My human-self was immersed in research on some place called the Crystal Cave. Something about the beach and a hidden horcrux. Since you’re all searching for his horcrux, I can only assume my research was right.’
Before you can coax Regulus for more answers, you stop behind Harry as Dumbledore peers across the vast darkness of the water. It seemed as though there was nothing left to explore, the eerily calm body of water expanding far into the void.
Closing your eyes, you zone out of the conversation between Dumbledore and Harry, focusing on the overwhelming amount of magical signatures around you that seemed to be screaming for your attention.
There was something familiar about the magic, it was almost like the magic around Regulus’ portrait except more potent with a tinge of something you couldn’t quite comprehend. Before you have time to contemplate these findings, you open your eyes as you feel a tug on your sleeve.
Meeting Harry’s concerned eyes, you realize that Dumbledore had somehow managed to summon a small canoe from the waters and now both men were patiently waiting for you to collect yourself.
“Sorry.” You whisper, gesturing for Harry to get inside before you. Dumbledore simply assesses you with a thoughtful look before turning to face the dark waters as you shakily step into the canoe.
The journey across the waters is surprisingly serene, and you had half the mind to be cautious of enemies hidden in the darkness around you. It was troubling that you all hadn’t stumbled across any serpentine puzzles or tremendous creatures.
If this place truly contains a horcrux, it would be best to be on guard. Underestimating Voldemort would only lead you to a swift death.
As the canoe reaches the edge of a crystal island, you all part from the delicate boat quietly. Most of the journey had been spent in tense silence and you were beginning to get a sinking feeling from the cave, as if there was a large chunk of mystery you wouldn’t be privy to for a while.
The three of you clamber towards the top of the crystal mound, circling around a particular crystal that emerged to form a basin. The depression at its center contained a cloudy liquid, an inky black fog swirling in the center to conceal the contents at the bottom. Dumbledore swipes his hand over the liquid, clearly trying to vanish it with magic.
You feel confusion wash over you as the liquid warps under the pressure before merely repelling his hand.
Dumbledore raises his head to look at Harry before turning to your questioning eyes, “It has to be drunk.”
Stepping back from the basin, you nearly topple over as Regulus’ voice loudly rings in your head, voice strained with panic, ‘Don’t drink it! I remember now. The Dark Lord – he brought Kreacher here and did something to him. Kreacher barely made it out alive, but he was frenzied and told human-me he had drunk something.’
Regulus’ words come out in a huge rush and your nerves prickle from his uncharacteristic loss of composure.
“Sir. I don’t think you should drink it.” Your words have both men turning towards you, clearly seeing no other way to access the horcrux. Biting your lip in contemplation, you decide to elaborate, “Headmaster, I’m sure you are already aware of my companion. He told me that the concoction nearly killed his house elf.”
Dumbledore seems to consider your words before he drops his gaze back down into the basin, “I see. However, there seems to be no other way.”
Harry seems to be alarmed by your words and steps forward, “But sir–”
Dumbledore holds up a hand and closes his eyes in resignation, “Conditions. There are conditions for you both that I failed to impart to you before we ventured here.” He opens his eyes and narrows them, “If something is to happen, you both must save yourselves. Do not worry about me.”
You share a look with Harry, before you reluctantly nod in agreement. They were not the most difficult conditions you’ve ever been given, between your headmaster and Harry, you would pick your friend, always.
As Dumbledore and Harry fall into a hushed conversation about the conditions and the liquid, you slowly drift into your thoughts again. It didn’t make sense what you were feeling, how were there so many magical signatures around even with no sign of actual magical beings? You wanted to ask Regulus for help, but you knew that the boy likely knew nothing past what he told you.
Exhaling shakily, you watch as Dumbledore scoops up some of the liquid before drinking it. The reaction is almost instantaneous, your eyes widen as you see his eyes darken, choked noises escaping his dry lips as he lightly convulses.
“Professor? Professor!” Harry’s concerned words grow louder as the man grunts loudly, shaking more violently on the spot before tumbling down onto the ground. You lunge forwards, reaching out futilely as Dumbledore continues to grunt and jerk. It seemed as though he was no longer even aware of his surroundings, too enraptured by what the liquid was doing to his body and mind.
Swallowing harshly, you feel fear prickle through your body as Dumbledore thrashes around before stilling suddenly. Harry turns to you briefly and your heart clenches at the sight of his horrified expression.
Seeming to ground himself, Dumbledore sits up and jerks a hand towards the basin. Harry seems to understand what the man is trying to say and he rushes back to bring more of the liquid.
You stay next to Dumbledore, helplessly muttering assurances to the man as he seems to be dragged back into his haze, beginning to groan and plead for something. Harry is able to keep his composure for the most part and continues to feed Dumbledore the concoction, rushing back and forth to try and empty the basin quickly.
“It’s my fault!” Dumbledore’s wails are sure to haunt your dreams for the next coming months, and you’re faintly aware of the tears blurring your vision. It was one thing to face blood-thirsty creatures and other wizards in battle, it was another thing to be completely helpless in the face of psychological torment. You were barely strong enough for the former, you had very little training to cope with the latter.
In the flurry of your panic, you’re unaware that you’ve been flooding your mind link with anxiety until you feel a sudden wave of comfort being nudged toward you by Regulus. The warm feeling of his magic wrapping around yours grounds you and you make note to thank him later. Shaking your head, you push aside your dread and focus on the task at hand.
Just as your mind clears, you see Dumbledore cease in his hysteria, feeling Harry lean down towards the man from next to you. You both release an exhale of relief as your headmaster seems to be fully aware again, his eyes no longer glassy and unseeing.
“Water.” His croak comes out dry and you shoot up from your spot to clamber towards the basin, eyes widening in relief as you see a pendant laying at the bottom.
It worked, you had the horcrux now.
Wrapping your fingers around the object, you’re struck with confusion almost immediately. The locket had no magical trace or signature whatsoever.
“Wait. Harry-” Your words get caught in your throat as you turn around and see Harry standing still, attention drawn to something in the water. Bringing the locket up to your face, you scrutinize it further, still feeling no residual dark magic.
Gripping the chain tightly, you slowly pull it over your head and tuck it underneath your shirt, not perturbed by potential dangers as you realize it was practically just an ordinary necklace.
You had seen cursed necklaces before, and you were fairly confident that it wouldn’t toss you into the air like Katie Bell or try and choke you to death.
Great, you all suffered for nothing.
“Lumos Maxima!” Harry’s shout distracts you from your thoughts and you begin to walk toward him, still not understanding what he was seeing. As you near the edge of the island, you gasp as you feel an onslaught of magic suddenly crash into you.
Stumbling back, you watch as pale, gaunt figures begin to claw their way from the water’s surface and toward you both. The grisly creatures were all milky, but you could see some distinguishing differences between them all.
What disturbed you most though was the fact that you could feel faint magic lingering around them. As you backed away, you realized that aside from the numerous unique signatures, there was a darker, suffocating magic that blanketed them all.
Your mind started racing – They were puppets. Reanimated using magic. Not corpses, but not living. They were people. Perhaps a branch of necromancy.
It all clicked. “Inferi,” You gasp and grab Harry’s arm, dragging him towards a stunned Dumbledore.
The inferi were far more harrowing in real life than in pictures from your textbooks. You could see the sunken skin that seemed to bloat around protruding bones, and wisps of hair that sprouted unevenly from their bulbous heads.
Harry begins to fire off spells at the army of inferi and you reach around your jacket for your wand, eyes widening in panic as you realize they were surrounding you.
“Fire! Harry, they fear fire!” Your shout is drowned out by Harry’s yelling and you groan in frustration. Grabbing your wand, you thrust it up and swing your arm over your head, “Pluvia Ignis!”
The heat of fire envelops you immediately and you blearily squint your eyes as a colossal ring of fire blazes up toward the cave’s ceiling, licking at the muggy air. Continuing to whirl your wand, you let out a sigh of relief as you see that you hadn’t burnt your companions to a crisp. The heat had the inferi receding back into the waters, but your celebration is cut short as you realize that the ring of fire was now consuming nearly every inch of the cave.
Dumbledore stumbles towards you, one arm slung over Harry’s shoulders as the boy helps him find his footing. Ceasing your movements, you move to join the two as you watch the last few inferi dive into the water.
Furrowing your brows, you feel a sudden pull toward the water. The pull was coming from your pocket and your hand, and you drew your hand back as you saw your finger gravitate toward the dark pool. Your ring was being attracted towards the water for some strange reason.
Feeling the tug persist, you incline your head to look at your pocket.
No, it wasn’t just your ring, but Regulus’ portrait as well.
‘Reg?’
‘There’s something wrong. I feel…’ The boy’s words are shaky, but you can feel how his confusion mirrors yours as he trails off.
You have little time to ruminate further as you’re soon being dragged off by Harry as Dumbledore parts the flames. The inferno drags away into two tall walls, clearing a direct path back toward the other side of the cave.
The journey back passes by in a blur as you’re busy with making sure Dumbledore wouldn’t keel over and die, while Harry moves the canoe along as quickly as he could. All along the way out, the tugging gradually faded and soon the conundrum was buried away in your thoughts.
As soon as you all stumble out of the cave, Dumbledore grabs both of your elbows and apparates away from the shore. The warping of your body through the travel has you disoriented and mildly irritated, and you were mentally cursing your past-self for all the decisions that had amounted to the events of that day.
The three of you touched down at the astronomy tower with a loud pop and muffled groans, your knees nearly buckling from exhaustion as soon as your heels slammed against the wooden boards.
Harry helps guide Dumbledore to sit down, the man further weakened by the apparition. As you crouch down in front of the enervated headmaster, you both can barely make out what the man is mumbling.
“Severus…Severus,” Dumbledore wheezes out. You share a look with Harry and usher him away with a wave of your hand, “I’ll stay and watch over him. You hurry and find Snape.”
Harry doesn’t look entirely convinced, but seeing no better alternative, complies with your words and quickly disappears behind a pillar and into the darkness. Before you can turn around to focus your attention on the pallor man next to you, you hear light footsteps slowly ascend the staircase.
Turning your body to fully face the stairway, you reach for your wand and tense up in anticipation. To your surprise, you see Draco’s figure slowly round towards you both with his wand drawn.
“Draco?” Your words are painted in disbelief, and you feel a pit lodge in your throat at the slytherin’s frantic eyes and white-knuckled grip.
‘Reg, Draco is going to attack us.’ You clench your jaw and keep your hand on the hilt of your wand.
‘Defend yourself, forget about Dumbledore.’ Regulus’ words are firm, with such strong conviction that you almost get whiplash thinking about how fraught he had just sounded in the cave.
Shuffling away from the headmaster, you stand up shakily and draw your wand out to your side, not exactly rising up to the challenge, but ready to defend yourself. You were confident that you could hold up just fine against Draco.
“L/N?” Draco sounds a tad surprised, as though he hadn’t seen you up until that moment, “What are you doing here?” His voice is now as panicked as his face, and you see his hostile demeanor falter slightly.
Holding up one of your hands, you try to reason with the boy, “Draco, don’t do this. I know, okay. I know.”
Your words seem to only incense the boy as he practically snarls at you, “You don’t know! You don’t know what it’s like to be chosen!” With his last words, the boy is tearing the sleeve of his left arm upwards, thrusting his dark mark into your gobsmacked face.
As your eyes drop down in resignation, you make eye contact with an alarmed Harry who was crouched on the floor below. Subtly shaking your head at the boy, you drag your eyes back up to look at Draco.
The boy’s face was now twisted in something akin to pain, and you felt pity root you to your spot. Before you can open your mouth to speak, your attention is grabbed by the sound of a door opening in the distance.
Frowning, you shuffle back to block Dumbledore, “You’re not alone?”
“A passage. Vanishing cabinets that I repaired.” Draco’s words are embittered, but you knew it wasn’t towards you. .
Noddin, you shrug one shoulder at him, commending him for his ingeniousness. Seeing that you were not going to reply, he lowers his wand slightly, “I don’t need you. Go. You need to leave. I only want him,” he jabs his chin in the direction of Dumbledore, who was still slumped on the floor.
A large part of you did want to run, but you didn’t think you could ever look Harry in the eyes again if you did.
‘Run, birdie. Listen to him. Protect yourself.’ Regulus’ pleads make your finger twitch and the urge to abandon your incapacitated headmaster grows stronger.
“You know I can’t, Draco. Please don’t do this.” You step forward and reach out to him.
The boy shakes his head fervently, “I have to. I have to kill him, or else he’s going to kill me.” His voice cracks with the last confession, and you feel your jaw clench at the cruelty of the situation.
“I can help you. Blaise and I, we can protect you.” Your words are soft and you see Draco frown in conflict, eyes shining from unshed tears. He seems to almost believe your words — that you could possibly get him out of this predicament, but any semblance of resolve disappears as footsteps echo from the stairwell again.
Looking down at the hole in the floor, you see that Harry is gone, possibly hiding or getting help. You shakily exhale before looking back at Draco. The slytherin looks at you like you’re about to be walked to your execution, and you can feel a stone of dread sink in your stomach.
The first person to pop up from the staircase has your heart stuttering from fear, “Bellatrix.” Your voice is surprisingly firm, and you almost want to pat yourself on the back from how well you were standing your ground.
The woman in question whips her head towards you and lets out a booming cackle, hands clutching at her stomach like she was just pronounced the heir to an enormous fortune.
“Ickle, Y/N,” The crazed woman approaches Draco, peering over his shoulder, “and, oh! Dumbledore! Two sitting ducks!” She breaks out into more laughter and you avert your eyes from her hysterics to look at a distressed Draco.
‘Y/N, leave. You can’t take on Bellatrix, she is utterly insane. Apparate somewhere, please.’ Regulus’ voice seems to fade out in your head as you go still from shock when you see Fenrir Greyback make his way towards you. Just as you regain enough sense to try and turn tail, the werewolf is hauling your figure towards him in a bruising grip, slamming you up against a nearby pillar.
You gasp in shock and grit your teeth to stop from screaming as the werewolf moves a hand to grip your throat. Before you can try and hex the beast, a monotonous voice breaks through the tense atmosphere, “Enough.”
Darting your eyes away, you almost want to cry in relief as you see a stone-faced Snape make his way out from the shadows. The grip on your neck slackens and you try to find your bearings by gripping the ridges of the pillar behind you.
The rumors that Greyback was horrifying were not exaggerated by any means.
Before you can breathe out in relief, figuring that your ex-Potions professor likely would spare your life, Greyback grips one of your arms tightly and stuffs his other hand in your jacket pocket, tearing himself away from you, Regulus’ portrait held victoriously above his head.
“No!” Your scream is guttural, feral even, but the werewolf simply grins widely at your distress, pointed teeth menacingly peeking from his mouth. You try to lunge for the werewolf, wand drawn, but you feel someone slam into you before you can get far.
Thrashing against the figure, you cry out as they twist your hand behind your back, making you drop your wand. Before you can plead with Morgana to send you the strength to hurl your assailant through the wall, you hear a voice harshly whisper in your ear, “Stop it. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
You tense from shock and whip your head around to see a frustrated Draco glaring down at you in warning. Pursing your lips together, you feel tears gather on your waterline as you turn back and see Greyback handing the portrait to a delighted Bellatrix.
“Foolish child!” Her words stung, but your snarl only seems to amuse her, “And baby cousin, how disappointing.” Bellatrix’s smile is vindictive, like pure acid, as she appraises Regulus.
‘Reg. I’m sorry! Please, I’m sorry!’ Your frantic words pour out as tears begin to slide down your cheeks, eyes blurring violently from the endless onslaught of tears.
‘It’s okay, birdie. It’s not your fault,’ Regulus' words are loud in your head, and you release a strangled sob, feeling Draco tighten his grip on you at the sound, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever liked someone as much as I’ve liked you.’
Blinking away the tears, you can barely process what was happening as Bellatrix suddenly draws her wand, “Bombarda!”
Regulus’ portrait explodes in a spray of gold, pieces of the frame clattering around the floor, and you see the canvas flutter to the floor between you and the madwoman.
“Reggie!” You try to throw Draco off of you, but the boy overpowers you and keeps his iron grip on you.
Regulus turns his gaze towards you and you see him flash a small smile at you, one full of longing and sorrow, ‘I’ll find you again, my love.’
“Incendio!” Bellatrix’s gleeful yell echoes throughout your head, deafening you, but you’re sure it was your screams that could be heard from the other side of the castle. You feel Draco flinch behind you, and you drop down onto the ground, taking the slytherin down with you.
You hunch over, tipping your head onto the floor as you begin to sob, incoherently mumbling as the death eaters around you seem to direct their attention to Dumbledore.
You knew you should have kicked Draco to next Yule and grabbed your wand to defend the weakened headmaster, but you could barely tie together a coherent thought, and when you did, it only revolved around Regulus.
Regulus – who was gone, for good this time. Gone because of you.
It would be a euphemism to describe the feeling as emptiness, because what you were feeling transcended any feeling you could precisely pinpoint. Bellatrix might as well have thrust her claws into your chest and wrung your heart to a bleeding pulp.
You wanted to bang your head against the wood and beg for a redo of the entire day.
It was all a terrible dream.
Yes, it was nothing more than a figment of your imagination. That made sense, you would never be that weak, right?
Yes. You were dreaming.
This had to be a nightmare.
Opening your eyes, you feel your nails digging into your head just as black dots start to swim in your vision. You couldn’t find the strength to lift your head up.
It all had to have been a dream. Otherwise, why would it be so silent around you? You could sense it, nobody was in the room with you anymore.
The dark spots start to move more vigorously, blooming across the wood and overtaking your vision. As your sight waned and the rushing of blood in your ears settled, you heard a muffled voice reach you, “Shit! Y/N!”
And then you knew no more than darkness.
Yes, it had to be a dream. Just a bad dream.
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More Posts from Night-fall-moon and Others
Chapter 3: Recreation—Redoubt
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The next few days were pretty uneventful. Most of the stuff that happened was meeting with Shimoguchi in the hospital. After his whole team was slaughtered mercilessly he resided in the stiff bed after help arrived and rescued him, treating all his minor injuries.
Although it was Akane's job to join both Haise and Akira during these moments she decided to leave it all to the both of them deeming the task, "boring." Instead she walked over to the familiar scent of ground coffee and sweet, sweet, sugar. Her beige coat engulfed her curvy figure as she entered the warm café. A little bell at the top of the door alerting the barista upfront.
Her dark purple swaying behind her as she greeted the new customer with a small smile. Her voice coming out smoothly, her upturned smile making itself present in her voice.
"Welcome to Re, what can I get you..?"
Her eyes widened in surprise as she trailed off. In front of her stood the short woman. Her lilac hair pulled up into a messy bun, her lips stained a bloody red making her pale complexion stand out even more. Her lips curled into a small smile, "Hi, Touka," she waved.
The woman felt conflicted, but a small warmth spread throughout her chest seeing a familiar face after all these years of living in solitude.
"I hope you don't mind brewing me a drink."
"I.. uh. Sure, plain brew?"
Nodding she sat by the counter up front and waited patiently. She looked around the place and noticed shelves and shelves of books on the walls of the café. They varied from informational novels, romance, historical fiction, thrillers, and other varying genres. The vibe of the café was calm, cozy—it felt like a safe haven, the dim lights making her feel at home.
In an instant Touka came back and settled the cup in front of her.
"Nice place you got here, Touka. Reminds me of Anteiku, you know? But the books are throwing me off." She said as she sipped the scalding liquid, her throat burning at the temperature, but she managed the pain.
"What are you doing here?" Touka inquired, feeling a bit off edge at her sudden appearance.
"You know you aren't being slick with the books. I bet if Kaneki visited he'd move in—in point five seconds." She chuckled as her fingers traced the rim of the coffee cup.
The dark haired woman blushed at the words and tried to deny every word that came out of the busty woman's mouth. Cheeks became increasingly red as she stuttered over her words. Akane just laughed at the younger woman and shook her head.
"You're so easy to read, grape."
"W-what are you doing here?" She crossed her arms.
"Can't I visit? Damn, first, Nishiki, now you? Guess I'm unwanted everywhere I go." She joked about blowing on her cup.
"That's not what I meant, and you know that."
"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes as she sipped on her cup once more,
"I wanted to escape from my job real quick." She shrugged as she looked into the brown liquid, her reflection gazing up at her.
"They're being a pain in the ass and I can't escape from them. I just wish I had my old life back, you know?" She chuckled whilst stroking the handle of the cup in a slow manner.
"Yeah. I know." Touka sighed
"What.. happened after we-"
"A lot. But it's best if we catch up at a later time, right now it's isn't safe to. Not here." She shook her head.
"You know, Anteiku was more like a family than my sister was, to me. I hope you know that I care for you and the others, Touka." She smiled as she picked her stuff up and pulled out a few bills leaving it on the counter as she left the café.
The purple haired girl watched her walk away leaving her glued to her spot as she looked down at the now vacant seat, her chest warming up for the first time in a while.
"You too, Reina."
The walk home was a bit slow and carefree. It's been a while since she decided to take up to enjoy the beautiful scenery surrounding her. It made her feel nostalgic of all the times her and her sister snuck out of their fathers place and wandered around without a care in the world. Soaking in the beauty nowadays was a luxury for most people.
Days consisting of work, barely any time to spend time at home relaxing, spending time with the family, with the kids, taking time for yourself was taboo. Forced to drink and make social relations with humans was growing tiring for Reina, she just wanted to rest and dream about the good old days.
Anteiku. The old coffee shop that used to stand in place of the newer shop, :Re. A family she found after her sister disowned her and left her to stay with her father. In an attempt to search for her sister she also fled to the 20th ward where she found home. She ended up transferring schools after she decided to live in the 20th ward, the safest ward up until a few years later.
She opened the door and sluggishly hung up her coat and kicked off her heels, as her hand reached up to unclasp the anchored claw clip in her hair. Her eyes felt tired and watery.
"Damn it." She cursed as the hand in her hair came down to wipe away the free flowing tears, her hair now unraveling itself down her back as it settled to frame her face
At the top of the staircase was a shadowed figure that made itself known after hearing noise coming from downstairs. She gazed up at the person and quickly settled her eyes elsewhere upon realizing who it was. She didn't say a word and instead just walked all the way up to her room and shut it. She laid on her bed all sprawled out and looked out the window. The bright sun peeking out from the thin curtains, rays of sun peeking through the gaps.
The whole room illuminated in a golden cast, the rays that hit her body warming her up more than before—but in a comforting way. All that was missing was a hand running through her hair murmuring a few words about an old story her sister heard a few times before they escaped that god ridden place.
She turned over and looked at the propped up frame on her nightstand. A picture of her older sister and father enjoying quality time together. Their faces calm and collected as he braided his daughters hair and she read with a book in her lap. The same rays of sun in her room showed in the picture, the warmth in the photo could be felt outside of it. She took the photo in secret after finding the discarded camera in an empty alleyway the day prior. The picture had been a fond memory of hers as she remembered what happened after they found her sneaking up on them.
The sound of a camera shutter could be heard from a few feet away which alerted the two. As her father tied up his little girls hair he stood up and walked up to the door of the room and pushed it open only to find his other little girl with a camera in her hand as she smiled up at him with innocent eyes.
"Where'd you get this from, Reina?" He asked as he picked up the device and inspected it closer. He certainly didn't remember gifting her a toy camera—let alone a real one.
"I found it! Remember when you sent me and Rize to go shopping? I saw something white in an alleyway and so I told Rize that I saw something and we checked it out! It was a camera! It might be a bit dirty and scratched up, but it works fine." She explained twirling a strand of her lilac hair between her thumb and pointer finger.
She looked up at her father and shied away from his gaze.
"So you didn't steal this?" He lowered himself to meet her face.
"No! No! Rize, tell him I didn't! You were there with me!" She pointed at her sister, hoping he'd believe her word.
The older girl just chuckled and shook her head in a playful manner.
"Hmm, I think I remember someone running after us saying 'you get back here you thieves!'" She joked.
"Hey! You know that's not true!" The younger girl furrowed her eyebrows as she crossed her arms.
The older girl just laughed and walked towards her younger sister and picked her up. "I'm just joking, queenie. I know you didn't steal it." She looked up at her father and explained that it was by a garbage can and they asked the owner if they could take it with them.
"Can't have my daughter thinking it's okay to steal. I've raised them to be respectful, kind ladies." He scooped them up and handed the camera back to his youngest.
"I know I may not be your biological father, but I hope you know that I care for you both and will try my best to be the best father to the both of you." He whispered as he kissed the crowns of their heads.
The boy had walked back to his place on the couch after the girl went up to her room. He noticed that her eyes were a bit puffy and red, her hair a bit disheveled. Hell, she hadn't even insulted him as she passed him. He found it weird but didn't think of it much. Pushing his thoughts aside he sat back down on the couch and scrolled through his phone for a while until he couldn't shake the thought anymore.
Curiously he made his way upstairs and walked to the wooden door. The scent of perfume lingered from her room, often nauseating the rest of the team with how strong they were. She'd taken their reaction into consideration and threw them out and swapped them for more faint scents. Often not she'd bring home samples and ask around the house whether they were good to wear or not.
His hand reached for the door handle and pulled it open as it revealed the girl curled up on her bed. Her hair splayed everywhere on her pillow, the sun hitting her curled figure, her arms cuddling something. A picture frame? As he was about to close the door the faintest mumbling could be heard, "Dad... wher..Riz.?" Her voice slurred. He assumed she was reliving a memory.
Her voice groaned before she spoke, "n.. left..? Wh.. she at.?" Her chest started heaving, breaths getting heavier and heavier as her face scrunched up, eyes wrinkling. Tears free flowing down the side of her face. She continued muttering under her breath, "not safe", "find her", and "no's" escaped her mouth until her tears stopped, her breathing evened out as her tense body finally relaxed once more.
"I'll.. find her... dad.." she whispered.
Hearing enough he shut the door and headed back downstairs, this time returning to his newspaper.
After a few hours there was a big bang that woke her up. Groggily getting up she rolled over and dropped the framed photo on the carpet with a thud which caught her attention, she looked down at the object and picked it up.
"When did I move you?" She mumbled as she examined it making sure nothing broke or got scratched. She put it back on her night stand and walked to her mirror.
She muttered a curse under her breath as she saw her reflection. She was a mess. Eyes bloodshot red, puffy, makeup all runny staining her face. Her hair stuck to her face from the tears—which acted like an adhesive. Sitting down by her vanity she pulled out a makeup remover wipe and began to scrub at her face. Throwing it into the trash can, she walked out and checked out what the murmuring in the hallway was about.
"What the hell did you do?" She loomed behind them.
Saiko’s room was a mess. Trash everywhere and the door was knocked off of it hinges. Mutsuki, Urie and Shirazu were all huddled around the small girl cornering her on her bed. The quartet paused their little argument and turned to the older girl.
"Saiko's finally going to work with us during missions!!" Shirazu and Mutsuki exclaimed.
"Okay, okay, calm down you guys. Clean this mess up while you're at it." she turned to Urie and winked at him,
"If you wanted to wear my perfume, you could've asked instead of sneaking in." She chuckled and left.
"That little... what happened to the Saiko from last night?!"
They were all outside the house waiting on the stubby girl to join them, but it seems that wasn't the case even after last night's convincing. Shirazu seemed to be the most irritated out of all them, his mood clearly worsening the longer they waited.
"Didn't you all convince her to finally start working?" The girl teased.
"We should get going, we'll be late." Haise jumped in trying to get the message across that Saiko wouldn't join them no matter what, but Shirazu was determined.
"What do you wanna do? Squad leader?"
"Sasan. Go ahead, I'm going to wake her ass up!!" He insisted.
"But.. when Saiko sleeps in, nothing wakes her up.." Haise said helplessly.
"Everyone wakes up!!" His voice getting smaller the farther he ventured inside the house.
There was no stopping him anymore. As they all headed into the car Mutsuki asked if they really believed if he could actually get her to wake up and get to the meeting.
“She didn’t wake up when I banged on pots..” Haise added with a troubled look remembering that day.
"It'd take a miracle if she even woke up let alone join us for the meeting." Reina commented as she buckled up in the backseat with Urie.
Stumbling to get to the meeting room in a rush, Haise opened the door and bowed, “I’m sorry we’re late..” as Reina followed suit.
“We’ve been expecting you, Investigators Sasaki, Nakou.” Rank 2: Hanbeh Abara stood by the door and greeted the squad.
“Where’s Juuzou?” He asked.
“He overslept.. we’ll start without him.”
Situating themselves in their respective seats Hanbeh then began the meeting. He stayed standing up as he presented the case regarding the Nutcracker, the Madames, and the Gourmets. Interested Reina stayed paying attention after hearing that the Gourmets were involved.
She turned to look at Haise—who was all the way to her left—who surprisingly wasn’t paying attention to the meeting at all. Instead his face was screwed into confusion and worry. Knowing there was nothing she could do at the moment she turned back to pay attention to the case. There was no harm in asking after the briefing.
wc: 2.5k previous chapter masterlist next chapter
a/n: i actually wrote this in early feb but decided to make a posting schedule just to make my life easier and more organized (i still have yet to complete my hw… I’m very irresponsible :’)
ps. this chapter was completed during midwinter break
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Chapter 2: Regent
previous chapter masterlist next chapter
The sound of skin to skin contact echoed throughout the meeting room. Pale skin becomes red as blood flows to the surface of it. A mild stinging pain could be felt, the feeling of embarrassment flooded his senses, but he kept a cool front. His poker face never faltered no matter how humiliated he was.
A sense of lingering anger and authority dropped from the hand that slapped the boy. His face filled with worry as his voice spoke out,
"A squad leader can't put his squad members' lives at risk." His voice was serious.
He was dead serious, and it showed not just through his expressions, but through his violent actions. He'd never once laid a hand on them no matter the circumstance, but he felt the need to express it this time to show that he was the one in charge for once and wouldn't be put down.
"It's dangerous to show our back to the enemy. I took the possibility of Orochi pursuing and attacking us from the rear into consideration." He defended himself.
He stared at Haise the whole time and asked him, "does that warrant a slap in the face?"
"You think you're so smart. Why else do you think I called for Haise? You would've died had it not been for me telling him as soon as we left to pursue Torso." Reina yelled at the foolish boy.
His ego got too big that he almost killed himself and the rest of his team all because of his selfish desires. Haise stood still as everything unveiled itself.
"Ghoul investigators must run even if their arms and legs are torn off!!" He raised his voice, veins popped out the side of his neck. His face contorted into one of worry.
"We'll have our chance as long as we're alive. What can we do if we're dead?!"
Sighing, Reina got in between both boys and put a hand on each of their shoulders. She pushed Urie away a bit and turned to face him.
"Urie I'm relieving you from duty as Squad Leader of the Quinx Squad." She stated.
Again Urie started arguing, he made sure his voice was heard when he said, "I find this unacceptable," but both of them didn't budge, instead Haise put his foot down and in an authoritative voice jibed, "it's an order."
Gritting his teeth Urie breathed heavily leaving a heavy suspenseful silence in his wake until he sneered at both of them, "but you're both ghouls..."
His eyes widened meanwhile the rest of the squad squeaked in surprise at his bold claim. How could he disrespect their mentors?! Shirazu wasted no time in beating some sense into the boy.
"You're a piece of shit!!" He yelled as he kicked the purple haired boy.
He continued to lecture the boy about how responsible and considerate their mentors were. How they both risked their lives for theirs. He tussled him around like a rag doll, Urie having no reaction to the treatment he was getting at the moment. Instead he looked behind him where Mutsuki was standing.
There the shy boy stood watching Shirazu manhandle Urie. Noticing that he was looking back he decided to speak up.
"Urie.. I.. I'd like you to apologize to Instructors Sasaki and Nakou."
"Shirazu let him go." Reina raised her hand in a stop motion.
Following her order he did so slowly. Looking back at his mentors he noticed that Haise was about to speak up.
"No matter what he says, my decision is final. Besides, I'm appointing Rank 3: Investigator Shirazu as Squad Leader." He pointed at the blonde.
Shirazu screeched and tried to protest. He had no idea what Sasaki was thinking, but this wasn't right. Him? Squad leader?! Those two things should never be in the same sentence. Haise reassured him that he'd teach him what it means to be a leader.
Turning to face the boy that was walking away he playfully hit him a small smile gracing his lips that didn't quite reach his ears.
"Urie. You keep disobeying me and I'll eat you! I'm a ghoul, remember?" He chuckled softly.
Having nothing else to say, the denoted boy just walked out the room. Noting Haise's weird behavior she walked behind him and patted his shoulder making him look down at her figure. She smiled weakly at him and left to follow after Urie.
She looked around everywhere and found him sitting on the couch by himself in the living room. Deciding to sneak up on him she quietly approached him and hugged him tightly against her chest. Startled at first he tried to pull her arms off of him until he heard the familiar sound of her voice reach his ears.
"Got ya." She tilted his head so he could look up at her.
Huffing he let her have her way with him. She let go and climbed over the couch to sit on the glass coffee table. Her small figure leaning back, strands of lilac hair letting loose from her messy bun.
"I'm going to make it quick since we have to wake up early tomorrow." She put it simply as she crossed her legs.
He looked her dead in the eye and motioned for her to get on with what she initially came here for.
"You need to learn to respect others, you know. If you keep up this rude attitude it won't make others like you. Now since I started living with you I've learned a few things." She started.
"You don't like sweets, so I don't know why you have that with you. Two you don't care for relationships, whether it's romantic or platonic it doesn't matter. You push those who care for you away all because of your personal goals." She sat upright and stood up walking behind the couch.
"Let me tell you from personal experience... you'd rather have friends or people you can call acquaintances than enemies. Why? Because you don't know when the last time you'll need them by your side is. If you have no one to be there for you, you'll feel lost." She leaned over it and whispered in his ear,
"I know you don't care about these mundane matters, but it'll come and bite you back in the ass. Especially if you mess with the wrong people." She breathed out and turned around to leave.
"And who would those people be?" His voice echoed throughout the vacant room.
The girl stood glued in her place.
"Since I started living with you I've learned a few things." He mocked.
She turned around and smirked.
"Yeah? Like what?" She taunted.
"You've been acting up since you moved in. Not a single time have you actually acted yourself. This little vulgar act you're putting up isn't fooling anyone. Who are you? Is the real question, Reina Nakou." His voice dripped of venom.
She smiled at his words and walked up to pat his cheek.
"I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, darling."
wc: 1.1k previous chapter masterlist next chapter
a/n: short chapter cause of writers block but also because I wanted to stop meshing chapters together for a bit. Next chapter will be a bit longer but shorter than the previous ones.
ps. school is gonna kick me in the ass soon so… spontaneous updates will ensue
Tag list:
Reblogging again. I forgot what I was going to say. I’ll reboot again once I remember :))
My Atlantis, We Fall | Finale
Part 1. Part 2.
Summary: A childhood friendship between Viktor and you grow into unspoken love, but your paths diverge when Viktor left you behind. Still heartbroken, you unexpectedly reunite during Progress Day after years, only to cause more heartbreak.
Pairing: Viktor Arcane X Female Reader, she/her pronouns
Warnings: ANGST, death, made up last name for Viktor, no mentions of Y/N.
Words: 6.3k
A/N: I really hope you like how this ended as much as I did! And thank you so much for 1k followers! I went from 600 to 1.1k in a span of 3 days 😭 Y'all are crazy for the viktorussyyy
The rain fell in relentlessly. Each droplet is a cold mnemonic of the rage and fear in your heart after what you just saw. The same droplets pressed Viktor's hair against his forehead and ran down his hollow cheeks like tears he was unable to shed. It was enough to sober him up.
You strode down the cobblestone street, footsteps splashing into shallow puddles of water. Viktor's irregular steps resonated behind you, his walking stick struggled to grip the slippery surface. He looked utterly lost. Vulnerable. A man stripped of his intellect. It reflected the agitation within him, but he didn't care if he'd stumble to the ground again and let the pavement scratch his skin just to catch you. Not right now. “Would you please stop walking away and talk to me?!” The loudness of his voice broke through the roaring storm, piercing its way through the wind to envelop you.
You froze mid-step, shoulders tensing as if his words had hit you physically. His words worsened the anger inside you. You kept on moving, the rain blurring your vision.
“Please!” he called again, and this time, the pain in his voice drew you back, completely halting you in your tracks. You turned sharply, water splashing from your drenched clothing, it mirrored the landslide of emotions breaking free from inside of you. Your chest heaved with each breath; tears mixed with the rain as you locked onto Viktor's gaze. His eyes were filled with desperation, glowing like orange lanterns in the middle of this storm. “Me?!” You sneered, a sense of bitterness lingering in the atmosphere. “You’re seriously the one talking about walking away? About communication?! Do you even hear yourself, Viktor?!” You stepped closer to his face, voice rising. You could see each detail of his face now; their beauty remains evident even amid all the gloom, but you didn't let them distract you. “Did you forget what you did? Or have you just convinced yourself they didn't matter?” Viktor flinched, as if each word was an arrow pointed straight to his heart. He opened his mouth, only to close it again, shame smothering him in the silence.
“I remember,” he said after the pause, his tone careful. “I remember everything. I remember them every single day.” You laughed, “Oh, do you? Then you must recall leaving without so much as a word. Treating me like I was a puzzle to solve only to discard me as soon as I didn’t align with your bigger plan!” Your voice cracked, the hurt threatening to overflow like the rain around you. “Like I was disposable...” His breath hitched, shaking his head in disagreement with what you had said. His grip on his cane tightening until his knuckles turned white. “You were never disposable—”
"Then why did you make me feel like so?" You cut him off.
Viktor paused, taking a small time to take in the look in your face caused by his actions. “I just... I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing. That if I let you go, I could—” He halted, words choking him. “I thought it would protect you. That you would be safer. Happier without me.” “Protect me?” you mocked, almost closing the distance. “You hurt me, Viktor! You didn’t protect me! You shattered me!”
You thought his response was completely ridiculous. But did you genuinely believe that thought? It was clear that your anger is distorting your perspective again. Still, you have every right to feel that way. His face crumpled as your words struck home, his free hand reaching for you but stopping, trembling. “I know,” he said hoarsely. “I know what I did to you. There’s no excuse, no justification that could ever make it right. But please… please let me try to explain.”
"Just go easy on him, alright? He’s not great at these things." Jayce's words echoed in your thoughts, bringing back the image of Viktor coughing and bleeding. You never wanted to imagine it again. It felt as though it was your own care and affection for Viktor reaching out to you, urging you to truly listen to him. That beneath the anger, your love for him that had never fully disappeared was talking to you.
“Go ahead, then. Explain. Tell me why it was okay to tear my heart apart and just let me live with it.” You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, feeling a chill that were more from the sight of him rather than from the cold air.
He took a cautious step forward, but this time you didn't pull back. You’re closer to him than ever before that you can smell his musky scent, so close that you can nearly tune into his thoughts and feel the rhythm of his heartbeat. His eyes filled with vulnerability, and deep inside you can feel them pinching your heart.
“I was a fool,” he began, briefly looking down before focusing on your gaze once more. “I- I told myself I was being selfless, letting you go for your sake. But the truth is, I was terrified of what you made me feel. As we grew older, it also grew more seriously inside me. That scared me. I was scared that those emotions would derail me from dreams. Dreams that I would sacrifice my life for. And I was a coward for that."
His words were like a glimpse of hope in your confusion. You could sense how heavy they were and almost feel his struggle. But then, Viktor paused, remembering another mistake he had made.
“What you saw up there… with Sky... I am so sorry. I was drunk. No, I am drunk.” Viktor chuckled and scratched his head, feeling embarrassed as he recalled his recent actions. “I thought I saw you. I thought it was you kissing me.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “But it wasn’t you. It was her. It was a mistake, a horrible mistake, and it hurts me to know that I let myself forget you for even a moment. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted anyone else, not after what we shared. I was trying to make myself feel something, anything, other than the pain of losing you. But all I did was make everything worse.”
This hit you deeply, making your chest feel tight, but it wasn’t enough. You still had barriers up, barriers that Viktor's words had not yet broken through.
As his words lingered in the air, your emotions swirled. You're still hurt, but you were validated. You couldn't put it into words, but the next words that came out of Viktor's mouth were both surprising and somehow anticipated.
He hesitated, eyes filled with everything he had kept inside. “I have struggled... in vain,” he began, “I’ve fought against this... against you. But I can bear it no longer..."
Countless thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to predict Viktor's next words while allowing him to keep speaking.
"The past years have been nothing but torment. I thought I was doing the right thing. I only intended to protect you.” His voice faltered as he took a step closer, as if you two weren't already close enough. His gaze softened, searching yours. “But I was wrong.”
Viktor cupped your face gently, his hands fitting the curves of your skin as if they were meant to be there, as if the Gods made them to touch you in this way. Every delicate contour of your facial structure seemed to align perfectly with each line of his palms, like another way of promising you his love if not through words.
His hands remained steady against your skin to which you subconsciously leaned onto, eyes fluttering closed as you exhaled softly. "Viktor, please..."
His touch soothed the storm inside you. So intimate, so real.
You waited for him to speak again, breath caught in your chest.
Viktor swallowed hard as the words finally came out, tears gathering around his eyes. “Please, end my agony... I... I love you.”
Those three words struck you like a speeding bullet train, each one ringing in your chest. They were impossible to ignore. His touch, his words—they were enough to lift the burden you carried for years.
But even with that weight gone, there was still something else lingering deep inside you.
Doubt.
The kind of doubt that was seeded long ago, as though it was permanent. The kind that couldn’t be erased with just three words, no matter how heartfelt they are.
You smiled, but it wasn’t the smile Viktor hoped for. It wasn’t the soft, tender response he had imagined after pouring his heart out to you.
No, it was something else. It was a smile that spoke more of deflection. The kind of smile that said, 'nice try'. The kind that concealed the sensitivity still flowing within you, and beneath that, a hint of doubt.
"If you really love me then you shouldn't have left me."
୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ
The weeks that followed were unfriendly to Viktor, as if the universe had conspired to reflect the torture he felt inside.
He buried himself in his research, and the lab became more of a prison than a shelter. The spark of his amber eyes has now been replaced by a hollow stare of sleepless nights.
The edges of his frame were frail. His already lean figure was exposed, with skin appearing even more pale. Dark circles etched themselves under his eyes and bruises of his own making from the nights he spent pouring every inch of his body into the study instead of rest.
His lips, once soft and quick to curl upward into a smile, are now chapped and pushed into a line. Clothes hung loosely over him, and the fabric of his coat looked heavier than the man wearing it. As he coughed, a deep, ragged sound would scrape off of his lungs, with random nose bleeds occurring here and there—Jayce noticing even more crimson specks smearing his handkerchief.
Still, Viktor dismissed everyone.
He denied recognizing the physical impact his work had on him and dismissed the worries with a feigned nonchalance. Now, his focus was singular: perfecting his research and proving that his sacrifice was not in vain.
But his hands trembled day by day, and the tension of lifting his tools became almost impossible. The recognizable sound of his cane hitting the floor now stands as a touching reminder of his deteriorating health.
୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ
For several weeks, the rain kept pouring. It seemed like the weather understood your and Viktor's feelings.
You were savoring a warm cup of tea when gentle knocks vibrated at your door.
You hesitated before answering. Upon opening it, Sky stood there, drenched and shivering. Her eyes red as though she had been crying.
You gripped the doorframe, eyes rolling and your jaw clenching. “What do you want?” you asked coldly, the sight of her bringing back memories that you're still trying to forget.
Sky fidgeted, fingers twisting together nervously. “Look, I know I’m the last person you want to see right now,” she began, her voice barely audible over the rain. “But I need to talk to you. Please. It’s about Viktor.”
Just hearing his name triggered an unwelcome pain that cut through the walls of your living room. You moved to close the door, unwilling to entertain whatever she had to say, but her hand shot out, gripping it with strength that caught you off guard.
"Excuse me?" You scoffed.
She cried out, “Please, just hear me out. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”
Ugh.
With hesitation, you moved aside and nodded you head toward the living room for her to enter, your arms crossed as you observed her walk into your house. Her wet clothes left a trail of water on the floor, but she seemed oblivious, her focus entirely on you. She looked smaller than you remembered, her confidence was replaced by an almost childlike vulnerability.
“I’m really sorry,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “For everything. For the kiss… for the way I acted. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”
For the second time today, you rolled your eyes, lips curled into a bitter smile. “Is that why you’re here? To apologize? I've been trying to erase that from my memory, so if you're just here to remind me about it then please, feel free to leave.”
Sky shook her head no, hands clenching into fists at her sides. “No. I- I’m not here to make excuses. I know what I did was wrong, and I know how much it hurt you. But you need to know the truth.” She took a shaky breath, her eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that was almost uncomfortable. “I’ve liked Viktor for as long as I can remember. For years, I thought… I thought maybe he could feel the same way about me because we're always together. But that night… that kiss… I know he wasn’t thinking of me.” Her voice broke and she looked away, cheeks flushing with shame. “He was thinking of you."
Yeah, I know.
Her words lingered, combining affirmation and hurt. “Is that why you’re here?” you asked, your tone sharp. “To tell me that Viktor loves me? I- How do you even know me?”
Sky’s eyes filled with tears, her composure finally breaking.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m here because Viktor is dying.”
Viktor is dying.
The words played over and over in your mind. They are louder each time, drowning out everything else. The idea of losing him permanently this time made your stomach twist painfully. Tears threatened to spill, but you fought hard to blink them away.
Viktor’s “I love you," from a few weeks ago came back to your senses. They were never quite enough to erase all the anger, pain, and doubt he had left behind. Those three words were supposed to heal, but they didn’t; they couldn’t. They weren’t strong enough to undo the hurt.
But now, this another set of three words hit you harder than you thought possible. They weren’t warm or hopeful. They didn’t carry promises of love or second chances.
Yet somehow, they did what his “I love you” couldn’t.
Those three words, so opposite in meaning, tore through every bitter thought and resentment you held.
All they left behind was the truth that none of the hurt mattered anymore.
None.
You couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not like this.
Sky's words stole the air from your lungs. “W- what?” you managed to choke out.
Sky took a step closer, seemingly wanting to offer you some comfort. “He’s in the hospital. Jayce took him there after he collapsed. He… he’s not doing well.”
You wanted to say something, anything, but your thoughts were in a tangle of mess. Words failed you as you reached for your coat, the overwhelming need to get to Viktor as soon as possible overriding everything else.
You were halfway to the door, hand trembling on the handle, when Sky’s voice broke through your chaotic blur. “Wait… before I forget,” she said, the tone almost nervous.
You turned to face her, your impatience barely masked. Sky fumbled through her bag, pulling out a small blue leather-bound notebook. Its edges scuffed, and its cover worn with age. Her hands were shaking as she extended it toward you.
“This is his,” Sky spoke gently, her voice shaking in a way that reflected the quiver of her hands. “When Viktor left it on his table, I… I opened it. It was a few years ago. I wasn’t trying to invade his privacy. I was just looking for research notes, trying to understand what he was working on. But I found this instead.”
You paused, gazing at the notebook as if it were delicate. "What’s this?" you inquired, voice softer than you meant it to be. Your brows knitted together in confusion, questioning why she felt it was so important to hand this to you right now when every second counted.
We don't have time for this.
Sky looked down, as if she couldn’t bear to meet your eyes. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the notebook before letting it go, pressing it into your hands. “It’s… it’s about you,” she admitted. “You asked me how I know about you, right? This is why. Just… just read it when you can. You’ll understand.”
For a moment, the room was silent except for the muffled rain against your windows. You looked down at the notebook in your hands, its weight suddenly heavier than it had any right to be. Brushing the worn edges, your mind buzzed with questions you didn’t have the time or courage to ask.
What could possibly be in here that Sky believed you needed to see?
But there wasn’t any time to dwell on it now. The fear in your chest wouldn’t let you linger in here any longer.
Viktor's dying, and every second wasted felt like a step closer to losing him.
You clutched the notebook tightly before leaving it on your coffee table, a strange feeling of hope in your gut.
Whatever it contained, it could wait.
Right now, there was only one thing that mattered. You had to get to him.
The journey to the hospital seemed to stretch endlessly, with each second feeling longer than the one before. What should have been a simple fifteen-minute ride felt like it took forever. It was as if the outside world had faded away, leaving only the chaos in your head.
Your eyes were fixed on nothing, your focus lost while the unrelenting motion of the Piltover transport only made your anxiety worse. A heavy dread weighed on you, as if something terrible was already unfolding and you were already too late.
At last, the vehicle stopped.
As soon as it did, you bolted out the door, the cold air hitting you. Frantically, you paced toward the hospital entrance, feet struggling to keep up with the other. Your chest felt drawn in and every breath was a challenge.
You could feel your heart racing painfully in your throat, in your ears, and in your head. Each pound threatening to choke you. Your legs were worn out from running, yet you couldn’t stop. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you swallowed them down, forcing them back. Not now. Not yet.
Viktor needed you, and you had to be strong, even if every part of you wanted to crumble. The hospital doors loomed ahead, the sterile smell of it filling your nose. With each step, the uncertainty bore down on you more severely, causing your legs to shake as you neared the reception.
Please, don’t be too late. Please, don’t be too late. Please, don’t be too late.
The thought circled in your mind like a chant, you could've sworn you were going insane.
You found the room—his room.
Your heartbeat so loudly in your chest you could barely hear your own footsteps, but the sight in front of you stole the breath from your lungs. The door to his room swung open with a force you didn’t even realize you had, the sharp sound of it startling the nurses who clustered around Viktor’s bed.
Their heads snapped toward you in a synchronized motion, as though your entrance was both expected and unwelcome.
They didn’t even try to move out of your way. You didn’t know if they were trying to shield you from the sight of him or if it was a sudden reflex to prevent you from seeing what you already feared.
Your feet felt frozen to the ground as you stood there. You couldn’t even take in the full picture of Viktor. His form pale and still under the lights of the hospital room.
The doctor was speaking in a hurried tone, but none of their words seemed to make it past the pounding in your ears. Your mind refused to process anything but the cold, harsh truth that was unfolding before you.
One of the doctors glanced at his watch, his voice steady yet emotionless.
“Viktor Vikhnovich, time of death 4:12 PM.”
The words struck you like a hard punch. It felt as though time stood still. You choked on your breath as you looked at the man who meant everything to you—someone who had been just out of reach.
Dead.
The word echoed in your head, but it felt wrong. No, it has to be a joke.
You wanted to scream, to demand they are mistaken, to rush forward and shake him awake. But your legs refused to move. Your vision blurred, body numb with the shock that hit you like a bullet to the chest.
The doctors moved around you, but you could barely comprehend their actions. You didn’t know if they were trying to offer condolences or explanations. None of it mattered.
All you could see was Viktor lying motionless, as though life had been drained from him just when he needed it the most. It took everything in you not to collapse right there in the doorway.
You walked closer to his laying body; he felt close yet so far. He isn't here anymore.
“No, no, no, no, no,” the words spilled from your lips, your voice trembling and raw as you stumbled forward. You pushed through the heavy air in the room, ignoring the doctors who tried to steady you or pull you back.
You couldn’t hear them. You couldn’t see anything except him.
You reached Viktor’s side, your knees giving out as you collapsed by his bed. “No,” you whispered again, this time softer, as though speaking directly to his now peaceful soul. Your hands hovered over his cheeks, shaking, afraid to touch him and confirm what your heart refused to believe.
His skin was colorless, chest still, and the nasal cannula lay idle. The silence of his lifelessness was more deafening than your cries.
Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision as you clutched his hand in yours. It was cold, far too cold. Far from the warmth of the pair of hands that heated your cheeks in the middle of the storm just a few weeks ago.
“Viktor, please,” you sobbed, voice breaking with each syllable. “N-no, don’t do this. Don’t leave me. I'm s-sorry.”
The sense of finality rang in your ears.
His face appeared serene, which only boosted your pain.
You couldn’t reconcile this quiet, unresponsive Viktor with the man you knew. The one who argued passionately about science, who lit up at the spark of an idea, the man you've always had an unspoken love with.
You pressed a chaste kiss on his forehead, your tears soaking the lifeless skin of his face.
“This is- this is all my fault…” you choked out. “Viktor, you can’t—” Your voice cracked, unable to finish the sentence, because finishing it meant acknowledging the truth, and you weren’t ready for that.
Your fingers brushed over his cheek and his moles, memorizing every line and angle for the last time.
The world felt wrong. It was too quiet, too still without him in it.
Sure, he hadn’t been a part of your life since the day he walked away, but this was different.
This was final.
The faint hope you’d always held, the possibility of crossing paths again, of hearing his voice, of sharing even one swift moment, was now extinguished.
He was gone, permanently this time.
There would be no second chances, no reconciliation, no more time to bridge the gap that had grown between you.
The doctors and nurses exchanged looks, their expressions a mix of pity and discomfort. Someone murmured something about giving you time, and the sound of footsteps walking away barely registered in your mind.
"Viktor... I love you, too..."
The door clicked shut, leaving you alone with him.
Alone in your grief, your despair.
Alone with the reality that Viktor was gone.
୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ
Six months had passed since Viktor's passing and grief still lingered in every corner of your heart.
It had a way of reshaping your life without your permission. The past few months weren’t about healing, but more about surviving. You woke up every day feeling like a piece of you had been carved out, like there was a void that you carried everywhere you go.
Life continued on even as you grieve, but moving ahead just felt wrong.
It felt wrong to move on from Viktor because of the realization that there weren't many people left to mourn him. It was just you, Jayce, and Sky. However, in time, the three of you will also be gone. And despite all the blood, sweat, and tears Viktor put in, his dreams of leaving a lasting legacy in this world is now impossible to come to fruition.
You didn’t cry every day. Sometimes, it was worse: just complete numbness. The kind where nothing felt real or important anymore.
You ignored his name when it came up in conversations, avoided the places that held his memory, but the pain never failed to find you in the smallest things—a faint scent from the past or the quiet moments before sleep when there was nothing to worry you about having to forgive him.
And yet, you didn’t let it break you. Instead, you kept going. Because you know Viktor would've wanted you to.
Now, as you clean and reorganize your home, you found yourself surrounded by half-packed boxes. The sounds of tape peeling and cardboard shifting kept you distracted from your thoughts, until your hand grazed something tucked into the corner of an old shelf.
A small box, with the letter V written across its lid in faded blue ink.
Your brows knit together. The curiosity that drew you toward the box wasn’t out of curiosity but rather out of realization. You knew exactly what it was. It was Viktor’s. Or rather, a box of things that belonged to him. Things of him from Zaun that you kept. The appearance of it awoken a strong feeling, not only sorrow but also guilt.
"Forgot I still have these." You chuckled, fingers running across the surface of it.
The notebook Sky had given you moments before Viktor's passing had been left untouched. Unread. Seeing it again felt like reopening your own wounds, wounds that were filled with the regret of not having forgiven him when you still had the time to.
You hesitated before lifting the lid, the smell of old paper and dust wafting into your face. Your heart skipped a beat as your gaze fell upon Viktor's notebook, sitting neatly atop a pile of random trinkets and scrap toys you made when you were a kid. But it wasn’t the notebook that stole your breath.
Nestled beneath it was a small, rusted toy boat, blemished by years of being kept away. Your fingers shook lightly as you picked it up, the memories it held flooding your mind like the stream where you used to play with this toy boat.
The boat.
The boat that had drifted too far downstream, leading you to Singed's lab. The boat that had set him on a path to greatness, to dreams so grand that they left no room for the simplicity of your childhood friendship. The boat that had left you behind. The boat that changed everything.
A smile tugged at your lips as you cradled the delicate toy in your hands. Viktor had no idea you kept it all these years. Not when he was consumed by ambition, not when you did the same but with the anger for him for leaving, and certainly not in the moments when you questioned if he even remembered you.
It was lightweight, but it carried the heaviness of nostalgia at the same time.
As you held it, images of your childhood played in your mind like a bittersweet reel. The laughter by the stream, the scent of Zaun's polluted air you never imagined you'd somehow miss, and the way Viktor’s eyes lit up with excitement as you launched the boat for the first time.
"I'll get it!"
"Come onnn, you’ll never catch it," Viktor called out, his voice teasing with worry after you dove into the shallow water to catch the boat. He stood on the bank, leaning lightly on his cane, his frame silhouetted against the golden afternoon light.
Your laughter bubbled up, louder than the gurgle of the stream. "Oh, watch me!"
Viktor shook his head, his lips twitching into a crooked smile. “You’ll be swept away before you even touch it,” he warned.
He stepped closer to the edge as if he could will you back to safety. He would’ve waded in himself if his leg allowed it. You knew that. He always hated being on the sidelines, watching while others took the risks he couldn’t.
“Vik, I’m fineee!” you called out, glancing over your shoulder at him. The current tugged harder the farther you went, but your determination burned brighter. “You’re just mad I’m faster than you.”
His laugh was soft, carried away by the breeze. “Faster, perhaps. Smarter? Doubtful.”
A wistful laugh escaped you as the memory replayed in your mind. Those were the moments before you stumbled upon the cave. If only curiosity hadn’t taken over—then maybe, just maybe—everything would’ve turned out differently.
Perhaps you and Viktor could have grown up side by side and make it Piltover together.
Finally you took the notebook. It sat heavy in your hands. You sighed, brushing the thin layer of dust from the surface. Your fingers hesitating for a moment before you finally flipped it open.
Settling onto the floor with your legs crossed, you prepared yourself for what lay inside.
At first, it was exactly as you expected. Pages filled with equations and wobbly sketches of his prototypes. You couldn’t help but smile as you traced the lines with your eyes, they captured the excellence he was born with.
It was so distinctly Viktor—obsessive, conscientious.
For a brief moment, it felt like he was right there with you, explaining each one of his ideas with his usual avidness, accent curling around the words.
God, you missed him.
As you reached the middle of the notebook, your fingers faltered. There was something different here.
Nestled between the pages was a photo. One you recognized immediately.
Your breath caught as you carefully lifted it, hands trembling slightly.
It was you. An image of a younger version of you at a turning point in your life when your hard work had finally started paying off. The image had been torn from an old newspaper article that featured your story. A story you never even thought Viktor knew or even cared about.
Your eyes shifted to the random affirmations beside the photo in Viktor’s messy handwriting.
"Still the most beautiful."
"I always knew you could make it, too."
"You grew out your hair. It suits you."
"My solnyshka, I hope you carry my love everywhere you go."
And more.
Each line felt like a whisper from him. He wrote them as if he was going to send them to you, as if you were replying to everything he jotted down. They felt like a kiss to your soul that you could almost hear him next to you, sending a shiver down your spine.
You traced the faded ink with your fingers, overwhelmed by the tenderness in every note he left behind.
Viktor had been paying attention all along, even when you believed he had turned his back on you.
Tears blurred your vision as you stared at the photo, the words, and the ghost of his presence woven into the pages. He was right. You indeed looked beautiful, as if you were looking at yourself through his eyes,
This wasn’t just a record of his work, it was also a reflection of the parts of his heart he never fully managed to show you.
And now, here it was, laid bare in your trembling hands.
Your fingers twitched, flipping the pages despite the fear in your heart. A part of you wanted to stop, to close the notebook and shove it back into the box, to avoid whatever might hurt more than you already did. But your curiosity overcame your reluctance, and you flipped to the next page after the other.
What you found stole the breath from your lungs.
In the center of the notebook was a section had been carefully carved out. The edges are neat, every cut made with precision. As if it was a secret pocket.
Within the hollowed space was a ring—a moss agate ring.
The soft green swirls within the stone caught the light, shimmering with a beauty that is so captivating.
It wasn’t extravagant like a diamond, but it was perfect. It felt just like him. Like the Viktor you knew.
The Viktor who found beauty in the simplicity, the meaningful, the genuine.
Your breath hitched as you picked it up, cradling it in your palm.
Moss agate. A stone symbolizing new beginnings and emotional healing. He had chosen it for a reason, you realized, and the realization tightened the ache in your chest even more than before.
It wasn’t just a ring. It was a promise, a reflection of your shared history and of humble beginnings, of scraped knees and childhood laughter, of dreams whispered by candlelight.
As you turned it over in your hand, a folded piece of paper stuck out the notebook, fluttering to the ground like a fragile leaf. You picked it up, noticing the faint smudge of red on the corner.
Blood. His blood. The realization sent a chill through you. Viktor penned this with his own hands, hands that had become frail as his body slowly stagnated.
Unfolding the letter, your breath caught at the sight of his familiar handwriting, every word etched with care despite the shakiness of the strokes.
His voice seemed to reach out to you from the page, the words pulling you into his world one last time.
My little sun,
Should this letter ever find its way to you, I cannot say how or when. Perhaps it never will. But if you’re holding this, it means I am no longer beside you.
I write this not knowing if you’ll ever read it, yet I must. Even if I will never again see your face alight with that smile of yours. There is nothing left to save me, and I’ve tried. I've tried to make peace with it. What weighs heavier than the end itself is leaving you. Knowing I’ve caused you so much pain.
I’ve thought endlessly of us, of the life we shared before it all crumbled.
Do you recall the day we met? You were the only one who didn’t flinch when you saw me. My leg, my limp. They meant nothing to you. You were so small then, full of boundless energy and kindness. You stopped without hesitation to help me gather the rusted scraps I’d dropped. And with that light of yours, you simply asked if I needed help.
Even then, I sensed there was something deeper. Something I wouldn’t understand until much later. From that moment, I knew you were unlike anyone I’d ever known. Only you... could make me feel that way.
I remember those stolen moments by the stream, the times you wept and I tried to comfort you, poorly if I may say. Yet in truth, it was your warmth and your embrace that gave me solace. Your laughter lingers still, echoing in the quiet spaces when I find myself longing for your presence.
And that day in the undercity, when you found that broken toy. You insisted we could fix it, though I swore it was beyond repair. I tried to explain the impossibility with the misaligned gears, but you looked at me with that defiance of yours and said, “We’ll make them fit.” And that we did.
Because that is who you are. Persistent. Always striving to mend what others deem beyond hope, even me. You tried to fix the rift between us when it should have been my responsibility to bear. And in return, I only worsened everything.
Do you remember the night I promised to marry you? We were just children, dreaming of a future that seemed impossibly distant. I don’t know what made me say it. Perhaps it's the way you looked at me, like I could be more than I was. You laughed and called me 'silly', but I meant every word.
Even then, I meant it. I told myself I would build something worthy of you. A life worthy of you.
But instead, I left. I pursued ambitions that devoured me whole and left you behind. And in doing so, I broke us. I see that now, clearer than ever. Though I don’t deserve it, I hope you understand how deeply sorry I am. For leaving, for hurting you, for failing to be the man you deserved.
When I promised to marry you, you told me I’d have to make you a pretty ring. I took that to heart.
I’ve held onto this ring for what feels like lifetimes. It is not grand, not polished like those found in the shops. It is simple. It is us. And it has always reminded me of you.
I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me. Perhaps I have no right to ask. But you must know this... Loving you was never a regret. It was my only certainty.
You are, and will forever be, my sun. The light I chased even when it burned. You made the impossible seem possible, even for someone like me.
And though I am gone, I hope you will continue to shine. Shine brighter than I ever could.
For both of us.
Yours always, Viktor
Tags: @blackravena @aysluxe @aise-30 @sillyguy49 @22carolina08 @rainyyumbrella @adrestlyd @he4rt4vik @brynneslitteworld @artist2181 @tofueater78 @victormydarling @marshallowy @burning-harmony
AINT NO WAY THIS WAS POATED ON MY BIRTHDAY AND I DISNT FUCKING SEE IT 😭😭
Holy shit that was so fucking sad, I’m legitimately tearing up cause that just made me feel a bunch of things 🧍also I haven’t seen many paternal Viktor fics (in which I understand that people are pretty against wanting children [I am too], but I need that fluff rn so I can procrastinate on assignments and not have to think about school atm 💀) mind you spring semester has JUST started and I’m over professors assigning 15 assignments for one week worth of homework… yes that did just happen to me.
Turning Page
Summary: The man you once fell in love with has turned into someone, or something, almost unrecognizable.
Pairings: Herald!Viktor x F!Reader
Tags: Short n sad.
Words: 1.4k
A/N: His face card was so lethal it wasn't affected by the transformation at all.
Hoping to find a cure for Vander, you joined Jinx, Vi, and Isha on a journey to locate this infamous "Herald" deep within the heart of Zaun. You’d come across his name multiple times and had finally decided to give it a shot.
What could go wrong, right?
But the place was nothing like the dark, grotesque pit like it once was. No, it was quite the opposite. This was a sanctuary, a heaven in Runeterra.
Colorful and circular patterns spread across the whole area, as though resembling the process of cell division.
You couldn’t explain it, but something about the entire situation felt off.
In the center of the commune stood a massive circular shed. Its walls bore the same patterns that decorated everything around it, only larger. It was impossible to ignore that this was where the Herald resided—his place of authority.
You all made your way to it, waiting in silence for him to appear.
And he stepped out.
His figure was thin, a combination of metal in shades of purple and black covering his entirety. Yet, strangely, his face was the only part left untouched. He wore a blue robe that almost dragged along the ground with every step, his hair streaked with white at the ends brushing past his shoulders.
"Viktor...?" The name escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you froze.
The figure before you was someone—or something—you never thought you would see again. Your heart raced, unable to make sense of what your eyes were seeing.
Was this really him? The man you once knew now hidden beneath the skin of metal. His presence was familiar, yet he was someone entirely different.
It couldn’t be. No, there was no way this was him.
"It's good to see you again," he said, his voice devoid of expression. "State your purpose."
Your heart sank at his words and the tone of his voice, your mouth slightly fell agape. You hated how it lacked acknowledgment, how he couldn’t even bother to say your name.
It was clear he didn’t care about seeing you again, and right now, you were nothing more than a visitor.
Before he met you, Viktor’s dreams revolved solely around science, the progress of the city, and leaving a legacy. But with you, his ambitions became something simpler. Something human.
He began to dream of things he once thought were beyond him. Like marriage and the idea of creating a family to call his own. But those dreams remained unspoken. He was too afraid to voice them, fearing they might scare you, or worse, shatter the perfect balance between you two.
After all, the thought terrified him just as much as it might have you.
Yet words had never been necessary. You were inseparable, bound by something unsaid but undeniable. To anyone who saw you together, the conclusion was always the same: You were more than friends.
Two souls so intertwined that the line between had blurred, connected by strings purely from the veins that built the two of you. You were practically lovers, just too afraid to admit it even to yourselves.
The explosion at the council had truly taken him from you, or at least the version of him you once knew. All that remained was this cold stranger, and the realization hurt you more than you would like to admit, leaving a void in your heart where love once bloomed.
Before you could gather your thoughts, Vi spoke up, explaining the reason for your visit. But you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, memories from a year ago rushing back just before he vanished.
"Please... You've just been brought back to life. You have to stay with me, Viktor..." Your voice cracked as you added, "What about us?"
Viktor was momentarily stunned by your words, stopping in his tracks as soon as he heard them. He turned to face you, his eyes lacking their spark. Your anxiety rose under his gaze as he uttered words you never imagined would ever escape his lips.
"Was there ever an us?"
The sting of his question lingered in your chest. You couldn’t follow him, not after that. That’s when you let him go, and you never saw him again.
Without a word, you walked away, leaving them to their conversation. Jinx gave you a puzzled look but didn’t bother to follow. You could feel Viktor’s gaze following you as well, and it felt as though it was burning your skin.
You sat down by a fruit vendor, who offered you a piece after noticing the look on your face. "Thank you," you murmured.
Where you sat wasn’t too far from them. You could still see them, but their words were no longer audible.
You watched Viktor. He looked healthy now, but could he truly be considered healthy if he wasn’t even human anymore? Sure, the limp was gone, and the pain he once wore due to his illness was nowhere to be found.
But those were the details that made him human. Those imperfections were the ones you always found beautiful. They were what made Viktor, well, Viktor.
You were relieved he no longer had to suffer, but seeing him replaced by this almost emotionless being broke your heart.
You took a bite of the fruit, its sweetness doing little to ease the knot in your stomach. You watched them as a few more minutes passed. Then the sisters and Isha finally drifted away from Viktor, Vander following him toward a shed away from the others.
Jinx skipped over to you. "Ask for a miracle healer, get a metal fortune cookie," she quipped.
Vi rolled her eyes, her hands stuffed in her pockets as she ignored her sister's blabbering. "What’s going on? You know that guy?"
You exhaled, cheeks puffing up as you tried to find the words. "Honestly? I don’t think I do anymore." You shook your head, struggling to explain. "But we used to be... Uh... We were..."
Vi chuckled, sitting down next to you. "I think I know what you mean," she said with a cheeky smile. "Too bad we’ll probably have to stay here for a couple of days."
Indeed, days had passed. You spent them mingling with the members of the commune, listening to their stories and hearing them recall their life experiences. Every answer circled back to praise for Viktor, voices filled with devotion as they spoke of how he saved them.
You couldn’t help but smile at their words. This was what Viktor always dreamed of—to help the people of Zaun, to ease their endless suffering.
But in pursuing that dream, he had lost you. And perhaps himself.
You avoided interacting with him, focusing instead on Vander’s progress. Viktor was patient with the creature Vander had become, more patient than you expected.
At least that part of him remained intact. At least he was still the same caring Viktor in some way, you thought to yourself.
You let out a laugh as you scooped Isha into your arms, lifting her high into the air. Her giggles filled the commune as you tossed her upward and caught her again.
She clung to you between laughter, arms raised. The joy on her face was so contagious that you couldn’t help but laugh with her, your heart swelling with nothing but happiness.
Viktor lingered behind a wall, his frame half-hidden but still visible. Just watching.
He couldn’t tear his gaze away. Seeing you with Isha simply enchanted him, and it made him feel something he hadn’t in a long time.
Paternal.
He had once dreamed of moments like this. Though, they didn’t consume his thoughts fully, but they lingered as what-ifs.
There were days when he imagined you carrying a child you had created together, soft laughter and lullabies echoing through the living room of the home he built for you.
In those visions, he saw himself holding your child while standing by your side, mouthing words like, "Say, 'Papa,'" as if a two-month-old infant could already talk.
At that moment, those dreams seemed to mock him. As he observed you lovingly holding Isha, a part of that dream reignited in his heart. And for a moment, his lips curved into the smallest of smiles. It was so faint it almost wasn’t even there. It caught him off guard. That smile didn’t come from logic or the machine. It came from somewhere else. Some part of him that still felt... still longed.
A part of him that's you. His humanity.
He blinked, letting the feeling slip away. Whatever part of him that still hoped for that life wasn’t meant to exist here.
Not with what he’d become. Not ever.
He stepped back, retreating to his shed. He would leave things as they were.
For your sake. For his own.
Because some dreams were simply kinder left untouched.
Second Son (XVI) | Regulus Black
Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.
— Chapter Synopsis: The soul-tracking ritual ensues, and Anders has a precarious idea.
Part XV / Series Masterlist
Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader
Notes: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter :). Sincerely hoping this chapter doesn't glitch again.
The excitement of performing the soul-tracking ritual wore off rather quickly when you realized that you had to draw out all of the runes since Anders was unable to crouch down. It was an extensive process and each character had to be extremely precise, causing your fingers to cramp up rather quickly.
Your feet were feeling fuzzy as the circulation in your legs started to suffer from your position, your knees cracking noisily with every shuffle you took to continue mapping out the ritual circle.
“I can’t feel my legs anymore.” You whined, upper body flopping down as you braced yourself with your palms.
Anders grunts from in front of you, “You’re not even halfway there yet, and careful you almost smudged the Dagaz.” His drawl has you huffing, head instinctually snapping to the side to make sure you didn’t actually smear anything.
“Easy for you to say, you’re sitting on a bloody stool while I’m hunched over, practically shining your boots!” Your exasperation was painted across your face, words spewing out in a mixture of annoyance and jest.
The man rolls his eyes and rubs a hand over his knee, the joint no doubt aching, “Careful loyal vassal of mine, I am graciously offering you my help after all,” his tone of amusement melts away and he suddenly grows serious, “but it is imperative that we do this quickly.”
You huff and adjust your position, swinging your head up to look at the man in curiosity, “Why’s that?”
Anders’ face is darkened with a grim frown, and he peers down at the papers on his laps, “You said that those buddies of yours were going to kill Tom, right?”
“Yes…” Your uncertain tone has you fidgeting with your wand habitually, eyes flickering between the window of the room and the man in front of you.
“Well he’s puppeting the inferis with his magic, so they’ll undoubtedly be reduced to husks once he’s gone. So we need to hurry,” Anders elucidates, mouth set into a firm line as he delved deeper into his thoughts.
Putting a hand up, you blink owlishly at the man, “This is too much information. So, not only are inferis still housing their original souls – but you’re saying that it's Voldemort’s magic that’s tying these souls down to the land of the living?”
You didn’t know whether you wanted to curse the detestable man into oblivion or begrudgingly allow yourself to be grateful that his existence meant Regulus’ soul was still with you.
Well, he was chaining down hundreds of souls for his own selfish desires – so you were leaning towards wanting to stick your hand through his head.
“Only the inferis of his own creation, but yes, in theory.” The man looks mildly impressed at your quick thinking.
“Would it be a bad idea to owl Harry and ask him to raincheck on his plans to eviscerate the Dark Lord?” You draw a hand to rub at your forehead, a newfound migraine blooming from the back of your neck and straining across your occiput.
Anders gives you an unimpressed eyebrow raise before waving his hand towards the abandoned quarter-circle behind you, “A terrible idea. Now, let’s continue.”
You finish drawing the ritual circle an hour after sunset.
Your hand was shaking uncontrollably, jerking with every cramp that tugged at your muscles. You had begun sweating at one point, causing Anders to limp over and slide both of the windows open. The cool air bristled through the room and circled around all the loose papers, the sounds of rustling and quiet cruising from the older man flowing around the atmosphere.
As you step back to survey your hard work, you can’t help the smile that plays at your lips: the intricacies of the circle was alluring, practically glowing under the yellow light fixtures above you. The wind began to whistle, and Anders took that as a cue to interrupt your little reprieve, “Looks decent enough.”
“Decent? Have you gone senile since the last time we chatted? This bloody thing is the embodiment of perfection!” You cry out in incredulity, pondering all the ways you could attach the nifty piece of work to your academic portfolio.
Anders rolls his eyes and organizes his papers, “Yes, yes, you’re practically a Runes Master. Take a picture of it, why don’t ya?”
Playfully narrowing your eyes at his back, you go to retort, but a knock at the door has you pausing just as you open your mouth. Sharing a look with Anders, you carefully move to investigate, only cracking the door open marginally in order to hide your work.
It wouldn’t do you much good to have the neighbors thinking you were summoning something.
“Luna?” Your squawk of surprise only causes the girl to smile, eyes darting over your head as her gaze seems to fade in and out of fixation.
Bouncing on her heels, she reaches into her pocket, “So, you’re done?”
“Yeah, I finished drawing up the circle. I think the old man wants to perform the actual ritual tonight though, so I won’t see you until tomorrow.” You exhale tiredly and murmur to yourself, “If I wake up, that is.”
Luna nods quickly and pulls out a few items from her coat, “I see. Well, I’ve brought some things. I was told that you were in need of this as well by the Humdingers” In her outstretched hands, you see a couple of wrapped sandwiches and a small camera.
“What?” You gape and slowly reach forwards, “Where did you get a camera from, little moon?”
The girl smiles brightly and fiddles with her coat buttons, “I asked Asger.” You nod in appreciation and smile at the girl, waving with your full hands as she gracefully skips away towards the house.
You retreat back into the room and brandish the camera at the expectant man with a victorious smirk, “I have great friends.”
Anders grunts and reaches for one of the sandwiches, “That’s my camera, kid.”
You examine the device with your oh so supple fingers, and ignore the urge to stick your tongue out at him, your sensibility winning out for once. As you both eat in silence, your eyes run over the respectable pile of papers in front of Anders, realizing that the man was absolutely serious about publishing your findings.
“What have you got so far?” You nod towards his papers.
His eyes quickly flicker beside him, “Magical essences and the imbuing work your boy did, and now I’m drafting up some pages about inferis and their souls.”
You hum quietly and dust off your hands as you finish the last scraps of your food, feeling more vigilant as your aching stomach settles. The camera was smaller than the jarring flash bulb that Rita Skeeter always had around, and if anything, seemed way more practical.
It was a bit blocky and had a round lens in the center with a small depression that you could only assume was for the flash. The bottom of the camera had a small rectangular slit — an output.
“Polaroid 600. Film is as expensive as it gets, so don’t you go and waste it.” Anders’ quietly mumbles as he gets up from his spot, hands reaching for the camera. As he fiddles around with it for a few moments, the top suddenly seems to prop up and he hands it back to you with a satisfied nod, “Think you know how to operate a camera?”
“I’m not a dunce, thank you very much.” Your riposte causes him to roll his eyes as he gestures for you to move towards the circle. Despite your initial indignance, it took you a few moments of consideration and blind thumbing until you were confident enough to snap the photo. As you (luckily) manage to get a good shot, you conceal your surprise as the photo immediately begins to peek out of the bottom slit, slowly being spat out.
How convenient.
You nimbly pull the photo out once it seems to stop sputtering, and hand the camera over to Anders before peering at the developing square film. Slowly, you watch as the outlines of the ritual circle bloom into visibility.
You take a couple more moments to run your eyes over the photo before placing it in Anders’ awaiting palm. The man hobbles over to his table and clips the photo to one of the pages, placing the camera on the stack of papers afterwards.
“Okay, now put your boy’s photo in the center—next to the Uruz symbol.”
You wordlessly comply with Anders’ words, and slowly tiptoe out of the circle, eyes never straying from Regulus’ face. The man moves to the opposite side of the circle, and pats at the air, gesturing for you to sit down.
Watching from your position on the floor, Anders begins to chant evenly, eyes closed as you feel him begin to gather his magic to pool across the symbols. The faint steely nature of his magical signature washes over you, and you clasp your hands together in your lap as you feel an immense pressure begin to weigh on the room. Regulus’ photo gives a faint jolt, then another, and then another, until the whole paper begins to vibrate.
You watch in awe as the photo slowly rises into the air, the Uruz symbol glowing brightly with a faint red hue. In the blink of an eye, the photo jerks sideways and falls onto the Hic symbol to your left just as Anders’ chanting ceases.
“Hic? Here? What does it mean, here?” Your questions seem to spill out uncontrollably, and you see the older man give the photo a look of consideration.
“I’m not quite sure. Usually, souls still in the realm of the living are classified as Vivus,” Anders mutters, hand coming up to rub at his chin, “Kid, is that ring of yours imbued with his magic?”
You nod and reach for your ring, fingers running over the two snakes that you’ve grown accustomed to. Anders sighs before slapping his hand over his entire face, dragging it down as he seems to wage an internal war with himself.
“You said your boy was in a cave?”
You raise an eyebrow at him, and nod slowly, “Yes…and so are hundreds of other inferis, why?”
The man meets you gaze with a determined look as you slowly stand up, hands fiddling with your ring.
“Well, let’s go fetch your boy.”
The journey back to the cave was bittersweet, and you almost lost your footing as you apparated to the very spot you had before, except this time with a rather grumpy presence by your side. Water batted against the rock you were rooted to, droplets of water flying into your face periodically. You could barely make out the view in front of you as the moon faintly illuminated the waves.
As you apparate with Anders to the shore, you feel a lump grow in your throat. Your heart was beating violently against your chest, and a cold sweat started to break through the surface of your skin.
The muted crunching of sand and rocks under your shoes grounded you to reality as the void of the cave engulfed you, washing away the sea of stars that had been beaming at you from above.
“Lumos.”
As you extended your wand in front of you, you had half the mind to be cautious of potential bloodthirsty death eaters or one psychotic dark lord, realizing that perhaps the certifiable man would be on the upkeep for his horcruxes.
Soon, you both reached the rounded end of the cave, and Anders shoots you an unimpressed look. Holding a hand up at him, you extinguish your lumos and bring your wand to your palm, “Secare.”
Dragging the tip of your wand against your palm, the spell slowly cuts your skin enough to draw blood. Satisfied with your work, you swipe your bloodied cut against the damp rocks behind you.
“Lumos.”
The wall of charcoal stone crumbles away like you remembered, and you’re immediately met with a wave of faint heat.
Remnants of your fire storm from last time?
“Bloody hell,” Anders croaks from behind you, eyes glimmering at the sight of the sumptuous crystal clusters. The milky geodes sent a shiver down your spine as you started to draw a resemblance between their geometric planes and the cloudy skin of the inferis.
Making your way through the dark ventricle of minerals, you slowly emerge into the belly of the cave, the familiar void of water just meters away from you.
“We’re here. They’re in there,” your voice falls into a whisper, “he’s in there.”
Anders steps out from behind you and pulls out his own wand, the worn ashen wood barely visible in the light of your lumos. Tilting his head towards you, he looks at you with a solemn gaze before asking, “His full name?”
“Regulus Arcturus Black.”
Nodding, the man turns towards the lake and moves his wand counterclockwise, “Prodire Regulus Arcturus Black.”
Nothing happens for a few seconds, until abruptly — something breaks through the surface of the water and flies towards your awaiting figures, stilling to a stop in front of Anders as if colliding with an invisible wall. Your hand swings to cover your mouth as your eyes trail along the spindly creature: its body was slack in the air, arms stiff like milky needles, chest unnaturally thin with a protruding rib cage that threatened to burst through bruised skin, and a rawboned face veiled by the darkness.
This thing was Regulus?
You felt your world begin to tip and spin, eyes burning then blurring rapidly. Shivers wracked through your chest as sobs seemed to well in your throat. Closing your eyes, you try to steady your breathing, but the flashing image of Regulus’ face and then the sight of the horrid creature infiltrate your head.
It feels as though a millennia of your discombobulation passes by before you feel a firm grip on your shoulder, the gesture helping to keep you upright on your feet.
“Come on, kid,” Anders’ face comes into view and you see his eyes soften uncharacteristically, his mouth set into a hard frown. Your eyes stray to the side and you see that the man had summoned a cloth to cover the inferi during your small episode, the lumpy bundle now floating in the air nearby.
Nodding quickly, you swallow harshly before spinning around, “Right. Sorry.” Your whisper is met with a comforting silence, and you appreciated more than ever, Anders’ ability to know when words weren’t needed.
As you both stiffly trek back through the cave, you begin to feel a weight of foreboding blanket your body. Picking up the pace, you step out of the mouth of the cave with sweaty hands, eyes darting around wildly.
“Hurry,” your choked whisper confuses the older man, but he abides nonetheless. As you grab his forearm and hesitantly grab a part of the covered inferi, you hear a faint warping echo from off to the side.
Gasping quietly into the chilly air, you barely catch a glimpse of the familiar figure before you’re tugged away by the distortion of apparition. You can barely breathe as your heart seems to stutter uncontrollably.
You land back inside the research room with Anders and Regulus’ inferi, not even noticing how cramped the space now was as you tried to quell your panic.
“Kid? What’s wrong?” Anders floats the clothed figure down into the center of the circle as you buckle to the ground, blood flushing cold.
“Voldemort. He was there.” You gasp out.
The man jolts to a paralyzed freeze as his eyes widen comically, his heart no doubt beginning to race as fast as yours. You shake your head jerkily and wave your hand aimlessly, “He didn’t see you. Or well, you were covered by the cloth, but he definitely noticed me.”
The dryness of your mouth was beginning to prickle and itch, your skin suddenly feeling too tight on your body. You were sure he recognized you, after all, he was always in Harry’s head.
“Then we just have to hurry a bit.” Anders' steady words have you snapping your attention over to him, confused as to why he was so calm now. Seeing your distraught gaze, he sighs, “He won’t come for you for now, I’m sure he is focused on your other friends. Besides, even if he were, he has no idea where to even look.”
Nodding with an unconvinced frown, you feel your fear melt away into a stony resolve, eyes flickering over to look at the figure laying in the circle.
“Thank you, Anders.” Your dry whisper has him cracking a small smile.
“Thank me when your boy is back up and running.”
You were robotically drawing more rune characters, eyes unfocused as you were too entranced by your thoughts. You weren’t sure what the older man was planning as he hadn’t explained to you what this additional ritual entailed, but you were determined to make it work.
As you complete the last etching, head rising up to look at the concentrated man, he finally breaks the tense atmosphere, “I don’t know if it’ll work, but the combination of his soul and your ring might just do the trick.”
Tilting your head to the side, you try not to sound too hopeful, “So, he’ll be completely recovered if it works?”
“Not completely, he’ll need time to rejuvenate his magical core. This would be unprecedented, kid. I don’t have all the answers, and I can’t promise that it will work, but I am going to do my best.” His eyes are unwavering, back straightened with coiled tension.
You nod hastily, knowing that you were both pretty much running on wishes. As Anders double checks your rune work, you slowly slip your ring off your finger, cringing as the cold air brushes against your naked finger.
You hadn’t ever taken it off before.
Placing the cool band next to the covered figure, you step out of the circle and clench your hands. Anders nods in confirmation before stepping out as well, slowly hobbling over to stand on the opposite side of the circle.
“Let your magic funnel out into the circle as well. You won’t need to chant.” Anders' brief words have you nodding, and you slowly shuffle from leg to leg, fatigue starting to seep into your veins.
The chanting begins soon after, and you allow the metaphorical valves of your magical core to open, feeling the coolness of your magic sweeping to tangle with Anders’ metallic magic. Both of your magical signatures dance around the circle and collect in the center, flexing together above the figure. The entire rune circle seems to radiate in shades of reds and stormy greys before blazing into an endless black.
Suddenly, you feel magic seep from the clothed figure — a deep, harrowing magic that roused with a small rumble before erupting into a suffocating cloud that could only be described as numbing.
It was nothing like Regulus’ magic, which meant that this corrupted energy belonged to Voldemort. You grit your teeth as you flush out more of your magic to try and drive away Voldemort’s lingering signature, the psychopath’s magic seeming to screech violently at your attempt.
The prolonged battle with the stifling magic finally ends as the dark cloud is ripped away from you, pulled in all directions towards the additional runes you drew, the characters radiating in almost a blinding way before ripping apart the corrupted magic.
The once dark circle stews into a cool grey before disintegrating into a pale green, the light beating melodically. You watch in wonderment as the magic in the ring bubbles into your magic, intertwining with yours before slowly clutching at Anders’ as well. Your potent whirl of combined magic slowly descends towards the clothed figure, causing it to jerk wildly.
The cloth shuffles with the movements and you see it begin to pull upwards as if the inferi was arching towards your magic. Suddenly, the strings of magic slam into the clothed figure, sending shockwaves throughout the room.
As you hear a few books tumble to the ground at the energy, the figure twitches once more before falling still again. Anders continues to chant for a few more moments as the circle flares into a blinding white light before it, too, simmered into nothingness.
You nearly topple over in exhaustion as the energy draws back into your body, the synergies of magic in the room evaporating almost instantaneously. Anders wipes his forehead with his sleeve, and shakily stumbles over to his table for stability.
“Did it work?” Your voice is crackly as a sharp, sticky pain climbs up your neck.
The man huffs and glances at you before slowly making his way towards the figure, grunting as he tries to crouch down. He tugs the cloth upward and peers inside, expression unreadable.
“Well?”
Anders looks up at you, eyebrows drawn, “I have a lot more to write about.”
Leaping forward at his words, you rip away the cloth slightly to expose the figure’s head, and you nearly pass out on the spot.
“It worked. It worked. It worked.” Your quiet chants spurs on a wave of tears as you slowly run your fingers over Regulus’ face. The boy looked picturesque in his sleeping state, face no longer emaciated and bruised, but now mirroring his appearance from when he was just a portrait in your pocket.
You brush his curls aside and resist the urge to just keel over and fall asleep on him, your magical exhaustion echoing through your bones.
“Do you have something else on you that’s imbued with his magic?” Anders’ quiet words have you snapping out of your euphoric state, eyes drawn up in confusion. Seeing your perplexity, he clarifies, “He might not remember you, this ritual simply revitalized him and unchained his soul. He might only remember the events before his death.”
You pause at the revelation and sit up straighter, hands dropping to your sides. Gaping for a few moments, your mind whirs as you try and grasp for the right words, “Uh, wait, yes. I have these.” Your hands fish into your pockets and you pull out the tattered pieces of the golden portrait frame, outstretching them for the man to see.
“His portrait frame?” Anders’ eyebrows shoot up in stupefaction.
Nodding, you slowly drop the pieces into his rough palm, “It doesn’t matter.” The man frowns, puzzled, so you continue, “As long as he’s okay, it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t remember me.”
Straightening up from his position, he stares at the pieces of wood in his hand, “He just might remember… if these are truly imbued with his magic.” Looking up, you see skepticism flicker in his eyes, “Are you too beat for another ritual?”
“You should be asking yourself that, old man.”
You don’t remember much that happens afterwards.
As you crack your eyes open, lingering fatigue weighing on your eyelids, you are keenly aware of a hand running across your shoulders.
“Reg?” Your voice comes out as a strained whisper.
A familiar face pops into your line of sight, “He’s okay, just resting upstairs.” Luna’s smile warms your chest, and you resist the urge to turn over and bury yourself into the warmth of her arms.
Your body was incredibly sore from the activities of the previous day, and you were sure that your magical core was rolling about, emptily inside of you. The longer you laid, the more groggy you grew as the air started to warm against your skin.
Gently pushing up from the mattress underneath you, you run a hand down your place as Luna shifts to stand up. The girl helps you shuffle upstairs and towards the bathroom, quietly insisting that you wash up as she prepares tea for you.
Sluggishly washing up, you take a moment to peer into the cloudy mirror, raising an eyebrow at the sight of heavy bags under your eyes. Your shoulders sagged from exhaustion, and the sound of your grumbling stomach prompted you to make your way towards the kitchen.
As you slowly trudged into the room, eyes squinting from the beams of sunlight that flitted through the window, you see Asger approach you with a plate in hand.
“Good afternoon. Dad’s in his research shed right now.” The man extends the plate to you, and your mouth waters at the sight of the hearty lunch. You nod in thanks and drop down onto an awaiting chair, gaze straying towards one of the closed doors down the hall.
Asger, seeing your restless ministrations, chuckles before answering your unvoiced question, “He’s in there. Hasn’t awakened yet, but Dad said it’s only a matter of time. He's recovering quite fast.”
Right, your rituals worked. Both of them. It was starting to come back now, and you could feel the weight of the frame pieces and your ring in your pocket, both now depleted of Regulus’ magic.
Scarfing down your meal, and ignoring Asger’s cringe, you start to mentally debate on whether you should visit Anders first, or Regulus. Luna places a mug in front of you, and plops down into the seat next to yours, fingers fiddling with a few strings of yarn.
Regulus won out, of course.
As you dismiss yourself with endless words of gratitude to your two friends, you slowly make your way into the room Regulus was resting in. You cross through the threshold, mug in hand, and immediately surrender yourself to the comforting wave of magic that envelops you.
The warm magic — Regulus’ magic, brings tears to your eyes, and you have to take a few moments to compose yourself. The aching hollowness in your heart, the one you had grown accustomed to in the following months after the destruction of his portrait, seems to sing with inklings of joy.
You were still in a state of disbelief, mind reeling from the fact that you not only discovered uncharted branches of magic, but also that you got Regulus back. No, not only you — Sirius was going to get Regulus back, too.
The boy in question was laid on a makeshift bed, covered by a fleece blanket. Anders took up the great responsibility of clothing him after your flustered realization that he was nude, the man murmuring tidbits about how he did the same for Asger when the younger man fractured his hip years ago.
You walk over and sit down by his side, brushing your hand over his hair.
Things would change now. They would be better.
You spend a long while just sitting by the boy’s side, mind still unconvinced that he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination.
After a long thread of thoughts that devolved into heart wrenching what if’s, you decide to pay a visit to Anders, immensely grateful for his help and wisdom. The sunny skies slowly dimmed as clouds drifted by, the air chilling to sooth the faint migraine that still sunk its claws into your head.
As you make your way into the research room, you can’t mask the smile that stretches across your lips. Anders was hunched over his table, hand moving furiously across a sea of pages as he tried to document every droplet of theory and fact on the papers. Not wanting to interrupt the man’s train of thought, you linger by the doorway before slowly teetering towards a fallen stack of books.
You organize the endless towers of tomes for a few minutes before Anders takes note of your presence as he goes to stretch his back.
“Finally awake?” His voice is light, and you could see the remnants of engrossment creeping in his eyes. He truly did have a passion for this branch of research.
You nod and grin brightly at the man, “Sure am. Now, are you going to accept my thank you?”
Anders grunts and waves you off with an amused eye roll — the closest thing to a “you’re welcome” in his language, and turns back to his papers, “Anyway, another owl came for you this morning. The letter should be on your stool.”
As the man resumes his writing, you peer around to try and find the envelope, clicking your tongue when you find the paper beaming at you from across the room.
Dear Padfoot’s pup,
We hope you are well. At first, we weren’t going to accept the offer, but some unexpected events happened that forced us away. We are safe now with the frightening widow. We’ve gotten two more, but now the Goblins hate us.
Stay safe. We are going to remain here until we are forced to confront the darkness. Unfortunately, we fear that it will be soon.
We miss you. Padfoot keeps whining, we think he misses you most.
-Prongslet and co.
You laugh lightly at the contents of the letter, and you fold the paper back up. Good to know that Harry and the others were safe with the Contessa at the very least. As you stuff the paper back in the envelope, you see another folded paper sidled against the wall of the envelope.
Hello lost friend of mine,
A certain dragon of ours is growing restless, we fear that his blood father is in trouble with a certain man. The Carrows are a nightmare, and it appears that many students are disappearing with every passing day. Theodore keeps shooting down my (entirely plausible) theory that those twin professors of ours are hiding their bodies in a dark closet somewhere.
I’ve received a letter from my mother informing me of the rearrangements at home, and I must say, it was quite a surprise. I haven’t heard back from you since you’ve departed, and I almost thought you were dead for a while. Glad to hear that you aren’t.
Theodore says hi, and he wants to know all the research you’ve done. Our dragon also says hi and that he hopes you received his last letter.
I hope to hear from you soon.
(Reply to me.)
-B
“Was it a tawny owl?” Your question rings out into the quiet atmosphere, drawing Anders out of his work.
The man gives you a grunt of confirmation and you nod in satisfaction. It would appear that Harry is corresponding to you via Contessa Zabini, the woman no doubt telling Blaise to forward the letter to you along with his.
Merlin, what a strange web of dynamics.
As you tuck away the papers into your pockets, a knock has you spinning on your heel in curiosity. Anders barely even looks up from his work as you make your way to the door, a wave of deja vu slamming into you.
Opening the door, you see Luna smiling brightly at you, similar to her airy demeanor from the night before.
Before you can get a word out, the girl quickly supplies you with news that has air fleeing from your lungs, “He’s awake.”
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This little trilogy fucking broke me 🤩
My Atlantis, We Fall | Part 1
Summary: A childhood friendship between Viktor and you grow into unspoken love, but your paths diverge when Viktor left you behind. Still heartbroken, you unexpectedly reunite during Progress Day after years, only to cause more heartbreak.
Pairing: Kid!Viktor X Kid!F!Reader, Viktor Arcane X Female Reader
Warnings: ANGST Words: 2.7k
A/N: Thank you so much for the love on my last Viktor fic! I am new to the Arcane fandom, so I apologize if I wrote some of these incorrectly <3 Hope you like this one as well. I will be posting Part 2 later today, hopefully!
The smog of Zaun never lifted. To Viktor, it was a constant haze that wrapped the Undercity in an unpleasant shade of gray. But even in that, there were spots of color, moments that broke through the dullness of it. For him, that color was you.
You were no stranger to the way the city worked. Born to a family scraping by on restricted earnings, you spent your days scouring the alleys for bits of scrap that could be sold or repurposed. The life of a scavenger wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest, and it was all you’d ever known.
At 9 years old, you met Viktor in the middle of a dusty alley, where scraps of metal and broken pipes littered all over the ground. He stood there, his cane awkwardly propped against a pile of junk as he messed around with some contraption he had made using a discarded piece of clock. For the first time ever, his golden eyes darted up to meet yours, they were wide with curiosity.
“Do you need help?” you asked, your tiny hands already brushing away the grime to pick up the gears he had dropped.
He hesitated before nodding. “Only if you don’t mind dirt.” You heard the accent for the first time.
From that moment on, dirt never mattered. Neither did the cane, or his limp, or the thin, almost too-pale figure that struggled to keep up with the other children. What mattered was him and the way his mind worked. Sharp and inventive that even the very air of Zaun couldn’t dull it.
The two of you spent your days hunting for scraps together, crafting makeshift toys your parents cannot afford, or setting little boats afloat in the polluted streams of the Undercity.
Life in the Undercity was a series of neverending struggles, but when you were with Viktor, it felt lighter somehow. You knew that together you could dream. Like you can achieve anything.
In the dim of the makeshift workshop you two had set up behind an old factory, you would spend hours building and talking about the future. Viktor would sit cross-legged on the ground, cane resting beside him. His golden eyes always alight with a passion that seemed to defy the gloom of your surroundings.
“We will leave someday,” he said, voice filled with determination. “We’ll go to Piltover. The air is clean there, and the people don’t suffer from the smog.”
You smiled at him and chuckled softly, hands busy polishing a piece of scrap metal. “And what will we do there?”
He let himself think for a moment, as if the question caught him off guard. Then he looked at you, his expression unusually serious. “Once we are there, we can change the world,” he said simply.
You laughed, a soft, melodic sound that echoed in the small space. “That is a big dream, Viktor.”
“Hey! It’s not just a dream,” he insisted, gaze unwavering. “We’ll do it. Together.”
"Promise?"
"Promise."
There was something about the way he said it that made you believe him. Viktor’s certainty was infectious. You could see it in the way he worked and the way he poured every ounce of himself into his small inventions.
Some days when his leg hurt too much to move, you would sit beside him to help him sort through the piles of scrap you had collected. He’d teach you the basics of his engineering, he was always patient and thorough while his hands guided yours as you pieced together a simple mechanism.
“See?” he'd say, voice tinged with pride as the small contraption you built whirred to life. “You’re a natural.”
You grinned, the warmth of his praise spreading through you like sunlight.
The days blurred together in work and laughter as your shared dreams served as a beacon in the darkness. It was during one of those days when you were both ten or eleven, that Viktor made a declaration that would stay with you forever.
You were sitting by the river, watching the toy boat Viktor had built move along the surface of the water. The sunlight did its best to pass through the smog, casting a glow over the scene that made the water seem like it was sparkling.
“When we grow up,” Viktor said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm, “I’m going to marry you.”
You turned to look at him, eyes are wide with surprise as you felt the warmth of your blood travel up to your cheeks. Then you laughed, a sound so full of joy. It was music to him. “Then you would have to make me a pretty ring, silly.”
Viktor nodded, his expression earnest. “Of course! Then I’ll build us a house in Piltover, and we’ll have a workshop where we can create anything we want.”
It was a childish promise, one you didn’t take seriously at the time. But for Viktor, it was more than that.
It was a goal; a dream he clung to with every fiber of his being.
୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ
The day you found a cave felt like the start of a new stage of life.
As usual, it began with Viktor’s handmade boat, the delicate creation that floated across the river. You were laughing, like you always do when Viktor is around. It was as if everything's happy when you were together. Your voice echoed through the narrow canyon, laughing until you saw the boat drifting too far downstream.
“I’ll get it!” you called, kicking off your shoes and splashing into the shallow water. Viktor watched from the bank, his cane resting against a rock, his expression was a mix of amusement and mild concern. He would've been the one to dive in if only it wasn't for his leg.
You chased the boat until it got caught against a jagged rock near the mouth of a dark opening in the cliffside. “Vik, look!” you shouted, pointing to the cave.
He limped over to join you, curiosity piqued. The two of you went inside, the cool air of the cave was a contrast to the warmth of the day. The deeper you went, the more excited you grew.
What you found inside changed everything.
As you went further, the light spilling in from the entrance slowly faded, replaced by an eerie green glow. You exchanged a glance with Viktor, “What do you think it is?” you whispered, the volume barely louder than the drip of water from the stalactites above.
“No idea,” Viktor murmured, his fingers tightening around his cane.
The source of the glow soon became clear: a hidden lab, long abandoned yet still pulsing with strange energy. You could almost feel it on your skin. Machines lined the walls, coated in layers of dust. Beakers filled with faintly glowing liquids sat undisturbed on a table alongside half-finished notes and sketches in a language you didn’t understand.
“Woah!” You stepped closer, your breath hitching at the sight. “Viktor, this is awesome!”
He nodded, gaze fixed on a machine in the corner that hummed silently as if it was alive. “Whoever built this was a genius,” he said, his voice filled with awe. He felt like this is where he belonged. For the first time he felt like he belonged. “Imagine what they could have created here.”
It was then that you heard the shuffling of footsteps. You both froze, hearts pounding in unison as a figure emerged from the shadows. He was sharp-featured, eyes glinting with a dangerous intelligence.
“Curious little mice, aren’t you?” the man said.
You instinctively moved closer to Viktor, your hand grabbing his arm. You felt safe that way. “We didn’t mean to intrude,” you said quickly, your voice steady despite the fear curling in your chest.
The man—Singed, as he introduced himself—was a Zaunite alchemist. He seemed more intrigued than angry as his gaze lingered on Viktor with intensity. He asked many questions, probing Viktor about his interest in machines and invention.
“I see potential in you, boy,” Singed said after a long pause, his voice carrying a weight of authority that was impossible to ignore. “A sharp mind like yours shouldn’t be wasted scavenging scraps. I could teach you things. Show you how to truly create.”
Viktor hesitated, his grip tightening around the worn wood of his cane. His knuckles whitened, using his other hand to place it on top of yours that was still rested around his arm. His touch comforted you more that he realized.
“What about her?” he asked, his voice quieter. He glanced at you, golden-brown eyes searching yours as if they were trying to find reassurance, or perhaps permission.
Singed’s gaze shifted to you briefly, cold and judgmental, before dismissing you entirely with a shrug of indifference. “I have no use for distractions,” he said bluntly, as though you were nothing more than an inconvenience in Viktor’s path.
The words stung. But what hurt more wasn’t Singed’s dismissal, it was the flicker of emotion on Viktor’s face.
You could see the storm brewing in his eyes. The pull of ambition against the weight of loyalty, the desire to seize an opportunity against the fear of what he’d leave behind.
He looked at you again, his expression was pained and conflicted. “I...” he began, but the words died in his throat.
“Hey, it’s okay!” even though it wasn’t, you still said it while smiling. “You should go, Vik. This is what you always wanted, right?”
The words felt like lead on your tongue, but you said them anyway. Because this was Viktor’s dream, wasn’t it? To break free from the chains of Zaun, to do what he is passionate about and take any step to build a better future. You couldn’t stand in the way of that, no matter how much it hurt.
After that day, everything changed.
Viktor began spending more of his time in the cave with Singed, learning things you couldn’t begin to comprehend. The closeness you shared, the companionship that defined your days, was slowly replaced by distance.
At first, he tried to make time for you. You’d see each other twice a week. His hands and clothes would often smell faintly of chemicals and his mind clearly still preoccupied with whatever he’d been working on.
“How was it?” you’d ask, trying to keep the bitterness out of your voice.
“It’s fascinating,” he’d reply, eyes lighting up in a way that made your heart twist. “There’s so much to learn, so much to do.”
You wanted to be happy for him. You tried. But it was hard not to feel like you were losing him, piece by piece, day by day.
The Viktor you had grown up with, the boy who had dreamed with you, who had promised to build a life together in Piltover, was slipping away.
You can feel it.
Eventually, even the twice-a-week meetings stopped. You hadn't realized that the both of you have grown into teenagers.
You considered that it was just a temporary thing at first, that Viktor was just busy with his new life and his ambitions. But the days turned into weeks, then months, and still, there was no sign of him. You did not bother going to that cave, still too hurt to face that man Singed for the second time.
You went to the places you used to go to frequently together. Hoping to catch a glimpse of him, hoping that the streets of Zaun would somehow bring him back to you. You waited, watched, sometimes even hallucinated he would appear around the corner with that damn crooked smile. The same smile that used to make everything feel okay.
But it never happened.
You said you didn’t care, but then you would be lying to yourself. You didn’t want to care, but the ache in your chest told you otherwise. You missed him more than you were willing to admit. And every time you walked past the spots where you once laughed and talked, where you shared dreams, that pain hit you all over again.
The day your family decided to move out of Zaun was the final blow. You wanted to tell him. No, you needed to tell him. You needed him to know that you were leaving. Maybe, just maybe, he’d say something to stop you from walking away from the place that had once held the dreams you shared.
So, you went to his home.
You stood there. The familiar wooden door that always opened to reveal him, limping toward you with that look of recognition and warmth.
You knocked. And knocked again. Heart pounding in your chest as you waited to hear his voice from the other side. But when the door opened, it wasn’t Viktor who greeted you.
It was an empty, cold silence.
The neighbors told you he’d moved. No one knew where, just that he wasn’t coming back.
The feeling was like a slap in the face.
Since when was he gone?
You couldn’t comprehend it. How could he just leave like that? The memories of all those times, those quiet moments where you had thought you were the most important person in his life suddenly felt like lies.
You convinced yourself, over and over, that he would always come back to see you, to explain himself, that the bond between you was way too strong to break. The amount of times you told yourself, "If he comes back tomorrow, I will forgive him" was beyond ridiculous at this point. Because it never happened, and now, everything seemed foolish.
The anger bubbled up inside you. Burning and consuming. And yet, underneath the anger, there was a deeper, more painful emotion. A quiet sorrow you didn’t want to acknowledge because it was too raw, too unbearable.
"Why..."
The truth was, you loved him. And he left you behind.
The years passed, and you are now in your early twenties. The anger inside you eventually faded. Time, as it always does, softened the sharp edges of your pain. But the emptiness never truly went away.
You tried to fill it with other things, other people, other distractions. But there were nights when his face would appear in your dreams, and you’d wake up with that same hollow feeling in your chest.
You thought about him often, even when you told yourself you wouldn’t. You wondered if he ever thought about you, if he ever regretted how things ended between you two.
You hated yourself. For still caring, for still holding on to something that crumbled a long time ago. You wanted to move on, to forget him and everything he had meant to you. But a part of you still clung to the memories of your childhood.
The laughter, the dreams, the whispered promises.
It was the only thing you had left of him now. It hurt, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let go.
୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ
Progress Day
You found yourself in Piltover, the city you and Viktor had once dreamed of when you were just children playing amidst the grime of Zaun.
He was right. He always is. The air was indeed lighter, free of the toxic smog that choked you since the day you were born. The streets were filled with energy and purpose, lined with tall buildings that gleamed under the bright sun. Progress hummed in every corner, from the click of Hextech gadgets to the chatter of inventors sharing ideas.
You had fought hard to get here. The countless nights spent working until exhaustion, the sacrifices, the dreams you had held onto so tightly—it had all led to this. You should be proud of yourself.
And you were. You could look around at everything you had built and feel the satisfaction of knowing you did it. But no matter how high you climbed, no matter how far you tried to run, it still feels hollow inside. An emptiness that lingered like a ghost.
An emptiness that only Viktor could fill.
Deep inside, you knew that to yourself. It whispered in the quiet moments, when the celebrations died down and you were left alone with your thoughts.
The city was alive with celebration. It was a day to honor the advancements of Piltover after all. You attended one of the more exclusive parties, hosted by none other than Jayce Talis, the prodigy of Hextech innovation. You had little interest in the fanfare, but it was a chance to network, to prove your place among the elite minds of Piltover.
You had expected the night to be uneventful. Mingling with strangers, exchanging polite but fake smiles and calculated compliments. It was all part of the routine by now.
What you hadn’t expected was him.
Y’all need to read the full things. This is scrump-dilly-itious
My Atlantis, We Fall | Part 2
Part 1 here.
Summary: A childhood friendship between Viktor and you grow into unspoken love, but your paths diverge when Viktor left you behind. Still heartbroken, you unexpectedly reunite during Progress Day after years, only to cause more heartbreak.
Pairing: Viktor Arcane X Female Reader, she/her pronouns
Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST, alcohol, mentions of blood, no mentions of Y/N.
Words: 5.1k
A/N: I am so mad at them both in this. Also, that first photo does something to me oh lord 😩 Thank you so much for reading the first part! Don’t forget to like, comment, or reblog. Anything helps a lot <3 WILL POST THE FINAL CHAPTER LATER!
Keep reading
TILL FOREVER FALLS APART !
summary: when sirius said siblings are off limits, james never thought he would break that rule as his best friend was the only one to have siblings close to their age, but everything seems to change when the sister sirius swore to hate because of her cruelty has several detentions with him and she’s not as cruel as her brother described.
notes: james potter x black!reader. reader is a twin sister of regulus, kinda angsty at the end, hurt/comfort, sirius is kind of an ass. not proofread
you really thought that the detention with james potter would go easy. not a word would be shared, him not even looking at you as he probably know your relationship with his best friend, and then you two would have a week free from each other, but james potter seemed to be interested in you – or more likely, how did you end up in a detention.
he saw you as a perfect black, that’s how sirius would describe you, or your twin brother whenever someone brought up your name. and no matter how positive it sounds, he was always negative, never mentioning your childhood, and how attached you were to him.
the perfect black daughter, more ideal than narcissa or bellatrix, the one who would never obey her elders unlike sirius or andromeda, the one who would do whatever they say to please them.
well, it was partially true, you could give that to him. but you nor regulus weren’t like any other family members. you weren’t brave enough to stand up to your parents and survive the punishment with a smile on your lips like your brother did, you two were two afraid to do anything that could make orion or walburga mad.
but both of you were proud slytherins, with regulus being one of the best quidditch players of your house, and you impressively good at whatever you touched. you were plotting against your parents, the death-eathers and everyone that could get in the way of your plan. an escape plan, to runaway somewhere far like france or canada, while everyone thinks you died. nonetheless, sirius couldn’t know that – he barely spoke to any of you, which just worsened when you were invited to the deatheaters meeting at your house.
in his eyes, you were nothing but a piece of shit like rest of your family for being unable to runaway earlier, for having no one to runaway to, as the rumors about your enjoyment in dark magic spread at school with light speed. however, unlike sirius you had your twin, always ready to stand up for you and vice versa, always ready to fight anyone who says a bad thing about you.
sometimes you and regulus would sneak out of the house and wander around the crowded streets of london, thinking how would your life looked like if you weren’t wizards, if you weren’t born into a family with an obsession of blood status and keeping it pure.
what made you even more perfect in everyone’s eyes was that you looked exactly like a female version of regulus, or more accurately, he looked like a male version of you. wearing the same clothes when you didn’t have to wear robes, and it wasn’t like you planned it – you had a gut feeling to wear your expensive like hell, black coat, and so had he. you looked intimidating, walking next to your brother, evan rosier and other friends of yours with faces that seemed to never experience any emotions. like rocks, untouched by people’s words, stares and pointing fingers.
“how did you end up here?” your companion asked out of sudden, making you shift in your chair. you already finished cleaning the classroom but there was still more than an twenty minutes left, and you couldn’t just leave for whatever reasons. “didn’t expect to see the perfect black sister having time to bother herself with things like detentions.”
“and why does it interest you, potter?” a sigh slipped from between your lips as you rest your chin on the left hand. “so my brother can have more reasons to despise me, because as i presume, you’ll tell him.” you didn’t even let him have a glimpse of your mimic as he could only see your back.
“oh, miss black, who do you think i am?” you heard him get closer, and take a seat by your side, probably briefly looking at the book you’d read. he could swore to merlin, he thought it’d be a book containing black magic spells you would cast if flinch didn’t confiscate your wands. but it was far from dark margic. “i’m just curious, have heard a lot of… things about you and wanted to check myself.”
you fixed your black hair before quickly considering if you should tell him the real reason or the made up one you’d told evan and pandora. “hmm, what would i get from telling you?” you leaned closer to him, revealing your face. it was one of your first encounters with james potter, and hell, you know it wouldn’t be the last one, since there were at least four next weeks of detention together.
“we could figure something out, y’know.” he shrugged, scanning every inch of your flawless skin, starting at your eyebrows and eyes, through lips to chin. you were gorgeous, and james couldn’t blame the first years that sometimes followed you like a lost puppy around the castle, trying to gain your attention or the girls having their lesbians awakening while watching slytherin’s practice with you as a substitute for your brother. every comment he had heard about your immaculate beauty was so real, that he could swore he would develop a crush on you in other circumstances. “just tell me.”
“i stood in my brother’s defense, the one you know better.” you replied, averting your look back to the book you were reading, not really bothering yourself to catch a glimpse of james’ parted mouth as he realized the sense of your words. “any more questions or can i finally focus on my book?”
“why did you- how did you-?”
“as much as some people tries to say, i do care about my family members’ well-beings, even though they refuse to talk to me or my twin.” you let out a little too harsh than you planned. “and no one will say anything bad about my brother unless it’s me or regulus.” you didn’t even wait for his reponse, leaving the classroom as soon as the clock hit nine in the evening.
you could say everything, yet you decided to reveal part of the thing that happened. and you knew that james would, most likely, tell your brother how you tried to gain his attention by making up a story. what you didn’t tell him was the part where you broke lucius malfoy’s nose, completely forgetting how much influence had his father on yours, and how mad they would be.
the next detention went… smoother. james didn’t bother you with questions about elaborating on the reason of your punishment, however it wouldn’t be james potter if he stayed quiet. especially when you didn’t have to clean the classroom again, just sit in silence while mcgonagall watched over you, but unfortunately (for you) she had to leave.
“miss black, didn’t expect you here.” a chuckle left his mouth, sitting himself in front of you, taking in your gorgeous face. “any kid’s dreams of dating you crashed last week?” for a moment, a millisecond, he could see a shadow of smile on your lips, and james potter felt like he already accomplished his mission for today.
“how did you guess?” you rolled your eyes in a playful manner, allowing yourself to look at the boy in front of you. his dark curls fell onto his forehead, and you could swear if it wasn’t for his glasses that somehow kept them out of his eyes’ way, he wouldn’t see a thing.
and you couldn’t know that, but james potter wouldn’t let himself miss such an opportunity to just stare at you for at least few minutes. it was strange, he never wanted to just look at a girl, who wasn’t lily evans and interested in him at the same time. though somehow, you were living free in his mind, making the boy catch himself on staring at you during meals.
“pulled out some prank on snape lately?” you added before he replied, a hand put under your chin as you leaned over the table, watching his every move. his eyes lit up immediately on your visible interest in whatever he had done during the previous week. “not a fan of snape?” james questioned, his eyebrow higher than usually.
“please.” you rolled your eyes again. “is there anyone who’s a fan of snape besides your girlfriend?” you let yourself smile at him for a brief moment, before shifting in your chair.
“evans s’not my girlfriend.” his replied shocked you, you could’ve sworn to yourself you saw them snogging somewhere. not that you cared with whom james was making out. you didn’t care, at all. “rumor has it, you two hook up a lot.”
“i’d throw up over him rather than do anything that involves physical touch. he disgusts me.” you knitted your eyebrows together at the so-called rumor, you already heard from sirius on christmas.
“why? because he’s a half-blood?” the gryffindor seeker blurted out before thinking, causing you to back out from the conversation, a strange feeling of pain raising in your heart. it was something he would regret saying later at night, processing every inch of your talk, realizing that everyone thought you were a pure-blood supremacist, and probably it wasn’t the best thing he could say to you.
“because he’s a misogynistic piece of shit, potter. snape could be a highly born pure-blood wizard, the best one out there, but if he says things like this about your little girlfriend when she’s not there or any female in general, he’s a piece of shit like any of his friends.” your words came out harshly, but you felt disrespected by someone who tried talking to you first.
the rest of the detention you spent in silence while james was explaining something that involved brooms and words snivellus, regret, and some other things you didn’t pay attention to, too busy counting minutes to the end of that cruel meeting.
however, the third and fourth were much more… pleasing, you could say. the boy pulled an expression like if he actually wanted to get to know you on his own and found out what made you silent a week earlier. it almost felt like it was planned, mcgonagall’s presence needed somewhere else, and a bunch of sweets you adored, snatched from the kitchen in a little bag in his hand.
“sorry. for the last time, i said some stupid shit that didn’t mean to come out like that.” he confessed, genuine in his voice was so clear that you couldn’t held back a smile, forming on your lips upon seeing his gesture. “don’t say shit like i didn’t have to. i did. i wanted to apologize, and get to know you.”
“hmm, apologise accepted.” you spoke out softly, offering him a bar of chocolate. “but, mister potter, why do you want to get to know me so bad? thought other people know everything better than me.”
he shifted in his position, getting closer to you, a mischievous smirk spread over his lips. “y’know, miss black, you’re an interesting person, and i can’t get you out of my head, so i had to do something about it.”
the upsides of your immaculate skin was that it tended to get red-ish rapidly, and that comment of his with the flirtatious tone made you burning red. without any shield to cover your face, you broke the eye contact with the gryffindor, and smiled involuntarily, feeding up his ego.
however, it didn’t took you long to look him in the eyes again, continuing the conversation with a smug smile that matched his. “what would you like to know, ask and i’ll answer.”
you awaited questions like how is it to be a death eather, or have you ever thought of killing someone for your parents’ sake, or anything that would make you cringe inside. although, he firstly asked you questions people never remember the answers to — what’s your favorite colour, muggle movie, a book you could recommend him to read in a free time.
“james potter likes contemporary romances?” you laughed, shaking your head at the answer to the last question he gave you. there was no imagine in your head of james potter, the great seeker of gryffindor, reading a contemporary romance book with eagerness and passion. “i’ll like whatever you recommend me, pretty girl.”
“hmm” you dragged out the words, searching for something in your bag. an exclusive, limited edition costing thousands of muggle’s money, of your favorite book – the pride and prejudice by jane austen. there was a brief moment of hesitation, was he just playing around and you would never get it back, or does he really wanna read it? there was something in his eyes that made you trust him prior to handing him the book. “it’s my favorite one.”
“you like classics?” you nodded.
james felt a weird, tingling feeling in his stomach as you clarified it was your favorite one, and now he had it in his hands. he recognized the muggle author, because his mom read a lot of muggle classics and romance in her freetime. it was bizarre to learn you liked muggle book, hardly ever mentioning a wizard one.
for the rest of the third detention you just… talked, ending up with being walked by him to the basement, so the disscusion you had wouldn’t be cut off so suddenly. the fourth one was even better, the best of them as there was no awkwardness between you two, despite the closeness of your bodies. he sat next to you, your arm and leg touching his whenever he leaned closer.
this time, you were the one talking — infuriated by some guys from ravenclaw that had catcalled you a few times on your way to the detention and one had tried to touch you, thinking it was okay to touch anyone without their consent. they were seniors, finishing school in june when you were a fifth-year, frightened by the vision of writing owls in may.
james just nodded his head, not daring to interrupt you even once, maybe in fear of getting hit by your hands that couldn’t stop moving ever since you started your monologue. he just chimmed in a few times saying true and yes, but he was focused on how your eyes flickered with annoyance and anger, making you even prettier.
“are you even listening to me, james?” the way you empathized his name made his stomach do a flip, a whole acrobatic performance. it was one of the first times, or even the first, when you referred to him as james, not potter, not mister potter or anything you’d called him before, james. “yeah, yes, sorry. assholes from ravenclaw, right?”
he walked you to the entrance of slyherin common room for the last time as it was your last detention together for a while, and you smiled at him warmly before disappearing behind the doors. the first thing you saw after stepping into the room was your brother’s interested smile.
“potter walking you here? someone got a crush.” he laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you climbed the stairs up to his dormitory. “sirius would probably kill him if it was true, my dearest little brother.” you replied walking into the room of your brother and his few friends.
“sirius would kill who?” rosier walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waistline, winking at you with a flirtatious smirk. “quit it, evan. she’s my sister.” regulus was faster to reply.
you plopped on evan’s bed as it was the only free one and sighed. “reg thinks a certain gryffindor has a crush on me because he walked me here.”
“twice.”
“okay, yeah. james walked me twice and regulus thinks he has a crush on me for simply being nice, after literally interviewing me.” you mumbled, crossing arms on your chest. “there’s nothing to discuss here, he’s a gryffindor, a potter, it’s just inherited kindness.”
“and why are you so involved in figuring it out, sister?” your brother asked with a smug smile, his eyebrows high up as he thought he found out about your great secret. “do you reciprocate his little crush on you, huh?”
“shut up, asshole.” you rolled your eyes, throwing one of evan’s additional pillows at him. “do i look like a 5’4 ginger with a gryffindor’s scarf hung around my neck?”
“please, if i’ll see you one day in a fucking gryffindor robe, i don’t know who i am going to kill first, your future boyfriend or you for cheating on me, pretty girl.” evan sat beside you, almost immediately throwing his hand over your shoulder, pulling you closer to his still wet-ish chest.
you laughed, making yourself comfortable. unfortunately for regulus (who always wanted to kill any of his friends that tried to hit up on you), you enjoyed your flirtatious relationship with evan. “you think really highly of yourself, mr. rosier, took my first proper make-out and you think you decides on which robes i wear?” you shot back, biting back a playful grin appearing on your face.
“you know what i mean, sweetheart.” prior to regulus gag, you sent your friend a kiss and he pretended to catch it and hide in the depths of his heart. “of course, lovely.”
“please, get the fuck out if you want to be all couple-y here with each other.” andrew, another friend of your brother, groaned with fake annoyance as you sent evan another kiss. “what, andy? you jealous or something?” your friend laughed in an answer.
the next time you saw james was when a guy that tried to harass you, walked into the great hall with ugly, red hair and a robe with a large, inscription above his head “i harassed a younger girl.” he sat at the table across the hall, a mischievous grin spreading over his lips as you were the only person his eyes had focused on.
fifteen minutes later, you met him under the willow tree, a smug rosing on his face when you caught his glance. “miss black!” he called out, waving at you. “did you like what i did? especially for you.”
“it was… funny, you know.” you chuckled, taking a seat next to him as you had around twenty minutes left before anyone that could suspect basically anything would walk out of the castle. “i can give you that.” you mumbled, closing your eyes when your head touched the rough tree limb.
“sooo, you should go out with me as a favor, pretty girl.” he sent you a charming smile that would make your legs weak if you weren’t sitting next to him. “maybe on sunday, watchu think?”
you wanted to disagree, say no to him and explain yourself that your older brother, his best friend at the same time, wouldn’t be fond of this idea, though he looked at you with those alluring, brown eyes of his, and you couldn’t deny. “fine. sunday, it is.”
and that’s how you two began to go out, sneaking around and lying to your brothers that nothing really went on with the two of you. nevertheless, sirius was completely unaware of your little dates as anything had barely changed — james still talking about lily with a picture of you in his mind, and you… still didn’t talk to him. whatsoever, regulus knew about everything by connecting the dots and following the clues you left him unwillingly.
“i’ll kill him, hope you know that.” he spoke out suddenly, when you tried to get to your classroom in time, especially because it was potions and slughorn never tolerated lateness. never if you weren’t his favorite students that he collected like gems, giving them privileges and other additions that were probably against school rules. “huh?”
“potter.” you froze in your tracks for a minute. “if he ever lays a hand on you like our father did on our mother or do anything that upsets you, he’s dead.” a warm smile was painted on your brother’s mouth as he cocked his head to the side.
“what? don’t look at me like that. i’m not dumb as others to not notice the smiles he sends you from across the hall or how you disappear to hang out with julie, when she’s alone in the common room.” he exclaimed, a few laughs left his mouth, when you still frozen, looked at him with horror in the eyes. “i’m happy for you, chill, ugly face.”
“you’re not mad? fuming? furious?” you asked, voice somehow still low when you entered the classroom. “will you try to name all the synonyms for mad? and i’m not, y/n. i’ll leave that for the other brother you have.”
you gave him a quick side hug, before occupying yourself with anything that the teacher said, scolding you for being late, again. however, all you had on your mind was the date, your soon-to-be-boyfriend took you on.
it was the date, you’d say… a surprise one, and with james, they were on the normal basis. he would somehow let you know that there are places you need to be at night and a guide on which type of clothes should you wear (and a few notes saying how good you look during the day). then, he usually awaits you beside the enterance to your common room under the invisibility cloak, waiting to finally be able to kiss you. three nights ago, you two ended up in the pub, drank a few butter beers and met a few people that sixteen and fifteen years old probably shouldn’t met at night, they acted nice though.
however the night when everything went downhilld was the night you were supposed to spend in the library, studying to the upcoming owls that stressed the living shit out of you since the beginning of school year. a cup of coffee standing beside the books to transmutation, your biggest nightmare, dark red stains adding a little life to the white cup that was emptying with every other moment.
you were about to get another sip of the sweet liquid you’d prepared earlier, when it was snatched from your hand while someone planted a sweet kiss on your lips. “hey, love.” his voice so soft, and delicate you almost passed out from the tingling, warm feeling in your abdomen.
love, love, love. you would let someone kill you to hear it one more time.
“jamie, hi.” you tilted your head to the side, smiling at the boy warmly. “that’s the first time i see you in the library, something happened?” he shook his head with the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen.
james was the only person along regulus that you had never minded having any form of physical touch, as you grew up with the minimum you sometimes got as a reward. with all the other boys that tried to get somewhere near you at the parties it was just weird, having their arms thrown around various parts of your body had never failed to make you uncomfortable, even with evan you couldn’t be fully okay.
but james… you craved it to function like a normal human being. his touch was like oxygen, the feeling of his hands on your waist, hips, hands was… enchanting, making you want to live again. it was like if you were in a romance book, having the full epic, first sight, soulmates love with a twist (your brother’s hatred towards you). was it love? you couldn’t say yet.
“just wanted to spend some time with ya, y’know?” his hand flew to his curls, ruffling it as he lowered his eyes, focusing himself on the books in front of you. “transmutation? the old hag loves me, you could’ve said something.”
“i tried to figure it out on my own, but i barely moved from the starting point…” you let out a low groan, hiding your head in your hands, exhausted. “didn’t want to be a bother, you know.”
“love, i got outstanding from my transmutation owls, it’s like an easy revision for me.” he planted a kiss on her check, before leaning closer and stealing another sip of her coffee. “i’ll get us something to eat and you’ll be first in your classes”
“mkayy, thank you, jamie.”
well. there wasn’t much of studying, if you were honest. when the lights went finally out, your boyfriend put the invisibility cloak on top of you, so ms. prince wouldn’t catch you past the curfew. the minute she closed the library’s door, you felt potter’s lips crashing into yours, one of his hands pulling off fabric of the cloak.
he sat you down on the table, tossing the books aside. his hand gripping your thigh firmly, after sliding it underneath the fabric of your skirt. you could feel the burning marks his touch left on your skin, heated kisses tracing down your neck with hickies almost all over it.
you would probably keep going if it wasn’t for someone that dropped whatever they had in their hands upon seeing you two. before you could notice any characteristics of the person you heard james let out a mumble “oh fuck”.
and then you saw your brother’s face.
oh fuck indeed.
he stormed to you and before james could even react, he was hit by the shoulder of sirius whose eyes were still on your face. “stay the fuck away from my brother.” the way he empathized the word brother made you feel like someone just stabbed you in the back repeatedly. with the moment these words left his mouth, your whole expression changed to the emotionless and blank, the one you gave everyone but your friends.
“sirius…” your boyfriend sighed, his hand, the one that had a grip on your thigh, was now on the oldest boy’s shoulder. “don’t. this is between me and her.”
“stop messing with my friends’ heads. you don’t deserve to be near them, none of them is a fucking deatheather like you or the other one, none of them will ever be, because unlike you two, they’re good.” he spat, eyes burning with fury. “i don’t care how many of your charming smile you had to give him to take the amortentia from you, but it’ll end, sooner or later.”
“you don’t even know me, sirius.” you stated, your tone still and awfully cold as you got off the table and stood in front of your brother. “don’t act like you do, brother.”
“don’t call me that.” he replied, taking your wrist in his hand. “i don’t fucking care that we grew up together, that we share our last names. we’re not siblings since you and regulus joined his forces. so stay the fuck away from james, he doesn’t even love you, the only thing he talks 'bout is evans.”
“does he, really?” you cocked your head to the side, not letting his words influence you, not here. “you know, maybe your so-called brother wouldn’t have to lie to you if you weren’t so obsessed with hatred you have towards me and regulus. maybe he could tell you that he was the one who started bugging the shit out of me, maybe he could tell you how did we even meet.”
you could see sirius flinch, averting his gaze to potter, who tried to get in between you for a moment now. “don’t tell me it’s true, prongs, after what she did to me?”
“what i did to you? you were the one who left, brother, you’re the one who cut us off the second we were sorted to slytherin, you runaway and you’re mad, because i and reg were fucking kids who wanted to survive.” your voice broke, nevertheless, it didn’t stop you. “you didn’t even try to do something, save us, yet both of us were so fucking stupid defending you whenever someone brought you up. i broke lucius’ nose when he talked shit about you, but fucking evans is closer to being your sister than me, i’m so sick of it.” you couldn’t hold up your coldness, and calmness and you broke down within the end of the sentence, mascara smudged all over your cheeks as you cried while running out of the room.
you didn’t expect james to run down after you — you thought he’d stay with his friend, becuase there weren’t anyone you thought would run after you (excluding regulus, because he would jump into the flames with you). so when your boyfriend barged into the moaning myrtle’s bathroom you were shocked.
“baby…” he spoke out quietly, pulling you into a hug, gentle but tight. you didn’t even look at him, just cried your eyes out while breaking his heart by saying how tired you are of everything, and how you wanted sirius to be your brother again. a few kisses were planted on your hair as he tried to calm you down.
“jamie, please don’t leave me now.” you pulled away to look at him, eyes already red and swollen from tears. you weren’t used to show how vulnerable you were, and a thought of your boyfriend leaving you, because of it was so realistic in your head.
“what? why would i?” he knitted his eyebrows. “y/n, i love you and i know that deeply inside you care about what sirius think of you, but you have nothing to be sorry about, okay? with that said, i won’t leave you, never, okay?” you nodded lightly, resting your head on his shoulder.
“i love you too.” you whispered. “at least we don’t have to hide anymore, right?” a small smile painted on your lips upon your words.
“it’s us against the world right now, love.”
annoying.
pairing - james potter x slytherin!reader
summary - james potter has a crush on you, but you don't feel the same way. or do you?
trope/tags - friends to lovers (kind of), grumpy x sunshine (again, kind of), fluff
word count - 8.5k
warnings - language, mentions of sex
lowercase intended!!
the very first time james tried to get your attention was in your second year at hogwarts. he could not recall the exact moment he realised that he would do quite literally anything for you, even if it meant that he would have to die, but he knew for sure that you were the one he was meant to be with. remus thought he was being a bit dramatic, he was only twelve, for merlin's sake, what does he know about love, but james paid no mind to his worries and complaints. sirius, of course, supported him, and peter simply just trailed along hoping that they will make it out alive. why? well, you were a slytherin.
you were having lunch in the great hall with your peers like every other day. barty was acting like his usual joker self. which, frankly, was not his smartest idea, considering the blaringly obvious fact that everybody was eating and a choking hazard comes in package with laughing while chewing. no one really batted an eye, though. pandora was barely holding herself together, and evan was miserably failing at keeping a straight face. regulus was rather unphased and continued shoving pieces of beef into his mouth, but not while secretly chuckling at the stupid faces barty was making. you and dorcas, being the oldest ones, attempted to calm them all down, but your worries went on deaf ears. regardless, you were having a wonderful time, blissfully unaware of what your life was about to turn into.
"oi, l/n!" the laughter around you faded away and everybody's focus was now shifted to james standing at the entrance of the great hall.
"is that potter?" pandora wiped her tears away and rose up from her seat to see the show which was about to unfold. you furrowed your eyebrows as you slipped away into thought, picturing all sorts of possible terrifying scenarios, because why the hell was he addressing you all of a sudden? out of all people? and so loudly? you'd only ever spoken to him in potions class the previous year when slughorn assigned you to work together.
it was all very confusing and you weren't sure what to make of it.
you panicked when james started walking towards you and failed to notice the way your friends sniggered at the way your face went completely pale, just like that. he slipped into the empty spot next to you, smiling while he was waiting for your reaction. gasps left the mouths of multiple slytherins at the table, and your eyes widened in horror when you recieved dirty looks from snape and his peers. they were certainly going to terorise you and your friends for that.
it took you a few seconds, but you managed to connect the dots in your head. those sudden behavioural changes whenever you passed him in the corridors, the all but subtle glances he would send your way, the smiles, that weird twinkle in his eyes - everything suddenly made sense, as much as you hated to admit it. james potter had a crush on you, and he finally mustered up the courage to do something about it. and in the stupidest way possible.
"hello." you tried sound as polite as you possibly could despite wanting him to give him a hard push to the floor. you were everything but delighted by his presence, and restored to picking at the food in your plate without sparing him a second glance. regulus let out a snort.
"can i ask you something?" he leaned forward on the table with his hand supporting his chin. he was way too enthusiastic for your comfort and you wanted him gone.
"uh, alright, i guess." you shrugged lazily, biting the inside of your cheek in distress. part of you felt like you should let him speak; what if it was school related? potter was smart, and you could use some help on your transfiguration essays. the other part of you, however, was just about ready to strangle you.
"wanna be my girlfriend?" he smiled stupidly and it was followed by hollering and cheering from his friends, including your own. the students at the gryffindor table all appeared to have a million questions running through their minds, and your fellow housemates were not very pleased - not only did he ruin their lunch, but he was a gryffindor. and top of it, he was james potter.
you did a double-take. your mouth fell open in surprise. this was exactly what you feared.
"what?! no!" you whisper-yelled, petrified by his offer. your face was on fire, and not because you were flattered by his words, but purely out of embarrassment. barty and evan dissolved into laughter.
"okay, then how about a date first?" he was persistent and you moved away from him by instinct, only to have dorcas push you forward and towards him.
"no! go away!" you hissed, mortified, and turned your face away from him to hide the fact that it was burning. you almost reached for your wand and hexed them both.
"i have a book with some cool jinxes that i can teach you! it'll be fun! please!" he kept pushing, his eyes sparkling with hope. you swore you felt like smoke was about to come bursting out of your ears. regulus reached from behind dorcas and tapped your back in a comforting manner, but you did not miss the way he smirked after he retrieved his hand.
"teach me?! do you think i'm stupid?!" you snapped, finally whipping your head in james' direction with rage evident on your face.
"i thought you wanted to learn the– ow!" you kicked barty in the shin from under the table. the sudden impact made everybody's plates shake. "hey, i almost spilled my soup!"
"come on, y/n! please!" he decided to shoot his shot one more time, this time with puppy eyes, and a sodding pout, but you refused to give in. nothing in the world could have made you say yes to james bloody potter.
"no." you said sternly, crossing your arms and not allowing yourself to look in his direction again.
"fine! but just so you know, i'm not giving up," he stood up, it was amusing to you how unaffected he was by your rejection. he was as enthusiastic as he was when he first took a seat next to you, "i'm gonna make you mine."
***
and james kept his promise. the next several years at hogwarts became certainly memorable. getting rejected bruised the gryffindor boy's ego, so he was determined to prove himself to you and became quite a little show off. he was awfully cocky, and to top it all off, he did the absolute stupidest things to try and impress you - from jinxing snape after he heard him berate you for messing up a potion, to straight up helping you cheat in transfiguration class and getting himself a year's worth of detentions. he was a gentleman, though, and didn't try to pressure you into going out with him after you made it clear that you did not want to. as much as he adored you, he never went out of his way to actually do something that would cause you discomfort. no, that was his biggest nightmare.
funny enough, it was also why your hatred for him began fading away, and very unfortunately for you, there was no going back. you really had no true reason to dislike him as much as you did, which only made you loathe him even more. truth be told, you felt bad, and that was what you hated the most.
after james' terribly unsuccessful attempt at asking you out, things became rather awkward and you did everything in your power to avoid him. you despised him, or so you told yourself. your friends were sure you did, you spoke about him with so much venom in your voice that pandora thought they'd have to lock you up to stop you from using a forbidden curse on him. but then somehow, the two of you formed a strange sort of relationship, one would even call it friendship - james would randomly wind up in the same places you (he'd always claim that it was only coincidental), but you wouldn't chase him away. yeah, you'd be mean to him, obviously, and any normal person would probably cry, but he was enjoying it, because, well, it was you. when you grew closer to the gryffindor girls, mary macdonald managed to open your eyes and you saw that james wasn't the creep you assumed he was. so, you warmed up to him, and by some strange miracle, stopped completely loathing him and his presence.
though you still found him completely, utterly and unbearably annoying.
"oi, l/n! what you up to?" he showed up in the astronomy tower where you were reading one gloomy afternoon. regulus must have told him where you were, looks like someone's sleeping on the floor tonight. the lake seemed like a perfect place to drop a bed into at times. it's not that you didn't want james there, it's just that you didn't want to see anybody at that particular moment. you had grown to love colder weekends. they were the perfect excuse to avoid any unwanted trips to hogsmeade that would usually lead to you getting in trouble because barty had a habit of setting off a dozen dungbombs to poke at mulciber and snape. as satisfying as it was, you had gotten enough detentions that year and you weren't exactly prepared to receive another howler.
so, you just couldn't miss out on the perfect opportunity to go up into the astronomy tower and read in the peaceful atmosphere. it had always been much calmer up there compared to the other parts of hogwarts.
"reading." you replied flatly, returning your gaze back to the text in front of you. or at least you pretended to do so. no matter how hard you tried, you could not focus again, so you kept your eyes on the same sentence while you waited for him to do something. for a moment, you wondered what he had been up to before he found you. he peeked over your shoulder to take a better look at the writing.
you did not say a word, and you realised that if you sat there pretending to read while waiting for him to leave you alone would most likely take hours, so you continued trailing your eyes over the letters, and got lost in the story once again.
what you didn't notice is that he got invested too, completely by accident. it wasn't james' intention to come down there and read with you, he wasn't even sure what you were up to and all he wanted was to see you, but there he was, reading from behind your shoulder in the tranquil ambient of the tower.
it was when he suddenly asked you to wait before flipping the page that you realised he had been reading with you all along, and you squinted your eyes at him with a glint of curiosity in them.
"what are you doing?" you quiered. the sudden shift in the atmosphere took him off guard a bit, and he gulped when you locked your eyes with his own.
"reading?"
"didn't know that was a synonym for being an annoying little git."
"i'm not that bad." he defended himself, trying to look back at the letters. you scoffed.
"i thought you hated books." you hid the writing away from his gaze and quirked an eyebrow in amusement.
"i don't hate them. i just prefer not to read." he responded, sounding a lot more cocky than intended which drew a chuckle from you.
"way to impress a girl." you rolled your eyes.
"i am professional at it." you laughed in his face.
"at least you're honest," you shrugged, he furrowed his eyebrows in puzzlement, "merlin, are you daft? what i mean is, you're staying true to yourself. not pretending that you enjoy something just to sweep me off my feet. it's admirable."
"of course i am! i could never lie to you. you're the most beautiful creature i have ever beheld in my sight." you let out an exaggerated sound of disgust, pressing your palm against his face and pushing him away, "lay off, romeo."
"oh!" he stood up suddenly, putting his hand over his heart dramatically and looking up, "with love’s light wings did i o’erperch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out. " he glanced back at you. you guffawed, looking at him in bewilderment, "where on earth have you managed to hear that?"
"watched romeo and juliet in the theatre during holidays." you cocked an eyebrow at him. never would you have thought that james potter was the one who'd take interest in muggle literature and films. "got a favourite scene?"
james pursed his lips in thought. "the morning after." he wiggled his eyebrows and sat back down.
"that's disgusting." you laughed.
"i'm only joking, i think the balcony one would be my favourite. i'd say it's very romantic," he shrugged with a sly smirk, "and it also made me feel the least emotional pain, if you know what i mean." he put a hand to his chest for dramatic effect and sighed.
"oh, merlin." you rolled your eyes playfully, letting out a snigger at his act. "look, i'm gonna be straightforward with you right now," you began. james sat up straight. you held back a laugh, poor fool probably thinks you'll return his sorry little feelings.
"you're not nearly as distasteful as i thought you were." you poked his arm. james looked a bit perplexed, almost as if he was expecting something more (which he was).
but then he laughed breathlessly, seeming more proud than disappointed. you couldn't help but chuckle. he bit the inside of his cheek in thought as he took in the sight of you, wondering how in the hell he got so lucky to know you. you may not feel the same way, but you surely make his life seem like an utopia, even though you're quite mean to him.
"continue, please." he reached over your arm to turn the page. you were rather intrigued by whatever that was.
"hold on for a second. why are you here, exactly?" you leaned forward to prop your chin in the palm of your hand, observing his face attentively as he scratched the back of his neck in thought.
"i guess i wanted to see you." he responded honestly.
"and there i was hoping you had something exciting to tell me." he chuckled lowly. you had come to notice that his voice was getting deeper. it wasn't high pitched and annoying anymore, definitely a lot less infuriating.
"wait, i didn't finish–" he tried to stop you before you could turn the page. "sorry, guess you gotta read faster."
"that isn't fair."
"i beg to differ."
"you're so not cool."
"then why d'you keep pining over me?" james opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. he huffed and crossed his arms. you smiled in victory, laughing when he stuck his tongue out at you.
***
by the end of year four, you had read about ten books together. he even read muggle poetry to you in the hospital wing when you got sick, which, to nobody's surprise, lead to what seemed like never-ending teasing from barty and evan (who were also james' biggest hypemen aside from the marauders). when you looked back at it a few years later, you realised that it was the moment when your first romantic feelings for him started blooming, though you would have never admitted it at the stubborn and rebellious age of fourteen. you were headstrog, a bit in denial as pandora liked to say, and top of it off, you were hard to please. in between all of that was james, who wasn't subtle about being head over heels for you in the least bit, and who would have done anything to get your attention. a match made in heaven, really.
you loved to tease him about it. he sometimes wondered why he had to be the one to fall in love with you. that's where the worst part of it all came in; feeling insecure, comparing himself to his friends, secretly wishing he was sirius (since all the gryffindor heartthrob had to do to win a girl over was to wink in her direction) and an existential crisis as an extra in the package. you clearly were never interested in him, and he couldn't help but think you never would be. sometimes, all he was doing seemed pointless, but he kept telling himself that one day you'll love him the way he loves you.
when your fifth year rolled around, you thought he would've dropped the act by then. you had matured over the summer, or at least you believed you had, and you assumed he had too. you had what some may call a summer romance with some stupid muggle boy, and to everybody's surprise, you were the one to break his heart after realising that whatever you felt for him wasn't love. a little something was stopping you from loving him and you may or may not have attempted to obliviate yourself in order to forget about james. obviously, you failed. stupid idiot.
the entirety of your holidays, you kept wondering if james had got over you, or if he was more lucky than you when it came vacation romance. you thought about him meeting a girl who actually cared for him and returned his feelings instead of teasing him, a girl that could have made him forget you completely, a girl who he had a happy ending with. you rather hated the mere thought of that. thinking about it caused an unexplainable ache in your heart.
much to your own delight, you were totally wrong.
however, things were not the same as they were the three previous years. you two became almost inseparable. dorcas kept teasing james, calling him a thief, saying he took her best friend from her. he would play along, tease her back, and tell her that he's a better best friend anyway. it made your heart flutter in a disgustingly sweet way.
you hated the way he made you feel. you hated the way you wanted to see him more often instead of avoiding him. you hated the way he smiled at you. you hated the way he tried to make you more comfortable by pointing out that you are indeed just friends. you hated james potter, yet you couldn't get enough of him.
you would never admit it, though, no. he was still that stupid little boy who offered to teach you jinxes, that idiot who chased snape away from you like a proper knight in a shining armour, that tosser who's voice was still cracking when you read together in the tower, that adorable–
"do you fancy going to hogsmeade with me tonight?" james appeared from behind you the moment you exited the classroom after finishing with ancient runes.
"studying, sorry." you shrugged, pulling out a piece of parchment to remind yourself which class you had next. "really? that's more important than me?" he sighed in disappointment, trotting after you as you began making your way over to the transfiguration classroom.
"who said you're important to me?" you smirked and looked over your shoulder. he flipped you off with a playful eyeroll, chuckling at the way you looked so proud of yourself for that comment. "i'll meet you at the portrait at six." you added.
the two of you entered the classroom, laughing over some horrible joke he cracked on the way. you took your usual seat next to dorcas who shot you a funny look the moment you stepped through the door.
"what?" you deadpanned before slamming your book onto the table and flipping through the pages. "care to explain?"
"explain what?" you scrunched your face up at the amused look on her face.
"twat," she slapped your shoulder, "you and potter?" dorcas motioned her head towards him, and you looked his way to find him scribbling something down into sirius' book. he looked up just in time to meet your eyes and sent a smile your way. you grinned back and turned to your friend again.
"what about me and him?" you weren't quite sure where she was getting at with whatever the hell this was. she knew your relationship with james was platonic with a capital p, simple as that. she laughed in your face.
"dorcas! don't be ridiculous, he's only my friend." you leaned back in your seat, profusely blushing and crossing your arms over your chest. everybody knew that you and james were just friends. nothing more.
"i think you better tell him that." lily turned in her seat to face to you. mary, who was sitting next to her, only nodded her head which confirmed that she wasn't on your side either. and neither was marlene who looked rather amused observing you from the table next to yours. of course she wasn't, the fact that she fancied dorcas was more obvious than she thought.
"oh, please. he even calls himself my best friend, you lot are delusional."
"fuck, y/n, you're hopeless." dorcas groaned, exchanging some disappointed glances with the gryffindor girls. she let her head fall down onto the table in frustration. you scoffed, averting your eyes to james and keeping them there for a while.
that was how the rest of your fifth year went; you and james being friendly, him asking you to accompany him on some stupid adventures he often came up with, you playing hard to get, but agreeing to hang out in the end. all of that would usually be followed by dorcas'... and pandora's... and lily's... and pretty much everybody's pointless attempts to talk some sense into your head. you would brush them off, saying he's just a nice bloke who's nobody but just a good pal of yours. you even said it to sirius.
and all of you knew that wasn't true.
***
soon enough, you began your sixth year and james was starting to lose his mind. he was so in love with you, he could barely keep a calm act around you. hiding it became a lot more difficult. he was convinced that you thought he was over you, because why on earth would somebody still be friends with a person who rejected them and showed zero interest in a romantic relationship? he felt miserable. he wanted you by his side, but just friendship wasn't enough to ease the ache in his heart. one thing was for sure, and that was that he had to talk to you.
he needed to let you know that he still loved you, and pour out all of his feelings if it was necessary. he thought that if you rejected him again, he would drop the whole thing and really, truly settle for just being friends, and that is, if you end up wanting anything to do with him. it would be difficult, getting over you. it would hurt, coming to terms with it all would be an absolute nightmare. he would be heartbroken without a doubt, but he believed he could manage it if he tried hard enough. lies.
very conveniently, you and james got into a bit of trouble that day. that was a well-known concept to you both. neither of you completed your major muggle studies essay on time, hell, you hadn't even started with yours, so you decided to do the only rational thing. which was to ditch the class.
it was nerve-wracking, sneaking through the corridors and trying to avoid getting caught by mrs. norris, or filch, maybe even by a professor, but you managed to make it to the grand staircase. you thought you were going to succeed, you were so close, but surprise, surprise - you were caught by bloody dumbledore himself. instead of cooperating, you tried to make a run for it and hide in a broomstick closet, just in time for filch to catch you.
task failed successfully.
you weren't sure how you managed to dodge getting forbidden from going to hogsmeade or even leaving the school premise, as that was the punishment you both expected to get for running away from the headmaster, but you were more than grateful that the man settled for simply giving you detention.
"do you fancy going for a walk by the lake tonight?" you questioned when you finished cleaning the floor of the potions classroom after your poor attempt at skipping muggle studies.
"what?" james mumbled incoherently, bending over to pick up some crumpled up parchment under one of the seats.
"that was a yes or no question." you crossed your arms. you weren't sure where you were getting all of the confidence from, but you settled for blaming in on james and his self-assuring personality which had quite the influence on you, even though you willingly began spending a little too much time with him. you cursed mentally.
"wait, huh?" he stopped what he was doing, looking rather confused.
"was i not clear enough?" you rolled your eyes in a teasing manner.
"you're asking me to hang out?" his entire face lit up, a hopeful smile found its way to his lips. "yeah, silly, that's what friends do," you scoffed, though you were slightly crumbling on the inside, "so don't you dare treat it as a date." you quickly added, fixing your stance and straighteing your back to come off more relaxed. regardless of your shitty attempt at trying to pretend you were disinterested in him, james looked like he just won the lottery.
"of course." he scrambled to clean up the rest of the mess under the seats as fast as possible. he could not believe you. it truly seemed like he the odds were in his favour that day. just when he was planning on giving up and destroying everything, that simple question restored all the hope he had lost. that was the first time you asked him to hang out. it was usually him initiating everything. you quietly giggled at his overjoyed reaction, and a strange feeling washed over you. you ignored it, all of it, and settled for avoiding his gaze as much as you could for the last thirty minutes of detention.
eight o'clock rolled around so fast you could barely keep track of it. you were in a state of disarray - nervous, panicking and desperately trying to come up with some excuse you haven't used to brush james off before just so that you didn't have to show up. but that would be stupid, wouldn't it? you were the one who wanted to hang out. dorcas, evan, barty, regulus and even pandora were laughing at you, showing no signs of wanting to help you and refusing to give you any form of emotional support whatsoever.
"what great friends you are." you remarked sarcastically, pulling the first jumper you saw in your trunk over your head.
"isn't that his?" barty smirked devilishly, scanning the clothing item with his eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows, looking down just to see that the gryffindor jumper you put on did not in fact belong to you. your eyes went wide. all five of your friends convulsed with laughter when you scrambled to take it off. evan fell off of dorcas' bed right onto the hard floorboards.
"i don't know how it got here, but i swear it's not what you think!" regulus was clutching his stomach after joining evan on the floor, and you threw the jumper right in his face. pandora wiped some tears away with the sleeve of her shirt and then quietly chuckled again as she was trying to stop any more tears from coming.
"i will strangle you all, i'm not joking." you lifted your hands up in frustration, stomping back to your trunk and this time taking a shirt you were sure was yours.
"oh, c'mon, we're only teasing you," dorcas stood up, walking over to where you were and hugging you from behind, "i'm sure the laundry got mixed up." barty trailed off, and you could see him holding back a grin.
"right, but," dorcas pulled away from you and began walking backwards towards the door, "it would be quite romantic if you kept it after a nice shag, wouldn't it?"
"dorcas!" you screeched, and she was out of your reach before you even made it halfway towards the door. your friends burst into giggles again, or what was left of them, as evan and regulus were half-dead. you were a blushing mess, and you left your room resembling an angry child who was moments away from throwing a tantrum, but not without james' quidditch jumper in your hands.
you didn't notice the strange looks you were given by the students you passed by in the dungeons. you looked furious, with your jaw clenched and your face beet red, all while holding onto something which belonged to a certain dark-haired gryffindor. your thoughts did not seem to go in that direction even once. you could think of nothing but james.
the mere thought of him made you feel strange. it was a feeling that wasn't too familiar to you, but you had quite clear of an idea of what it could be and it was devouring you. simply looking at him made you feel giddy. his smile would make your heart jump. the light brush of his shoulder against yours would make you shiver. you were in love. but boy were you stubborn.
"who hurt you?" you stopped in your tracks when you heard james' voice come from behind you. you met his warm gaze. there it was, that flutter in your heart again. you blamed his smile for it. you almost cringed at yourself, you were so preoccupied by thinking of him that you failed to acknowledge his actual presence.
was he always that attractive? his eyes are so pretty. how's his skin that perfect? god, his lips look-
your swallowed harshly, feeling heat rush to your cheeks and the handsome boy standing in front of you gave you a questioning look. you cleared your throat before handing him his jumper.
"i found this in my trunk." you looked down in embarrassment, crossing your arms and fiddling with a loose thread on the sleeve of your shirt.
"oh!" he took it from your hands, his jaw fell slack, "how did that - there must've been mix up with the laundry."
"probably." you replied dryly, avoiding his gaze. "won't you be cold?" he questioned when he noticed how light the shirt you had on looked. the sleeves reached your elbows, the material was almost see through and certainly not suitable for chilly autumn weather.
"i'll manage." you shrugged lazily, looking down at the floor. those old tiles seemed rather amusing all of a sudden.
"put it on." you lifted your head. you looked at the clothing item, then at james. you sighed and reached for the soft material. "thanks," you mumbled under your breath, holding the jumper close to your chest in a tightening grip, "should we go now? or are we just gonna stand here like idiots?" you put on a smile, hoping it would look convincing enough and hide the embarrassing fact that you were nervous. really nervous. first date nervous. you may have had to remind yourself that that little hangout of yours was supposed to platonic. friendly. not romantic. definitely not a date with that boy who's life goal was to win you over because he was desperately in love with you. and he fucking succeeded.
you lost track of time. neither of you knew how many hours had passed or how long you'd been sitting at the shore, lost in conversations about something that may seem so irrelevant to the ears of others, but so important to the two of you. you found comfort in being able to open up to james. it was different than talking to dorcas, or evan, or any of your other friends. it warmed your heart, and in a strange way, it felt like home.
you only realised how late it had gotten when the sky above you turned dark and became covered with stars. finishing that date off with stargazing would have been a delight, but rain decided to make an unexpected visit and ruined your good plans.
you retreated inside together through one of the passageways james and the other three marauders managed to discover, tippy toeing your way through the corridors in attempt to go unseen and unheard. you successfully made it through the portrait hole without alerting a prefect, and you stepped through the door of james' room, sighing in relief. james could finally release the breath he was holding all the way down from the lake. that was one of the rare times he didn't fail at sneaking around without his cloak. you celebrated a tad bit too soon, though - the high pitched voice of a seventh year girl who was supposed to keep the peace at night came from behind you, and you froze in your spot. james gulped, making eye contact with you before turning to face her.
"potter, what on earth are you doing outside at this hour?" james laughed uncomfortably, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he tried to come up with an excuse, "i was uh," he let out a cough, making the prefect eye him suspiciously, "i was using the bathroom."
"why aren't you wearing your pyjamas?"
"i was busy doing, uhm, something else, y'know, forgot to change and stuff."
"and what is that thing that you were doing, exactly?"
"i don't really think you'd wanna know." he grinned in misery, and you had to slap your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from making any sounds. the girl's eyes widened as she realised what the younger meant. she turned beet red and massaged her temples in frustration.
"merlin's beard, oh, fuck– shit! get out of my sight, we'll pretend this never happened. shoo, leave."
"sorry." he gave her one last awkward smile before sliding into his room, slamming the door shut and leaning against it. "remind me not to do that ever again."
"why not? that was pretty hilarious." you snickered at his demeanor - the boy's cheeks were flushed red from embarrassment.
"that poor girl probably thinks i was wanking in there." he groaned, waddled away from the door and slumped down onto his bed. the springs in the mattress squeaked from the impact. "if i don't get kicked out this year, then i must be a walking felix fucking felicis." he continued rambling as he began digging through the mess under his bed.
"where are your friends?" you looked around the room curiously. the other marauders were nowhere to be seen. "they're sleeping in the girls dormitory tonight."
you hummed as you took a seat on the floor beside him and eyed some of the items he had scattered around. a couple of chocolate frogs, some crumpled pieces of parchment and quills, a few records, and an empty bag of whatever the hell he got at zonko's next to a small stack of books. "so, what do we do now?" you looked his way, and he shrugged as he ducked under his bed, with only his legs peeking out. the action drew a snort from you. he dusted himself off as he dove back from under the bed.
"can you help me out?" he scratched the back of his head.
"what are we looking for here, exactly?" you questioned as you peeked underneath. "no clue. i'm trying to find something fun we can do."
"have you still got that book about jinxes?" james blinked in surprise. "with the ones i offered to teach you, what, like four years ago?" he gave you an amused smile.
"yeah, figured i should make up for breaking your heart or whatever." and definitely not because you realised that it was a perfect date idea. definitely not.
"i might, if sirius hasn't snatched it." he shrugged and then you both started digging through the dark and dusty mess of books, boxes and smelly socks.
"is this," your hand grabbed onto something which felt like a glass bottle, "muggle alcohol?!" you laughed at the way james' face went pale.
"i swear that's not mine!" he immediately defended himself, reaching for the bottle desperately.
"no need to lie, potter, i've a fair share of that stashed under my bed as well."
by two in the morning, both of you were absolutely pissed, but had no intention of stopping until the bottle was completely empty. so much for the jinxes.
"have you ever shagged somebody?" it was strange. the alcohol seemed to have effects similar to what was known as the veritaserum. so apart from the constant laughing fits it gave you, it made you both feel rather confident. so confident you kept spilling out truths and secrets not even your friends knew. and, well, it made you flirty. especially yourself. just a few hours ago, you were freaked out by the mere thought of getting involved romantically with the boy in front of you, but now you were shamelessly asking each other questions about your love lives. not to mention that you managed to lose your clothes in the process. james was shirtless, and you lost your trousers.
"how dare you ask me such a question?" james gasped dramatically, drawing a snort from you, "i reckon your body count is higher than mine."
"are you calling me a slut, potter?" you asked in amusement, he shrugged lazily with a smirk on his lips, "no, i'm calling you more attractive than myself."
"why thank you, my dear friend," you smiled, feeling another surge of confidence shoot through you after receiving the drunken compliment. friend. that word suddenly sounded strange.
"i haven't." james finally spoke after a few moments of silence. that little soberity you had left was what held you back from smiling.
"me neither." james bit his tongue. he felt like he could breathe normally, at last. you were relieved, and so was he.
"virgins." he let himself fall back onto the floor. you scoffed, snatching the bottle out of his hand.
by the time the sun had started to rise, you were fast asleep - james sitting down with his back up against the wall, and you on the floor with his jumper posing as your pillow. james was lucky that lily and the girls agreed to take in his three idiot friends that night because he would have had to deal with endless teasing if they had been present.
the sound of a loud knock on the door shook you both awake, and your head was met with the bottom of sirius' bed when you tried to sit up. you groaned out in pain, letting your head fall down onto the red jumper that smelled of that specific vanilla-scented bodywash only james used. you hated how you loved it.
"potter!" dorcas' voice pierced through the door from the other side, and the boy groggily sat up, making his way over to the door. the hangover headache was unbearable, but it was something he could have expected as an aftermath of last night's turn of events. the whiskey bottle lied empty on the floor. he wasn't sure how either of you managed it, but he woke up to a clean floor, and no stomach-turning stench of vomit.
"you knocked?" he leaned against the doorframe, his vision a bit blurry as he barely had time to think or grab his glasses after being woken up so suddenly.
"have you by any chance seen y/n?"
he wordlessly opened the door wider, and a very exhausted, hungover looking creature came into dorcas' view.
"what's this?" dorcas smirked, resting her hands on her hips.
"uh, a friendly hangout? what else? wait, where are my trousers?" you murmured, not quite sure of what you were stating as your brain hadn't woken up properly just yet. the piercingly painful headache was not helping.
"friendly, huh?" she eyed you both with a hint of mischief in her eyes. "yes, friendly." james confirmed.
dorcas sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her pointer finger and thumb. she felt a migrane incoming. you tiredly stood up from the cold floor, feeling a wave of pain shoot through your back from lying on such a hard surface. "goddammit, remind me to sleep on the bed next time." you winced, stretching in attempt to soothe the pain.
dorcas left, with marlene trailing along with her (to nobody's surprise), after you and james decided to head down to the kitchen to ask the house elves for some leftovers from breakfast since you missed it. you were lucky that the elves loved you both, and you were given a few pieces of toast as well as some strawberry jam.
you sat in the gryffindor common room, quietly chatting with james. mary and remus joined you and they took their seats in the chairs in the corner of the room, along with sirius who claimed that sitting in between remus' legs was more comfortable than any armchair. you and james, however, were squashed together on the sofa. you recieved several questioning looks from other students. not necessarily because you were a slytherin in the gryffindor common room, but because you sat so close to one another. you were practically sitting in his lap. someone unaware of the status of your relationship would have assumed you were dating. james' friends noticed too, but decided not to say anything, though they couldn't hide those proud smiles that found their ways to their lips.
***
you could not stop thinking about that night for days. and you did everything you could to forget about it. you drowned yourself in school work just to wipe the thought of it out of your mind. hell, you did extra credit. you even bullied pandora into being a model for your paintings for two weeks straight, and went as far as to make yourself accompany barty on his daily adventures where he was essentially begging for detention. but nothing was helping. that was the best date of your life. not like you had many to chose from, but it was the best. shit.
"oh, for fuck's sake! it was not a date! shut up!" you said to yourself, or to be more specific, your malfunctioning brain. you were speed-walking through the corridors, your breath uneven and cheeks red.
you came back from the gryffindor dormitories to the dungeons after another friendly hangout with james. all those things you did to forget about the first one ended up seeming rather pointless. much to your dismay, you realised you can't go too long without seeing him, as it turned out. the boy successfully found his way into your heart after all those years. and you didn't even know why. well, him being james potter should be enough of an explanation. you were visibly flushed. dorcas raised both of her eyebrows once she saw you and then fell back into her pillow, shaking with laughter.
"oh merlin, you are so red." she pointed at your face, giggling uncontrollably.
"great observation skills, meadowes." you responded sarcastically, pulling james' jumper over your head and tossing it onto your bed. yes, you forgot (read: didn't want) to return it, and no, he didn't mind because he wanted you to have it.
"where's everyone?" you quickly changed the subject. you were not ready to talk about whatever the hell your relationship with james was at that moment. you were pretty sure you wouldn't ever be ready to talk about it.
"well, regulus is probably throwing snape into the lake. again. barty and evan are surely snogging somewhere and i think pandora went for a poo, but i'm not sure." dorcas shrugged. her eyes didn't leave you, which obviously meant she was curious about what happened while you were gone. of course she was, she was one of your best friends after all. one of them, just like james. she may have got strange thrills from teasing you, but she cared about you and she made sure you knew that. so did the rest of your friends, even though they were all out and about in that given moment.
you sighed, covering your face with your hands. you felt guilty - not because you were in love with james, hell no, but because it took you so long to admit it to yourself. you never once thought of his feelings or what you've been putting him through for all those years. the first time you felt a bit different while he was by your side, you chalked it up to some weird feelings of admiration and tried to forget about it. but then it just kept happening, and you couldn't simply brush it off and pretend it's nothing. you weren't even sure why you kept lying to yourself; maybe it was because you were so set on the two of you being just friends, maybe it was because you got so used to his presence and his embarassingly obvious eagerness that you couldn't imagine living your life without all of that in it.
tears welled up in your eyes, and you bit the inside of your cheek to prevent any sounds from escaping. dorcas was not as oblivious as you thought she might be. she could immediately tell something was wrong and she rushed over to your side, wrapping her arms around you until you were comfortable enough to speak.
"dorcas, i'm in love with him," you cried, clutching her shirt as she held you close to her chest. "i know, darling." she sighed.
"i'm such a bloody idiot."
"i would usually say that's not true, but i don't really think i'd be doing either of us a favour if i denied it." that drew a laugh from you, but you quickly returned to your messy state. dorcas kept rubbing comforting circles into your back until your shoulders stopped shaking and you were able to speak properly without breaking out into tears again.
"am i an awful person?" you quiered, staring into what seemed like a void to you. you looked lifeless, and dorcas sighed, putting her hand on your knee.
"y/n, we both know you aren't. and james knows that too."
"but what if i am? dorcas, i hurt him. i treated him like a puppet and i never took his feelings seriously."
"well, i can't argue that," she bit the inside of her cheek, "but you know, you couldn't have exactly done much about it. you can't just force yourself to love somebody. and some people take a while to come to terms with their feelings, and that's okay, so don't you dare blame yourself for that. he's still in love with you, anyway."
"i could have just not befriended him." you picked at your nails as you spoke.
"that wouldn't have helped him much, would it?"
"it wouldn't make him feel as miserable."
"maybe, but you'd break his heart either way and the poor bloke would probably still feel the same. look, he was annoying as shit, and you may have been a bit, well–"
"evil?" you interrupted. she covered your mouth with her hand. you blinked in surprise and she laughed at you.
"alright, yeah, but y/n, don't you think you could fix that now? you know, do something about it at last?"
"don't make me make you, 'cause you might be the next person to get dunked into the lake. i'm feeling particularly ruthless today." regulus suddenly appeared at the door, leaning against it with his arms crossed.
"how long have you been standing there?" you spoke once dorcas retrieved her hand.
"just got here, actually."
"as i was saying," dorcas raised her voice and then put a finger over her mouth to motion for regulus to shut up. he raised his hands up in defeat, "do what you need to do."
"you know what's tomorrow though, right?" regulus interrupted once again. you and dorcas exchanged confused glances, but her face shifted into something that seemed more amused than questioning.
***
"oi, potter!" you pushed open the door of the great hall. the laughter around james faded away and everybody's focus was now shifted to you standing at the entrance, but you were looking for one person's eyes in particular.
it didn't take you very long to find them. james' surprised gaze met your rather nervous one, and you made your way towards the gryffindor table, just like he skipped over to the slytherin one four years ago.
you slid into the empty spot next to him and smiled while you were waiting for him to say something. just like last time, you failed to notice the way all of the students around you chuckled as they watched the show unfold. all because of you and james, yet again.
"hello." he sat up straight, holding back a smile that wanted to make its way to his lips.
despite being friends for all those years, you never once had the chance to sit next to each other at lunch, other than that one particular day in your second year. so he took the sudden change in your behaviour as a good sign, especially after the events of the previous night, and the night at the lake.
"can i ask you something?" you leaned forward on the table with your hand supporting your chin. james furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and then his mouth fell open in surprise. he laughed breathlessly, shaking his head at your teasing smile.
"go ahead." he shrugged. his eyes haven't left you since you entered the great hall. it was not making your job easier, but you weren't gonna let that pretty face of his stop you from doing what you came to do.
"wanna be my boyfriend?" you smiled stupidly and it was followed by hollering and wooing from all of the students at the table, including his friends, and your own from behind you, "okay, now sn–" barty was shut up by evan's hand clamping over his mouth before he could finish that. pandora was violently blowing her nose into a tissue already. regulus seemed unphased, even though he wasn't. and dorcas looked like she finally discovered the true meaning of inner peace.
james did a double-take, and then grinned like an absolute idiot. you were furiously tapping your foot against the tiles, but froze when he cupped your cheek with his hand.
"can i kiss you?" you nodded, biting your lip to hold back the squeal that was threatening to escape. james was glowing. he grinned, launching himself forward. his lips finally met yours. your hand instinctively found its way to the back of his neck, pushing him further against you. his lips were so soft, and he kissed you like you were the most precious thing in the world. you could feel each other smiling into the kiss, and you broke apart giggling like two fools.
"is that a yes?" you quiered, just in case.
"oh god, yes." then he kissed you again, only to be pulled back by sirius who had just about enough of the pair of you, "some of us are trying to eat, thank you very much."
"sod off." james smacked the back of his head. he could not care less about what anybody else thought at that moment. sirius shook his head as he exchanged a knowing glance with his own lover, and neither of the boys could be bothered to hide their smiles.
"i wanted to do that for six years." james leaned his forehead against yours. you quickly pecked his lips again. "don't worry, i'll make it up to you."
IVE BEEN FED THIS EARLY TODAY YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS GODDDDDDD 🤩🤩🤩🤩
Overlock Stitch Part 2/?
Summary:
Viktor is just trying his best to survive his years as a student at the academy when a girl studying textiles suddenly begs him to let her tailor his uniform. She is right, it doesn't fit, but he isn't in the business of accepting charity from strangers. "Please?" She asks, "It would be fully anonymous on your part and we would both be better off." Then again, but with feeling, "please?" Viktor eyes her again and against his better judgement, presents an undeserved olive branch, "Will you be here tomorrow?" Her smile is so wide it almost makes him want to recoil. He wonders if her cheeks hurt.
Contains: Third person POV, She/Her Pronouns for reader
Word Count: 5,311
Read on AO3
She manages to shove her embarrassment down long enough to get the photos taken, organising them into a neat stack and then leaving them on her worktable for later. Viktor has gone back to not talking very much at all, wordlessly adjusting his stance for her photos but otherwise just peering down at her quietly. His eyes are coolly intelligent and piercing, she has to avoid making eye contact or she completely looses her focus.
Her hands shake when she picks up her pins, sticking a few into the pincushion on her wrist for easier access, "I'll start with your shirt, if that's alright."
Viktor nods and continues watching intently as she takes a tentative step forward and reaches for his wrist. She notices his knuckles tighten when her fingers brush against him, but she tries her best to ignore it. The cuffs on his shirt are a touch too long, so she exhales an even breath out through her nose and folds the fabric of his sleeve up under itself so she can raise the cuff and pin along the seam-line.
Her voice shakes, but talking makes her feel less nervous, "It's best to make all the alterations against the existing seam, that way no one can tell you've had any tailoring done at all." she grabs a few more pins from her pincushion and works to adjust the loose fabric around his elbow, "That's why most of my classmates prefer to do design work, because if you're a good tailor, no one will ever notice you."
Viktor hums at that, it's a pleasant sound. Oddly warm.
Since he doesn't seem to mind her talking, she keeps doing it, "The forearm of your shirt fits pretty well, but the upper arm will need some work. Just-" her brow furrows as she pins along the seam all the way up his arm, "Just try to stay still, I haven't um, I haven't had much of a chance to do alterations on a person."
"Ah, I am a test subject, then?"
She isn't sure if that was supposed to be a joke, but it makes her laugh and she lets it, "I suppose so? Most of the other students I've done work for only ask for cosmetic alterations, minor, usually. I've had plenty of practice on mannequins though, so just don't breathe and it'll be fine."
This time Viktor laughs, a gentle chuckle the rises up and out from his chest. Hearing it is like an achievement in and of itself and she can't help the shy smile that tugs at the corners of her lips.
"Hey, no laughing either or you'll get a pin in the ribs."
He exhales an amused breath and then says, "Yes, of course, my apologies."
She moves onto his second arm, feeling much more confident this time. Part of her wants to express just how grateful she is that Viktor even agreed to meeting with her today, but anxiety churning in her gut worries about coming on too strong, too desperate. So she keeps her mouth shut, adjusting his cuff and then pinning up the length of his arm the same as the previous.
"There." She says, quietly admiring her own handiwork, "Much better already. Um, I will need you to hop down from the platform for just a moment, I won't be able to reach your shoulders while you're up there."
As before, Viktor follows her directions quickly and without complaint, she does notice the way he braces his cane on the floor before stepping down and tries her best to avert her eyes when his brows draw together in what is clearly a wince of pain. She resists the urge to apologise again, because she gets the sense he doesn't like when she does that, even though the word sorry escapes her more often than breath does. Like it's perpetually waiting in her lungs.
"Thank you." She says instead, which is marginally better. Viktor just nods in response.
Her heart jumps a little when she steps towards him again, assessing his waistcoat first. It's too long, and loose around his chest. It will need quite a bit of work, and presuming the shirt underneath is the same size, it will need just about the same amount. She hums, eyeing the upward jut of his left shoulder, debating if she can account for his uneven stance when pinning just to save herself from having to ask any invasive questions. In the end, she decides against it, getting the job done properly will be worth the momentary embarrassment. No matter how much her hands shake at the thought.
"I'll need your shoulders at neutral when I'm pinning, or it will end up wonky." She begins shakily, wringing her hands together. Then, with trepidation she adds, "will you be alright to stand without your cane for a few minutes?"
Viktor tilts his head back and forth, weighing the question before giving her a curt nod.
"Okay!" She says, relieved that he didn't seem at all offended by her question and reaching out to take the cane from him.
The moment her fingers brush against it, Viktor yanks back from her, every muscle in his body tensing, his eyes fiery and jaw set in a challenging line. The inhale and exhale of his breath is sharp, a furious punch of his chest and the grip he has on the cane turns his knuckles white.
She has no idea how to break the thick and painful silence, her hand still half raised in the air because she is worried that even lowering it back to her side might seem like a threat. Her mouth opens and closes, as she tries to figure out what she has done wrong, what to say or do to fix this. The arch of his brow is dangerous, threatening, but with her eyes locked to his in a frozen panic, she can't help but notice how pretty their colour is. Even if the intensity of his gaze makes her nearly want to turn and run from the room.
"Never take it from me." He hisses between gritted teeth, "You Pilties think that you can just take whatever you want whenever you want, but you cannot ever take this from me, do you understand? Never."
Her heart thumps wildly in her chest and she suddenly remembers yesterday when he asked if she thought he was dangerous. He is all sharp angles, looming over her with a posture that screams violence. But he doesn't move, he just keeps on staring at her and maybe because she takes the time to look, she thinks that she sees something like fear hiding behind his eyes.
She takes a deep breath and tries to keep her voice even when she says, "I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry."
He doesn't offer false platitudes, doesn't tell her that it's fine, or that she doesn't need to apologise. Doesn't insinuate that there will be no harm done so long as she offers him a favour in return for his silence, instead he bites a quick, "Do not do that again." and it's equal parts refreshing and terrifying.
"Yes, I won't. I'm sorry"
The tension leaves his shoulders a little, but she can tell he is still wound tight, "Go get the stool." He says quickly, inclining his head towards the tall stool by Eliza's project. She does as asked, bringing it over and placing it next to him. He leans the cane against it, well within arm's reach. It's only now, when the intensity in the room has begun to dissipate, that she realises exactly what she did when she snatched his cane from him. It's not just an object, it is his mobility and she had just tried to take it away without permission.
She picks at her cuticles, once again getting the sense that a plethora of apologies will not have the desired effect, not matter how desperately she wants to let them loose. Instead she takes a deep breath in through her nose and endeavours to prove that she is at least capable of not making the same mistake twice, "Is it alright if I get back to doing the alterations?" she asks quietly, adding on a quick, "You can leave if you want, I'd understand if you did."
"No. I'd rather you finish what you started." Viktor answers, short sharp and polite enough but no politer.
Relief rushes through her, not an irreparable mistake, then. She's so glad. Even though she offered for him to leave, she has no idea what she would have done if he had. So she doesn't bother wasting time on hypotheticals, instead she clamps a couple of pins between her teeth and positions herself on top of the platform behind Viktor to get a better look at his waistcoat, "Stay still, just like before." she slurs around the pins in her mouth, quickly working to adjust the seams across the width of his shoulders. He needs a good inch removed before the hemline sits at the appropriate spot on his hips and she is quick to pin both sides evenly.
"Much better." She says quietly to herself, "Would you mind taking your waistcoat off now? Then I can pin your shirt and you'll be free to stand with your cane again."
He doesn't reply, just starts carefully removing the garment, being sure not to poke himself with any of the pins on the sleeves of his shirt. When removed, Viktor hangs the waistcoat on the same stool where his cane is resting and then returns to standing straight.
"You're okay to keep standing a little longer, right?" She ventures cautiously, "You aren't in any pain?"
Viktor scoffs, "I am always in some degree of pain." one of his hands waves through the air in a vague gesture, "Though if it ever becomes noteworthy, I will be sure to inform you."
A hot lick of shame travels up the length of her spine and she can't help wondering why she had even asked such a stupid question. Her mouth begins to form the shape the word sorry-
"I would prefer you did not apologise." Viktor says before she gets the chance, "If you were to apologise for all the things wrong with me we would be here all day."
"Oh." Is all she is able to say. She doesn't much like his assertion that there is something wrong with him, multiple somethings, even, but she can't even begin to formulate a sentence that could properly convey that without making things worse somehow. So she doesn't bother trying, "I won't then."
Viktor nods once, "Good."
She wordlessly begins pinning the excess fabric on his shirt. His shoulders are quite broad, at least proportionally, it's honestly a shame that he has been walking around in such an ill-fitting uniform for so long. She tries not to think about it too much, but even now she can tell that he will look quite captivating in properly tailored garments.
It's only when she steps back down from the platform and returns to his front that she realises how much of a relief it was standing behind him. Viktor's eyes unsettle her with their summer-gold brilliance. His gaze is so sharp and intelligent that it feels like her insides are being slowly unspooled anytime she gains enough confidence to meet it.
"Okay, your shoulders are all done." She says quietly.
Viktor quickly grabs his cane again, settling into what is clearly a more comfortable stance. She doesn't talk much when she works on pinning the sides of his shirt, only once to ask him to put his waistcoat back on so she can pin that too. Then twice to make sure he stays still while she pins up the side of his ribcage. As close as she is standing, she can hear the rasp of his breath in his chest, the way it shudders out from him on each exhale. She really isn't used to tailoring clothes for strangers, her hands shake from the proximity and her heart thunders in her chest when she accidentally brushes her knuckles against the side of his waist.
"Sorry." She mutters before she can stop it.
Viktor sounds tired when he replies, "Please just be careful."
"O-Of course, sorry"
"And stop apologising."
She flinches, "Yes, sorry-"
Viktor says her name, it's the first time he has done it, she half thought he may have forgotten what it was. She pauses in the middle of adjusting his waistline, peering up at him. They are very close to each-other, so close that she can see how well bitten his lips are, notice the length of his eyelashes.
"You are like a frightened little mouse, has anyone ever told you that before?" He asks.
She feels her cheeks flushing, "Y-Yes, though never so kindly."
Viktor hums, she is close enough that she hears the sound rumble through his chest, "Are you nearly finished?"
"Oh! Yes! Nearly!" She quickly returns her hands to task, "Just a pin or two on this side and then I can move onto your trousers."
The quiet returns like a blanket, the silence awkward and heavy. She feels the urge to break it, to talk aloud to herself just to fill the void with something. She doesn't instead she just chews on her lower lip as she finishes adjusting the seams under Viktor's left arm.
"Done?" He asks.
She nods, "Yes, thank you. Would you mind hopping back up onto the platform? Just so I don't have to lay down on the floor to get at your ankles."
Mercifully, that makes Viktor smile, just a little. It's barely a tug at the corners of his mouth, but she drinks it down anyway. He doesn't offer a response, though, just returns to his spot on the platform and watches her intently as she grabs a few more pins and sticks them into her pincushion.
"Your trousers do seem especially loose." Now that his waistcoat sits at the right spot she can see his belt tugged tightly around his hips to keep them from falling down, "Could you take your belt off? I'll start there."
Viktor seems apprehensive at first, but then does as asked. He lays the belt over the seat of the stool he was resting his cane against before. Without the belt, the waistband of the trousers gape almost wide open, many many inches of extra fabric. She tries not to think too much about how slim his hips are, swallowing thickly as she begins to adjust the sides and back of the waistband so it will at least stay up.
Nervously, she starts talking, "Um, technically, the uniform trousers should be worn with braces, not a belt. We should have a couple laying around in the back of the workshop, we have a lot of abandoned accessories." She sucks in a breath as she pins the right side of his trousers tight, the base of her palm brushing against his protruding hipbone, "They probably won't be the right colour, but so long as you don't take off your waistcoat no one will notice."
Viktor scoffs, lifting his right arm to give her more space at his hip, "And what would I owe you?"
She peers up at him, he has his head turned away from her, his jaw tight, "Nothing! I promise! People just leave them behind and don't come back for them, we even have a couple from the theatre department that they don't need anymore." she exhales an uneven breath and starts working to adjust the seams down the side of his thigh, "And I suppose if someone does notice, I can just tell them I lost it, it wouldn't be a big deal."
Viktor doesn't respond for a long time, she makes it all the way down to his knee before he does, "I suppose I will take them, then."
She lets out a relieved sigh, "That's good. I'm glad."
He stays quiet again while she pins down the rest of his leg. She does note that he favours the left one, so she is very careful when manipulating the fabric on his right. He shifts uncomfortably once or twice, but doesn't tell her to stop and he did promise to tell her if his pain was noteworthy, so all she can do is take him at his word and assume that he is fine. When she is at his ankles, she quickly grabs her low stool and places it at the edge of the platform to make the last few pins a bit easier.
She eyes the tight fabric at his calves, now that the seams have been adjusted, chewing on her lower lip when she realises that an idea has struck and there is no way to tell if it is a good one or a bad one. Inserting the last pin at the cuff on his right leg, she inhales a deep breath and forces herself to remember why she is here.
"Do you have trouble getting your trousers on and off?" She blurts before she can regret it.
Viktor glares down at her, "Excuse me?"
She panics, "The ankles of your trousers will be much tighter when I finish the alterations, if you already struggle to get them on and off, it will be far more difficult now and- and I think I have something I can do to help. If that's okay?"
"I agreed to let you tailor my uniform." Viktor says firmly, "Nothing more."
Her pulse rushes, the words just keep coming, "I just want to help, I promise! My father lost an arm in a skirmish seven years ago and I started modifying his clothing for him, first just for appearances and then eventually for convenience, to make it easier for him to undress on his own." She explains, hoping that her reasoning will make more sense to him now, that he will understand that she isn't trying to mock him or pity him.
Viktor scowls, and it is not the reaction she was expecting, "A skirmish." He bites, his posture suddenly looming and sharp all over again, "Your father must be an enforcer, then."
She can hear the sound of her own heart beating in her ears, her throat turns dry as she peers up at him from the floor, trying to meet the roiling gold fury in his eyes. A familiar lie dances on the tip of her tongue, years of practice make it difficult to ignore, but because he isn't from here, because he doesn't offer candy-coated lies, maybe just because he is Viktor, she finds herself for once telling the truth.
"A skirmish with an enforcer." She corrects, and the words feel clunky and uncomfortable in her mouth.
For a beat they just stare at each other, Viktor eyes are suddenly wide and vulnerable, darting frantically across her face as if something in her appearance will make it all make sense. Her hands tremble where they are still gripping the fabric of his trousers and she can almost hear the echo of her heartbeat reverberating through the room. It's a weight off her shoulders, to have told someone, after years of lying and pretending. She isn't sure Viktor understands the significance of it, but she hopes he does.
Viktor's mouth opens and closes a few times, struggling to find his words. Eventually, he says, "Your father, he's…" the words from the undercity go unsaid, but the weight of them still hangs oppressive in there air, she feels like she might choke on them.
"Yes." She answers, averting her eyes, "Y-You can't tell anyone, you know what the people here are like, they'll eat me alive and I'm not-" not brave like you are, she thinks, but that feels far too bold, far too personal, "I just want to finish my studies in peace." Is what she says instead.
~~~
Peering down at her now, Viktor realises that everything begins to make sense. The way she cowers like a mouse as if the world itself is a cat out to get her, the way she desperately tries and fails to fit in, the fact that she dared to speak to him at all, even if it looks like she is preparing to bolt every time she does it.
"Have you even been to Zaun?" He asks, though it is more of a test than a question.
Her brow creases and he expects her to answer what's Zaun? but instead she just says, "No, at least not since I've been old enough to remember."
It was an easy test, but even still, Viktor hadn't really expected her to pass it, "We are not similar at all then, are we?"
She looks thoughtful, for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, "Not in present company, no." she inclines her head to the door, "Out there though, we might as well be neighbours. The line they draw it's-"
"Definitive." He finishes for her, "You are either on one side or the other, Pilties are not big fans of grey area. At least, not when it comes to Zaun."
The expression she offers him next is half a smile, half a wince, "Yeah, they aren't"
Viktor isn't sure how he is supposed to feel about her, part of him rushes upward from somewhere deep in his stomach, desperate to fall to his knees and plead for her to show him something, anything that reminds him of home, to let her shaking hands sink into his chest and hold his heart tightly between them. The other part, the intelligent part, the part he actually has control over, begs him to not break his composure. She isn't like him, not really. Her breath is even and clear, her lungs expand and recede in great, nervous gulps that his own would stutter and rattle the whole way through. Aside from her nervous disposition, unkempt hair and overall mousy appearance, there is nothing that truly others her from the other topsiders. That makes the third part of him, the loudest part, want to bare his teeth, to grab her by the throat and shake her for daring to share his heritage but nothing else, for having working lungs and working legs, for having anything to hide behind.
"Viktor?" She whispers quietly, her brows pinched together in what he can only interpret in concern.
He makes a choice then, a middle ground. Gripping tightly to the handle of his cane, he asks, "What kind of, help were you offering, exactly?"
She brightens just a little, he really only notices it in her eyes, the way they shine.
"I can alter the inseam of your trousers for you, so that you can undo them at the ankle." She jumps from her stool and moves quickly over to her worktable, digging quickly through an open sewing kit, "I have snap fasteners, they're easier to undo than buttons and I can very easily hide them in your inseam, no one would ever see them, but it should make things easier for you."
She steps back over to him, slowly and holds out a small metal tin. Inside Viktor can see a collection of small rings, various pieces that must combine together to make the fastener.
"Show me." Viktor finds himself responding, pushing the tin back towards her, "Where would they go?"
She blinks at him again, a nervous little smile tugging at her lips that makes him feel slightly better, "Y-Yes! Of course!" She crouches down and reaches out with a finger, running it gently up the inside of his right leg, stopping halfway up his calf. His skin prickles at the sensation, even through the fabric of his trousers, "So it would be from the cuff up to here, I'll loosen the seam on the outside of the leg to offer more space on the inside, unpick the inseam and add a series of snap fasteners the whole way up. They just snap shut, and all you should need to do to undo them is tug on either side of the fabric." She grabs the inside of his trousers, tugging quickly twice, "Just like that."
Even loose as they are, it has been a struggle to work his leg in and out the ankles of the trousers. Especially now that the weather has turned cold. He shifts his foot slightly, feeling how tight the tailoring will leave the garment and feels a familiar angry ache building in his gut, picturing himself struggling into his own clothes every morning. He peers down at her again, at her wide, expectant eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, with nerves or with something else, her poorly styled hair coming loose from it's up-do and strands of it are hanging loose around her face. Nothing in her expression is mocking, or pitying, if anything she looks hopeful.
"Would it…take much longer?" He asks.
Her smile is back in full force, the one that makes her mouth seem too big for her face, the achingly bright one, "Not at all! Maybe an extra hour at most."
Viktor darts his eyes to the clock on the wall, he would like to get some studying done today, "If I return before sunset, would it be finished?"
"Yes, yes! Absolutely it would." She lets out a laugh that sounds nearly exhilarated, "Thank you so much for trusting me, it means- well, I guess it means everything."
It might just have been so long since he has seen someone so passionate about what they do, but a smile tugs at the corner of Viktor mouth, unbidden, "Now, now. I never agreed, did I?"
Her mouth snaps shut, eyes widening.
He laughs and puts a stop to her fretting before it starts, "Don't worry, I was just teasing, you have my permission."
She laughs now, loudly, inelegantly. It's only halfway through her fit that she catches herself, hiding her mouth behind a hand, "Sorry. Sorry. I'm just so relieved." she takes a deep breath, holding a hand to her chest to calm down, "Thank you again, I mean it."
Viktor shrugs, "Eh, I did not really do anything."
She snorts then and Viktor finds himself enamoured by it, "You let me do some actual alterations for once, it's important to me at least." Then, as if remembering something, her eyebrows jump, "Oh! just a second." She darts back over to the sewing kit and returns with what Viktor recognises as a seam-ripper, "I'll quickly undo the inseam on your trousers now, that way it will be easier for you to take them off before you leave."
She returns to her stool, shuffling forward so she can more easily get her hands between his legs. Viktor turns his head to the side, finding the proximity easier to deal with if he doesn't have to actually look at her. He's already learned that she talks when she is nervous, so he isn't surprised when she starts speaking again, but oddly, he finds he doesn't mind it much at all.
"I started using the snap fasteners for my father, because they are much easier for him to do up and undo with only one arm. My mother used to help him with his clothes, and she didn't mind doing it, but his independence meant a lot to him and I wanted to help."
Curiosity gets the better of him and Viktor asks, "Did he tell you much about the undercity?"
"A lot, actually." He feels her moving to pick some stitches further up his leg, "I think he misses it, but he hasn't had much of a chance to go back. My mother works and I'm studying here, it just, makes it easier if we don't really talk about it."
Viktor feels himself bristle at that, the angry part of him that is always so loud rears its ugly head again, "Do you have no pride in your heritage?" he spits, and only half regrets it.
She laughs bitterly, inclining her head towards the door again, "Not nearly enough to make it worthwhile facing all of them "
Viktor scoffs, "You're a coward, then."
"I know" She replies quietly, "and you aren't."
Viktor is surprised how much he likes that assertion. He has heard from a few misguided, well meaning topsiders how brave he is for being here, but the meaning is different. How brave he must be, they say, to live the way he has for so long, how fucking brave he is to walk around with a limp and a cane, how hard his life must have been.
That is not what she is saying and he knows it. How brave you are, she says, to put up with all this Piltie, obfuscating, bullshit, day after day. How brave you are to not have already ripped their throats out with your teeth, to not have set this entire building on fire. That is what she thinks he is brave for and that feels good.
"All done." She says softly, unpicking the last stitch, "Just, um, just be careful not to tear it, or poke yourself with any of the pins." she gestures to a section of the room closed off by a curtain, "You can change in there and just leave the uniform with me on the way out."
~~~
She watches silently as Viktor walks to the changing room, grabbing his bag on the way and slinging it over his shoulder. Once he is out of sight, she takes a long, deep breath in through her nose and tries to calm her breathing. This could have gone better, but it could also have gone a lot worse. She sighs, peering shyly at the curtain Viktor is changing behind. One day she will be able to give something back, re-open her father's shop, do something that matters something more than frivolities, more than lace and silk.
Quietly, she starts tidying her leftover pins and returning them to her workbench. Then she removes the canvas cover from her sewing machine, it's much fancier than the one she has at home, not as loud as she works the pedal. She had gotten so used to the way her father's old machine would stick, how it would sometimes catch and tangle on loose threads. This newer thing, she keeps waiting for it to bite her, for it to realise she is different the same way her classmates did so quickly.
Her head snaps at the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and the sight of Viktor emerging in something other than his uniform. Whatever he is wearing clearly wasn't purchased in Piltover, it's mostly brown and green, with a few purple touches here and there. More importantly than any of that, other than the trousers being a few inches too short, it fits him perfectly. Her eyes dart to the narrow dip of his waist, the broad stretch of his shoulders. She had been right, he is captivating.
All she can do is watch as he steps back over to her, holding out the neatly folded pile of his uniform, "Just before sunset, yes?" he clarifies.
She swallows, taking the pile from him, "Y-Yes, that's right. I'll be here."
"Alright." Viktor leans down just a little, enough that his eyes meet hers, "Then I will see you later, Myšičko"
Her heart thunders behind her ribs and she clutches his uniform tightly to her chest, watching as he turns on his heel and heads back out the door, desperate to ask what he had just called her, but too shocked to get the words out.
The door clicks shut behind him and she hopes not just to see him later, but to see him again and again and again.
-
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