#my my vi so combative

[violethyacinth]

guess who started watching Star Trek Deep Space Nine 🤪

#it’s me #I think I used to watch some of it with my grandma when I was growing up #but baby this shit premiered when I was one year old #so I have almost no recollection of any of the stories or characters fr #but I wanna give it a try #tbh there’s so much Star Trek that I’m a little intimidated to start #figure DS9 is early enough to be a good start #if I fuck w it well enough I’ll go back and watch some of the older ones and work my way into the newer series too #tbh I’ve been on my jeffrey combs bullshit #and the weyoun fics have made me curious #I like mass effect and doctor who so surely I’ll like this #I’m on season one episode 2 rn #and I fuck with it already #vi speaks #Star Trek #st ds9 #star trek ds9

[emmaspolaroid]

i’ve got headaches and bad luck, but they couldn’t touch you, no

rayvio sketchdump. i will drag you all down with me 💜🖤

#banging my fists on the table EMO KIDS EMO KIDS EMO KIDDDDDDSSSSSS #walk with me. she totally kissed him just to ~get it out of her system~ and it backfired SEVERELY now she has to deal w all these. feelings #bc he would never initiate no matter how much he likes her (which is a fucking lot trust me besties trust me) aidjunskasdjklds #they saw you from across the bar and fucking hate your vibe #they’re so punk rock to meeee oh my god do you get it DO YOU GET IT #gentle reminder that punk is inherently gnc and rayvio is bi4bi to me xoxo ily #this doodle dump was so fun i borrowed some Pinterest poses to break up my brain worms and tried new brushes on all of them hehe #also rereading the manga i think Vi has lighter eyes than what I’ve given her here but i rly like the idea of her having big brown eyes so. #I spent literally so long choosing the perfect FOB lyric (i knew immediately but had to comb through everything just in case) #Nikki draws #the promised neverland #rayvio #Rachel please see this lmao

[yabakuboi]

merman steve pt 2

a continuation of this for @spectrum-spectre, now with some pre-steddie~!

Henderson is skulking around in the cereal aisle when Eddie spots him.

The kid has been a bit of enigma to Eddie since he met him at the beginning of last fall semester. Dustin had a tight group of friends, but often times, he caught the gang of them sans Henderson and the fact seemed to annoy the hell out of them.

"He just goes off on on his own sometimes," Baby Beyers would say.

"He won't tell anyone where or why or with who," Mini Wheeler would snarl.

"And it's definitely not to talk to his girlfriend, because we hear ALL about that," Big Sinclair would sigh, rolling his eyes.

So catching kid creeping around the grocery store minus the rest of his party, after hearing many complains of his mysterious disappearances? Color Eddie intrigued.

"Hendersooon," Eddie sang, wrapping an arm around Dustin's neck to keep him from escaping. "Whatcha doing?"

"Eddie!" he said brightly, grinning at him. "Just buying some snacks. Hey, which cereal do you think a fish can eat?"

Eddie stares at him for a moment, blinking. "Uh..."

Henderson's face scrunches up. "I guess he's not really a fish though, so I'll try whatever." He grabs a box of Honey Combs from the shelf.

"Dude, are you keeping a sea turtle at your house again? You know that's illegal."

"No!" Henderson snaps, flushing. "And I was going to take Dart back after show and tell, I had already promised Steve!"

"Steve?" That was a new name. Eddie hadn't heard Henderson talk about a Steve before, and the guy was kind of a motormouth and a terrible liar. The only time Eddie had seen him actually avoid a topic was when his little disappearing acts were brought up. "Who's Steve?"

Henderson's eyes go comically wide. "No-one! I don't know any Steves!"

Eddie knew at least three Steves, and two were in Henderson's grade. "Uh-huh."

"Anyways," Dustin says, clutching the box of Honey Combs to his chest as he backs down the aisle. "I gotta go man, nice seeing you, bye!"

Bemused, Eddie watches him go. He's planning to give Henderson a five minute head start before he goes to tail him, but apparently, he needn't to have planned a stake out after all. Henderson finds him again, two aisles over, panting and red-faced.

"Actually, can you give me a ride?"

🧜‍♂️

"Eddie," Henderson says, voice even more serious and deadly than the time the party took on Vecna last month during their campaign. "I need you to swear that you will never, ever tell anyone about what I'm going to show you."

Eddie cocks a brow at him. "Is this a drugs thing? Dude, you—"

"No!" Henderson snaps. "This is not a drug thing! This is a very serious life and death thing, and I need you to swear on you life you won't tell anyone about it."

"Dude," Eddie says, a little in awe. He stares out his windshield for a moment where they're still parked just outside of town. He can hear sounds of the ocean just past the ridge, waves crashing on the cliffs. It's a remote little area, opposite of the tourist favored beaches. Eddie, in fact, deals just a few miles down the shoreline from here. "Did you bring me out here to kill me? Are you the world's dorkiest serial killer?"

"Eddie." Eddie turns to look at him. His face is grave, brows furrowed with real worry. "I'm serious."

"Okay... Okay, then."

"You have to swear."

"I swear."

And just like that, Henderson's face breaks into a bright smile. "I knew I could trust you!" he crows, grabbing up his bag from the store and kicking open his door.

Eddie stumbles out of his van after him, listening intently as they pick their way over the rocks.

"He's so cool, Eddie, you're going to love him. He totally saved my life when I was like ten and I got pulled out on a rip tide. Like, I really almost died dude and then he just swims up out of no where and helps me catch my breath. Helps me float there while I'm freaking out too until the life guard finally came out to get me. It was crazy! I come out here all the time to visit him, I think he gets a little lonely. So it's good you're here, I've been trying to think of someone else to introduce him to, but it's hard to figure out who's going to freak out and try to sell him to Sea World, or something."

They crest over the hill to a tiny little cove bitten out of the rocky shore, and carefully begin to make their way back down to the water's edge. Eddie's still not entirely sure Henderson hasn't brought him here to die. Maybe Steve is the serial killer and he uses Henderson as bait.

"Okay, okay," Dustin says, once they reach the water. It's calmer here, the cliffs cutting this spot off from the larger waves. "Are you ready to see the coolest thing EVER?"

"Uh, sure, kid—"

Eddie doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence when he starts yelling.

"STEVE THIS IS EDDIE I BROUGHT HIM TO MEET YOU I PROMISE IT'S SAFE!"

"Jesus Christ," Eddie hisses, covering his ears. The lungs on this kid! "What the fuck dude— WHAT THE FUCK!!"

Because when he looks down, there is a face in the water. Eddie falls back on his ass, uncaring of the water soaking his jeans, and screams when the face in the water rises up out the ocean.

It looks pissed.

"Dustin," it says, glaring at Eddie. Eddie screams again, because it—the guy—the mermaid lifts himself fully onto the rocks, and he doesn't have any legs. Because he has a fucking tail.

A fucking fish tail.

"Steve!" Dustin cheers. "You came out."

"You sure?" the goddamn mermaid asks, finally taking his piercing, alien eyes off of Eddie to look at him. "Sure it safe?"

"Absolutely," Dustin says hastily, crouching beside Eddie to put his hands on his shoulders. "Eddie just screams a lot, I promise you, he's totally safe."

"R-Right," Eddie says, because he does not want to be eaten. Maybe Dustin's been dragging unsuspecting victims here to feed his pet goddamn mermaid instead of a serial killer. "Totally safe, that's me."

Steve, the goddamn fucking mermaid, looks him up and down doubtfully, and it's terrifying having those eyes on him, unnaturally yellow surrounded by black. His face is distressingly human, nose and mouth and ears with a mop of dark hair on his head. He has these bright shimmering scales across his cheekbones that dot down his jaw and neck, iridescent and glimmering in the afternoon sun. Eddie can't bring himself to look down further, scared and enraptured all at once.

Steve is terrifying and beautiful to look at.

"Fine," says Steve and pushes himself gracefully back into the water, disappearing into the dark depths.

"What the fuck," Eddie breathes. He looks up at Dustin with wide eyes. "Dude, what the fuck."

Dustin just grins down at him. "Isn't he the coolest?!"

#stranger things #steddie #ficlet fill #that's quickly turning into a fic that's fun #I WANTED YOU TO HAVE MORE HERE'S MORE MWAH #my steddies

[latenightdaydreams]

Perhaps you have plans for things, but can you please write part 2 of Viking! Konig? I'm so curious how would reader get used to her new life and her new husband

Husband upgrade🤭

Viking!König x Reader Part 2 (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, p in v, breastmilk

2.1k word count

.

.

Two middle life blonde women gently help you out of the tub they were bathing you in. Small drops of water fall to the wooden ground beneath you. They speak in a soft tone, but in a language you cannot understand. They’re telling you how beautiful you are and how lucky you are to be König’s queen.

You’re seated in a wooden chair, drying off from the bath. One woman stands behind you and combs through your hair. The other leaves out of your view to grab something. You shiver slightly, being naked and wet.

“Vi varmer deg opp snart.” The woman’s voice is kind, and she stops combing your hair and caressing your arms, trying to warm you.

You don’t respond, not knowing what she said. In a weird way, her touch feels familiar and calming. With a simple nod of your head, she goes back to combing your hair.

The other woman walks in front of you, holding up a beautiful blue dress. Again, she speaks and you just gaze up at her. Her blue eyes are bright as she’s speaking. Your head pulls back slightly as the tension on your scalp grows from your hair being pulled into a long braid.

Once your hair was done, she stood you up to dress you. The indigo blue dress fits you tightly, extenuating your breasts and the curve of your waist. A woven belt placed around your waist and a necklace with a medallion of a wolf dangles for it. Leather shoes tied to your feet as you

“Hun er klar.” She exclaims as she sees you totally transformed into a queen. “La oss gå.”

You leave the small house, their arms wrapped in yours as your guild you down a pathway. Inside, you feel as though you are about to throw up. Your feet drag beneath you, dreading seeing König.

“I can’t” You try to turn but the women’s grip on you is firm.

“Du blir bra.” One speaks as she pets your arm.

König paced back and forth in his house waiting for Hilda and Thyra to finish cleaning you for him to enjoy. He walks shirtless and without a mask, exposing his sculpted body covered with battle scars, tattoos on his pecs, and scars on his face. His light blonde hair falls to his shoulder, some pushed behind his left ear.

His head turns as he sees the door open and you enter. The same worried look that has plagued your face this whole journey is still there. König walks to you and takes your hand, thanking the women and sending them on their way.

Worried or not, you’re still the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on. You look as if a goddess decided to come live amongst men. He will never understand how he got so lucky as to find you. Your breasts are full and swollen with milk, he can’t wait to taste you.

“You look beautiful, Liebling.” The door closes, and it’s just the two of you.

“Please, I can’t stay here.” You instantly plead, voice shaking. “I need to go home.”

“You are home.” He looks down at your face, studying you in the low light. “Don’t be so sad.”

“My children—”

“Are safe at home.” His hands caress your arms up and down.

“I need my children here.”

“I’ll give you new ones. Stronger ones.”

König’s hands grasp yours and bring them to his chest. You look at his body, turning your head away to gaze at the ground. He lifts your chin to face him.

“How about you come with me? I’ll help you forget about your troubles.”

There was no room to protest as he grabbed your hand and led you to the large bed in the corner of the room. He sits on the bed and keeps you standing in front of him. His hands roam over the curve of your body. On the journey back he refrained from touching you so you could mourn your last life, but now- now you’re all his.

“Are your breasts sore?” He asks as his hands feel how swollen they’ve become after days away from your child.

You don’t answer, but just look him in the eyes. It’s clear to see that you’re too full to be comfortable. His hands squeeze slightly and the indigo fabric begins to darken from the milk he expressed. Thyra and Hilda got you all dressed up only for König to ruin you.

König grabs at the woven belt around your waist and slowly undoes it, pulling it towards him, and laying it on the bed beside him.

“Please stop, I’m a married woman.” You step back.

“You are. To me.” He wraps his arm around your waist and brings you closer.

“In the eyes of God, you’re not my husband.”

“God? Which one?” König teases as his hand runs down to rub your plump ass. “Here, in my land, you’re mine. Unless your old family comes to my shore and fights for you back…you’re mine.”

You just stare into his eyes and nod. Realistically, your husband will never come for you. He wouldn’t even know where to look. The memories of your life with him, with your children flashes before your eyes until a tap on your ass takes you out of your own mind.

“Let’s get you more comfortable.”  His voice is a soft whisper as he stands to get you naked in front of him. The last piece he grabs is your necklace, setting it down on top of your dress.

You stand naked. Your breasts are full and round. Body soft and curvy. A small white pearly bead of milk lingers on your left nipple. Between your legs is a soft patch of hair, he can’t wait to feel it rub against his face. All you can think about is how God will smite you for infidelity, you can only hope he understands.

“Look at you. Beautiful.”

König wraps his arms around you and places you gently on the bed, as if you were a delicate jewel he didn’t want to harm. He looks down at you as he finishes undressing. As he steps out of his pants, you can see his massive cock bounce, leaning down. He notices you looking at him, making him feel cocky.

“Big, ja?” He walks to you, parting your legs. “Let me show you how a real man fucks.”

Instantly, a blush forms on your face as you look at his blue eyes. His blonde hair falling forward as he looks down at you. You hate to admit that, compared to Callum, König is far more attractive. Your eyes travel all over his body, inspecting his tattoos as he moves on to the bed with you. He notices your gaze and smiles.

“It’s for my family name.” He whispers as he rests his large body next to yours.

“Oh.”

König moves his lips to yours, tenderly kissing you.  You don’t kiss back at first, and that's okay. He knows you’re nervous. His lips leave yours and travel down your neck, he lightly nips at your flesh. A small whimper leaves your lips causing him to smile.

Lifting his head for a moment, he moves his hand to your breast and squeezes. A fountain of milk begins to spurt out. König moves his mouth to your other nipple and begins to suck. He continues to squeeze the other to spray himself with it.

A mixture of relief and pleasure rushes over you. Callum has not touched your breasts since the milk came in, finding it repulsive. König acts like a starved man, as if your milk is the only thing that can save you. It’s…hot.

Milk begins to drip from the corner of his mouth, rolling down your breast. He slowly pulls away, licking his lips. “So sweet.”

König licks in between your breasts and over the other, cleaning up the mess he’s made. His hand slowly trails down your body and touches your pussy. The feeling of your wet folds between your fat pussy lips drives him wild.

“I can’t wait to bury my cock deep inside of you.” He growls as his lips kiss up your neck.

König moves his body between your legs, running his hands from your breasts down to your hips. He brushes his hair back and out of his face with one hand as he presses his cock against your entrance. You gaze up at him before he moves his hips forward.

“Wait.”

His eyes move to your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I- I can’t. My husband—” You were cut off by the euphoric sensation of meaty cock being shoved into your tight little cunt. A moan spills from your lips as your eyes go wide.

König grins looking at your reaction. He leans over your body to kiss the tip of your nose. “I am your husband now. Don’t forget that.” The words leave his lips as he slowly shoves the rest of his cock into you.

Your nails dig into his arms as you squeeze your eyes shut. König looks at your face, your mouth hanging open and eyebrows pinched together. His hips slowly pull back before pushing back into you slowly; enjoying the look on your face as he does. A small chuckle leaves his lips as he pulls away.

“My perfect queen.”

He grabs your hips, pulling your rear up slightly off the bed as he bucks forward into your tiny cunt. Your back is arched as his fingers dig into your ass. Loud moans leave your lips, loud enough people passing the home can hear the two of you.

“König, I- it’s too much.” You feel a tingle run over your body as a heavy pressure builds in your core.

He realizes that you’re about to cum, “beg for it.”

“For what?”

“To cum.”

“I- I can’t.” You feel shameful. Shame for having sex with someone other than Callum and shame for feeling this pleasure. You’ve always been taught to not give into this type of lust.

“It’s okay to let go.” He whispers in your ear as he leans over you, his arms on either side of your head. His lips meet yours, pushing his tongue past your lips. You open your mouth accepting him in as you mewl pathetically.

You turn your head away, desperately begging. “Please…harder.”

He grabs your head and forces his tongue back into your mouth. Moans leave your lips into his mouth as your legs tremble around his waist. His kisses begin to trail to your cheek and down your jawline as he feels your walls flutter around his cunt.

“There you go.” His kisses travel down to your breasts.

König pulls out and stands from the bed, grabbing your legs and pulling you to him. His arms wrap around you and hold you up. One arm holds you tightly to his body as the other reaches down to line himself up with you. He pushes forward while lowering you slightly. A groan leaves his lips, your arms wrap around his shoulders.

His fingers grasping the supply flesh of your ass as his hips thrust into you; your tight little cunt squeezes his cock as he bounces you on his length. The lustful daze you’re in makes you gaze up at him as if you’re in love. The sound of your wet pussy and little pitiful sounds leaves your lips mixing. König glances down to your breasts bouncing. Everything is just perfect.

“Y/n…” He groans as his cock pulses, face scrunching with pleasure.

The next morning you take up to an empty bed. You rub your eyes and stretch, slowly stepping out of the bed. That’s when you noticed König sitting nude and watching you with a smile. Your eyes travel along his body before meeting his eyes, trying to sit in a way that conceals your body.

“Don’t try to hide your beauty, Liebling. It’s just us here.” He stands and walks over to you, caressing your face. Your braid is barely together and face flushed with an afterglow from last night’s activities.

“We have a long day ahead of us. You’re going to be introduced to my people as their new queen. They will be astonished at your beauty.”

You look into his eyes and nod. There is still a lingering sadness in your eyes, he is aware you miss your old life. It will take time for you to move on, but he knows you’ll be happier here with him. No longer are you poor and working the fields. Now you’re a queen.

#konig #konig x reader #könig #konig cod #konig x y/n #könig x reader #konig smut #könig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x y/n #könig x you #konig x you #konig x reader smut #cod smut #smut #cod konig #konig call of duty #könig call of duty

[shortestcake]

LIKE IT'S REAL

(drabble)

Pairing: Vi x Reader

Pronouns used: none(afab genitalia described)

Gendered terms: none

Genre: smut (mdni)

/ / strap is referred to and treated as a dick, praise, dirty talk, manhandling(r! receiving), strap blowjob (v! receiving), dom!top!vi

based on this post, something about Vi jerking off a strap... yeah,

enjoy!

"C'mon sweetheart, gotta get it nice and wet for me."

Vi cooed from above you, looking down at you, kneeling between her legs while she manspread; one of her hands combing through your hair while the other worked up and down the pink strap she wore.

She used the hand that was already on your scalp to push your head down, your glossy lips pressing against the tip. You look up at her, eyes big as you slowly opened your mouth, letting her push your head further down its length.

"There you go, all the way to the base, so good for me."

The way she groans and fucking moans would have you believing that she could feel it, that it was real, and you knew that if you asked, she'd swear she could feel it.

She opts to grip your hair rather than just holding your head, so this way, she can guide you up and down her shaft.

When she pulled you off of it, a long string of saliva kept you connected to it. "Up." She demands but lifts you up herself before you can anyway.

Violet positions you on the bed to her liking, laid on your back, legs spread. Her right hand linked with your own, intertwining hands as her left gripped the base of her strap. She starts moving it up and down its length once again, stroking it right above your cunt.

A low chuckle reverberated throughout the room when you whined and bucked your hips upwards. "What is it, baby? Hm?" She asked, teasingly rubbing the silicone against your puffy lips, occasionally hitting your clit.

"Please…" You begged, already shed of whatever dignity you had.

"You want my cock, honey, is that it?" She groaned loudly when her strap passed your hole as you practically sucked her in.

"Yeah, that's it, that this dick. Fucking take it."

two posts in one hour??? I'm outdoing myself

#vi x reader #arcane vi x reader #vi arcane x reader #arcane vi #vi x fem reader #arcane vi x fem reader #vi smut #vi x you #vi x y/n #vi x reader smut #her strap is pink idc

[massacredkitty]

I just thought-

Vi with a strap-on, but she treats it like it's a real cock-

Like, she jerks it off, makes you suck it, talks like you could really get pregnant from her.

(God will never forgive me for my thoughts, I'm doomed)

female reader x violet nsfw under cut

ur sat on the floor between her spread legs, loosely gripping her wrist as she holds three fingers on your tongue, your saliva soaking her hand.

your watery eyes stare up at her, gasping when she pulls her fingers out, and instead wrapping her wet hand around the toy connected to the harness around her hips, stroking the length of the silicone

u stare intensely, your thighs squeezing together as your nails scratch at your skin. the way her veins protrude beautifully from under her skin, following down her arm and then disappearing into her soft skin. you pant pathetically, whimpering ever so often as she combs her fingers through your hair, guiding your head closer. ur mouth instinctively opens and she smiles at the sight, watching as you more than happily took her into your mouth

n she groans as if she can feel you, feel your tongue running over the underside of the cock, and she swears she almost can. you let out a muffled moan as she tightens her grip in your hair, forcing you down further on the toy n you gag, more spit leaking and soaking it.

you keep expecting a smug comment, but she’s waaay too entranced on how you look, how big ur eyes were, your eyebrows turning up as your hand slips between your thighs to ease the almost painful ache. it was borderline gross, but her hips continue to twitch and grit her teeth, and to know you’re getting off just from this— yeah

#MASSACREDKITTY .ᐟ #🐾 rqs ྀི #lesbian #arcane #vi #vi arcane #league of legends #vi league of legends #vi smut #vi x reader #arcane vi smut #vi arcane smut #arcane vi x reader #vi arcane x reader #vi fanfic #vi x you #violet arcane #vi fic #arcane vi #arcane violet

[wistfulpoltergeist]

TAG // What’s in my bag?

Rules: Post a description and/or photo of what things your Sim/OC would take along with them in their bag. Tag other people who you want to participate!

I was tagged by @pralinesims, aww^^ Thank you so much, sunshine, it helped to shoo my broody mood away for a while. I really enjoyed toying with Aidan's stuff:)

My candidate of choice: Aidan Rossetti. So let's ask him what he carries in his backpack!

iPhone (last model gifted by Amber)

Headphones

Keys (but not always, I keep losing them all the time and give Amber a headache to make more duplicates)

Candies / sweets

Pack of cigarettes (old and crumpled, never used but just in case)

Sketchbook with a pencil

Chewing gum

Mittens (since last winter, keep hiding there all summer time, I think they settled there for life)

Amber's comb (he thinks he lost it somewhere but actually I stole it as my good-luck totem)

Some papers from college

Old tickets

Shop and café checks

Money (in three different pockets)

Credit card (pin-code to which I forgot)

Little wooden toy from the Christmas tree (it's just so nice, I keep it)

Hole to the open universe (:D)

Let me know if you want to know what's inside Amber's, Roland's or Dean's bags!

I tag: @glammoose, @simstrouble, @void-imp, @simsjerry, @qrqr19, @tzuhu, @its-adrienpastel, @aniraklova, @goamazons, @happylifesims, @honeybeenrw, @hamsterbellbelle, @sim4areason, @ethelgodehel, @buglaur, @hedysims, @nocturne-vi, @puppycheesecake, @bibidsims, @nerogreyts4, @maladi777, @helloavocadooo, @softerhaze

#WistfulA&A #WistfulArtSims4 #sims 4 tag game #sims 4 #ts4 #the sims 4 #simblr #ts4 simblr #sims 4 blender render #tag game #my characters #my sims #thesims4 #sims4

[dreaming-of-mossballs]

First Date..? - (Gepard x florist!reader)

Summary: Gepard, after becoming ill to the point of passing out, asked you to go on a tour of the Belobog History and Culture Museum with him. Today is that day!

▸ Genre(s): fluff, a sprinkling of angst

▸ Word Count: 5.5k

▸ Tags: Gepard x reader

▸ Warnings: food mentions, mentions of domestic abuse

A/N: MY LAST POST SHOWED IN THE TAGS!!!! It brought a ton of new people in <3 hello gepard fans, this is a part of my series! You can find more in the masterlist. (Or don’t. I try to make it so you can start wherever.)

the dividers are being stupid but i decided to keep them

MASTERLIST

Gepard, the heir to the Landau name and a sworn Silvermane Guard, wasn’t sure if he had ever felt this nervous in his life.

From his first interview as a cadet to the ceremony promoting him to the position of “Captain,” his heart had never beat as loudly as it did that day. It sent tremors through his chest that traveled all the way to his throat.

He stood resting an arm on the counter of the Neverwinter Workshop reception desk, paying no mind to his sister as she milled about, rummaging through drawers of tools and combing through filing cabinets.

A heavy sigh escaped the captain’s lips as he tapped his fingers apprehensively. All he could focus on was the antique clock on the wall taunting him as it tick, tick, ticked away. Closer and closer to the time he’d be meeting you.

Serval’s voice drew him out of the thoughts weighing his mind down.

“Earthwork should be good to go,” she said, hoisting the shield device slash guitar case onto the counter with a thump.

The bronze safety goggles resting precariously on the top of her head tumbled to the floor. Those would definitely cost a pretty penny.

“Let me know if the shield deployment acts up again, alright?”

Gepard took the procedural report from her and nodded. “You have my gratitude once again, sister. The guards should send you an invoice soon,”

Suddenly, the bell in the central plaza rang. Its sound sent shivers down his spine, which he tried to shake off by glancing absentmindedly out the window. This did not go unnoticed by his sister.

“You seem a little antsy today, Geppie. What’s messing with your rhythm?”

“Ah?” Gepard responded while tucking the yellow slip of paper into his pocket. “I merely have a few affairs that need attending to. The concern is appreciated, though,”

He straightened his collar, averting his eyes. She stared at him incredulously at this pathetically conspicuous act.

“You know?” she snorted. “You are possibly one of the worst liars on Jarilo-VI,”

She dropped her wrench on the desk carelessly, and he stiffened immediately.

“You never act this distant when it comes to affairs. In fact, most of the time you’re pretty quick to pass them off to me!” Serval shook a finger at him. “I’ve had my fair share of headaches, so you better fess up right now, little brother,” she hissed.

She stomped around the counter over the unfortunate pair of goggles and leaned in a good five or so inches away from his face. Gepard mustered all the will in his body to keep his lips straight and his facade up. “Ah— um,”

“Does this, in any way, shape or form, have to do with (Y/N)?” she barked.

“N-no, I…” His eyes flickered for a second at a pot of indigo flowers behind her. Serval, like her namesake, used this as an excuse to pounce.

“It does, doesn’t it? You broke eye contact!” She accused.

“Anyone would, in that situation!” He defended himself, clenching his jaw tightly. “You need to find better methods of interrogating people than that, sister,”

“Excuse you,” Serval snapped. “I’m just curious! We DO share a lot of friends, but (Y/N) is the only one I don’t work with.” She folded her arms.

Gepard ran a hand from his chin all the way to his hair with a groan. The last time they had squabbled like this, he hadn’t yet graduated from cadet school.

He cleared his throat. “That wasn’t what I was thinking about. As for (Y/N), I happen to be seeing them at the museum today. Are you satisfied with this information?”

His sister rolled her eyes at the biting remark and wiped a hand across her brow, smearing motor oil on her forehead. “Yeah. Fine. Don’t bother telling all the juicy details of how that came to be. They’d just be wasted on me!”

Gepard’s shoulders dropped in exasperation as he stared at her. “Why are you so invested in this, sister? You hardly give a single snowflake about my personal life. What changed?”

If looks could kill, Gepard would be six feet under.

“Hey. I’m trying to help you and your hopeless love life!” His sister nearly exploded with frustration. He quickly took a step back.

“Every time you two are in the same room, your face goes pink and you’re completely paralyzed,” she said, exasperated. “At this rate, you’ll grow old before your feelings reach them!”

She stuck a finger in her mouth with a gagging noise. Gepard blushed even harder.

“My feelings have nothing to do with you, sister,” he sputtered while simultaneously going over every single time you’ve happened to be in a room together in his head.

Serval stopped for a moment, her hackles seeming to fall. Her voice dropped an octave. “They do, actually,”

Serval sucked in a breath through her teeth.

“Y’know, Gepard… I’ve seen you go your entire life laying down everything you’ve ever had for Belobog. Isn’t it about time you pursue something— someone, that makes you happy?”

She paused, letting the words linger in his mind. Then she spoke again.

“Y’know, that you love,”

The air between them became thick with silence.

Serval sighed, leaning her back against the counter. Her little brother seemed to lack the words to respond.

“I’ve seen how you light up when you see them. And it hurts me seeing you stamp your feelings down each and every time,”

She searched in his eyes for any sign that her message was reaching him. But she did not find one.

“I’ve told you this before. Love isn’t something you can half-ass. You have to put your all into it—,” she twirled a pen around in her hand to blow off some steam. “—I don’t even care if you don’t want my help. I just want you to feel like you can confide in me, okay?”

She looked back at her brother, who was now staring at the floor, and smiled wistfully.

Well, Belobog wasn’t built in a day, after all.

Serval shrugged. “Anyways. You don’t have to listen to your big sis. I just think you should spend as much time with them before you’re sent away on another campaign.” Her tone became humorous. “Make sure you’re aaa-ll they think about when you’re gone,”

Gepard’s head shot up, his mouth going agape, and he quickly shut it.

“Why would I want to do that??”

“So you two can send each other looong letters about how much you love and miss each other, of course!” Serval chuckled teasingly, sticking her tongue out at her furiously blushing younger brother.

“They— they don’t feel that way about me,” he choked out.

She folded her arms at his defeated tone. “Maybe they don’t, but you two have chemistry!”

She slapped him on the shoulder heartily, which caused him to choke on the breath he was taking. “I can tell they care for you. And since when have Landaus been ones to give up?”

Gepard let out an exhale through his nose at the saying his sister would always repeat when they were kids.

“…never,”

“That’s right, little brother! Now, how long before your little date?”

He sighed again. “I’m going after I put my shield in the barracks,”

This time, it was Serval’s turn to freeze. “Right now?!” Her eyes burned holes into him.

“Yes, right now,”

She launched herself at him and dug her long nails into his shoulders. He stumbled backwards, trying to keep his balance. “NO. NO YOU CAN’T. NOT LIKE THAT,”

“Why is that?” Gepard blinked in surprise.

“You’re off duty today and you’re still in uniform? We’ve gotta get you tidied up,” she gasped.

“I sincerely doubt that they care—,” he started, remembering the time you showed up to a cafe with your gardening gloves on and dirt smudged on your face.

Serval bristled at him. He swallowed nervously.

He knew better than to keep talking.

His sister grabbed him harshly by the shoulder and yanked him out the door towards the estate.

Oh Aeons. This wasn’t going to be good.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

And finally, there you were. Gepard spotted you people watching as you waited outside of the Belobog History and Culture Museum, back rested on the handrail languidly, like a tourist.

You turned towards him with one hand gripping a pamphlet, the other shielding your eyes from the sun and—

Oh wow.

Why did he look like that?

He was taking long strides towards you, in an outfit that could only be described as way over-the-top. His hair was slicked back so you could see his forehead and (very strong) jawline, and he wore a brilliant white suit with silver accents that was most definitely meant for something more formal than a trip to the museum.

Additionally, he had on a long white cape that stopped at his ankles. With the bright sunlight shining down, it was blinding.

He looked like a foreign prince, from one of those novels Vaska liked to read. One woman’s jaw dropped as he passed by.

Oh, Aeons. Serval had definitely played a part in this one.

You, on the other hand, wore the same thing you always did. The green florist’s uniform coupled with a beret (which was rather charming, in your opinion). You shook yourself off and walked up to meet him.

“Hiya Captain!” You said as he approached.

Gepard felt something stab through his chest at the formal title, but he brushed it off.

“Glad to see you’re back in shape— and whoa, you look nice today.”

You looked him up and down keenly, and Gepard thought he felt his heart stop.

“Y-yes. I happened to have made a full recovery, thank you. Shall we go in?” He cringed inwardly at his inability to speak.

As much as he hated it, Serval was right. His heart was beating sixteenth notes as he looked at you. And no matter what he did, he couldn’t slow it down.

You nodded. But your eyes darted to the side for a second, showing a hint of uncertainty.

“Yeah! Um… Maybe lose the cape though?”

You gasped as you saw him quickly cover his face with his hand.

“N-not like it doesn’t look good on you! I was just thinking it might catch on the displays, y’know,”

“No, no. I get it.” Gepard let out a small groan, much like an arctic bear cub. “Serval insisted on dressing me up before I left. I should have told her not to.”

He grimaced, knowing all too well that it wouldn’t have made a difference either way. He then unclasped the cape and rolled it up into a tight ball, tucking it under his arm.

Whew. That was most definitely better. He looked less like a prince and more like your average rich noble. Although, if you were being honest, that wasn’t great either.

And so, he showed you into the museum with the hospitality of an attendee (he had worked there, after all). You felt like royalty. And Aeons, the lobby was absolutely perfect. It had an air of welcoming in it, and it smelled like history! Or dust. One of the two, you figured.

In true Underworld fashion, you waltzed up to the reception desk and immediately began making small talk. The blonde woman seemed startled but made nothing of it.

“How much for tickets?” You leaned your elbows on the counter. Her eyes landed on Gepard, who unbeknownst to you, was approaching from behind.

“Oh? Are you two here together?” She gasped. You whipped around, startled. “Volunteers are allowed to bring one guest for free. We appreciate your visit, Captain Gepard,”

She bowed her head respectfully and he nodded. He lightly placed a hand on your shoulder, which in turn, caused you to jump nearly half a foot in the air.

Great. Just great.

“Would you like to accompany me to the automaton section first?” He inquired. You weren’t certain, but you thought you heard a hint of shyness in his tone.

Like I’d run off without my tour guide in a building this big, you thought, glancing up at the huge arching ceilings in the main area.

“Sure! You’d better give me a tour worth a five-star review, Captain,” you chuckled.

That seemed to flip a switch. “I’ll do my utmost,” he declared.

He glanced down at you as you laughed lightly at his fiercely determined demeanor, feeling his cheeks warm at the sound of your voice. And with that, you began your tour through the museum.

First you stopped at the side parlor, which housed numerous automatons borrowed from the Robot Settlement. The models were polished and the descriptions were lengthy, which made you beam with pride. They sure knew how to treat the robots right.

Next you made your way to the main hall. It had an abundance of artifacts in sturdy glass cabinets, and beautifully intricate paintings that stole your breath away.

Gepard made sure to narrate every piece you seemed even moderately interested in. He loved how your eyes seemed to sparkle when he’d quote something he’d read in a history book, giving you a taste of the delves of information he kept stored in his brain as a Belobogian noble.

If it were up to him, you’d have access to every archive on the face of Jarilo-VI.

And you, you loved how he’d get so absorbed in explaining things that the words seemed to pour out of his mouth as he pointed at the displays. Even with the hum of the Geomarrow heaters and the constant chatter of visitors, his voice was the only one you seemed to hear.

Such simple joy it brought you. Here, staring at the photograph of the Eversummer Florists together, and chatting as if you weren’t two whole worlds apart. Gepard’s eyes took in every detail, every flower and every ray of sunlight trickling in through the windows.

You tore your gaze away from his profile to stare at your leather shoes just for a moment. Something vague flapped at the corners of your mind, but now really wasn’t the time to try and sort it out, you told yourself.

“Why don’t we tour the projector room next?” Gepard said, leaning down to look you in the eyes intently. You felt your heart leap at his voice.

Boy, were you in deep.

You mustered a smile as best you could, hoping it wasn’t too stiff.

“Sure! Lead the way,”

You had never seen such a wonderful piece of technology before. You both sat down on the velvet benches, entranced by the images flickering across the canvas.

This time, it was Gepard’s turn to stare. He’d seen it all before in his days as a volunteer. But seeing you gazing in awe at the projection as the light reflected in your eyes. That was something new.

Sitting there, shoulder to shoulder. Like equals. Watching the same screen, seeing the same things. It made his heart flutter like nothing ever had.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

“Wow. I am wiped!” you exclaimed after departing from the museum. “That was a great tour. Do you accept tips, Mister Volunteer Guide?” You grinned at him and Gepard let out an amused huff.

“I simply repeated what they taught me in primary school,”

“Yeah?” You inquired. “It was super immersive, though. I think you’d make a great history teacher,”

He went almost entirely pink at the compliment.

You chuckled to yourself. It wasn’t hard to make him blush, you thought.

“And also, what’s a primary school?” You piped up.

“Oh?” He paused. “It’s the first school kids attend on the surface. They learn to read, write, and all the other various things required of them,”

“Really? I remember Natasha teaching us how to read and write, but then it was straight to the mines for us,” you pondered, reminiscing back on your childhood in the Great Mine.

Suddenly, Gepard’s shoulder crashed into yours, sending you reeling into the Geomarrow heater to your left with a loud bang. You hurriedly grabbed it before it crashed to the ground.

Interestingly enough, the cause of this confusion was a small but speedy child, who had rammed into Gepard’s right leg by accident.

The child with short umber hair didn’t look back once after knocking into you, shouting “sorry,” and continuing to sprint, as a gang of ten or more children trampled after him. Their footsteps echoed along the walls of the lower floor of the Administrative district, which amplified them until it really did sound like a herd of animals.

All of the kids were carrying flags and pinwheels, staple items for the upcoming Solwarm festival, but they were wearing clothes belonging to both the Overworld and the Underworld.

This sent a jolt of surprise to your core. They played together so easily, it was like the past few decades hadn’t even happened.

“Little rascals,” you snickered, pulling away from the bench and brushing yourself off. You both stood and watched the children barrel down the road, knocking unsuspecting grown-ups into the next week. At one point, they stopped in a wide-open area and began to kick around a beanbag, their laughter ringing like bells.

Gepard’s brows furrowed, a pensive look appearing on his face.

“What’s on your mind?” You tilted your head at him with a smile on your lips.

His thoughtful expression had to have been one of your favorites.

He returned your gaze from where he was staring at the children chattering, running, and playing without a care in the world. Gepard felt the pang of a familiar memory in his chest.

“I was just considering… how nice it is to see relationships between the Overworld and the Underworld lessening in tension.”

He sighed. “I know it may sound silly, but some used to discourage interactions between the two,”

The look in Gepard’s eyes became a little more distant. “My father, for instance,”

You looked at him questioningly as he drew in a deep breath.

“I remember he once threw a vase at me in a fit of anger, after discovering I’d been visiting a group of kids from the mines,”

He glanced at the ground, looking quite like a lost puppy. “I had never heard the stories that they were telling before, so I just… kept going back to listen,”

You felt your mouth fall slightly ajar. He kept speaking.

“Thankfully, I didn’t get hurt that day, but the only reason is because my sister stepped in order to protect me,”

Your eyes widened in shock. “How— how old were you?”

“I believe I was five at the time,” Gepard stated. Almost like it was nothing.

“I think that’s where I gained some of my resolve,” he continued. “My own sister stepped forward to protect me without a thought for her own safety. So I grew up wanting to be strong, like her,”

Gepard curled his hand into a fist, letting memories of his childhood wash over him in his usual manner of acceptance. But when he looked back at you, only a glimpse of your face could be seen. You stared at the ground silently, and he could very well tell that your fists and jaw were clenched tight.

Waves of frustration at the realization crashed over you and your breath went hot. You stared back up at him, tears brimming in your eyes.

“He threw… a vase at you?” You said.

Hurt leaked into your voice against your will and you felt your heart had snapped in two. It seemed like both he and Serval harbored animosity toward their father.

And now you knew why. There was no way this was a one-time thing.

“That’s— wow, I don’t know what to say, Gepard,”

The captain showed little to no reaction. He looked back at the plaza with a soft exhale. One that exuded both sadness and gradual adjustment.

“He’s… always been that way. The Landaus, well, they all have their own sort of stubbornness in their values. His just tended to come out more,” he said.

“Stubborn, maybe.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “But he had no right to throw something at you. That could’ve really hurt a small child,”

You remembered being trapped in a landslide as a kid, and another child had kicked you in the face trying to escape. You were sent tumbling down the canyon where you fractured your shoulder and leg.

But to live with someone who, at any moment, could snap and hurt you? That was something else entirely.

Communities in the Underworld were based on a mutual network of trust. You couldn’t imagine having no one to turn to when you were scared. You stifled a sob.

“If I’m being honest with myself,” Gepard said softly, resting a hand on his chin. “It’s stuck with me well into my adult years. I haven’t quite dispelled all the preconceptions I’ve been raised with,”

“It doesn’t seem like he would have give you much room to, anyways,” you commented. “I think you two have both grown up to be wonderful people, even though you’ve faced so many hardships,”

He nodded solemnly, taking each and every word to heart. “But now, seeing these children at play, it gives me hope for the future… That Belobog truly can heal,”

It was at this moment you remembered, the captain was a kid too at one point. Behind the stoic exterior and steadfast resolve, there was a child that laughed and cried. One that had his own internal struggles, besides leading an army and reporting directly to the Supreme Guardian.

His childhood must have really had an impact on him. How would he have been different, if he had grown up in a happier home, you wondered. Despite the pain, you smiled.

Out of the blue, an idea popped into your brain.

“You know what I think, Gepard?” You chirped. “I think you just might be right!”

In a fit driven by inspiration, you leaped onto the nearest cafe table, offering your hand to your startled companion. He took it and carefully stepped onto the steel chair to join you.

“Overworld. Underworld. Why should it matter?” You shrugged confidently. “We’re here already, aren’t we? Look at us!”

You beamed at him and spun around with your arms outstretched on the wooden surface.

Turning to face him, you took both of his hands in yours. They felt warm. A soft kind of happiness filled Gepard’s eyes as he slotted his fingers in between your own.

“That’s right, we are.” He smiled gently.

You stood there for a moment, ignoring all the passerby and also the confused waitress calling for the shop owner.

If only you could take this sliver of time and put it in your pocket. You both held your breath, hoping that if you didn’t move, you could stay there until the world stood still.

Your eyes trailed to Gepard’s cheeks, which still had a slight blush to them, (maybe from the cold), down to the silver clasps that held his jacket together.

Glancing back up at his kind eyes, you felt something inside you chipping its way out.

—love you.

Your eyes went as round as the shield coins they exchanged at the Eversummer Florist’s.

What?

Oh no— oh no. Hold on. I knew something was, um, off, but is my brain playing tricks on me?

Was I just caught up in the moment? Why did I even think that?

Gepard stared at you quizzically, unaware of the mental battlefield you had just gotten your left arm blown off in.

Your heart began to race faster than one of those antique cars they had at the museum. His hands still clasped yours tightly, even as you tried to drop them gently.

You let out a strangled sound from your throat that sounded like “huegh” while steam poured out of your ears.

“(Y/N)?” He said, confused but seemingly unfazed.

You turned towards the closest brick wall, still holding his hands. Your eyes darted around like a cat after a loud disturbance.

No. I cant keep lying to myself like this.

You braced yourself for the realization as best you could.

I’m… in love with Gepard.

It still wasn’t enough. The sky and the ground seemed to reverse that very second as everything went upside down.

Still holding his hands, the first round of mental gymnastics began. You felt almost dizzy as thoughts flooded your brain, so you looked at your shoes to combat it.

(His were there too so it didn’t help much.)

Thoughts like:

Have… I been in love with him this whole time?

And, When did it start? And why? And, Did he notice? What if I’ve been super duper obvious??

And last but not least, Oh, Qlipoth. Please preserve my sanity—,

You blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about—,”

You were lifting your head again in order to make your statement seem sincere when, something that was crazier than the time you decided to go crowd surfing on a line of robots, popped into your mind.

Kiss him. A part of you whispered internally.

Every muscle in your body froze.

Do it. You know you want to, the voice spoke again.

Your eyes travelled slightly downward to his lips. All you had to do was—

You yanked your hands away from his harshly, opting to stare at his chest instead of his face in shame.

Oh. My. AEONS. You grabbed your face with both hands. Did I think that? Did I just think that??

No. I don’t think I did, you consoled yourself hurriedly. I think Serval developed a device that projects thoughts into people’s heads, and I’m her test subject!

Gepard made a slight movement. A jerk of the head, which was nothing noteworthy now that you look back on it, but with everything going on at that moment, it was enough to set you off.

You yelped. Just like a snow fox.

The next few moments were a blur. You had taken a step backward without realizing you were on a table, and the surface was in fact, finite, and ended up toppling onto the cold stone ground behind you.

You narrowly missed a stack of crates, which would have definitely left a mark, had you landed on one of the edges.

Gepard had practically leaped off the table to check if you were okay, but the shopkeeper had appeared, waving his broom furiously at the both of you.

Your companion tried his best to placate the man but he wasn’t having it.

In a rush of adrenaline, you scrambled to your feet and took grabbed Gepard’s hand, making a quick dash around the corner.

Hopefully the man wouldn’t recognize him. With this particular outfit, you thought Gepard might stand a chance.

In a cruel twist of fate, you both ended up huffing and puffing in a narrow alleyway behind a drugstore. All that dotted the area was a dumpster and a few posters advertising a play that was five months out of season.

“I think we lost him,” you panted, and promptly dissolved into giggles. “Did you see his face? He was all like—,” you cut off, waving your arms around with a wacky expression.

You wheezed once more and doubled over to hold your stomach as cackling erupted from your throat. Gepard was resting against the wall as well, while his chest heaved with effort.

“Ohhh!” You said, raising your head once more. “Now I remember what I was saying— I wanted to thank you for showing me around so often. I hope I’m not being too much of a burden,” you chuckled to yourself.

Gepard pulled the cape out from where it had been caught between his legs before he responded.

“Not in the slightest, (Y/N). I’m always happy to be of assistance,” he responded.

You wiped fake sweat off your brow (even though you really were sweating). “Sweet. I’m gonna go grab a drink from the vending machine, if ya don’t mind. Want one?”

“I’d appreciate it,”

You ran to the vending machine while Gepard waited, keeping a lookout while his back was pressed against the wall. He was certain his jacket would need a fair amount of dry cleaning afterward. You bounded back with two Strawberry Svarog sodas in hand and popped them open.

Gepard threw his head back and drank heartily. He let out a satisfied sigh after drinking the last drop, while you clutched your bottle tightly after only drinking it halfway.

He was almost seen. You were struck with this thought.

You grimaced. There’s no way the higher ups at the fort would appreciate whatever tomfoolery you were dragging him into.

I shouldn’t let these feelings— no, myself, get in his way.

You two were completely different people, after all. He had a job and a reputation to hold down. You were just a florist.

Maybe they’ll fade with time. You hoped. I guess… I just have to hold on until then,

Because… because there’s no way he’d feel that way about me.

For a split second, it seemed like all of your happiness had leaked out of you and disappeared down the storm drain.

You quickly swallowed the feelings that had formed a hard lump in your throat. Hoping to clear up the silence, you whipped towards Gepard with false cheer, in hopes he wouldn’t notice your mood had dampened.

“So, Captain—,”

His lip stiffened. Again with the “captain?”

“Didja hear the news about the observatory?” You chattered, kind of absentmindedly. “They’ve finally been able to repair the main telescope, and soon it’ll be open for public use again!”

“Is that so? The last time I used that telescope, I was just a boy,” he replied, slightly shocked.

“Yep! I’ve seen the sky before, but I’ve never seen it, like… up close. You know?”

He smiled as you spread your arms grandly.

“Do the guards have a telescope?” You asked with a curious look in your eyes.

Gepard thought for a second, before he replied, “I imagine we did, many hundreds of years ago. But I think the Fragmentum threat posed too great a danger on the surface that—,”

He glanced up at the small patch of sky unobscured by the walls of the alleyway. It sparkled in his eyes.

“—we could no longer afford to pay attention to the sky,”

You joined him in gazing at the clouds.

What a world that would be.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

Bonus Scene 1

After the events that had transpired, and you both had gone home, Gepard was now focused on unbuttoning the seemly endless number of clasps on his coat.

This clasp in particular was incredibly frustrating. Every time he’d get ahold of it, it would slip out from between his fingers.

The captain was considering giving up and just wearing the gaudy thing forever when numerous alerts from Serval went off on his phone.

From: Serval at 15:19

Serval: geppie

Serval: geppie

Serval: geppie

Serval: hey

Serval: howd it go

You: Well, thank you.

The captain pinched the bridge of his nose irritably. Couldn’t she have waited at least an hour or so before barging in on his affairs?

His phone dinged once more.

I suppose that’s a no.

From: Serval at 15:20

Serval: is that all?

Serval: You’re totally leaving something out

Serval: oops. im being nosy again.

Serval: Call me if u wanna talk, ok?

Gepard sighed, debated for a moment what he’d rather do, then finally gave in and hit the “call” button.

[“Geppie! You called!”] Serval’s voice crackled to life through the speaker.

He could hear her smile radiating through the phone. The corners of his lips rose slightly, much to his own surprise.

“Indeed I did, sister,”

Bonus Scene 2

Back at the scene on top of the cafe table!

To keep his hands from trembling, Gepard stayed completely and utterly still.

Probably too still.

Your hands were warm, so warm. Although standing on top of a table at a random cafe wasn’t the most romantic setting, he felt like he could bring you into his embrace right then and there.

Never before had he felt so lacking in control of his own desires. Something seemed to be tugging at your thoughts, as you were looking around anxiously.

Could it be you didn’t want him to be spotted because his face was so well known? Gepard could only guess what kind of thoughts were bouncing around your brain.

He watched as you looked, back up from your shoes, to his sheepish face. Your eyes were more beautiful than the clearest ice crystals. Warmer, too. His gaze softened as he saw your eyes flick toward his lips.

And then Gepard did the unthinkable.

He leaned in closer.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

That choice did not end well for either of you.

After checking if you had hit your head and ducking into the nearest alleyway, Gepard wanted to strangle himself mentally.

Why? Why had he made such a stupid decision?

Out of all the choices, that was the most reckless one.

He really should have known better. At this rate, he risked losing your friendship because of his own selfish feelings.

The captain rested his back against the wall in shame as you ran to get drinks from a vending machine.

A man of his caliber shouldn’t be making such mistakes. He should get his act together and court you correctly, for the love of Qlipoth.

But Aeons, he could only ask himself:

What if he had waited a single second longer?

2024 - Dreaming-of-Mossballs - Do not repost/translate without my permission - NO AI

💙 THANKS FOR READINF I LOVE YOU 💙

#gepard x reader #gepard x reader fluff #gepard fic #gepard fanfic #hsr x reader #hsr x reader fluff #hsr fic #hsr fanfic #bfabc #gepard x florist!reader #hsr x florist!reader #fanfic #Text #not genshin #gepard #gepard hsr #gepard honkai #gepard honkai star rail #Mossball_Writing #Hsr #Honkai star rail #star rail

[wndaswife]

please write something with milf!wanda with next door neighbor reader im a whore for it !

wanda maximoff & gn!reader

tags: smut, semi-public sex, fingering, sub!wanda maximoff, dom!reader. MINORS DNI.

word count: 749

“Hi, it's Y/N, right?” a chirpy voice asks you while you’re scooping a spoon of fried rice onto your plate.

To raise money for Westview’s local grade school to have enough funds to participate in a regional soccer tournament, the town has been hosting a week-long fair featuring games, food, and you decided to attend to integrate yourself in the small but lively town you had just moved into.

You turn your head to see a familiar redhead beaming at you. “Yes,” you reply with a polite smile. “Sorry, and you’re…?”

The woman sticks her hand out to you. “Wanda Maximoff. I got your name from a friend at the community association. You moved into the house next door to me. I’m your neighbour to your left,” she introduces herself officially. You take her hand and she shakes it. Her hand is warm and her fingers soft.

Her features form together in your mind and you recall seeing Wanda gardening in her front lawn and coming in and out of her car in her driveway. You finally reply with an eager nod, “Ah, yes! I do remember seeing you a few times in the neighbourhood. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Wanda says, her head dipping forward in a small nod as her smile widens.

“Momma!” a young boy calls before he and another boy his age runs towards her. You recognise the children too. They come crashing into her legs and wrap their little arms around her thighs.

Wanda lets go of your hand and places both of them atop their freshly combed heads. She looks down at them to give them a smile before looking back up to you. “These are my boys- Tommy and Billy,” she tells you with a proud smile.

You lean down to them with a friendly smile. “Tommy. Billy. Nice to meet the both of you,” you greet them, your voice low and gentle as to not intimidate them.

“Nice to meet you too,” they both respond simultaneously, their words muffled as they hide their faces behind their mother’s legs.

“I apologise, they’re usually not so timid. They’re quite wild at home,” your neighbour says with a chuckle, fingers running through their hair.

Straightening, you smile at her. “I understand. Westview has a tight-knit community from what I’ve gathered, so it must not be often that strangers move in,” you note and pick a set of utensils up from a passing fair worker who offers them to you then thank her.

Wanda seems impressed by your observation and stares at you, green eyes swimming in mirth, before Billy tugs at her shirt and tells her that he and his brother are going to head back to their table. “Oh, alright,” she says and they run back to where a man sits with food and bags on what you presume to be their table.

“You must come and meet my ex-husband, Vision. Have lunch with us,” she offers, beaming at you with a hopeful glint that you’re beginning to find indisputable.

It doesn't take long after meeting Wanda’s ex and taking a few bites of your lunch before you find yourself behind a ring toss fair booth with the redhead. Her slacks are pulled down to her thighs, exposing perfect ivory swells of Wanda’s ass turned red after nearly twenty spanks.

She’s bent over, her cheek pressed up against the back of the booth as your fingers pump in and out of her pussy. The two of you silently pray for no one to round the booth for you’re in a carefully-selected area between the skirts of the fair and a small outer forest.

Still, Wanda muffles her moans as you part your fingers in her hole while your thumb draws lazy circles against her clit until she reaches her hilt. Your arm wraps around her hips to hold her up as her legs tremble under the waves of her orgasm. Your face buries itself in her neck, red hair smelling of jasmine and sweet figs spilled across your head.

“Come over after dinner. Vis has the twins,” Wanda tells you breathlessly. Her voice is so much raspier than the light sweet voice she used with you earlier. She feels you nod in agreement against the crook of her neck and she reaches up to play with your hair. Her fingers run down the back of your neck as you pull her slacks to her hips and button her back up.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #marvel smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #1k celebration ♪( ´▽｀)

[violethyacinth]

I hate to say it fellas but Beyond ReAnimator was a bad bad movie. Bordering on good-bad for parts but for the most part… oof, no sir, I’m good on that.

Jeffrey Combs as Herbert was about the only good part tbh I’m so sorry. Why tf did Howard say Laura reminded him of his dead sister Emily and then immediately fuck her? Very weird. I guess the movie was on the whole fun to watch and good for a laugh but it is not at all what I’d call a good flick.

Herbert was serving tho and I love him for that

#vi speaks #herbert west #my beloved #listen they got Jeffrey Comb’s old ass back in that black pant white shirt and black tie getup again and I was Moist babe #he’s so fine #why am I like this #whatever idgaf #weird flick #good acting from Jeffrey #freaky reanimated dead designs #it’s fine I guess 🤣 #like I really wanted to like this movie #I feel like I have it a fair shot but woof #damn just not feeling it #I will definitely watch it again drunk or something for a laugh but 😬 #I’ll stick with the first two ReAnimator films #I’m going to watch From Beyond next #peep that The Flophouse Podcast reference folks

[siriusleee]

vi. klaxon

Zombie Apocalypse AU | SIMON RILEY x f!READER

↳SUMMARY: The world is trying to knit itself back together after fracturing apart. You're trying to put yourself back together with it; Simon Riley is just trying to stay alive. ↳WORD COUNT: 1.6K ↳TAGS: mentions of cannibalism, mentions of shooting things, mentions of dying. smut to come. canon typical violence to come. additional tags to come as the story progresses. female reader. no mentions of "your name". reader is given a nickname later on.nc-17. ↳AUTHOR'S NOTE: Much shorter than usual, but hey, we can only do what we can do. ↳TAG LIST: There will not be a tag list for this story, as Tumblr has issues with letting me tag people. To get notifications of updates, please subscribe on AO3 or turn on notifications for my blog.

additional chapters | ao3

It’s like waking up in an alternative universe; it takes your eyes and brain a solid minute to remember that you shouldn’t be waking up to the sight of trees and clapboard buildings. Somewhere between awake and sleep, you’d started dreaming about your winter camp and everyone who used to travel with you. 

Darren. Alyssa. Trevor. Caleb. James. 

The memories of them push you out of bed. The concrete floor is freezing beneath your feet. The clothes you were given the day before are still folded neatly on the floor beside your pack; you were clean for the first time in years and you didn’t want to sweat in your sleep. 

You try to finger comb your hair, but it snags on the tangles; you give up halfway through and throw it up with a piece of elastic you ripped from a pair of old underwear you found in a pharmacy a few months ago. Someone around here must have a pair of scissors sharp enough to give you a decent enough haircut. 

Through the little window, you can see the sun is watery - you have to find your jacket despite how ratty it is. Winter is rolling in way too fast for you to be without one. The last time you’d seen it, it was at the end of the bed in the med bay - you’d left it behind in the sudden surprise at waking up in an unfamiliar location. 

The hallway is already empty; the sound of your boots reverberates off of the empty walls. It’s like walking through a crypt; you can almost imagine eyes peering down at you from the dusty corners of the place. 

Frost covers the grass and it crunches beneath your feet. Your stomach rumbles and you wonder if there’s anything for breakfast to eat in the mess hall. Just crossing the little courtyard turns the tip of your nose frozen, and your fingers stiff. The med bay is unlocked, and inside it's as freezing as it is outside. There are no lights on - no doubt that even though they still have electricity, it must not be able to run all the time. 

You prop the door open with a rock so that just a little bit of light filters into the room. Your breath fogs up around your face, and you do your best not to trip and fall. The medical equipment glows in the weak sunlight pouring in from the doorway. You retrace your steps from the day before. There, at the end of the bed you had been placed on, is your jacket. It’s still coated in dirt and mud, but it’ll keep you warm for the time being. You wrap it around your shoulders, the smell of the forest surrounding you. 

A choking shout cuts through the med bay, broken off after half a second. A sliver of ice slides through your veins - it came from behind the med bay, through the thick concrete wall. It can’t be the mess hall directly on that side - Ghost had taken you around the entire building to get there yesterday. There’s a set of double doors, thick, durable metal that leads into an unknown part of the building. In the past, it would have been something that would overtake you with curiosity, and you’d be compelled to open the doors, but now they give you the creeps.

There’s a crash against the wall, and it makes you jump. The doors at the end of the med bay open, and you scramble backward, dropping down to your knees. Heavy footfalls cross the concrete floor as you skitter beneath the medical beds, squeezing between the thick shadows between the two of them. You press yourself onto the floor, trying to blend in with the shadows. You press your mouth into your forearm to muffle your breath. You have no idea if it’s alright for you to be here, and you don’t want to find out. 

The person’s face is shadowed, but from the lilt of their body, you think it might be Doc. You watch them walk towards the front door; the sound of the rock you used to prop the door open being kicked out of the way fills the room and the heavy door slams shut.

The only sound in the room is your breathing as you wait to see if the door will open again, and if anyone will strut back through; the seconds into minutes and no one interrupts the silence. Scrambling to your feet, you jerk your jacket up and exit without a sideways glance to see if anyone's noticed you sneaking out of the Med Bay. You're alone in the little courtyard.

The Dining Hall is almost empty - the food is nearly gone as you grab a mismatched plate and try to even your breathing. Two women crowed in the corner together point at you without abashment, and you ignore them as you peer at the little breakfast: potatoes cubed and boiled, steamed cabbage, and some kind of white bean. Your stomach grumbles; it's no Belgian waffle with syrup, but you put just enough on your plate to carry you over and find a spot to sit out of the line of sight of the women who are still staring at you. 

You're spearing the beans one by one, trying to make their earthy flavor last on your tongue when the shape of Ghost fills the Dining Hall door. You do your best to ignore him as you move on to the potatoes, cutting the cubes into smaller pieces and thinking about how they'd taste drowned in butter. 

"You should have woken up earlier," he says, standing on the opposite side of the table as you. 

"I'll remember to tell the valet to wake me up earlier tomorrow."

The sarcasm feels good on your tongue - a weight you didn't realize you missed carrying. Ghost settles onto his heels; above the dirty white of the skeleton, his eyebrows crinkle. The wrinkle they form is natural like he was born with it. You can imagine him as a baby, soft and sweet with that little wrinkle between his eyes.

The silence is unnerving; you scrape your fork against the plastic plate just for a sound. The two women in the corner stare at the two of you, and you realize they're waiting for you to finish eating so that they can clean up. You scarf the last few bites down and resist the urge to lick the plate clean. You hardly have the last bite in your mouth before Ghost snatches the plate from the table.

He doesn't have to tell you to follow him, you just do. He hands the plates to one of the women: a pretty blonde who looks at him with barely contained awe. The look on her face irritates you, and you resist the urge to say something to her.

"I'm going to show you around," Ghost says, pulling you back outside. The mud on your jacket cracks and falls off in clumps as you slide it on to avoid the chill.

"How many people live here?"

It's a struggle to keep up with Ghost's stride; it takes two steps for you to keep up with his one. The soreness in your legs is still there, but the feeling of warm food and a safe night's sleep fills you enough to ignore it.

"Depends."

He doesn't finish his sentence, but his steps slow enough that you can fall into line with him. You follow him around the edge of the building to the part of the base you haven't been able to explore. To your left the gate the two of you arrived in yawns above the two of you; the fence disappears into the distance, behind more brick buildings. 

"The garden is over here,” he says, gesturing to a chain link fence in the middle of a grouping of squat buildings. Inside the fence, women kneel in the dirt. Burlap sacks cover some plants, and others are being pruned by a few men. 

“That’s the storage locker,” Ghost points at a building just on the other side of the garden. A pair in ratty black fatigues sit outside, guns slung across their shoulders. 

“It’s guarded at all times?”

Ghost nods, lifting one hand to wave in response to one of the guards who waves at him.

The rest of the tour is quick: a second set of unused bunks, a building full of cars and trucks that look mostly unused, and the generators (also behind two guards who look like they haven’t slept in years). The last place he takes you is the armory; you spot your bow locked up behind the iron bars, the few arrows you had left leaning against the wall.

“Can I get that back?” You ask, fingers lingering on the cold metal of the lock. Ghost shakes his head; you don’t miss the way his fingers roll together, and you wonder if he’s wishing for a cigarette. 

“When you need it.”

His replies are infuriating you; you envision yourself kicking him in the back of the knee as you follow him out of the doorway. The sun is directly overhead by the time the two of you make it back outside. You flex your fingers in the rays, drinking in the little warmth that it brings in. 

You’re going to ask Ghost what next - a question that you’re not sure borders on the philosophical or the practical - when there’s a sound like a klaxon that comes through the entire compound. Ghost’s shoulders stiffen, head tilted just so. A second alarm repeats through the compound, and he walks away from you without a word.

“What is that?” You ask, jogging to catch up to him. His steps are quick, and it takes the breath away from you to keep up with him.

“They’re back.”

#my fics #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost #simon riley x you #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #zombie au #simon riley zombie au

[do-it-for-the-fandom]

Cloudy With a Chance of Murder.

Part I: leaving the crime scene.

Part II: the phone call.

Part III: a visit to the morgue.

Part IV: the lunch break.

Part V: lunch part II.

Part VI: the perfect cover.

Part VII: the storage closet.

They passed the elevators and scurried down the small corridor that led to an old storage closet. He opened the door, pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, plunging them into darkness.

"I didn't fully think this through," he commented.

Beckett couldn't help but smile and - for just a brief moment - she was thankful for his blunder and the fact that they stood in the dark: she didn't want him thinking he was off the hook that easy.

"Hope you're not claustrophobic," she snarked.

"Kate-" His hands found her hips and she sucked in air, not having expected the touch. "I was put on the spot and, in a moment of panic, I thought I had found a perfect cover," he explained.

The sincerity of his voice crumbled her defenses in an instant and she reached out for him, curled her fingers around the material of his shirt.

"It was never my intention to upset you," he assured her.

"I know."

He inched closer, towering over her so the bold outline of his body was all she could see, all she could feel. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, bringing one hand up to cup her cheek. 

"I know," she whispered back. 

Castle pressed his forehead to hers and they stood for a moment in stillness and in silence, just basking in this private moment. In the freedom of this touch, the freedom she had missed so  much more than she had expected she would. 

"I missed you last night," she confessed. "My fault, I know." 

But Castle shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "Not your fault. I'll call and cancel."

His hand moved from her cheek to comb through her hair, then fell back to her waist. 

"Don't." She sighed. "You're right; it's a good cover."

"I said perfect cover," he corrected. Sensing her frown, he continued, "but good works, too." 

Again, she smiled. And again, she was grateful for the cover of darkness so he wouldn't think he was off the hook. 

"Just promise me one thing," she bargained. "Don't be too charming."

"That's like asking the sun not to shine-"

"Humble," she muttered sarcastically.

"But, for you, I'll try." 

"Okay, well, maybe just one more thing?"

"Anything," he promised.

She covered his hand with hers, guided it down her hip and around to rest on her ass.

Then she slowly leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "Just keep in mind what will be waiting for you when you get home." 

The growl that came from Castle was guttural, primal. It sparked something within her, something that told her to throw caution to the wind (not that she was being particularly cautious to begin with) and, so, she did exactly that.

She reached up, wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled herself up onto her tiptoes. He met her in the middle and their mouths clashed in a heated, impassioned kissed. In the dark, her hands found the buttons of his shirt and made quick work of undoing them. She flattened her palms to his abs and smoothed them over his chest, savouring the warmth of his skin under her touch.

Two small steps was all it took to have her back pressed against one of the shelves that lined the walls and she grunted on impact. But Castle didn't stop, couldn't stop. His hand slipped under the material of her shirt, roamed freely until he reached the rough lace of her bra. He cupped his hand over her breast and she arched into him. Her head dropped back against the shelf behind her and sighed as he ghosted his thumb over her sensitized skin. 

Castle dropped a kiss to her throat, to her jaw, to the ticklish spot just below her ear and then whispered to her, "I love you, Kate. You're all I will ever need-" A kiss to her jaw. "or want." A kiss to her chin. "Ever." A kiss to her lips. 

As their tongues danced, her mind screamed for her to stop. She had very strict rules against this kind of thing: at work, she was a professional. Nothing about this was even remotely close to those standards but she couldn't bring herself to care. She regretted that she let some irrational insecurity keep them apart last night; the first time since she showed up at his door, drenched and desperate to fight for one last chance. She regretted that she had been so angry at him and that her anger had momentarily clouded her mind of what she knew to be true: Castle wanted her. Only her. And right now, despite her own rules, she wanted him too: more than ever before. 

"Yeah, I'll get it!"

They heard the faint, muffled sound of a voice from the other side of the door and they both froze in fear. Time seemed to move impossibly slow and yet entirely too fast as they heard the doorknob rattle and twist. Light began to leak through the crack of the door as it creaked open just an inch and Beckett pushed Castle off of her: not that the extra ten inches of space between them would make any difference at all. There was no time to button Castle's shirt, no explanation for the state of Beckett's mussed hair or the very telling swell of their lips. 

No, there was no getting out of this one. They were busted. 

"Hold on!" They heard another voice, and the door stopped moving. 

Castle stepped forward, pressed his body against Beckett's again in hopes to not be seen through the small gap in the only slightly ajar door.

"Pretty sure they dumped it with Robbery," the second voice said. "Check the storage on third."

Today, luck was on their side. The door closed and they were left in darkness once more. 

They both exhaled a heavy, held-for-too-long breath and Castle let out a relieved chuckle. 

"It's not funny," Beckett scolded as she combed her fingers through her hair. 

Rick fumbled with his buttons. "I know, I know. I'm so sorry." 

But after a second, she laughed too. Simply because the overwhelming relief that flooded through her needed an outlet. 

As soon as he was satisfied with his blind attempt at buttoning his shirt, Castle placed his hands on Beckett's hips and rested his forehead against hers. Together, they took a deep breath. 

"Shit," she said as she exhaled. "That was too close."

"We gotta stop," Castle agreed. 

"No more. Not here, not anywhere that isn't either the loft or my apartment. We can't afford to get caught."

"Agreed."

And it was the first logical decision they'd made thus far.

Just when they thought they were safe, the door opened again.

They both turned; their horror so evident on their faces.

LT shook his head, looked at them like a disapproving father. 

"You two have got to get your shit together," he warned them. Then he pointed to something behind Beckett's head. "Can you pass me that box? Garcia is looking for it." 

In that moment, they both realised that the second voice they could hear had been LT.

He saved their asses. 

He knew. 

Castle grabbed the box from behind Beckett and passed it to LT.

"Thank you," Beckett whispered, still a little too shocked to really process what was happening. 

LT smiled. "You should go before someone wanders past and starts asking questions."

#BUSTED!!! #my drabbles #kate beckett #richard castle #caskett #castle #kate beckett x richard castle #castle fanfiction #castle fanfic #I just had to have LT in here somewhere. I love LT. I think he is an undervalued character. #and you just know their secret is safe with him

[revelisms]

Excerpt: Six Years

Vi wrestles with the realization of how much her sister has changed—and how many unwanted parallels she sees between Silco and their father. From a work-in-progress set after heron blue.

In some ways, she was still so familiar. Her perpetual nest of a living condition and geriatric sense of humor; her inability (refusal) to tend to her hair, herself. Yet, in so many ways, she's nothing like the girl Vi remembers. 

A shell. A stranger.

Jinx—a name that doesn't belong to her sister, that christens a girl who spits at the name Powder; whose body bares sinew and steel, wears yellowed stains at her chipped fingernails and speaks a drawl decades beyond her years—isn't a child, anymore. 

Eleven years, enmeshed in each others' days and nights; eleven, that Vi had always been with her. 

Powder's rock and shield. Powder's everything.  

Then the cannery had happened. Stillwater had happened. That monster had happened—

A monster whose gait she could pick out from a crowd: hears prowling over the floors now, above the jukebox and the metal tickings and her sister's self-directed rambling—a heavy-heeled th-thumping up the varnished steps, his coat a devil's whisper against the walls.

Vi steels herself. Beside her, Jinx prattles on. 

"Y'ever thought of fighting in a ring, sis?"

Th-thump, th-thumping over the dark floors.  

"You'd be the scrappiest scrapper in the Underground. Bet they'd call ya the Red Devil—or Lead Lettie—or Sourmouth Suckerpunch—"

She stares, unblinking, plastic squeezed beneath her thumb. Through the sliver of her sister's cracked door, a polish-slick boot wades through the shadows. Stills.  

"What you really need," Jinx says, with a lax crook of her screwdriver, "is a pair of Vandie's old gauntlets—that'll set'em right."

Vi swallows. The hall's dark devours the wraith on the other side of the door: shrouds all but the unearthly cat's-eye that tips over the leather at his shoulder, burning like a funeral pyre over a rotting corpse. 

"Yeah," she says, stiffly. Comb-teeth bite into her palm. "That's all I need."

His stare lingers—three-four-five beats—before it flits to the floor, trails over the blue tangled within her fingers, traces its mess back to the girl lounged beside her. Jinx stays worlds away in her tinkering, head lolled against the floor. She wrenches another screw into place.

"It's late," Jinx huffs, without needing a glance. "I know."

Silence, for a moment. Then Silco agrees, "It's late, indeed."

Jinx scowls. "One'ta talk."

If the shadows weren't playing a trick on her, Vi might have thought he'd smirked. But that bastard never smiled—never did anything but glare over his paperwork, around the vile plumes of his cigars: eyeing her hyena of a sister like a stray in need of a meal, and Vi like a bull ready to charge. 

Signing a blood-pact to his enterprise (their city's scheme for fiscal independence; her sister's unfathomable choice for a homestead) had done nothing in the way of trust. He'd taken an overseer's scrutiny to her, from the day she'd put her name in ink: a dead-eyed panopticon hounding her every waking hour, as though she'd never left that molding cell.

On one hand, a part of her reasoned, he had a right—sizing up her methods, as he would any new recruit; strategizing where best to slot her in the arteries of a drug-machine already years on the march. A more cynical thread knew he was laying his cards flat and playing the long game. Slouching back, idly, with eyes unblinking, to find any reason to put her under his heel.

She stares at the unmarred side of his face: a dim halo in a coal-blackened sea.

Eleven years that she'd been with Powder.

Six—nearly seven, now—that Jinx has had this snake at her side.

From the doorway, his shadow gravels, "I take it you'll be off soon." 

"Soon as the bell chimes." Jinx flits her wrist, pinkie-promise. "Not a rhyme later—cross my hearts and hope to snore."

Silco makes a low chuff at that: strange, quiet, bemused. A not-quite laugh, like Dad used to do. 

For a moment, a breath tangled in her throat, Vi sees him. 

He was tower of a man, thin as a string. His voice itched with smoke-pocked lungs and dreams that glittered like the stars. He kept chewing tobacco sweetened with cinnamon under his tongue, and he wore the mines on his clothes; gave hugs that made one's soul feel like it'd been wrapped in down-feathers; made the moonlight seem like nothing more than hand-sculpted glass: some beautiful thing he'd spooled on a thread and hung up there for all to see.

He'd been everything to her—her image of whistle-toothed optimism, her laughter, her guiding light—until he wasn't.

Freckles smattering her cheeks, her unruly hair the color of redmilk tea, a younger version of herself had shrieked over the idea of having to share her plates, pillows, toys with some snot-nosed little girl—a blue-haired, rambunctious, wailing thing—a sister. She'd stomped her feet and thrown fits over it. Told Dad, flat out: I don't wanna have her!

He'd stood slouched over her, hands bracketed at his thin waist, a glitter in his pale eyes, and chuffed. You'll do great, Lettie. His smile always pulled a touch crooked at one corner: a sincerity that, without fail, made her believe him. 

She'd always believed him, then. 

She was too young, too naïve not to.

Staring into an empty threshold, into a shadowed hall, a ghost of footsteps thudding down the dark floors, Vi fights to forget their father's voice. To block out the echo of a rasp no part of her wants to compare to it. To ignore the remnants of smoke on the air—tower of a man, thin as a string, heels heavy-footed from those damn mines—that belonged to a man she'd sooner wring the neck of. Wouldn't dare put in the same vein of everything their father was.

(Complicated. Self-loathing. Hellishly tempered. Kind.)

#first arcane wip post in...how many months?? #truly cannot remember #work has been an absolute hellhole but I am. slowly. catching a break #i have so many fics i need to catch up on reading ghh #arcane #arcane fanfic #fic excerpt #writing #jinx arcane #vi arcane #silco arcane #this wip has been burning a hole in my files and augh i want to finish it at some point #the daughter vi dad silco dysfunction just hits different

[honey-tongued-devil]

↞[arcane preference] Love language↠

▶[Jayce, Viktor, Ekko, Marcus, Silco, Vander, Singed, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, Sevika] and their love language

[NdA]

Okay unbelievable, after saying for fifty times that I would return I have actually returned :D meanwhile, I don't know how tumblr works but I have exceeded 100 readers and I am very happy, especially because English is not my first language so I was really afraid to be attacked for mistakes made in the texts (besides the fact that I thought no one would read because my grammatical structures are complicated, my native language is a romance language) instead it seems to me that everything is going quite well, therefore to greater reason I am happy to propose you a couple of new things (besides to finally answer to the requests)

↠No use of "y/n", gender neutral reader (no pronouns for the reader) ↠TW: fluff?, Sfw, scars mention ↠Character/s: gn reader, Jayce, Viktor, Ekko, Marcus, Silco, Vander, Singed, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, Sevika

↠If you have any requests, ask the devil.↞

【Jayce】

Jayce has a habit of hugging.

Are you cooking? He will hug you from behind and leaning his head in the recess of your neck. Are you studying? His hands go straight to your hips to pull you closer to him.

nothing sexual, just the warmth of your body touching

He loves physical contact, which is why he looks for it whenever possible.

Another way to feel close to you is to caress your hair.

He wraps it around the fingers, braids it if it is long enough, combs it between the fingers, and moves the rebel tufts behind the ears.

in the mornings, when you have nothing to do, he likes to comb them and if possible style them.

【Viktor】

Viktor listens to whatever you say.

It doesn’t matter if you tell him about the day, the shopping bag that broke while you were walking down the street, your special interest, or even if you repeat something you already told him. He will listen.

This simple action also constitutes some moments of your intimacy: being able to talk about everything, voicing whatever you think, knowing that you are constantly being listened to.

Other times, however, there is a need for silence, and even in those moments nobody knows how to listen like him.

Sometimes the silence is louder than a scream.

Just stay together in the room, without a sound, without talking, without feeling embarrassment. Words can sometimes be equivocal.

And you two know how to enjoy the calm.

【Ekko】

Ekko’s always taking care of you.

it’s influenced by the environment in which he lives, where it is normal to get hurt and neglect the slightest wounds

returning from missions or work, he usually brings pieces of clean cotton and water in the room, so you can combine the moment of pampering to actually take care of you if you need it.

he kisses the scars as a ritual when you’re intimate, walking your body with his lips in a path that seems to want to help it heal completely.

he knows and loves every sign on your body, from the stupidest to the most painful ones and loves them all equally. It’s just stories you carry on your skin

like the time you overboarded and fell with your face on the iron gate and got that little scar on your forehead.

each sign tells a story that he would hear a thousand times.

【Marcus】

Marcus usually brings you flowers.

Is it a cheesy gesture? Yes. But it has become an indispensable habit.

on the kitchen table there is always a modest bunch of fresh flowers that make the environment more tender and give the room a fresh scent.

When you go out in the evening for events or a simple walk, he picks a flower from the bouquet and sticks it behind your ear: he knows which ones you love the most and he will make sure that they are always present.

And when it rains and he can’t pick the flowers he will make you find a tray of your favorite sweets

he is conscious that because of his work (and not only the legal one) he cannot be too present in the house but these small gestures serve to show you that not only he actually does care about you but that he listens to you and takes into account what you like

and if one night is on patrol, the flowers will remind you that he would never abandon you

【Silco】

Silco has a very special and specific and peculiar love language.

hands.

He casually strokes your hand with his thumb and leaves his hand at your disposal to distract you when you talk, if you need it.

he kisses the back of your hand to greet you

and in moments of maximum vulnerability rubs against it his carved cheek.

is always a delicate, light, compound contact, but that in itself retains all the tenderness that the underground can offer.

In public he appears detached, but if he perceives that you need him he brings an arm just behind the torso so that you can hold your little finger to his and feel his intimidating presence.

And those hands are ready to protect you at the cost of killing without the aid of weapons.

【Vander】

Vander loves to cook for you.

No matter what time he comes back home or how tired he is, he’ll always find time to put a hot meal on the table for you.

the smell of garlic has become almost pleasant: he often uses it in a delicate way, you don't even perceive it in dishes, but somehow his fingers are soaked with that strong aroma that you now recognize as "home smell"

when you want to spend time together and don’t know what to do, he proposes to cook together

it always ends up with dirty clothes and laughs.

and then, why not, you move two clumsy dance steps in the kitchen, humming under the voice a song out of tune

【Singed】

Singed is used to bring you small gifts from nature.

his work sees the use of chemical agents, but often it’s himself to extract them from plants or some weird ass poison glands, seeing the scientist in a… close contact with nature.

if you can say so.

when he comes across crystals or gems he does a quick job of soldering and makes you find small pendants as gifts.

But his absolute love language is sharing knowledge. 

He will explain to you what properties those stones have, the nature of the stabilized flower that now lies in a glass flask, which alkali contains, if it is poisonous how does it acts.

He’s dedicated his whole life to science, and there’s nothing in the world he loves more than to share that little world of his with you

【Jinx】

Jinx isn’t great with words.

sometimes she is afraid of not being able to express a concept well, which is why she begins to speak quickly and the words come out of her mouth like a confused river in flood.

which is why your life has become particularly... colorful. 

sticky notes. sticky notes everywhere. 

You’ll find some sticky notes on the mirror with hearts and compliments on them, on your bedroom door, on the sofa, on the refrigerator.

"Everywhere" means no place is safe. 

They are literally stuck on every single thing in the house, some contain messages, some simple drawings, but they don't fail make you huff a laugh.

You keep a pair of them in your wallet.

【Vi】

Vi doesn’t really know how to cook.

she would like her love language to be cooking (like her father), for her to actually dedicate herself to you

but it’s more of a continuous check of how you feel and what you need.

Have you eaten? and slept enough? Are you drinking?

It’s not totally her fault, it’s a bit of the ol’ “syndrome of the older sister”, and a bit of “the need to never waste energy when you are in the lanes: ask allows you to do in a targeted way what is needed”.

And then the protection.

Do you feel in danger? She accompanies you. Someone threatens you even jokingly? They’ll regret it immediately.

【Caitlyn】

Caitlyn hates the rules.

Her love language? To live.

She grew up in a disciplined environment, she’s used to being educated in a rigid way, but when it comes to showing love... Here she is sneaking out a window in the middle of the night, maybe clumsily, falling down.

It is not even a rebellion, it is more a “need to not live adapting life to the rules but adapt the rules to life”.

Whatever comes to mind you will do. The bath at night? clearly a bad idea, but why not. Dancing in front of the academy, with everyone’s eyes on? must try. Exotic foods? fuck yeah.

and to testify everything, her trusty instant camera.

You know she has a metal box in her room where she keeps your photos, receipts, candy wrappers and everything that serves as evidence of the little follies committed together.

【Sevika】

Sevika comes from an environment that makes her very emotionally constipated.

she is a strong and established woman, but the moment you are alone she needs that exact and specific contact: you have to sit on her thighs.

No matter if you eat, talk or watch a movie, she will pick you up while remaining serious.

It’s a vulnerability hard to explain, but being able to distract herself despite someone being so close to her vital organs is their ultimate way of expressing unconditional love and trust.

although undeniably sevika scolds. 

She doesn’t like you to catch, emulate or share her bad habits and try to keep you away from her work.

She just wants to protect you.

【Mel】

We could take five minutes and talk about Mel not being used to expressions of affection, but we won’t.

Her Love language? Gifts.

she makes you find them galore, especially after quarrels or more difficult periods.

always makes sure that you can have everything you could possibly want, making you aware that she listens to you when you are in the room,

gifting you things that you just mentioned you liked or were intrigued by.

Her other love language is to explain what is going on in her mind, even to speak openly about her political ideas.

She knows you won’t judge her, and talking about it openly helps her find the flaws in the plan, as well as showing you how much she loves you.

#jayce x reader #viktor x reader #ekko x reader #silco x reader #marcus x reader #vander x reader #singed x reader #jinx x reader #vi x reader #caitlyn x reader #sevika x reader #mel x reader #jayce talis #viktor arcane #ekko arcane #marcus arcane #silco arcane #arcane vander #singed #jinx #vi arcane #caitlyn kiramman #mel medarda #sevika #arcane x reader #arcane headcanon

[jinxhallows]

Uninvited [ The Finale Part 2 ]

Uninvited. a short-ish series ft. Felix, Chan and Hyunjin (& a sprinkle of Jisung for a little razzle dazzle)

cw: 100% AU, afab reader, blood and gore descriptions, ritual self-bloodletting, supernatural creature themes/tropes, vampire theme/tropes, hybrid theme/tropes.

word count: 6.0k (woo dis a big boi!)

-

Part I - click here

Part II - click here

Part III (explicit content) - click here

Part IV - click here

Part V (explicit content) -click here

Part VI -click here

Part VII - click here

Part VIII - click here

Part IX - click here

Part X - click here

The Finale Pt. 1 - click here

-- SO IT HAS COME TO THIS. THE END OF THIS JOURNEY. I love each and everyone of you that took the time to read my story. This was so much fun! I really enjoy AU writing and supernatural tropes. Please be kind to yourselves ! <3

**taglist <3 (If I missed anyone let me know! it wasnt on purpose i tried to comb all my posts and make sure )

@planetdemon ; @a-person-with-void ; @haleyms ; @wonhottcakes ; @hydroyaksha ; @just-randomm-stuff ; @sooinvu ; @ninjaleeknow ; @thegoddessharmony ; @kittycatkrissa ; @ominous-crow ; @sikebishes ; @strawberriesandknives ; @violetpenguinkris ; @koovvie ;

-----

The Final Chapter (Part Deux) 

“Don’t peek!” 

“I’m not peeking, I promise.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

You press your fingers together firmly resting them against Chan’s eyes as you guide him past the large cardboard boxes that were stacked alongside the walls, a few sit on the floor in the middle of the bedroom.  You’re penguin waddling behind him and end up almost tripping. 

“Hey! You’re supposed to have hybrid coordination here!” You chide as he laughs. 

“I’m a hybrid, I’m not Superman!” 

You make a face, even though he can’t see it. 

“What’s Superman got to do with your garbage coordination when your eyes are covered?”  

Although Chan’s placement is perfect for the surprise, right in front of the bathroom sink and facing the mirror; he can’t help the dismay at your question and he grasps your wrist, slowly removing your hands as he turns to face you. 

“You don’t know Superman has x-ray vision?” He almost looks hilariously disgusted with you. 

“Syu-puh-man yourself into the mirror and look at all my hard work!” You mock as you spin him by his shoulders to the sink. 

“Are you making fun of my acc--” Chan finally faces the mirror, but pauses instantaneously, barely recognizing the beast reflected in front of him.  He hadn’t had such dark hair in ages. 

“Do you love it?” You say with a wide grin. 

“Little witch I--” he runs his fingers through the deep brown, black hair. It was textured in its naturally wavy state after being freshly washed and towel dried.  

“It's been so long... I love it.” He shakes his shaggy hair out, his bangs falling perfectly on his forehead.  He looks so innocent and unsuspecting like this, especially with his new color.  “Do you know how difficult it was to keep that blue? God...” he scoffs, and you giggle as he wraps his arms around you.  He’s wearing dark pajama pants, and you’re comfortable in an oversized gray tee and an extra pair of his sweatpants. 

“Well, you’re welcome.” You smile as his embrace tightens and he kisses your lips once, twice, before nuzzling his nose into the fine hairs that had escaped the front of your scarf, right by your ear.  His breath tickles your jaw and neck. 

“God I’m so glad you’re back.” he murmurs into your skin.   

You can hear the pain in his voice.  The whole lot of you were traumatized from the entire ordeal.  Others carried this weight near-seamlessly; Hyunjin being at the top of that list if it were to be listed from best to worst at displaying a false mask of composure and balance. 

It had been a little over a week since you and Jisung made it back from purgatory.  Other than the gaps in knowledge that Hyunjin had about modern living, he appeared to be coping alright.  He remained to himself, or in Felix’s study. 

The next best person at hiding their trauma was, you guessed it, Felix.   

He isolated himself, so he only truly had to keep his cool for brief moments in the company of others.  You two had a few private conversations over the last few days.  Sometimes, you’d notice his eyes glass over as he would disassociate.  When asked about it, he would firmly insist he was alright and just dealing with the emotional aftermath of the incident, in such a self-aware way, that it would easily ward off any further intrusive questions. 

Chan was where the scale began to tilt.  Not only was he coping with the situation in his own, unique manner---he was also coping with the fact that he was going to be a father, in the most impossible of ways, and he was feeling all sorts of emotions he hadn’t felt in an extremely long time; and quite a few he had never felt at all prior to now. 

It was Chan who pioneered the decision for them to move out of the estate they had been on for hundreds and hundreds of years.  Through an old mutual supernatural friend of he and Jisung, they had secured a home on several acres about 4 hours away. Chan agreed to it right away, without even viewing it.  He simply wanted to uproot the household and mask their whereabouts as swiftly as he could. 

As far as he was concerned, you all could collectively figure out a forever home after the child arrived.  The safety of all was his top priority.   

He kept his ability to bring the spirits of others up, but he barely honored his daytime deaths, instead opting to stay up and vigilant.  The events were trying on his psyche, and sometimes he would break, at night.  You’d hear him crying, softly; sometimes you would feel what felt like a kick in your stomach (though according to mortal fetal development cycles, you were far too early to be experiencing such phenomena). It would wake you from your slumber and you’d sluggishly crawl across the bed to where he sat on the edge.  You would wrap your arms around him, and hug him tightly, kissing the back of his head as he cried.  Oftentimes you would cry too, but you would bite back your sobs, your nose pressed against his silken hair as you’d grip him tighter still. 

Not only was Jisung’s ability to conjure severely affected by crossing the lines between the dead and the living an added time—he was experiencing a strange bout of dizzy and fainting spells that Felix was still trying to get to the bottom of.  Until he was back to his full health, Chan didn’t feel comfortable allowing him to be alone at his home.  Without the level of conjure he held prior, Felix also noted that the protection around the perimeter of his home might have new vulnerabilities. 

Jisung refused to leave the guest room unless it was necessary.  He felt extremely vulnerable the way he currently was and busied himself sick trying to find a solution alongside Felix. 

You hadn’t escaped psychologically Scot free yourself.  You suffered from nightmares of an unknown origin that you were trying to keep under wraps from the others.  When Chan would ask why some days you would wake up in fear, nearly springing from the sheets, you simply blamed it on PTSD; which was half true. 

The other half of the truth was that in the nightmares, you couldn’t see much, it was as if you had been blindfolded.  You always heard the same two muffled voices, but it never became clear enough to decipher.  What was ingrained deep within you from the visions was the fear and hopelessness that you felt.  It was as if everyone had abandoned you, all at once.  The darkness was overwhelming and began to make you feel so trapped you’d grow sick to your stomach, oftentimes, the nausea carrying over into your waking life. 

Today was no exception.  At the break of Dawn, you feel yourself growing groggy.  You had been more tired than usual, but of course, this was how things went for pregnant women, right? It didn’t feel misaligned, the symptoms you carried.  You fall asleep, feeling the peace of your body being put to rest.  Yet what feels like only mere moments later, you blink your eyes open and see darkness. 

You feel the rough fabric that’s tied tightly over your eyes.  Your heart rate quickens, and you strain to hear the exchange of voices happening right in front of you. 

‘...onl...ay’ 

‘br...a...store....power’ 

You capture a full word for the first time since your nightmares began. 

Power 

--- 

You end up getting a bit more rest than you had expected, which was a welcome recharge to your system.  You don’t mention the context of your nightmares, or the full word you managed to catch last night.  It would only make Chan more protective, Felix more curious, Hyunjin more stressed, and Jisung more terrified.  You could tell everyone, hell even yourself included, were waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Chan had told you in the entirety of his life, he’s never felt safe, things have never been normal. Ever. 

So, for now, you keep your mouth shut and enjoy the cool, night breeze on your face as you have your passenger side window rolled down.  You smell the Northeastern Atlantic Ocean shores, only yards away, the moonlight reflecting off the moving water.  As Chan drives further, the tree line gives you brief glimpses of the ocean, but it’s clear, you’re heading far in the opposite direction of it.  The forestry thickens and you soon smell damp moss and rotting wood more than the coastal sealine. 

Hyunjin is sitting in the backseat, also staring out the window, his facial expression blank.  He couldn’t shake off the feeling of being trapped in a world he didn’t understand. 

“So, this is it? This is where we’re going to live?” Hyunjin asks, with a hint of sarcasm. 

Felix, who’s sitting alongside Hyunjin in the roomy SUV, speaks up.  “It’s a roof over our heads.  It’s a start.” He replies coolly. 

“We’ll make it work, Hyunjin.” Chan says, glancing in the rearview mirror at his fire-haired brother.  “We always do.” 

“We’re a family.  We’ll figure it out, together.” You add softly. 

Hyunjin doesn’t reply, but the tension in his shoulders relaxes slightly.  You all drive in silence for a while, each lost in your own thoughts. 

Finally, Chan breaks the silence as the car slows down on the dirt road.  “We’ve been through a lot, but we’re all here now.  We’re going to make a new life for ourselves.  We don’t really have a choice but to move forward now. “ 

“Anyway then, here we are.” Chan twists the keys in the ignition and the low rumbling of the engine stops.  It’s so silent, you could hear a pin drop at least a mile away.  You lean forward, glimpsing the large, Victorian style dwellings.  Your eyes are immediately drawn to the thick vines that seem to be growing out of every crevice.  The moonlight casts an eerie glow on the overgrown plants, making the house seem almost...alive. 

You can feel the discomfort in the car as Chan, who was driving, and Jisung, who’s in the backseat, exchange a look of concern.  You can see the dust on the windows and the cobwebs in the corners of the house. 

As you step out the car with everyone else, you can’t shake off the feeling of unease.  The house seems ancient, and it’s clear that it hasn’t been lived in for a long time; but Chan and Jisung’s friend had assured them that it’s a safe location, and you trust them.   

You try to put your feelings aside and focus on the task at hand, but as you walk up the creaky front steps, you can’t help but wonder what kind of secrets this old house holds. Chan wriggles the knob, expecting it to open, but to no avail. 

“Hold on.” Jisung emerges, wrapping his slender fingers around the rusted knob.   Without turning, you can hear the locks inside of the door turn slowly, as if there was someone on the other side.  The way it opens, dust falling from the frame, you begin to second guess this decision to yourself once more. 

“There’s no way you sprung me to live like this...” Hyunjin says, walking inside and glancing at the peeling paint on the walls.  The rooms are large and empty, with no furniture anywhere.  The floors are wooden, and a dark, cocoa color. 

“Brother, we’ve lived in worse.” Chan says, his hands in his pockets as he walks forward, looking up and surveying the large chandelier that hovers in the foyer.  He looks down at the rug underneath his feet and taps the spot with his toe. 

“This is a recipe for a D-List horror movie accident just waiting to happen.” He notes as you join him underneath, slipping your arms around his waist, squeezing the fabric of his fleece jacket between your fingers as you also look up at the chandelier. 

“It's almost a full moon.” You say with a grin, kissing him and moving on to explore the rest of the house yourself. 

“Yeah?” Chan follows behind you, now that you’ve piqued his interest. 

“Yeah, you get really paranoid about things the closer it gets, I’ve noticed....” Your voice trails off as you run your hand over an old hallway display cabinet.  Dust clings effortlessly to your fingers, and you brush them against one another to scatter it away.  

“You don’t think there’s any way Edith could like...come back, for me...or the baby, or anything, right?” You blurt. 

Chan’s brow furrows.  “No. We sealed her soul in purgatory, little witch why—does this have to do with your nightmares?” Chan’s gears begin to shift as he puts two and two together. 

“No! I--” You look around before lowering your voice, “No, I’m just still afraid.  Can you blame me? I barely got out alive, and now I have to keep myself and this...thing alive--” 

“This thing? That’s my child that’s...our child.” Chan’s voice softens.  He realizes his fuse is shorter around the Full Moon and tries to maintain control. He normally doesn’t let it slip, but he was feeling out of sorts the last few days.  “You let me worry about keeping you, and our child, alive.” 

You’re a little taken aback at his tone, but you blame it on the oncoming Full Moon.  The last one didn’t go as well as it should have, and after everything, his body and emotions were tense.  He seems to notice the shift in your demeanor and runs his fingers through his dark hair, now styled back slick and straight.  He sighs as he places both hands firmly on your upper arms. 

“All of this, its gonna take some getting used to for me, for you, for everyone here.  She could be a vampire, a witch, a wolf, or all three.  My father was a hybrid, and I came out as a wolf.  There’s no rhyme or reason to this it's just...a wildcard, really.  It’s a wildcard.  I feel like I’ve been given a second chance to get it right this time.” 

You can feel the neediness in his voice, you see his eyes, begging, pleading for you to understand him, to validate his reasoning, experience and existence.   

Your big, bad wolf. 

“Did you say...she?” You tease. 

He’s caught off guard as you laugh at his expression. 

“Did I? I said she? Did I really?” He asks in disbelief.  “I didn’t even notice.” 

“Do you want a little girl? Do you think you can handle that?” You say with a cheeky grin. 

“No, absolutely not! That’s why I can’t believe I said it!” He touches his lips and looks at his fingers, as if the answer would be splayed on the tips. 

“Hey lovebirds, it’d be nice to have some hybrid strength for some of these boxes, yeah?” Jisung slaps the doorframe that he’s looking out from behind as he hoists his box higher against his body to get a better grip.  He takes it into the living room and sets it among the other boxes that Felix and Hyunjin had managed to use their unnatural speed to build up. 

They didn’t bring everything from the old house, only enough to be able to live comfortably for a little while.  The family estate was in their name and would always stand where it was built; but that area couldn’t be considered secure.  People over the centuries had been guests, although there had been no disturbances, folks in certain circles close enough knew where they laid themselves to rest. 

You were barely pregnant, and certainly felt strong enough to help.  Your speed wasn’t up to par like theirs, nor was your coordination, but you had little boosts every now and again.  You glance into the trailer attached to Chan’s truck.  Figuring out that you could carry a box or two, you grasp one and make your way back up the creaky stairs and into your new home. 

Chan’s about to approach you, to chastise you for doing too much, when Felix stops his brother, arm across his chest. 

“Let her do something for herself, you can’t control everything, brother.” The white-haired vampire murmurs in an intimate tone.  “You’ll drive yourself mad trying and drive her away in the process.” 

Chan takes a few steps back, watching as you set the box down in the middle of the room and stand up, feeling more winded than you usually were.  You shake it off and head back outside to join the others. 

“I can’t escape the notion that something isn’t right, brother.”  

Chan crosses his arms across his chest, the sleeves of his deep navy fleece jacket rolled up to his elbows as he stands beside Felix, near the staircase in the foyer.  Hyunjin zips back and forth so fast, only the sound of his rustling clothing and dropping boxes can be heard.  Jisung is struggling to carry heavier boxes, to get you to not worry about them.  You find yourself stumbling along Jisung, trying to capture the other end of the boxes that were too heavy for him alone to conquer. 

Felix watches everyone too, his arm resting against the wooden, curled start of the banister. 

He wants desperately to disagree; but the brothers knew how their undead lives worked. Now they had a pregnant witch descendant of one of the most powerful clans in the world in their midst. 

Felix chews the inside of his lower lip as his brain begins spinning the webs it always spun when it came to strategizing. He answers his brother, barely above a whisper. 

“It’s not.”  

Chan glances over his shoulder at his younger, pureblooded vampire brother.  “Has something been ailing you?” 

“The bloodlust.” Felix never takes his eyes off you all milling about, despite Chan boring holes into the side of his skull.  “Normally I keep myself well fed, the blood of a witch, the blood of your little witch, it’s tempting but...” Felix’s gaze breaks as he glances down at the floor.  His index and thumb rub against one another anxiously. 

“The reason Hyunjin and I have stayed out of the way isn’t because of what happened.  Well maybe, possibly for him but the bloodlust, it just feels almost out of my--” 

“Shit!” 

You wince, ripping back your hand from the edge of the box where you had just accidentally sliced the side of your palm with the box cutter.  The box cutter clatters to the ground as you grip your wrist, sucking in air through your teeth.  You’re pinned suddenly to the ground and look up to see Hyunjin’s eyes, an emblazoned amber, his sclera an ugly shade of blood red as he breathes heavily.   

There’s no time to embody enough strength to let out a terrifying scream, as Hyunjin's body is violently propelled across the room and Chan is kneeling beside you, breaking the skin on his wrist and lifting your head enough to feed you his blood.  You drink, chest still heaving with adrenaline as you observe Felix, holding Hyunjin up by his fingers tightly enclosed around his throat as the youngest brother thrashes against the wall.  The wound on the side of your palm closes itself up as you close your eyes from the sights of it all and continue drinking. 

Jisung’s hand lay against Hyunjin’s forehead like a priest performing an exorcism.  With nothing but pure, ancient magick, Jisung sends a voltage-like stream of energy through Hyunjin that immobilizes and renders him unconscious; and afterwards, he crumples to the ground, powerless.  Felix flits away in the blink of an eye, Hyunjin over his shoulder.   

As Chan is overseeing everything and allowing you to heal, he suddenly feels a sharp stab from your mouth. 

“Hey, hold on a sec...” He coaxes you from the blood spilling from his wrist, and he looks closer at your teeth, covered in blood and saliva, as you breathe heavily from the consumption of power. The tips of your canines were thinner, with a sharper tip.  You had felt overwhelmingly in need of his blood for a while now, and you didn’t know what cravings you were dealing with until you had tasted it like this once more.  You were dizzy with how good it felt. It soothed a need inside of you. 

“Your teeth, little witch--” Chan says in disbelief and concern as he glances over to Jisung, still unconscious on the floor.  In a split-second decision, Chan crawls quickly over to Jisung, placing his head into his lap and re-opening his wrist wound to feed Jisung and hopefully bring him back.  You’re busy licking the blood from off your lips and fingers as you quietly watch them.  You feel feral, but not in a good way.  You feel impulsive, and your emotions are now rising to an uncomfortable place. 

Jisung stirs awake groggily, coughing and spitting the excess blood on the floor as he pushes himself up to sit and look around, regaining his breath once more. 

“Shit how long was I out for?” he asks Chan as he’s helped back up to his feet. 

“A minute, maybe two at most.” 

“What the hell was that?  That wasn’t normal bloodlust, veins were popping out of his skull, he was being consumed by something else entirely.” 

It's just like Jisung getting back to normal immediately after falling unconscious. 

“It could be because of the baby, or how long he’s been in purgatory Jisung, I don’t know.” Chan drops his hands to his side in confused exasperation as he kneels next to you, helping you to your feet.  Your carnal desires had weakened just a bit now that the aftershocks were settling in. You feel the fuzziness in your brain returning to clarity once more.   

Felix is coming back down the stairs, and the four of you gather in the living room.  He wipes blood from his fingers with his handkerchief as if it were a kitchen condiment. 

“Little Witch, I need you to be honest with me, yeah?” Felix asks, looking directly into your eyes.  “Have you experienced anything strange, or off since you’ve been back? Any foreboding feeling, visions, nightmares, hallucinations, cravings?” 

You instinctively want to start out by lying, but with Felix’s ability to sense the shifts in your circulatory system; and Chan’s capability to literally smell your fear, you answer honestly. 

“I’ve been having trouble controlling my powers and experiencing intense mood swings,” you admit, wringing your hands nervously. “I keep dreaming about being held hostage and hearing voices, last night they said ‘Power’. And to top it off, I’ve been having these cravings, like...I need to consume something that I know I shouldn’t.” 

Chan doesn’t add that he witnessed fang like projections from your canines earlier. He decides to leave the others in the dark about it. You’re grateful, unaware of what it could mean for you.

Felix and the others exchange a look of concern, knowing the implications of what you just revealed. They were all well-aware of the dangers that came with pregnancy for a witch, especially when the witch in question was carrying a child of an unknown species. 

“We need to keep a close eye on you, Little Witch,” Chan says firmly, his arm coming behind your waist from the side to pull you in. “We need to make sure that you and the baby are safe.” 

“I don’t feel safe in an unprotected house, no matter what Minho told us.” Jisung says as he walks around the perimeter of the living room, observing the cracks in the walls, little scratches here and there. 

Minho... 

That was the first time you’ve ever heard that name before. 

“He’s all the way in Russia, I don’t even know why you involved him in our mess.” Felix retorts. He’s now extremely cautious about what family friends they decide to include so closely into their lives. Anyone who joined them were at risk of death in any number of gruesome ways with the danger they attracted. 

“You know the Lee family has safeguard housing up and down the East Coast, who else could deliver us enchanted real estate in a week’s time? Besides,”  

Chan looks around, “Now nobody in America knows where we live.” 

----- 

The night before the Full Moon, the night of the Waxing Gibbous moon, progresses, and Jisung is busy using as much of his power reserve as possible to help with protection incantations and conjure to at the very least, make you all undetectable for a solid 3 weeks. With some rest, he could add catch-em's throughout the woods, to signal if anyone was encroaching upon them, and trap them until someone could investigate. 

Three weeks would allow the brothers the time to procure a witch of substantial power to drain for the purposes of Felix and Hyunjin helping Jisung to finish the task. You didn’t allow yourself to use unnecessary magick until you could figure out what was going on with your body.  

The energy of tomorrow’s Full Moon hangs heavily in the air, which was causing your powers to become increasingly volatile. 

It turns out that you weren’t the only one becoming volatile. 

The next night, you experienced not one nightmare. 

Nothing. 

In fact, you sleep quite well, the best you have had in ages. The large, four post bed in the room you and Chan chose is old, with its elaborate gold metal headframe but didn’t have a foul smell and had been covered with plastic. When you further examined the 6, close to 7-bedroom house, you discovered some rooms were furnished, and others left bare. 

The loud bangs and clattering were what startled you awoke, followed by muffled voices yelling argumentatively. This house isn't as modernized as the former. The thick, heavy curtains that blocked out sunlight did the same for the moon and stars, unless you physically drew them back. The old place had fancy electronic drapes that rose and fell at the precise moment of sunrise and sunset.  

You reach out and turn the bedside lamp on, rubbing your eyes as you stumble over to the curtains and draw them. The moon hangs high in the sky, big and full. You ran to the top of the stairs, clenching your robe closed, as you had little time to get yourself together. 

Underneath the central chandelier in the foyer was the large wolf with fur blacker than souls that stir in the dead of night. Scraps of fabric were strewn on the floor, along with quite a fair amount of blood spattered along the walls and carpet. The wolf crouches down, readying for a predatory launch. 

“Chan!” You shriek impulsively, covering your mouth when his yellow eyes snap at you, standing atop the staircase. He growls, a snarl from deep inside of his chest, and then he blows air from his nose, almost like a sneeze, backing up two paces with a whine before he’s off, out the broken front door at a speed far faster than an average wolf could manage, and into the night. 

You run down the stairs and out onto the porch, but to no avail, he’s already out of your sight. The sounds of coughing and boards falling and creaking are what alert you to Hyunjin as he climbs out of the hole in the front porch, shaking the crumbled dirt and dust from his crimson locks and brushing his plum-colored button up, tucked into his black slacks.  

“Well, that was a very rude way to say ‘no’.” he tilts his head to the right ever so slightly, and you wince from the crack that results from the realignment of his spine. “I guess I forgot how strong he was.” he murmurs to himself as he adjusts the cuffs of his sleeve around his wrist.  

“Hyunjin, what the fuck happened to you last night? You nearly killed me, and the baby!” Your anger explodes in that moment, but didn’t you have every reason to? If bringing Hyunjin back means you were in more danger than before then maybe you were the only one capable of doing something about it... 

You stop in your tracks from approaching him and physically shake your head to get rid of those awful thoughts. 

You didn’t mean that. 

Why did that even come up intrusively into your mind? 

“You’re feeling it too, aren’t you, pretty witch?” Hyunjin hasn’t flinched from his spot, simply placing his hand into his pocket. He looks amused. “I’ve never seen you so fired up like this before. I kind of like it on you--” 

You take in your breath and hold it to stop yourself from saying something impulsive. 

“Hyunjin, think about what Chan can do to you, and magnify it by 300, I will wear your fucking insides as mardi gras beads if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on—right—now.” 

“You don’t have to sweet talk me that like to get information out of me, besides, I don’t know what the fuck is going on, alright? Christophe seemed to have transformed against his will and now he’s God knows where in this area none of us know anything about.” Hyunjin says crossly with his unique sarcasm.  

“And I didn’t attack you on purpose, alright?” his demeanor shifts as he glances away, and you sense a little...worry? Sadness?  

“I keep having these fucking...flashbacks of being sealed away. Those first few hundred years...I fought every, single moment I breathed. I – I bled out so many times, and would black out, only to come back impossibly weaker—forced to fight again, and again--” 

“Hyunjin, I--”  

You wordlessly bring him into a hug and his body stiffens at first, he doesn’t reciprocate. 

“Pretty witch I can’t--” 

His hands come up to embrace you in return. 

“Pretty w-witch--” 

His hands are quivering on your back, and you feel wetness seeping into your shoulder that makes you pull back and see the saliva dripping down his jaw, his fangs full and bright, needle sharp, just like Felix’s as he fixes his stare blankly ahead at nothing, his body beginning to slowly rock. He looks like he’s fighting a possession. 

“Run.” 

You take off down the porch stairs and into the woods.  

You glance back as you run, the robe catching on the tree and ripping from your body. You manage not to stumble, but as you’re not paying attention, the remains of a hollow dead tree strike a gash in your shin that makes you cry out, hunched over, trying to keep some distance between you and whatever these wild creatures that you knew as close friends, family even, had become. This wasn’t them. You had to be hallucinating. You were in some nightmare.  You stand to your feet again and come face to face with Felix’s hungry eyes. 

“Are we playing a game, little witch?” he asks in a lively manner, with a disarming show of his teeth in an innocent grin. 

“I win.”  

Felix’s lips close, then turning into a smile that reaches his eyes, before he grips you up, his lips pressing against your neck, your pulse racing as you squirm against him, trying to manifest your strengths, your capabilities, your power. 

“You smell like pure moonlight.” He says after taking a big whiff of your skin before you feel needlepoint fangs puncture your artery while you feel an icy heat emerge from your fingertips and onto his thigh that you were gripping behind your body. Felix yelps in pain, mutters mumbled profanity, and you hear the breeze through the branches as he disappears into the night. 

You’re gripping your neck as its spurting blood all over the ground beneath you and you fall to your knees. You want to be strong; you want to cry out for help, but you blackout from the blood loss and pain from the venom, your body hitting the forest floor. 

------- 

“--manifesting differently in all of us--” 

“-- dead!” 

“--sealed her soul, you didn’t--” 

You groan as you groggily open your eyes to see yourself back in the four-post bed of your room. 

“She’s awake.” Chan exclaims at your bedside. You tilt your head to look at him and then sit up a little more.  

He’s all human. All there. He’s cleaned up and well-dressed, which was a stark contrast to the beast you laid eyes on before you passed out. 

You passed out. 

You touch the side of your neck, but feel the skin totally healed. You move your head back and forth and feel no pain before you spot Felix sitting at the foot of your bed. Jisung is seated at an old desk to the right. Hyunjin is leaning against the window, staring up at the moon that continued its cycle regardless of what happened down here. It's a waning gibbous; at least the energy of the full moon had passed. You feel calmer, and the energy between the boys is subdued. 

“Good, you’re awake.” Felix says as he lifts his head to look at you. 

“First of all, about last night—I lost control of myself in ways I haven’t felt in hundreds of years. I can only remember what even happened through Jisung bringing my memories back. The last thing I remembered was Jisung and I in the woods, figuring out the lay of the land, and then, I smelled blood...I didn’t just, smell blood, I heard voices in my head. Collective voices like a swarm of bees, all telling me to follow it. The entire time I was fighting impulse and I couldn’t stop myself. I remember feeling a stabbing pain in my leg, and I tasted your blood on my lips and ran as far as I could with what little control I had.” 

You listen to him, remembering what you could of the chilling events that occurred last night. The way he smiled at you, so friendly, so unassumingly, he could’ve taken candy from a baby with no consequence. This was only moments before he ripped a hole in your carotid artery. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. 

“At least I gave her a warning.” Hyunjin shrugs as he continues to watch the trees blow in the wind. 

“You call telling her to run headfirst into her death a warning?!” Chan snaps as he stands up, the chair he’s in scraping back against the floor with the haste of his aggressive movement. 

You remember the conversation you had with Hyunjin last night before he told you to run, and you tug at Chan’s hand, shaking your head, signaling for him to stand down. He sighs as he reaches between his legs to pull the chair back and sits back down. 

“How are you feeling? Is anything different?” Chan asks. 

He wants to know about the baby. 

“I’ve never been pregnant before but, I feel okay—a little tired but, nothing too crazy.” You grunt as you push yourself all the way up. “I guess this is what you meant by us never being safe, huh?” 

Chan exchanges a glance with Felix, who stands to his feet. 

“I don’t think there was a way to prevent this from happening, I don’t even know how it all works yet....” 

You cling to each word as Felix speaks. 

“I have a theory that Edith had a counterspell on her earthly remains. If they were ever to be destroyed, a curse is set loose to reign hellfire on those responsible, bringing out the worst in all of us. I don’t feel it at all today, neither do any of the rest of us. It must somehow work with the Full Moon.” 

“Meaning its wolf-based?” 

“There are other important things that happen during the Full Moon that don’t involve us.”  

“I knew it! I knew she wasn’t gone!” You shove the blankets off of you as you stand up in anger, interrupting their discussion.  You look at Chan. “You told me she was gone, you told me there was no way she could come back--” 

“She is gone, and she won’t come back.” Hyunjin’s voice cuts between the room’s tension. 

“If we can break the curse.” 

End. 

#bangchan #bang chan #chris bang #skz #stray kids #skz au #skz vampire au #stray kids vampire au #bang chan x reader #felix x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #wolf chan #wolfchan #bangchan wolf au #bangchan hybrid au #felix vampire au #jisung #han jisung au #jisung fic #felix lee #hwang hyunjin

[crepesuzette2023]

Paul McCartney, Celia Mortimer, Iris & Vi Caldwell & Mike McCartney: Sketches for a Coming-of-Age Novel.

All quotes from TUNE IN by Mark Lewisohn, except the last one.

[Paul] had two main girlfriends in the last weeks of 1962 and neither knew of the other. One was Celia Mortimer, 17, the strikingly attractive redhead from art school who designed her own clothes and was a big Beatles fan at the Cavern.

'In my first year at art College everyone was wild about trad jazz, but then word came up the hill that ‘things were happening’ at the Cavern; a few of us went down one lunchtime to have a look—and there were the Beatles. […] It was the first time anyone in Britain had the black polo neck, black corduroy, existentialist look. I instantly took their lead and started to make hip black corduroy things to wear.'

‘[…] Paul was attractive, intelligent, arty, all the things that appealed to me, plus he was good to be with: a genuine, gentle person who wanted to please. He was the complete opposite of John, who was snarly and grumpy and incredibly, incisively funny. Paul was the nice one. We started to go out, but things were still quite innocent. Because I lived some way out of Liverpool there weren’t many places we could go, except to sit in his dad’s front room or my friend’s front room, or the cinema—we saw the first James Bond film.’ EXOTIC NIGHTMARES

Paul’s other girlfriend was Iris Caldwell—Rory Storm’s witty, pretty, blonde sister; George’s first love; the 18-year-old daughter of Ma Storm, whose house, Hurricaneville at 54 Broad Green Road, was central to the Beatles’ late-night social scene.

‘He had a beautiful voice and puppy-dog eyes,’ Iris says, ‘and he was much more interested in me than I was in him. I wanted more than a tuppence-ha’penny guitarist of a Liverpool group.’ Iris’s professional dancing career had taken off: she was as busy as Paul, working summer seasons and London shows and touring around the country; they could only see each other when their diaries dovetailed, and just as Paul was with Celia when Iris was out of town, she was secretly going out with Frank Ifield. […]

Iris always knew that a big part of the attraction for anyone going out with her or Rory was the chance of extended time at Hurricaneville, to hang longer around her dad Ernie and especially her mum, Vi. […] ‘Mum never chucked anyone out,’ Iris says. ‘We were all late-night people apart from me dad, who the Beatles called the Crusher because he had exotic nightmares and ate household objects.’ […]

Mary had been gone for six years this October, and Vi Caldwell was one of the women who tried to fill the breach. ‘I was practically a mother to Paul,’ she said without boasting. She made him food and drink, took his stage-soaked shirts and washed and ironed them, and shared easy intimacies. ‘Paul used to like her combing his legs,’ Iris says. ‘He had really hairy legs and he’d come in from the Cavern all tired, roll up his trousers and she used to comb his legs. How ridiculous can you get? But he adored my mum and my mum adored him.’

Vi recalls: ‘Paul was very temperamental. He would come on occasions and would be terrifically friendly and down-to-earth, and on other occasions he would come and be rather aloof and we wondered if we had offended him, as if he was thinking ‘I’m being too friendly so I’ll keep you in your place.’ That was our impression.’

THRILLING IN A DIFFERENT WAY

[Paul] was without the others, but with Celia Mortimer…and a new song. It was Tuesday/Wednesday 23/24 October [1962], the Beatles’ sole two-day break of the year, and Paul decided to leave his car at home and have an adventure: he and Celia hitch-hiked to London to see Ivan Vaughan. Paul loved hitching: he enjoyed chatting to strangers and seeing himself in an observational role, but he’d only done it with George or John, never with a girl. Celia—intelligent, chic, a pretty redhead—made it thrilling in a different way. And it was to see the brilliant Ivy, his Institute mate and John’s boyhood pal. […]

The new song was I Saw Her Standing There, though it had no title as yet. Its melody and structure skidded into Paul’s head late on Monday as he drove back from a Nems Enterprises Showdance in Widness. This was a sophistication of delivery had never experienced, inspiration so excitingly hot that when he got to Hurricaneville he grabbed an acoustic guitar and started working it out. […] It was truly a magical moment for Rory Storm, who’d never seen anyone write a song before. Vi and Iris would always maintain that he asked Paul if he could have it, exclusively, and Paul said yes—but as Rory didn’t have a record contract it’s unclear why he asked and Paul may have said yes only to regain some necessary peace and quiet.

Celia: ‘We had an amazing time, just wandering the streets in the sunshine, looking at London, holding hands and having fun, and Paul had the melody of what became I Saw Her Standing There going round his head all day, humming and singing it and fleshing out the words. […] He said, ‘What rhymes with “We danced through the night?” and I came up with ‘We held each other tight’, which was really quite naff, but he used it.’ BACK TO McCARTNEY-LENNON

However, the song was completed only when he had a front parlour session with John at 20Forthlin Road. They tried out little bits on Jim Macs Nems piano but mostly used guitars, working ‘eyeball to eyeball’ just like when they’d first written together here as schoolboys. Mike took photographs of them sitting by the little tiled fireplace—important historic images, the only such photos ever taken—so here we see these two sharp ambitious tuned-in young man looking down at an old Liverpool Institute exercise book in which Paul has written the words, complete with plenty of crossings-out. John is wearing his black horn-rim glasses and playing his Jumbo Gibson, Paul is playing a cheap Spanish acoustic of unknown history. Another original, a McCartney-Lennon one, is taking shape right here, right now. BIG PLAYER CELIA AND THE OTHER McCARTNEY BOY

Celia Mortimer’s relationship with Paul ended in the last weeks of 1962. ‘As the Beatles spent more time in London, Paul was there and not in Liverpool so much, and our situation just fizzled out. There was no time for it.’ She went on to become a big player on the London fashion scene, with her own label and studio on Great Portland Street, just a long from where she spent a few hours with Paul in 1962. In between times, she went out for a long time with Mike McCartney and was part of the Liverpool poetry scene.

Mike (a Ladies’ hairdresser at the time): MY FIRST LOVE AND BOB 'FOLK RUBBISH' DYLAN (from The Macs, 1981)

One day my first real love, after mum, walked into the salon; she was one of a group of models posing for the Daily Post and Echo. I was brushing up the hair as it cascaded endlessly down on to the floor. I wasn't exactly the brushing up which excited her, it was the way I did it (isn't it always?). The brush was balanced, she later recalled, on the end of my index finger, the furthest point from my body and, with absolute disdain, I followed it across the shop floor.

Not being a Post and Echo model at all, but in truth a hungry student plying her body for money, she returned for the free evening classes where she became my model, and I discovered that her name was Celia. From a model customer she became a model model, and from a model model we became a model couple.

She was the first woman I gave myself to, and she gave herself in return. In her Husky Street flat we got lost in each other's body and mind; we swam together through many Liverpool 8 late nights and often into the morning, when she would get up to cook breakfast and put on records. I would just lie there, male chauv-like. One morning she kept playing a particular album which didn't impress me.

'Who's that Ceel?'

'Someone they keep playing at college . . . Bob Dylan.'

'Never heard of him.'

'Neither had I, but after a while he's quite good.'

"Ceel—my first real love (after Mum)." Photo by Mike McCartney.

#just me daydreaming #coming-of-age novel #the recurring themes drive me nuts: the chic redhead and the leg combing #The Liverpool Relationship Radiant #Mike and Paul and Celia #John and Paul and Ivy #Etc #Paul and mothers and Paul's complex character #These women were too good for him #paul mccartney #mike mccartney #I saw her standing there #the beatles