#Continuous Casting Powder

[goldenbrowns]

˳೫˚ BUCKY BARNES THOUGHT

summary: bucky barnes dives headfirst into the chaos of online dating, only to find himself completely lost in translation. When a particularly bold message from a girl on bumble leaves him more confused than turned on, he turns to you and sam for help. what starts as harmless advice quickly spirals into an impromptu crash course in modern-day sexting—because apparently, hydra's brainwashing didn't include a glossary in bdsm terms. word count: 2.9k warnings: dirty talking, just two idiots helping bucky barnes get laid (you're a little jealous tho, duh), cursing, mention of some kinks, and that's it.

The projector Tony had bought last month glowed in the dimly lit room, casting long shadows over the four of you sprawled across expensive furniture you definitely didn’t pay for. Steve's got his arms folded, brows furrowed like he's in a hostage situation. Sam’s half-asleep, chin on his fist. You’re curled up on the corner of the couch with a throw blanket over your legs, phone in hand.

And then there’s Bucky. Sitting on the floor, back against the couch, legs stretched out. Arms crossed. Scowling at the screen like the movie had insulted him personally.

“I still don’t get it,” Bucky mutters, for the third time, cutting through a funny moment of White Chicks.

“You don’t get it?” Sam turns to him slowly. “It’s two FBI agents dressed as white women. What’s not to get?”

“No, I get that,” Bucky says, gesturing vaguely at the screen. “I just don’t understand why they talk like that. What’s a ‘yo shorty what it do’ supposed to mean?”

“It means ‘hello,’ grandpa,” you say without looking up from your phone.

Steve shifts on the other side of the 'L' shaped couch, expression pained. “This was a mistake. We should’ve watched The Great Escape or something.”

“I just think,” Steve continues patiently, adjusting the throw pillow behind his back like a man determined to find some comfort in this madness, “there are better ways to spend a night than watching Terry Crews do whatever that is.” He flails a hand in the air when the Terry's scene comes on.

Sam doesn’t even bother looking over to him. “Lies,” he mutters, voice muffled by his hoodie sleeve. “This movie’s a cultural reset. I wouldn't take advice from a hundred-year-old man either way.”

“You’d think that after seventy years on ice,” you say, nudging Steve’s foot with yours, “you’d be thrilled to catch up on modern cinematic masterpieces.”

“I don’t think this qualifies as a masterpiece,” Steve says, gesturing toward the screen just as one of the Wayans brothers screams something completely incomprehensible in heels and a blonde wig.

Bucky makes a low sound, like something between a sigh and a growl. “This isn’t a cultural gem. This is a war crime.”

“Coming from the guy who once wore a leather muzzle like he was the bassist for a German industrial punk band,” you shoot back, eyes flicking to him over the rim of your soda. “Glass houses, Barnes.”

Bucky looked over his shoulder and scoffed at you. Onscreen, the roast battle kicks off, and he looks back at the TV. The infamous “Your mama’s so old…” scene.

Bucky’s scowl deepens as he leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees, trying to make sense of the chaos.

“Wait—wait. Did she just say her mom’s breast milk is powdered?”

You nod slowly, trying not to laugh. “Yep. And she breastfeeds like this.” You mimic the ridiculous hand motion.

Bucky looks genuinely alarmed, like he’s witnessing a ritual that should’ve stayed buried. “What the hell does that even mean? Is that… supposed to be funny?”

Sam slaps the couch once, hard. “Yes, Barnes. It’s a yo mama joke. That’s the entire point.”

“I don’t know what that is either.”

You blink. “Oh my god. You don’t know what a yo mama joke is? Actually, no, that doesn't surprise me...”

Bucky’s voice is flat. “Should I?”

Steve sighs the sigh of a man who’s too old for this. “It’s… an insult. About someone’s mother. Usually completely absurd. Often loud. I also had trouble catching up on it.”

“On your terms, grandpa,” Sam adds, directing his gaze to Bucky. “If this were 1812, you'd be pistols at dawn by now.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Alright, come on, I’m not that old. I didn’t duel Hamilton, for Christ’s sake.”

Bucky rubbed his temple, clearly fighting off a headache from keeping up with the movie and its weird insults. Then, without warning, he grabbed his phone from the floor and unlocked it, scrolling through his messages with a weary sigh that immediately caught your attention.

“Uh-oh,” you muttered, nudging Sam, who instantly sat up straighter. Bucky didn’t say much, but the slump of his shoulders spoke volumes. He was dealing with some kind of text that was doing a number on him.

You leaned in over his shoulder, almost falling off the edge of the couch, as he finally muttered, “Natalie just messaged again.” Sam’s grin widened as he looked back at you, expecting some sort of detail, but Bucky didn’t look amused, not one bit.

He stared down at the screen for a few seconds more, eyes blinking dumbfounded at the screen. It was then that he regained composure and started reading the message out loud, which had left him visibly baffled:

“if you want, u can come over, i wanna see if u can keep me tied up and begging for more. don’t disappoint.👀"

The room went silent for a beat. Then you and Sam burst out laughing, while Steve froze mid-sip, the beer bottle halfway to his lips. Bucky, on the other hand, looked completely defeated. This poor man was being bombarded with unknown lingo over Bumble.

“I… don’t know what she means,” he said flatly, frustration lacing his voice. “Is this flirting? Or a declaration of war?”

Steve, ever the boy scout, cleared his throat like he was trying to physically clear the image from his brain. “That doesn’t sound safe.”

You shook your head, barely containing your grin. That was a full-on kink invitation—way out of Bucky’s league. You glanced at Sam and saw he was just as stunned. It was official: Bucky was drowning in the deep end of dating apps.

You would've probably blamed Sam for all of this. He had been the one to talk Bucky into downloading dating apps. And you realized, with a pang somewhere deep in your chest, that Bucky was willing to date this girl. Something that wouldn't've bothered anyone, if anything, it would make them happy to see Bucky settling nicely. But the thought of him with this girl made your stomach churn a little.

Bucky looked up as if he had read your mind, shooting Sam a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “You’re the one who convinced me to get on these blasted things,” he said, voice dry but laced with accusation. Sam just shrugged, still grinning like a kid who’d just gotten away with something.

“Hey! Wait, I didn’t sign him up for that,” Sam muttered, eyes still wide as he leaned over to reread the message. “I gave you Bumble, not a dominatrix hotline.”

Bucky just blinked, still holding the phone like it was a live grenade. “What am I supposed to say to that?” he asked genuinely. “Do I ask what kind of rope she prefers? Do I say I don’t have the proper permits?”

“Welcome to 2025,” Sam said, grinning.

Bucky rolled his eyes but didn’t argue further. Instead, he handed the phone over. “You two explain this ‘tied up and begging’ nonsense. I need a translator.” His deadpan expression made it clear he was serious—he had no idea how to respond to something so direct and intimidating.

You exchanged a quick glance with Sam, both trying not to laugh as you took the phone. “Okay, Buck,” you said, trying to keep a straight face. “Um, how do I- It’s her way of saying she’s into… well, kinkier stuff. Like bondage, domination, that kind of scene.”

Sam nodded enthusiastically. “If you’re not into that, it’s better to be honest now. But if you are… well, good luck, man.”

You sat back up, eyes narrowed as the phone dinged. “She sent a second message.”

“Oh no,” Sam said, leaning forward like this was the climax of a thriller.

You looked down, squinting, then read slowly:

“I hope your hands work better on knots than they do on texting.”

Sam burst into laughter. You choked on your drink. Steve immediately stood up like he needed to physically leave the room.

“I need to be anywhere else,” Steve muttered, walking out with his half-finished beer.

“Bucky,” you said through giggles, “you’re getting bullied… sexually. She’s domming you through iMessage.”

Right after you had read the message, Bucky had shot up from the floor and had started pacing in front of the couch. He looked like he was about to wear out his temples from how hard he was rubbing them. Now, hands on his hips, a bewildered expression, and restless foot tapping furiously on the wooden floor, he spoke again:

“I don’t even know how to respond to that,” he muttered, throwing a hand in the air and turning around to try to distract himself with the movie again. “Do I say ‘yes, ma’am’? Do I salute? War was easier than this...” He says as he quickly turns his body around once again, his face contorted into an even deeper expression of confusion.

You leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “First question: Are you into it?”

That made him freeze. The foot that had been drilling a goddamn hole into the floor suddenly stopped and his hands fell from his waist slowly. His eyes flicked up to yours, then to Sam, then immediately away.

“I—” He hesitated. “I mean… I’ve never…” He cleared his throat, voice dropping. “No one talked like that in the '40s, okay? We just... held hands and died from diphtheria.”

Sam slapped his thigh, laughing. “C’mon, man. You’ve got the metal arm, the broody stare, the permanent five o’clock shadow—don’t tell me you’ve never had anyone ask if you wanted to be a little rough. You're the perfect stereotype.”

Bucky blinked, tilting his head forward, not knowing if he should feel insulted. “Well, it's not like ive had the chance to even go on a date with a girl lately, you know? Also, what the hell does that even mean?”

You grinned, biting back a small pang of jealousy you barely noticed until now. “It means this girl thinks you look like the kind of guy who could break her back and spit in her mouth.”

He made a face, somewhere between horrified and intrigued. “Jesus. Christ. We're taking this too seriously for a girl I know I'm not planning on dating.” When he said that, your heart faltered for a second, thank god.

“Shut up, Barnes, think of this as practice then,” Sam said, sliding over next to him and grabbing a throw pillow to get comfortable. “Let’s keep it classy but confident, just... flirt back. Keep the tension. Something like, ‘Guess you'll have to find out how good I am with my hands.’”

“That’s so cocky,” Bucky muttered shaking his head from side to side.

“Exactly,” you said. “That’s what she wants. Confidence. If she’s into this stuff, she wants someone who can match her energy, not apologize for existing.”

Bucky sat down between you two on the couch as he chewed on that for a moment, thumb still motionless over his phone.

“…Fine,” he grumbled, then typed slowly. Guess you’ll have to find out how good I am with my hands. He paused. “Do I put a winky face?”

“No,” you and Sam said in unison.

He hit send. Immediately, three dots popped up. Typing.

“Oh god,” Bucky muttered.

You leaned over his shoulder, already invested. “She’s fast. That’s a good sign.”

Sam quickly jumped over the couch's armrest and went to the fridge to grab a beer. “This is better than the movie.” He said, scurrying back into Bucky's side.

You stole a glance at Bucky, and he met your gaze, cheeks flushed and eyes darting nervously, and realized your heart was racing—not just from the absurdity of the situation, but from watching him, vulnerable and alive in a way you rarely saw.

The dots stopped. Then the reply came in.

if u leave me hanging, im tying u to my headboard and making u watch me take care of it myself.

Bucky's eyes scanned over the message and turned to stare at you both in complete, stunned silence. His lips parted, then closed again. He looked genuinely shell-shocked. The light from his phone screen made the growing flush on his cheeks even more obvious, highlighting the way it had crept up to his ears. He shifted on the couch like he couldn’t get comfortable, thumb hovering just above the screen but not tapping anything yet. There was a slight part to his lips, like he was about to say something — maybe a protest, maybe an excuse — but then he clamped his mouth shut again, tense.

Beside him, you were trying to act casual, like your heart hadn’t just skipped at that stupid smirk he gave for a second. There was something dangerous about watching Bucky Barnes go from confused and flustered to something closer to intrigued — something sharp.

Bucky’s brows furrowed deeper as he stared at the screen, the message glowing back at him like some kind of cryptic code. He lowered the phone slowly, almost like it was a foreign object, and muttered, “What does that even mean? Handle what? Like she’s got paperwork to do?”

Sam burst out laughing, nearly choking on his popcorn. “No, man, she means something else—” He glanced nervously down the hallway. “Wait, where’s Steve?”

All eyes darted to the empty hallway, realizing Cap had slipped away the moment the conversation took a more risqué turn. No doubt the poor guy had fled before any more ‘adult’ jokes could hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Good,” you said, smiling with a sly edge. “Because what we’re talking about now is definitely not suitable for the star-spangled virgin.”

You heard Bucky snort, and you turned back to him. You explained slowly, “She’s basically saying she’s going to make herself come while you’re tied up, and you’re watching it happen.”

Bucky blinked, a slow flush creeping up his neck. “Oh. Well, that's creative..."

Sam shrugged. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re walking around with a goddamn metal vibrator as an arm, can you blame the poor woman?”

You blinked, cheeks heating instantly, and you tried to hide your flush behind a quick sip of your drink. The thought of his arm even doubling as a vibrator was something you hadn't ever thought about, but was truthfully something you knew you wouldn't be able to get out of your brain. Bucky caught the flicker of pink in your cheeks and shot Sam a deadpan look, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If that thing’s a vibrator, I must’ve missed the manual.”

You guys hadn't noticed, but the typing dots blinked faster this time, urgent and insistent. Then the message popped up, bold and unapologetic:

"you really take your time texting back, don't you? anyways, how big are you? for... reasons😉"

Bucky’s breath hitched—a rare crack in his usually steady demeanor. For a moment, he looked like he might bolt. Then, without thinking, he spun his phone around, shielding the screen from Sam’s view. You caught the move but said nothing, watching quietly.

“What are you doing?” you asked softly.

He didn’t answer. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly as he typed an answer. His jaw clenched. Then he began typing. The words moved slowly, carefully—like he was walking a tightrope.

You couldn’t see the screen, but you saw everything else. The slight flush that spread from his neck to his cheeks. The way his eyes darted nervously, avoiding yours even though the phone wasn’t quite angled away from you. The tight grip on the edge of the couch cushion.

When he finally hit send, he let out a shaky breath and lowered the phone.

You swallowed hard, heart pounding. You were certain you were more flustered than he was. The thought of Bucky Barnes, all muscle and history and mystery, fumbling over a message like this had you both smirking and secretly wishing you could crawl under the couch.

Sam chuckled quietly. “Dude, you’re killin’ me.”

Bucky shot him a warning glance but said nothing.

You bit your lip and offered a small, teasing smile. “Wanna share what you wrote? Or is it classified?”

Bucky’s eyes flicked over to you, weighing his options, before he shook his head. “Some things are better left to the imagination. But let's just say I gave her a sincere answer...” He said as he shut down his phone, clearly not willing to answer any more messages.

You laughed quietly, heart still racing. Watching him navigate this strange new world with a mixture of awkwardness and unexpected charm was… disarming. It made you realize just how much those layers he carried hid the simple fact that he was human — fumbling, uncertain, and maybe a little bit hopeful.

The room settled into a quiet hum, the tension easing as Bucky leaned back against the couch, his shoulders loosening just a bit. He glanced over at you, and for a moment, the usual guarded expression softened into something quieter, almost shy. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the kind that didn’t come often but felt genuine when it did.

“Honestly,” he said in a low voice, eyes meeting yours with a rare openness, “I wasn’t really planning on going out with her anyway, you guys know that, right? I don't want to dive into dating and for this to be my first experience.” He gave a small shrug, like he was brushing off more than just the conversation. “Got… other things on my mind.” The way he said it made it clear those other things weren’t trivial — they carried weight.

His gaze settled on you, softer now, like he was searching for something. “Maybe I’m not ready for all that.” A pause, then a faint half-smile. “Maybe what I want is a little more… simple.”

You smiled back, warmth blooming inside. That quiet hope between you made the space feel lighter. Because if Bucky Barnes had other things on his mind, you prayed that maybe, just maybe, they included you.

[madebycloud]

Off The Script

jinx/powder x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: the scene is all going perfectly—until jinx decides to go... a little bit off script. warnings/themes: fluff, actors au, super ultra mega bff premium, friends to ???, practice kissing, making out, everything is casual....? words: 2.1k

You've known her for a few years already, and you're comfortable around her. You haven't known Jinx to be particularly shy, let alone shy about physical contact. But this isn't just physical contact like pats on the back, or hugs, or even her clinging to your arm during group hangouts... this is a kissing scene.

You can hear the director of the movie calling everyone to their places while you skim over the same words on the script, over and over again.

Across from you, Jinx's lips glisten from the fresh coat of lip gloss, and she puckers out her lips to check her makeup.

Five days ago, you remember how she came up to you and suggested that you two should practice the kiss. 

It was just an impromptu suggestion. It came out of nowhere.

—

FIVE DAYS AGO

“I just need to get used to the feeling. If I'm going to kiss you for the movie, shouldn't I get some practice in?”

She's sitting on your couch and looking down at her phone, not even looking up as she suggests you kiss together.

“...so that it's not as awkward, you know?” she continues. “We're going to be kissing on screen, and I can't have it look too awkward.”

Even though you've known her for years, the suggestion still surprises you. “You do realize how weird that sounds?”

Jinx groans and rolls her eyes, finally peering up from her phone to give you a look. “Come on. It's not that weird.”

“It is weird. Very weird,” you insist adamantly.

She huffs, setting her phone down on the coffee table. “I can't exactly practice with the other cast members, can I?” she points out. “And I doubt the cast members would be comfortable with kissing an actress they've hardly known for a few days, so…”

You shake your head in disbelief. What have you done to deserve this? Then again... it can't hurt to practice the scene. It's not like it means anything.

“Fine, for the sake of the film.”

She smirks and then turns her body to face you, shifting on the couch, and you mimic her, moving to face her.

This is fine, it's just for practice... and yet, your heart is responding as if this actually matters.

Jinx's lips part, and she whispers, “Come here.”

You comply and lean forward, pressing your lips to hers in a light peck. You pull your head back, separating by a few inches. “Like that...?”

She shakes her head with a scoff, dismissing your awkward attempt. “No, no. That was pathetic. Try again.”

Pathetic? Who does she think she is? Ignoring your annoyance, you decide to give it another try, determined to meet her standards.

You lean in again and repeat the gesture, your lips brushing against hers for a brief moment. Again, you pull your head back, looking at her for approval.

She just snorts. “That's weak. We're supposed to be in love, remember? try not to look like you're kissing your grandmother. Make it look like you want to kiss me.”

Like you want to kiss her. That's a difficult thing to make look natural. But you just have to think like an actor. You're acting. She's your ‘love interest’ for the movie.

Act.

You can't look like you're kissing your grandmother.

Your hand finds her face, and you gently cup her jaw, your thumb brushing lightly over her cheek. Your eyes flick back to hers as you lean in once again, pressing your lips onto hers more firmly and trying to push her back into the couch.

Jinx pulls you down on top of her as your hand moves from her jaw to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair.

The brief, initial, light kiss is over. And despite the acting, you feel the briefest flutter in your chest.

She lets out a sigh against your mouth before she gently pushes you away. Then, with a shaky voice, she whispers, “Not bad.”

You're a bit proud of yourself, to be honest. She seemed much more satisfied with that response and even sounded surprised with your sudden effort. She also looks a bit flushed, maybe even breathless.

You look at her lips, noticing a slight smudge of lipstick around the edges of your mouth. “Uh... is that all?”

She glances up at you through her eyelashes, her gaze lingering for just a moment before she looks away.

Wait... is she blushing?

You want to call her out for the redness of her cheeks, but then she speaks. “No,” she murmurs. “That definitely isn't all.”

—

PRESENT

You both have been trying to pretend that things are normal since the ‘practice kiss.’ Neither of you mentions it nor acknowledges the way things feel different since then.

The kiss was entirely for the sake of the film. No big deal.

Just... two friends, practicing kissing for a movie.

It definitely didn't mean anything.

You glance down at your script again. The scene was simple—walk her to the door, say some lines, a simple, sweet kiss that should only last about three seconds, and it's over.

“Okay... places, everyone,” the director shouts.

The crew members then prepare the set and adjust the cameras, making sure every lighting angle is just right and adjusting the scene set-up.

You get up from your chair and walk towards the set.

Jinx walks next to you, smiling at the crew members who greet her. A makeup artist dabs at her face with a brush then pats her cheek. “Looking radiant as ever.”

“Thanks,” Jinx replies, smiling widely. “I'm born stunning, and makeup just enhances the blessing.”

You reach the set and watch as the director talks to a couple of camera operators.

The set looks like a simple apartment hallway. The lights are dimmed in a way that's supposed to emulate the night.

“Quiet on set,” the director calls out. “Places, everyone. I really, really want this take to be great.”

“No pressure,” a crew member adds sarcastically. 

The director glares briefly at the crew member, then continues. “This is a key scene, the audience is going to love this. The chemistry has to be perfect. You have to sell this.”

You nod at the director and then look over to Jinx, giving her a small smile, which she returns. Your eyes linger on her for a beat too long, but you look away when you hear the director shout.

“Ready? Aaaaand... action!”

You walk alongside as Jinx walks next to you. Your footsteps are in sync as the two of you walk together to the apartment door.

“Well, this is it.” You stop by the door and say to her, as stated in the script. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah... I'll see you tomorrow. I'll send you a text or something,” she replies,placing her hand on the door handle.

“You never stick around to say goodbye?”

Her hand stays on the door as she turns, her gaze meeting yours. “No.”

“That's weird.”

She laughs and shrugs her shoulders. “I am weird.”

“I know.”

Jinx glances around and then leans against the doorframe with her back. “So... um... good night then.”

That's your cue.

You lean forward and press your lips to hers. It's brief, barely a few seconds, but it's just as the script says. Simple, normal, and part of the job. 

Your lips part, and you pull your head back a few inches, your gaze never leaving her face. Her eyes flutter open, staring at your mouth, and she wets her lower lip with her tongue.

That's it. That's it-

“Goodni-” you start, but then Jinx suddenly reaches around your neck and pulls you in, and before you can ask her what she's doing, her lips find yours again.

You let out a surprised sound before your mind and body quickly catch up with the moment. She's kissing you.

She's kissing you, not in character, not for practice, not for the film, not for the money. She's kissing you, with her hand clutching the back of your neck, and her eyes tightly shut, just because she wants to.

Your mind is racing, going blank, blank, blank, and your eyes slip shut.

You press your hand against the doorframe to keep your balance as her tongue runs over your lower lip, coaxing your mouth open.

You let her in, and you find yourself suddenly not minding—if anything, you respond and play along, matching her pace as you deepen the kiss. Her fingers tangle in your hair, and your hands grab the curve of her hip. 

You stumble forward, pinning her back against the door. She gasps softly, her lips moving against yours, the taste of her sweet tongue spreading across your mouth. 

It's too much, too much, too goddamn much-

You break the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to hers, until the distance gets too long and snaps.

You try to breathe, to catch your breath, but Jinx is impatient. She wants more. She yanks you back towards her, and her lips crash against yours again, harder, more desperately.

You feel her mouth curl into a smile before she drags her teeth over your bottom lip-

“Ow-” you pull away again as your tongue runs across your lip, tasting the copper taste of your blood.

“...and CUT!”

Your eyes fly open, and you feel her breath on your face. Then, you take a step back, your hand dropping from her hip.

Reality comes crashing back as the sounds of the crew and cast echo around you.

“That... that-” the director says enthusiastically, “-is what we're looking for. That's the energy the audience will love!”

Breathing heavily, you stare at Jinx as you wipe the blood off your face with your thumb. Her eyes meet yours, and before she can say anything, the director interrupts.

“That was an amazing kiss. I could feel the chemistry, the tension, the passion... that's it. That's the scene. This film is going to be a massive hit!” He reaches over, placing a hand on your shoulder and then Jinx's. “And that's thanks to you two. Fantastic work, fantastic.”

“Fantastic,” you repeat in a half-whisper.

The director pats you on the back before walking over to two of the crew members and starts giving more notes and directions. 

Jinx runs a hand through her hair. You can see her hand trembling slightly, like your own, as she tries to regain her composure.

“So…” She pushes a strand of her hair back behind her ear. “...that was a good take.”

“Yeah…” you croak out, trying to pull yourself together. “Good…” Too good.

She bites her lower lip, then averts her gaze. “Yeah…” Her eyes flick back to your face, and she stares at your lip. “...sorry for biting you. That was a little much.”

She smiles at you, and you smile back, even though your lip is really sore.

“I... it's fine, don't worry about it.”

She nods. “I just... got a little excited.” Excited... about what? “I'll be careful next time,” she adds.

“...right.” Next time. Next time. Next time. There will be next time? “...no worries.”

Jinx clears her throat as she fiddles with the sleeve of her shirt. She looks like she's going to say more, but a crew member calls out to her. “Jinx! Can you come over here for a second?”

She turns her head, distracted. “I'll see you around,” she says quickly to you, then heads over to where the crew member is.

See you around.

“You are too obvious.”

Huh?

You glance over to your right to see a co-actress staring at you. “Excuse me?”

“The heart eyes, the staring... You're way, way too obvious.”

“It's—it's not-”

“You practically had your tongue in her mouth. I'm surprised she didn't swallow it.”

You stare at her, then let out a bitter laugh. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“You're really kidding me right now?”

“No, I'm being totally serious. I have no idea what-” you gesture vaguely in the air, “-what you're talking about.”

The actress sighs as she glances back at you, then shakes her head. “Honestly? I have no clue how you can be this dense.”

You sputter, but she's already turned away and heads off.

What did that mean...? You're not staring, you're not looking at her with ‘heart eyes,’ you're just... just...

Your fingers rise to touch your lip, which still feels sore from her biting it.

She's just a friend. A really good, close friend.

That's all.

You're just a friend... friends that kiss for a living.

Damn it, this is... this is really confusing.

[becertainlust]

In a world where men can become Courtesans, Courtesan Gojo is the crown jewel in a velvet box no one dares to open too quickly. Gojo Satoru—pale blue-eyed, silver-tongued, with a smile that drips honey and arsenic.

Courtesan Gojo whose presence is silk on bare skin and ice in wine. He moves like poured cream—fluid, languid, deliberate. Every gesture, every glance, is practiced and perfect, yet never feels rehearsed. There’s an artistry to him, a cultivated elegance that makes the air around him bend in reverence. When Gojo enters a room, it does not matter who else is present; the light itself seems to seek him, casting a glow on his powder white body sculpted like sin.

Courtesan Gojo who to spend a night with means to bankrupt a season's worth of silk shipments, to outbid duchesses and heiresses in silent wars fought with coin, precious stones, and influence. His body is his temple — available, yes, but never cheap. Every moment, every sigh, every flicker of touch is curated. Perfection has a price, and with Gojo, that price is ruinous.

Few can pay. Fewer survive what it costs.

A selection leave with the scent of him forever folded into their hair . Others spiral — selling lands, losing husbands, begging for second nights that never come. His availability is a myth tangled in truths; he takes one client a month, sometimes none. Not even the Empress herself could summon him without offering something he truly wanted.

Courtesan Gojo who you work for. Like a loyal maid, you see to the little things—the letters, the linens, the tea just how he likes it. You arrange the candles, adjust the lighting, select the silks. You guard the perimeter of his chaotic grace, smoothing out the ripples he causes without ever expecting thanks. You've memorized the moods behind his smiles and learned to decode the meaning in the slant of his eyes.

But he makes your life difficult. Complicated in ways that no amount of organization can fix.

Because Gojo Satoru is a flirt.

“You’re like a flower,” he murmurs one evening as you tighten the clasps on his robe, the scent of sandalwood clinging to him like a second skin. His voice is low, lazy, velvet-thick. His hand holds the back your head.

You still for a second before breathing out and continuing your work.

“Ah,” he says, “you take things so seriously. I was only joking,"

His fingers linger at the back of your head—just a little too long. Not tight. Not cruel. Just aware of the pulse beating there beneath your skin. His thumb drags, slow and unhurried, against the delicate nape of your neck, a casual caress dressed up as nothing at all.

Your breath stills, suspended somewhere between disbelief and danger.

Gojo Satoru doesn’t touch without meaning. Doesn’t speak without layers. Behind every lilt of his tongue is a test, a tease, a trap—laced in honey, laced in smoke. To work for him is to navigate the sharp edges of seduction without ever falling in.

You step back.

You always do.

And still, the echo of his smirk follows you—like perfume in the folds of your clothes, like the whisper of silk across your skin.

“Gojo,” you murmur, adjusting the hem of his robe with hands that betray none of the fluster in your veins, “your client will be here in twenty minutes.”

He watches you. Lounging in that faintly imperial way of his, robe half-parted, collarbones like pale crescent moons. Eyes sharp as shattered glass, glinting.

“Do I look ready?” he asks.

No. He looks dangerous. Divine and enticing.

But you school your features. Smooth the fabric. Avoid the wicked curve of his mouth.

“You always do,” you reply gently.

A silence stretches. Then, like always, he breaks it—not with kindness, but with something worse.

“I wonder,” he hums, leaning in just enough to make you forget the shape of your own name, “do you call all your employers beautiful? Or am I your favorite?”

Your hand freezes mid-fold.

He grins.

You say nothing.

Because to answer would be to lie.

[muwapsturniolo]

Brutus 2 🦇 Chris sturniolo

"O-one hun-hundred and fif-fifteen times...." PT 1

NSFW AHEAD!!! mentions of murder, stabbing, assault (not detailed!!!), alcohol, blowjobs/face fucking, facials, cum eating, rough sex, biting, cream pies, choking, switch! Chris, Matt is a perv

The police still couldn’t figure out what happened on the final night of Halloween horror nights. It’s been a month and the gruesome murders were still unsolved and left everyone scratching their head. The police took the right measures, they taped off the crime scene for weeks on end, rewatched the CCTV footage, and questioned the crew and attendees.

But they came up empty-handed.

They couldn’t figure out who committed the crime or why they did it.

But she knew.

When she was questioned, the police showing up at her door with her discarded tweed purse, she lied and said she didn’t see anything. Claimed she barely remembers that night due to the alcohol she consumed on the premises.

She knew it was wrong to lie to authority, to take away the possibility of a grieving family to finally have peace and to know the killer is behind bars. She knew if anyone found out what she did they would call her insane and probably throw her six feet under a jail - She didn’t want that.

She was lying to cover her own ass and the nameless killers, and she’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Especially if it meant they would continue watching her.

It was only a couple of days after that night when she felt as if she was being watched. She had just gotten out of the shower and walked into her bedroom to put on her pajamas when she noticed the clothes were on the floor.

That isn't where she left them.

She vividly remembered placing them neatly at the foot of her bed, folded and ready to throw on. Now they were thrown onto the floor in a mess, and her panties were missing.

Fear should have settled into her body, but instead, she proceeded to get dressed right in front of the open window.

With that being said, she went about her life as if nothing happened, as if she wasn't being stalked by two psychopaths.

Her routine never changed.

Weeks had gone by, minutes, hours - two months to be exact. She had given up the little bit of hope that those two would make an appearance. Honestly, she had forgotten about them until a Christmas party had gone wrong.

Her friends had forced her to attend, shoving her into a powder blue satin dress and a pair of silver heels to match. soon, she was at the party, standing in the corner with a frown on her face.

She wasn't having a good time. Her friends had ditched her as soon as they made it to the club, this guy who was completely wasted wouldn't leave her alone, and she was hot.

Deciding that she was over it and needed some air, she found her friends and told them she was leaving. She walked away, ignoring their drunken protests, and pulled out her phone, attempting to order an Uber.

It seemed like she didn't have any luck, the cellular device having no type of signal. With a huff she begins walking down the street, not noticing the two people following her.

"This is so stupid! This is the last time I let them drag me to a dumb party an-" A small scream escapes her mouth as she's pushed into an alley, her phone falling from her hands. Her body collides with a trash can, preventing her from falling into the muddy puddles of water from the melted snow.

She's soon shoved against the wall, the streetlamps casting a shadow over her attacker's face. She didn't need lights to know who the person was, the rancid smell of alcohol was enough.

It was the same man from the party, he had followed her out.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! Get off of me!" She shouts in annoyance, trying to push him off. It was odd, the way she was completely sober and had better coordination should have given her the strength to push him away. But to no avail, he proceeded to force himself upon her, slurring his words in the process.

Just as his hand goes up her dress, he's yanked away and tackled to the ground, her savior immediately throwing punches.

She stays frozen against the wall, too shocked to even register what's happening.

A glimmer of light snaps her back into reality.

She watches as her savior raises his arm, a knife in hand.

She watches as the blade is plunged into her attacker's chest, his screams slowly drowning out as he chokes on his own blood. She watches her savior continuously bring the knife down, not stopping until he's satisfied.

His actions begin to slow, his breathing heavy as he slumps back, staring at the lifeless body underneath him.

She takes a hesitant step forward, freezing when her savior turns to her.

She already knew, but the mask adorning his face confirmed it.

Her savior was the same man from that night, the same masked man who was ready to kill her before being scared away by his partner in crime.

His wild and deranged eyes soften as they connect with hers, his breathing calming down.

They say nothing, the only sound being heard is the flurries of snow rushing past them.

She slowly approaches, holding her hand out before speaking softly, "Come on, let's go."

He looks down at her hand before standing up, towering over her. He points towards her discarded phone, his silence-speaking words. She nods and rushes over to her phone, bending down to grab it. She huffs seeing the cracked screen, cursing out the dead man in her head. Just as she begins to wipe the phone off, she hears a loud bang.

She whips around and sees both the masked savior and the dead body gone, her brows slowly creasing.

Where did they go? How did they disappear so quick?

Her thoughts are interrupted by a hand landing on her shoulder. She jumps in surprise and turns around to see the masked savior in front of her.

"Jesus Christ, " she covers her chest as her heart begins to beat quickly. She swears she heard him snicker softly, but before she could question him, he wrapped his hand around her arm and dragged her down the street.

In reality, she knows she should be scared and questioning him, but she stays silent, allowing him to guide her to wherever they are going. They soon arrive in front of a beat-up pickup truck, parts of the car rusting as snow sits in the bed.

He opens the passenger door and looks at her expectantly. She peers inside the truck, noticing the mess inside. The cans of Pepsi discarded on the floor, the wrappers from candy, the smell of cigarettes, and most importantly,

The small bloodstains on the seats.

She looks back at him, noticing the soft look in his eyes.

"You want me to get in?"

He nods, still refusing to speak.

"Are you taking me home?"

He nods once more.

"Do you know where I live?"

He tenses, the grip he has on her arm tightening. It's almost as if he's scared, scared of being caught for stalking. Scared she's going to scream, run away, reject him.

She snickers softly seeing the fear in his eyes, it's a bit ironic.

She says nothing, simply climbing into the truck and buckling herself in.

"Come on, I miss my bed."

With that, he closes the door and climbs into the car himself, quickly starting the engine and driving off. She watches silently as he drives down familiar streets, having driven down them herself whenever she's on her way home.

The car ride was filled with silence, it wasn't tense if anything, it was calming, the both of them relaxed.

They soon arrive and he kills the engine, staring straight ahead out the window. She turns to him, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face behind the mask.

"Thank you for helping me," she says softly. He gives a curt nod, his hands still placed on the wheel.

"Did you want to come in?" His head whips to her, his eyes holding confusion. She smirks, enjoying the hesitancy and confusion in his eyes.

" Come on, you've been inside anyway. Might as well come in with an invitation this time."

He huffs behind the mask but follows her actions in unbuckling the seat belt and climbing out of the car.

They walk inside the house, the girl kicking off the annoying heels and throwing her keys in the bowl on the stand. She walks to her bedroom, smiling to herself as she hears his sluggish footsteps behind her. She throws herself onto her bed, flipping onto her back and propping herself up with her elbows.

She looks him up and down curiously, attempting to familiarize herself with him again.

"How come you wear a mask?"

Like always, he says nothing, refusing to even glance in her direction. She pushes herself off the bed and approaches him, cornering him. No words are spoken between the two as she presses herself against him, his breathing speeding up. With a slow and steady hand, she trails it up his arm, her fingers soon fanning out against his chest.

She goes to touch the edge of the mask, but she's stopped by his hand firmly grasping her wrist.

He looks scared.

Despite the tight grip he has on her, she continues with her actions. Her fingers grip the edge of the mask, slowly pulling it off of his face.

He quickly turns his head, his hair falling in front of his face. She gently turns him back towards her, their eyes connecting as her fingers dance across the scar on his cheek.

"O-one hun-hundred and fif-fifteen times...."

A shocked expression makes its way onto her face. He spoke, he finally spoke, and the first thing he decided to say was a number.

"W-what?" She questions in confusion, raking her brain for what the number could mean.

"Th-the man....I sta-stabbed him one hun-dred and f-fifteen times."

She's shocked by the confession.

She didn't know a lot about murder, only having seen it and heard about it in movies and TV shows, but she knew it took a lot of energy and anger to stab someone that amount of times - He did it for her.

It was sick, it was twisted, and yet, it attracted her.

"Let me thank you," she mumbles, her hand leaving his face and trailing down his chest, soon finding its place over his crotch. She begins to palm him, watching his breathing grow harsh, their eyes still connected. A small whimper leaves his mouth, and she breaks out into a grin - his moans were so pretty, so soft,

Submissive.

She sinks to her knees, both of her hands working at his belt, soon throwing it to the floor. Her mouth waters as she pulls his pants down, his cock slapping his abdomen.

It was pretty, just like him.

It was long and thick, and had a bright red tip that matched his chapped lips. There was a vein running up the side that she knew would feel euphoric when sliding against her spongy walls.

He bucks his hips softly as she wraps her hand around his shaft, pulling it towards her mouth. She opens her mouth and allows a wad of spit to trickle out, landing directly on his tip. Her thumb swipes over the tip as she moves the spit around, starting to jerk him off.

His moans and whimpers are kitten-like, despite his horrific and brutal demeanor, he was like putty in her hands.

She enjoys the way his body relaxes against the door, his head thrown back and his mouth open as he pants softly. She kitten licks his tip before taking him fully in her mouth. His rough and calloused hands fly to her head, grabbing the strands of hair and forcing her to take him deeper.

She gags around him, tears forming in her eyes as she opens her mouth wider, but she keeps going. She bobs her head up and down, making sure to hum and fondle his balls in the process.

His moans and groans grow louder, and his actions become more dominant. It was like a switch was flipped in his head, his hips starting to slam against her face.

He shows no mercy as he fucks her face, his dick reaching so far down her throat and giving her no chance to breathe. Her actions of gratitude had quickly become sloppy, the mixture of spit and precum coating her chin and falling down to her chest.

There were even bubbles of the mixture forming, popping every time her nose hit his happy trail.

She manages to look up at him, her mascara tears and glossy eyes making her look so damaged yet innocent - It drives him over the edge.

He quickly pulls out of her mouth and releases all over her face, enjoying the way she gasps in shock.

It's like his body is on autopilot, nothing but excitement and adrenaline controlling his actions. His hand wraps around her throat, lifting her to her feet with ease. Their lips instantly mesh together, swapping spit as they hastily make out. She moans into the kiss as he tightens his grip on her throat, the wetness in her panties only growing. She could feel the sticky fluid in between her folds every time she clenched her thighs - She was aching for him to touch her.

He suddenly pulls away from the kiss and begins to lick his own semen off of her face, his eyes rolling back. She moaned at his erotic actions, the way his soft and spongy muscle glided over her cheek. She could smell the faint mixture of cigarettes on his breath, but she found herself not caring.

Suddenly, she's pushed away from him, her body colliding with the mattress. It all happens so quick, the way her powder blue dress is ripped into pieces, her soaked panties following.

He was like a rabid, feral dog, ready to take what he wanted and she was just as excited.

Her jaw drops and her back arches as he shoves his length inside of her, reaching to the deepest hilt. Much like his partner in crime, he stretched her out perfectly, her aching walls sucking him in and not letting him go. The bedframe bangs against the wall with each ferocious thrust, items falling off her nightstand due to the shaking.

He shoves his face into the crevice of her neck, his teeth sinking into the soft skin. He proceeds with his actions, the marking of his teeth covering her whole chest along with her breasts - Blood is drawn in certain areas.

It's an overwhelming amount of pleasure, so overwhelming that she can't even keep her eyes open nor hold him. Her arms lay flat by her head, her eyes clenched shut as her mouth remains open.

Her eyes fly open when her head whips to the side, the same hand that slapped her wrapping around her throat, squeezing tightly.

He's heaving like a dog, his pants mixed with groans, making him sound like a beast.

She weakly grabbed at his wrist, trying to ease the pressure on her throat, but it was no use. She had become lightheaded from the pleasure and lack of air.

She was close to passing out, but she was also close to reaching her orgasm, it was just a matter of which one she would experience first.

"You're going to kill her, ease up on the choking."

Her blurry eyes dart to the bedroom door, a choked gurgle escaping her mouth when she sees him.

He was here, the one with the painted face. Except, his face wasn't painted, and he was watching her be fucked by his partner.

She gasped for air when he released her throat, her eyes still trained on the other one. She watches as he takes a seat at her vanity, leaning back on the chair and manspreading.

"Don't look at me, look at him. He's the one fucking you."

She does as told, her eyes connecting with the man on top of her. He had the same look in his eyes from that night when he chased after the girl trying to run away.

"Tell him how good he's making you feel, he loves the praise,"

"S-so good- Nghh. Fuck- " She could barely speak a full sentence, her speech slurred.

"That's all you can do? Come on dollface, he killed someone for you! Show him how grateful you are! He finally gets to feel you after watching me fuck you, give him the experience he deserves."

Her mind is reeling, incoherent babbles of praise falling from her lips. The more she praises him, the harder his thrust become, her sobs of pleasure getting louder.

It's not long before she felt that familiar coil in her stomach forming, ready to burst at any second - and all it took was one final thrust from the man on top of her to push her over the edge.

Her whole body shakes violently, her eyes rolling back as she feels the static rush through her body. Her ears were ringing, her vision blurry as she came down from her high.

She lays there shaking, her fingers twitching as she pants harshly. She was worn out, fucked, and tired.

Suddenly, he stands up from the vanity and slams his hand down on Chris's back, "Look at her....and I thought I wore her out." They both look down at her, trying to figure out what to do next.

Matt suddenly bends down and moves her hair out of her face, grabbing her chin softly.

"Wake up doll, your night has just started."

[devosin]

COOKING HAVEN, them cooking, cooking together with them, food tasting, everything you want in a food related fic <3

gender neutral reader / tooth-rotting fluff / crack taken seriously / entire twst cast / Aggressive flirting? Aggressive Flirting. / Really indulgent /

01. HEARTSLABYUL

Trey sighs, rubbing his forehead as he fights the will to stare back up at Ace's hands, as he struggles to chop the peppers on the cutting board, . . "Ace . .?", he calls out as softly as he can muster, and he stares up at him, "yeah?" . . "Take off the knife guard"

Ace stares at him dumbfounded, his head tilting slightly as he looks back at him blankly, "What?" he asks, "The plastic cover on the knife, Ace.", he looks at the knife blankly, then attempts to pull off the cover, his mouth opening to a round 'O' shape, when it comes off.

"Sorry, first time using . . err, fancy knifes." he says as he sets the cover aside, moving back to cutting the peppers as slow as humanely possible, careful not to cut his hands, "Well it feels like the first time you've cut anything in general, so I don't know what argument you're trying to make here." Trey spits back, slightly agitated with his slow movements.

Cater and Riddle, setting up equipment, mainly because Trey doesn't trust Riddle in the kitchen yet, . . he also doesn't trust either of them to be alone with the equipment alone, but together, it's different.

"Trey said to boil four cups of water?", Riddle states but it comes out in the form of a question because honestly he doesn't know what he's doing, "Like a coffee mug, right?", Cater asks holding up a small mug he found on the counter, "I think so, I mean what's the difference!" (There is in fact, a massive difference.)

After setting that up, where they may or may not have spilt water all over the counter; Cater runs a rag through the wet counters, cleaning over the leftover residue, "Didn't Trey mention something about, needing some yeast?" he asks.

Riddle thinks for a moment, "I think we'll be fine, baking doesn't need yeast right."

"Yeah you're probably right", replies Cater, as he stretches his arms, "I guess were done then", Riddle nods, "Mhm, wonder why Trey didn't give us more work."

"Yeah it's almost like he doubts our abilities in the kitchen", Cater states casually, "But were so helpful", "Exactly." (The delusional speaking to the delusional.)

Y/n, Deuce, and Trey baking together.

"Ok so the soup is boiling, I think we can try prepping the bread now?", Trey asks, "Sure thing", you reply, while Deuce helps tie your apron from the back.

"Just one problem . ." Deuce speaks up, finally letting go of the strings of your apron, and looking around at the ingredients laid on the counter, ". . . We're out of yeast." . . You pause, "doesn't all baking recipes, require yeast—"

Trey blinks . . "GOD FUCKING DAMN IT."

02. DIASOMNIA

Lilia looks over the recipe book, about one whole time before he deems it useless and throws it to the side (It lands in the trash, because clearly THE Lilia Vanrouge doesn't require such things), "Okay so we need some flour, oil, water—", he continues listing ingredients while Sebek goes out of his way to grab everything he mentions as fast as possible on the table.

"—Salt, sugar, lemon", Sebek reaches into the cabinet, before muttering, "Lilia . . we're out of salt."

Lilia pauses, thinking for a moment, his inner cooking genius coming together in his head, trying to figure out a swift solution, "We can just use baking soda . . I mean they're both white powders, right?!", Sebek pauses, thinking it over, "Yeah sounds perfectly logical."

Malleus, you, and Silver were in charge of making drinks for the picnic you had planned.

"Where's Silver?" you ask Malleus, while he washes the fruits you both bought the day before, "He fell asleep, I didn't think it would be polite to wake him up", you hum in response, bringing out the chopping boards and knifes on the counter.

You both started cutting mindlessly, while chatting away, "So, what are we making anyways?", he asks curiously, "Just a virgin cocktail of sor—ow—fuck!", you drop the knife, "Are you okay?" Malleus asks, ushering to your side.

"I'm fine, it's just a small cut, do you have a band aid?", Malleus nods, "Let me go get it!" (He proceeded to do everything alone until silver woke up and choose to finally help with cutting the rest of the fruit.

The picnic was outside, everyone helped set up the area.

"Lilia . . what's this?", you ask curiously eyeing whatever baked good was on your plate . . (It shouldn't even be called a baked good), "I don't know, I just mixed a few things and threw it in the oven, it's good no?", he asks curiously.

"I can tell", Silver mumbles, as you bump his shoulders slightly, "Ah yes, so good—So good in fact, I might just save it for dinner . . I mean Crowley, and his underpayment—"

"You can take all of it back to Ramshackle", Lilia suggests, "NO!—I mean, I couldn't—really . . it would HURT me." (He delivered a basket of baked horrors to your dorm the next morning.)

03. SAVANACLAW

Ruggie draws out his sigh, a scowl permanently placed on his face, as he stares at your pathetic attempt at cutting meat, "No—not like that . . you're wasting so much good meat", he mumbled the last part, he's trying to be nice, really, but there's only so much patience one can maintain at your mediocre cutting abilities. 

"You're massacring the meat!", he states firmly, as he finally shoves you away from the cutting board, and takes over your job, leaving you no choice but to move aside and let him have his way, "You know, this wouldn't happen if you . . just taught me how to cut the meat . ." you mumble out in protest, your hands laying at your sides. 

"I did", he responds dismissively, "No, you just handed me a knife and told me to cut", "Exactly, it's called immersive learning, something you're clearly not good at." 

You hold up your middle finger, "Fuck you", you bite back, but Ruggie doesn't respond back this time, focusing more so on cutting the expensive cut of meat he got off of Leona's Credit Card.

Leona enters the kitchen while you both were well near finished with kitting the meat.

"Morning", he yawns out, "So close, it's the afternoon", you blurt out, rolling your eyes at his overall casual demeanor, meanwhile you've been dealing with star michelin chef Ruggie's nagging all morning, from your cutting game, to how you can't just eyeball salt levels. 

"Close enough" he shrugs, looking over the counter, "Watcha' making?", he asks blankly, "Minced meat, clearly", Ruggie says in the most deadpanned way possible, pointing to your mess of cut meat, "Oh shit, who massacred the meat?" Leona asks, Ruggie looks at you. 

You cough, and look away, "I tried teaching them", Ruggie says in the most distraught tone he can muster, "Well clearly not well enough", Leona states bluntly, and you let out a small chuckle at Ruggie's expense.  

Jack comes in, awhile after Leona leaves the room, he greets you both and looks at the cutting board, one side of minced and mushed meat, and the other with perfectly diced meat, "Who fuck up the meat?", he asks bluntly, and Ruggie looks at you again, "Seriously, is it that bad!?" 

04. POMEFIORE

"Are you sure I'm doing this right?", you mumble out, as you continue mixing away, "You're doing amazing, trickster!" Rook exclaims, way too fucking energetically for it being 3am in the goddamn morning, your arms were practically falling apart, already aching from the school day, and now you're stuck on mixing duty, of all things that are involved in the glorious process of baking, mixing is the worst part. 

“Ah—I think we need more apples, give me a moment”, Rook walks out of the kitchen, and Epel finally lays back, stretching his arms, before looking at you, a chuckle escapes him at your expression, “You look like shit”, he says blankly, “wow, I didn’t ask”, you respond back, staring at him blankly, as he moves closer to you. 

You guys stare at each other for a brief moment, before he smiles and flicks your forehead, “Cheer up, you look like the goddamn walking dead”. 

You blink, and a smile takes over your features after probably hours, “Fuck you”, you mumble out, under your breath, but he doesn’t take any offense, moving back to his original spot. 

A couple hours later, the pie was in the oven, the lights were off, Epel was on the counter, you sitting down beside the oven, while Rook was busy mixing some sort of cocktail or something, surprisingly he’s good at mixing drinks.

“So anyways, Ace was like, ‘he doesn’t even have a hairline, why does he need a comb for’—”, you speak, moving your hands around as you recount your story, when something enters the room, something green, and your oven alarm goes off, ‘ring, ring, ring’, and the next thing you know, you, Epel were screaming and running behind Rook. 

“Oh, Good morning Roi du Poison”, Rook says in his cheery voice, and you both turn your face from him to the figure on the door, and then Vil flicks on the lights, groaning, “Why are you two still up, and why are you YELLING!”, Vil says, trying to stay as calm as humanly possible, turns out he gets up at the ass crack of dawn, and that his morning mud mask is a putrid green, things to note. 

05. IGNIHYDE

Ortho, sets the flour on the counter, you'd be surprised at both his speed and strength if you didn't know he was a robot, and you're also not in the position to focus on him right now. 

"Do I need to wear this?", Idia asks softly, as you tie the pink apron on him from the bow, making sure the strings come together in a bow, "don't you want to make your brother happy?", you tease softly, a chuckle escaping you as you watch his shoulders slump and he mumbles out a soft, "yeah . . ", the tips of his hair burn pink, he’s embarrassed. 

"Do you need help with yours?", he asks pointing to the white apron on the counter, you'd usually say no, but who are you to refuse when he already seems flustered over asking in the first place, "Yeah." 

Idia fiddles with the straps of the apron, struggling to tie a proper knot—"This isn't too tight, right?", he asks softly, and you nod. He ties a messy knot, that somehow holds together, you don't have to look at him to know he's embarrassed, you smile loosely, walking closer to Ortho, “Shall we start?”. 

06. SCARABIA

Kalim sits on top of the counter, headphones on, dangling his legs (he’s just a girl . . jkjk), as he watches you and Jamil cook. Too bad those headphones were soundproof, because what he thought was a cute interaction was actually World War 3 for you, “You call this a roti?”, Jamil asks you, trying his best to remain calm (he’s failing horribly), “Well it’s technically a roti . . “ you try and reason, the ingredients were the same . . technically. 

“. . .”, he pauses, taking a few deep breaths, trying to control his voice, which wasn’t working, “THAT’S A GODDAMN TRIANGLE”, you stare at Jamil blankly, “The roti has a good personality!” 

Jamil lifts the big pot full of water onto the stove, and sets everything up, probably because he didn’t trust you with many things, except pouring water into the pot, though he eyed you through the entire process, which at that point he could just do it himself, “Now put in the spices”, he says, as he watches bring out the turmeric jar. 

“How much?” you ask, as you take out the measuring spoons from the cabinet, “As much as your heart desires, only stop when your heart tells you to stop.”, he replies in the most serious way possible that you almost believed him. 

“Jamil?” you ask, “Yes?” he replies, straightening his back, “I meant the spices, not my love life, I don’t need advice from you of all people.”

“ . . . “ he pauses, “get the hell out of my kitchen . .” (He’s about to blow, actually), "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY—"

07. OCTAVINELLE

“Are you sure this is a reputable idea?”, you ask Azul as he looks through the ingredients Jade brought in for his new recipe idea, you don’t exactly understand why they asked you for your help, he has a multitude of workers to select from, but who are you to deny a cash offering, that’s just silly, Azul shakes his head, “Jade’s tastes are surely questionable, but he never fails when it comes to the Monstro Lounge.” he responds with a smile, his pen checking off everything in his list. 

“Why is Shrimpy here?”, Floyd asks curiously, leaning into the counter, placing his head in his hands, “To help, I guess . .” You respond, and Floyd shakes head, “No . . you need to eat”, Floyd says bluntly, “What? I ate!”, you snip back at him, confused at the sudden shift in topic, “No yeah, that’s why we asked you to come here, Floyd said you weren’t eating properly.”, Azul shrugs, as if this was just the most normal thing ever. 

And now you're here, on the table, eating something they served you, while Jade keeps you company, because apparently he’s not allowed in the kitchen for a month, after last week’s incident, which honestly you don’t want to know about. 

You take a bite of the pasta, they gave you way too big of a serving if you were being honest, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you gave up trying to shut them down, you look up, and find Jade staring at you, “What?” you ask him curiously. 

“You have something on your face”, he says blankly and you quickly rub your face, trying to get whatever it is off, and he chuckles, “Kidding, you’re really easy to trick”, you frown but continue eating the food in front of you, “Hey . . Do you happen to know why Floyd calls you shrimpy?”, he asks, eyeing you curiously. 

You shake your head, no, "You wanna know why?", he asks casually, almost comfortingly but you try not to misread the situation, you nod, "Why?" 

"Because you're like a shrimp, tiny and weak, on the lower end of the food-chain—", you throw a piece of bread at him, "I'm kidding—Stop wasting the bread!", he says, as he moves away before you can throw more at him, "What's the real reason?", you ask again, "Because you seem weak and sad, I mean with how Crowley treats you and all—", he pauses, “he didn’t explain more than that, but you seemed lonely, like a lot of shrimps.” 

And that's when it hits you, like a truck, these fish breath assholes, care . . a lot . .  more than you give them credit for. 

commissions / discord server / masterlist

@ devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[dropsnectar]

Witches Brew 

Slime monster x afab!witch

Happy October! Here's some spooky smut for the spooky season!

It was October and Halloween was just around the corner! So! Of course you were bubbling up some witches brew for one of your most busy seasons of the year. 

You stood in your studio apartment, walls covered in wooden shelves. Atop of those shelves were bottles full of your favorite things: dry herbs, powder mixes, and other potion and spellcasting tools you would need for your work. In the middle of the room stood a big cast iron cauldron. You had arranged some cement blocks to hold an electric fire starter underneath it, as you didn't have a fireplace. It was hard being a witch in the city, but you made do. This was where all the clientele was, after all.

You were standing over the boiling cauldron, an old grimiore in one hand, and mixing the golden liquid with another. The grimoire was your great grandmother something you had recently inherited. You were practically shaking with excitement! Your great grandmother had been an excellent witch, known far and wide for her potions. You had flipped through her book and found it, a recipe for her “Extremely Special Witches Brew”, the first two words being underlined. Witches brew was the basis of so much potion work. If it was extremely special then that must mean it was incredibly potent!

You had been brewing for about six hours now. The recipe started out incredibly normal, but had specified that you stare it down for the next hour, adding a lock of your own hair and some mermaid scales. This had been the most difficult bit, as mermaid scales had a habit of boiling over the pot unless babied with compliments and sweet words. Unusual for witches brew, but you trusted your grandmother. 

You had finally finished your hour of staring, marveling and cooing, turning off the fire starter. The next step was to let it cool. When it was finished, the grimoire specified, the mixture would condense and turn a lovely green color. 

You waited another hour and checked on the brew. Strange. There had been no change in consistency, and the color remained as gold as the sun on a winter's day. You waited another hour. Nothing.

You cursed. Were had you gone wrong? This recipe had been incredibly expensive, and you'd made ALOT of it, expecting to use it for the rest of the year. Upset, you went to bed early, muttering yourself to sleep.

It was around midnight when something started to stir in the cauldron. Any waking ear would have heard the sputtering and gurgling as the magic started to awaken.  Slowly, a small green tendril dripped its way onto the floor, continuously flowing until the full glob, the size of a small person made its way to the floor. Slowly, it rolled across the carpet and stopped at the bed. It watched you sleep for a moment before pulling itself up into the foot of the bed, under your covers.

You woke up feeling something crawl up your thighs. When you opened your eyes you glanced up, not seeing anything. But their was a pressure on you, something cool and wet, like a weighted blanket was curling itself up towards your core.

You tore your blanket off of you and saw it, a dark building sludge, glowing beautifully under the moonlight streaming from your window. 

You were so shocked, you didn't react. That was, until it had decided to pull itself under your panties and push itself between your lips. You gasped out as it completely covered you, gliding back and forth against your entrance and up towards your clit. It was pushing and closing all around you, the wetness feeling so good against your skin. 

Despite the fact that your stomach was in knots you tried to push the glob off of you. Your hands made contact, but pushed right through, into the creature. You tried to pull your arms out, but the thing tightened around them. You tried to leverage your weight, pulling back as hard as you could, but only managed to pull the thing with you as you rocked back.

The thing was heavy, pushing down your tummy and making its way up your chest. It did not stop sliding up and down your vulva, your breath hitching as it seemed to catch at your entrance. There was an experimental push there and you squirmed, your heart in your throat. 

Suddenly, the area felt even more slippery then it did before. The creature started to glow, a soft grass green, as all across your skin, the thing seemed to seep some sort of liquid. You could feel it drip down the crevices of your groin, down the slopes of your chest as you noticed the thing start to disintegrate your nightgown.

You wriggled as much as you could, trying to push back arousal as you shimmied to the edge of the bed. But the creature had a grip on you and the more you moved the faster it started to glide and explore the planes of your now exposed skin. It was fully enveloping you.

You gasped as it pushed into your entrance, a slippery tendril slowly making its way up and around your walls, leaving behind a sticky liquid as it moved. Your body was slowly starting to tingle. Your breathe was becoming even more ragged and the cool and slick textured of the sludge started to feel even more pleasant then it had before. 

Your mind was getting fuzzy. The feeling of the thing on your skin, paired with the weight, while previously scary, was really stoking the fire in your core. Hadn't you been so desperate lately for a feeling like this? To feel the weight of a lover as you mewled out from under them?

Your vision started to get fuzzy too. Fuzzy. You felt fuzzy all over. The need in you continued to grow as all you could concentrate on was the sudden movements on every part of your body. Hot. You felt hot..

Your waist, the curves of your breast, your inner thighs, your nipples, they were being caressed, grabbed, groped. All of this continued as a sharp sucking started to occur on your clit. You cried out, not caring if the neighbors could hear you as it sucked wave after wave of pleasure from your skin. 

More tendrils had made their way into your hot wet cunt. The girth of it made you buck your hips, straining beautifully under the the green glowing creature. You liked how it pushed you back down, experimenting with where to shift its weight as you keened out.

Green.

The witches brew. The Extremely Special witches brew.

Fuck.

You weren't able to think further as a large girthy tendril suddenly shot itself into you, thrusting into you with force. There was a needle like sucking of your nipples as the thing glided circles over every surface of your body. It was so much sensation you could barely think. The thrusting quickening its pace, pushing harder and faster into you until you broke, your orgasm rocking through you like an earthquake. 

But it didn't stop thrusting. And you didn't stop wanting it to fuck you, jerking your wobbly pelvis into the tendrils with futility. You giggled as the slime started to massage more fluid onto your vulva and cunt. Cum and aphrodisiac trickled out of you as the thing bullied that spongy spot that made you see stars. 

You had started to drool, which attracted the attention of the glob near your chest. A slimy tendril made its way to the drool streaming down your neck and chest, sucking. It seemed to be devouring the liquid as it made its way into your mouth, sucking your skin and tongue. You moaned around it, an herby taste oozing. You recognized some of the notes as ingredients in your brew.

 A silent chuckle vibrated through your chest. Mermaid scales. Worth every buck.

You came again. And again. And again. The slime fucked you over so much that you couldn't quite understand where it started and you began. You were so needy and so desperate for the next orgasm that you didn't notice the sunlight streaming down onto your conjoined bodies.

Some tendrils had made its way to your face, pushing back hair and sucking lazily on the sweat streaming down your forehead. Then, the coil within you snapped one more time, washing over you like a gentle wave on the beach. And the thrusting stopped. The sucking stopped.

The tendrils within you started to recede and form back into the main glob of the creature. It started to absorb all the slick of your body, leaving a lone bouncy weight on your skin. 

The two of you laid like that for a while as you caught your final breath, barely able to stay conscious. The thing started to prod circles into your sore aching muscles. You heard a keening sound. That surprised you a little. But that keen had been filled with so much affection, your heart couldn't help but be affected. 

As you lost consciousness, one thought stayed in your mind.

Best fucking spell ever. 

[bunny-claws]

spell jars 101 ✧

how to craft a spell jar: 

cleanse your jar

gather your ingredients

charge and program them, and then add them to the jar

close and seal with wax, ribbon, string, etc. to finalize and cast the spell

decorate your jar however you'd like, or not at all - up to you

what you can use as a jar:

tiny glass jars with cork lids

mason jars

pickle/pasta sauce jars

old medication bottles

food storage containers

bead storage tubes

what you can add to a spell jar: 

dried herbs

dried citrus peels

dried flowers

magical powders

small crystals

gem chips

essential oils (a drop or two will go a long way)

infused oils (carrier oils such as olive or grapeseed oil that have been infused with herbs)

a few drops of charged water (storm water, war water, sea water, holy water, rain water, moon water, sun water, etc.)

paper (with sigils/symbols/glyphs drawn on it, an incantation, a name, a phrase, etc.)

coins

beads

glitter or confetti 

seashells/shark teeth/sand, etc.

leaves/acorns/sticks/bark/moss

animal fur, nail clippings, teeth, or whiskers that have fallen out naturally (if i catch you trying to pull out your pet's whiskers or fur, i will fight you)

nails, glass, pins, needles, thorns, and other sharp objects (great for cursing, binding, banishing, or protection)

vinegar, lemon juice, pickle juice (mostly for “souring” a situation)

honey, sugar, syrup (to “sweeten” a situation or for attraction)

pretty much anything that fits and corresponds to your intent

what you should avoid putting in a spell jar: 

unless your intent correlates with the contents of the jar spoiling or going bad - don't use anything biological in nature (think bodily fluids), don't use fresh produce or herbs, and be mindful of water content inside the jar. you don't want a moldy, biohazardous mess on your hands (unless you do, then that's cool, too).

what spell jars are good for: 

containing your spell, theoretically making it easier to manipulate and control

manifesting goals/intentions continuously or over time

passive manifestation that doesn’t require much ongoing participation from the caster but is subject to regular maintenance

what to do with your spell jar once it’s been crafted:

keep it on your altar

keep it in an area that's appropriate for goal manifestation (for glamours, keep it in the bathroom; for sleep or dreams, keep it in the bedroom; for safe travels, keep it in your vehicle; for cursing, keep it concealed in a black box; etc.)

wear it as jewelry

put it in your pocket, purse, or backpack

bury it in your backyard or within a potted plant outside (for spells you don’t plan to undo or want to last indefinitely) - if burying is not an option, hide it somewhere on your property

leave it at a crossroads

recharging spell jars: 

shake it up

light a candle on top of or next to it

submerge it in a bath of herbs or crystals that are associated with energy

submerge or surround with sea salt (a natural conductor of energy)

anoint with oil/blessed or charged water

pair with a tarot card or rune stone that matches your intent

suffumigate with incense smoke

energy work and visualization

disposing of and reversing spell jars - when you feel like the spell has done its job or you need to undo its effects:

remove the contents from the jar and either destroy them, bury them, or throw them away

for items you wish to save, cleanse them thoroughly before using them again

take the jar and cleanse it in whatever manner you choose and either save it to be reused; or dispose of it safely

© 2025 bunny-claws

[aventurineswife]

Jiaoqiu with fem reader who loves to rub and scratch his ears and she always baby talks him and mocks him whenever he gets the slightest flustered?

Flustered jiaoqiu >>>>>>

Velvet Ears and Fragile Hearts

Summary: Jiaoqiu is constantly flustered by your relentless teasing and affectionate baby talk. Despite his best efforts to maintain his calm demeanor, you know all his weaknesses, especially his sensitivity to ear scratches. As you break through his stoic mask, you remind him that he deserves to be cared for too, even if it means enduring your playful antics.

Tags: Jiaoqiu x Female!Reader, Fluff, Teasing, Flustered, Ear Scratches, Playful Banter, Lighthearted, Established Relationship (can be assumed lol).

A/N: Flustered fictional men>>>>

The bustling camp had quieted as the evening settled over the Xianzhou Yaoqing’s temporary encampment. Lanterns cast warm, flickering light across the healer's tent, where Jiaoqiu meticulously ground herbs into a fine powder. His hair fell like a curtain over his shoulder, his eyes shut as always, yet his hands moved with precision. It was a familiar rhythm, one that steadied him in a world of chaos.

You had no such discipline.

"Jiaoqiuuuu," you cooed as you pushed aside the tent's flap, your voice light and teasing.

The healer paused, the pestle in his hand faltering for a fraction of a second. "Ah, you've returned. Was the day kind to you, or do you come with new injuries for me to mend?" His voice was smooth and calm, a balm in itself.

"I’m perfectly fine, thank you." You stepped closer, leaning over the low table where he worked. His sharp nose twitched at your proximity, and you caught the faintest flicker of his ear.

You smiled wickedly. "Are you avoiding me, Jiaoqiu?"

The foxian sighed, though it was a soft, indulgent sound. "Why would I avoid you? You are a loyal companion, and—"

"And you get all flustered when I’m around," you interrupted, reaching out with both hands. He twitched again, and you could feel his composure slipping. "Come here, let me see those ears."

"I’m quite busy—"

"Jiaoqiu," you said firmly, but your tone was laced with affection. Before he could retreat, you reached out and gently cupped one of his velvety ears between your fingers.

"Stop that," he muttered, his voice softer than intended.

"Why? You’re so cute," you crooned, running your fingers along the base of his ear. "My little fluffy fox, working so hard all the time."

"Do not—"

"My wittle baby foxie-poo," you continued, scratching lightly at the spot you knew made his tail swish.

Jiaoqiu’s eyes flickered open briefly, revealing their slit-like pupils as a sharp blush crept up his cheeks. "Enough!" he said, though the way his voice cracked at the end ruined the effect.

You gasped in mock horror, pulling back for just a moment. "You’re blushing!"

"I am not," he said quickly, though his hand darted up to shield his face.

"Oh, Jiaoqiu," you sighed dramatically, leaning closer. "Why must you be so shy? It’s just me. Your dearest companion, your most loyal friend…" You grinned. "The one who knows all your weaknesses."

"You are insufferable," he said, though his tone held no venom.

"Ah, but you love me for it," you teased, reaching for his ear again.

He made no move to stop you this time, though his ears flicked slightly under your touch. His tail swished behind him, betraying his embarrassment.

"I tolerate you," he muttered, though his shoulders had visibly relaxed under your ministrations.

You leaned closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. "You’re adorable when you’re flustered, you know that?"

Jiaoqiu groaned, resting his forehead in his hand. "Why do you torment me so?"

"Because," you said simply, ruffling his hair, "someone has to remind you that you’re more than just a healer and strategist. You’re still a person, Jiaoqiu. And you deserve to be pampered sometimes, even if it’s just me scratching your ears."

He fell silent for a moment, the tension in his frame melting under your gentle touch. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer. "You are…unreasonably kind."

"And you," you replied, smiling warmly, "are unreasonably cute when you blush."

This earned you another groan, but you didn’t miss the way his tail flicked just a little faster, a subtle sign that your teasing words had landed exactly as you’d hoped.

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Dream of You (Spike x Y/N)

Requested: YES! Requested by @wtv-my-current-hyperfixation

TW: Smut. so much smut.

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

-------------------------------------------------------------

Giggles and breathy laughter fills the room. Shared glances and touches of desire. You laid in Spike's arms satiated and content. Your body marked and sore. Nights like this were things if novellas and steamy dreams. Spike caressed your hair as he whispered how proud he was of how well you took him. You blushed and smiled. You wanted this to be forever. You wanted it to be real. You reach for his skin, but it's gone. You're left alone, again in your own bed.

You wake up aroused and moist, again. These dreams are a nightly recurrence, something of routine. Your desire for your dear friend Spike was getting out of hand. You wanted him not just on but inside you. However, you would be mortified if he found out. 

You get out of bed and go straight for a shower. On a lazier day you would play with yourself to meet some of those needs. Today you were in a hurry. It was your nightly date-ish with Spike. You would sit around his crypt and watch tv. You wanted to make sure you ran all your errands before nightfall.

Most of the day is spent running around town, getting things for tonight. You were sure to get all of Spike's favorites, including a couple of blood bags from the butcher. Before heading to the cemetery you decide to pop into The Magic Shop.

"I just need bone powder and it'll be done" Willow commented to Buffy. 

"I'd rather not grind out demon bones." Buffy responded. 

"No, silly. It's on the top shelf to your left."

Willow continued making her spell. She worked diligently to make sure all the ingredients and words were correct. 

"Hello, peeps. What it do?" Y/n walks into the store. 

The scoobies greet y/n as she walks up to Willow. 

"What are you up to?" Y/n asks Willow directly.

"Oh, a truth spell!"

"Who are we truthing?"

"Spike."

"Spike!" Your voice gets a pitch higher.

"Yep. Buffy thinks he's being dishonest, and she needs information from him."

"Don't you need his hair for that?"

Willow pulls out a small vial with blondish hair. "Got it." She grins. 

You look nervous but say nothing. You feel out of place, but you stay. You make sure to be helpful and calm. You didn't know why Spike being under a truth spell made you uncomfortable. You mulled over the ethics of what your friends were doing but instead you came up with an idea. If Willow casts the spell while you were with Spike you could ask him how he feels about you. You're quick to gather yourself and head out with a quick goodbye. 

You basically skip all the way to Spike's crypt.

As you enter the crypt you hear Spike running around downstairs. He hears the door and runs up to the main floor. 

"Don't close that door!" He yells

It was too late; you had shut the door. Spike looks frustrated. He sighs in exasperation. 

"What?" You ask.

"I've been trapped in here for 2 days the bloody door is stuck and only opens from the outside."

"Oh... uh oh." It dawns on you that you're now trapped with Spike. You feel giddy but scared. How long will it take for someone to bust in through that door. Worst, now you can't question Spike while he's under the truth spell. If he says he feels the same shenanigans can ensue, but if he says no than you're trapped here with your shame. 

You wring your hands nervously. Spike walks up to you unsure if to shake you or hug you. He notices the care basket you made for them.

"What's this?" He points to the basket. 

"Well, the plan was for us to watch trash tv and eat junk food. I even brought baggies of blood for you. But I guess our plan is to survive." You take a long look at the door. 

Spike palms his face in frustration. Of course, his planned "date" night with you would be ruined. Suddenly he perks up. If the door is shut for now that means you would have to stay with him, share his space... share his bed. 

He takes you by the hand and leads you to the couch he found in the dumpster. 

"Let's make the most of it." He grins. 

You nod and sit back. You spent the night watching tv and eating. It was 2am and your eyes were drooping. Spike noticed and turned off the tv. 

"You can take the bed." He mumbled as he walked you down to his room.

You're suddenly awake. His bed. You can share it. Wait... are you even ready for that intimacy. You risk it. 

"We can share. I trust you" you say cheeks burning red. 

Spike is chipper but downplays it. He assents and lets you lay down. 

"I'll be down in a bit." Spike tucks you in and scurries back to the couch.

You find it hard to fall asleep. Your heartbeat in your ears. You were sharing your crush's bed, and you were stuck with him. What is this a Wattpad story? Eventually, your eyes close and you're off to dreamland. 

Soft touches and passionate gazes. Bodies intertwined in lust and love. You breathe hard finding your sanity as Spike thrusts into you at a steady pace. Your eyes are rolled back into your head. Chest down, ass up, you were at his mercy. He grabs your hair keeping you in place. Your moans are lewd and loud. You feel yourself closer to the edge, closer to release. His hand finds your swollen bud and plays with it in circles. It makes you see stars. You're climbing, soaring, so close to your release. 

"Y/n"

You can’t speak.

"Y/n!" 

You awake in a startle. Your eyes adjust to see Spike over you. You pull the covers up to your chest as your brain adjusts and remembers where you're at. 

"Are you okay?" Spike asks

"Y- yes... why?" 

"You were mumblin' in your sleep. At some point you were yellin'. "

You blush ferociously. "Did I say anything?"

"Nah, love. I couldn’t make it out. 

You sigh in relief. He looks at you confused. 

"It was probably a bad dream" you mumble. You turn around and pretend to go back to sleep to avoid further questions. 

It's 4pm and you and Spike are wide awake and bored. You try to open the door to no luck. 

"Stop, pet. I already tried."

You sigh and turn to him. "What now?"

Spike walks to the couch and turns on the tv again. You give up, not knowing what to do, and sit by him. 

"Do you have any friends?" You ask

"No. Partners in crime, yes. Friends, no."

"Do you get bored of being a vampire?"

"No. I kill, I shag, and I sleep."

"Do you -" you're cut off

"Wha is this, 20 questions?" He turns to you annoyed. 

"I’m bored. Let's play a card game."

Spike obliges. He finds a deck of cards and you spent the next several hours playing cards in silence.

"I’m bored again." It was 8pm. 

"Let me ask you questions then." Spike grinned. 

You nodded, nervously. 

"Who was your first kiss?"

"Robert in third grade. Sloppy kisser."

"Cheeky."

"Who was your first love?"

"Jason in college. A real gentleman. Before you ask, we broke up because he developed a coke addiction."

"A real gentleman, indeed."

"Who's your last love?" Spike leaned in expectantly. 

You chuckled, nervous. "What? No question on who I lost my virginity to?" You tried to change the subject.

"It ain' Xander, is it?"

"I’m tired. More questions tomorrow, okay?"

Before he could respond you book it to Spike’s room. You lay down and close your eyes real tight in the hopes that Spike didn't trail after you. 

Dim lights and rustling. The scent of sex in the air. You're laid out, open and exposed. Spike is nowhere in sight. You feel slight pressure on your clit. You gasp as it increases. You look down to see a head of blonde hair. Your eyes widen as you notice what was happening. Spike's tongue played with your folds. He lavished your insides with his mouth. Your breath labored as you grabbed the sheets of the bed for dear life. He made sure to take his time. To memorize every crevice and nook you had to offer. He became drunk with your scent, your taste. You moaned his name like a Gregorian chant while he worshipped you. You felt your lower abdomen tighten as he lapped at your slit, rolling circles around it. You knew he would give you the best orgasm of your life and you were ready for it. You begged him for release. He prayed your juices would wash over his mouth so he could memorize your taste. You feel unstable, as if someone is shaking the bed. The movements becomes more prominent.

You wake up, groggy, disoriented. Spike, again staring down at you. 

"Love, are you okay? You were repeating my name over and over again."

"Um... I had a nightmare... about you...?"

"What about me?"

"Uhhh... You were being attacked... by a uh... demon! And I was scared for you." 

Spike is confused but takes your explanation as true. 

"What time is it?" You try to change the subject. 

"5pm."

You jump out of bed. "We gotta get out of here." You say for your sanity. 

Back at the Magic Shop Willow was ready to do her truth spell. All her ingredients in place and determination in her mind. Sadly, she had taken an extra ingredient in with all the others, a strand of your hair. As Willow works on the, unbeknownst to her, ruined spell Buffy beelined it to Spike's crypt. 

Back at the crypt only arguing can be heard. 

"You're acting weird." Spike accused.

"I’m just tired of being here!"

"So, you're tired o' me?"

"I didn't say that." You turn to him, exhausted and embarrassed. 

Pounding comes from the outside of the crypt. Buffy kicks down the door and goes straight for Spike. You're left standing there. 

"Where's the next big bad?" Buffy questioned Spike. 

"I already told you; I don't know." Spike looks helpless.

"You're lying. Why is the spell not working" Buffy shakes Spike. 

"What spell?" Spike asks.

"A truth spell for you." You chime in without your consent. 

Both Spike and Buffy look at you. Spike was surprised and Buffy annoyed. You were confused at your own statement. You didn't intend to tell the truth. 

Buffy punches Spike a couple of times before questioning him again. When she didn't get an answer, she dropped him and walked away furious. 

You just stand there until you remember your fight with Spike. You had to get out of there. 

"Oh, no you don't" Spike grabs your forearms. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I've been having sexual dreams about you." You blurt out before you can stop yourself. Your free hand flies to your mouth. You mentally reprimand yourself. 

Spike takes in what you said. A grin painted on his face.

"You don't say, love. Out of curiosity, what are we doing in these sexual dreams" He leans in. 

Your eyes widen and your mouth starts moving. You tell him about the lewd and lustful acts you have dreamed about. You confess to waking up wet and pent up. You put yourself out there in display for him to ravage the carnage of your secrets. 

Spike's face hurts from smiling so wide. 

"Now tell me, why would you have these dreams about us?"

You try to bite your tongue but it's too late, "Cause I’m in love with you."

Spike wastes no time claiming your mouth. He memorizes how you taste, how soft your lips are, the way you closed your eyes to kiss him. 

"Ler me show you what I can really do." He whispers against your lips. 

He picks you up bridal style and walks you down to his bedroom. With care he places you on his bed. He climbs on top of you, kissing you as he settles between your legs. 

Impatient, you start tugging at his clothes trying to get them off. 

"Easy. All in its due time." He says. 

He trails kisses down you jaw to your neck, nipping on his way down. Carefully, he removes your shirt and your bra. You resist the urge to cover yourself from his prying eyes. His gaze is lustful, like a predator eyeing his prey. 

His mouth makes a path between you neck all the way to your breast. With great care he places his mouth on your left nipple, giving it the attention it deserved. With his right hand he massaged your right breast. All synchronous so as to stimulate you and prepare you for what’s coming next. He alternated between breasts, sending little jolts of pleasure through your body. 

With little haste he made his way to your abdomen and found his way to his prize. He nestled himself between your legs inhaling your scent. Without much wait he dived in, lapping at your folds, twisting his tongue on your clit, memorizing your taste. 

You gripped the bed sheets as hard as you could. Your back arching, reaching for him. Your body was alive and electric. He didn't slow down his assault, giving you no space for a deep breath. You moan and beg. You're at odds with yourself. You need release but want to savor the moment.

Spike is observant of the rise and fall of your chest. He tracks your moans and whimpers as he plays with speed and pressure. He has never been this hungry. He decided that he wants to have you wash over him. He wants your release. He inserts two fingers in you while still lapping at your clit. He chases your orgasm with his nimble hands and expert tongue. You swear that your soul is being exorcised out of your body as you crash and spill all over with your release. You're a whimpering, shaking mess. You gasp for air as you slowly land back in your body. 

As you look down you see Spike, still between your legs, grinning. Pleased but not satisfied, yet. You make a move to stand up, but he's on you faster than you can speak. He claims your mouth, inviting you to taste yourself on his lips. You're drunk on your own taste on his tongue. 

As you passionately make out, Spike makes quick work of his clothes. He's ready to claim you. You're giddy and pliant. 

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?" He asks.

You nod, unable to form a single word. 

When he finally releases his erection from his pants you're surprised. How are you going to take all of him? He's so big and hard. Spike can read the uncertainty in your face. He cups your cheek gently and places his forehead against yours. 

"It'll be alright. If it's too much just tap me on the arm and I'll stop."

You nod again, determined. 

He teases your entrance and clit by rubbing the head of his cock back and forth. Slowly entering you every now and then but then retreating from your entrance, so as to prepare you for his size. Your whimpers fill the room. You want him so much. He can tell you're getting impatient, so he aligns himself and slowly enters you. He stays still, letting you acclimate to his size. Your breath is labored, you're almost delirious with pleasure. You can't believe this is happening. 

He slowly moves, rocking back and forth, giving you a rhythm to hold on to. You moan in tandem. Your eyes brimming in tears from the pleasure. 

"Look at you, taking me so well." Spike praises you. 

You give a lustful smile, too lost to register his words. 

He picks up the pace. Thrusting in and out, in and out. Giving you what you asked for. Giving you heaven on earth. You beg for him to go deeper. You needed him completely. Spike chuckles and thrusts harder. His movements are rough and long, giving you a chance to feel every vein and curvature on his cock. You push up against him with your hips, meeting his every thrust. He looks down at you, drunk on sex, admiring how beautiful you look out of breath and disheveled. 

He feels your legs shaking. He can tell you're close. 

"Are you gonna come for me, love? I want to hear you say my name. Remember who’s taking you.”

You can barely nod as you chase your orgasm, focusing on his movements. Taking him all into you. Memorizing how he feels and how he makes you feel. 

Your body ceases and you gasp as your orgasm crashes over you, like a tidal wave. Your veins are full of electricity. You’re seeing stars. You hold onto him while you repeat his name, over ad over again. Music to his ears. Spike holds you, never stopping his fierce thrusts. He wants you to remember who is claiming you.

"Good girl" he litters your face with kisses as you work to regain your breath. 

Spike never slows down, chasing his own high. Seeing you spent and tired knowing that he caused it makes him inch closer. He continues to thrust in you, sending aftershock ripples into you as he finds his own release. He fills you to the brim with his seed. He makes you his. 

You both stay connected. Breathing heavy. Satiated and in awe. He eventually pulls out of you with a little shiver. He lays down by your side pulling you close to him. You're both silly with pleasure, spent and happy. 

"Wow." Was all you could say.

"There's more where that came from. Rest up, because we have a lot of catching up to do."

You giggle, giddy for what your future with Spike holds. To think, all of these restless nights craving him and all you had to do was confess your love. You knew once the sun rises you’ll be tired and sore. Something that you’re looking forward to.

[space-blue]

A complete guide to Blue Daddy's Girl (my) Arcane fics

Multi-chapter

Fathers and Daughters (My big hit)

Alternate AU set after S01E03, where Silco adopts both Vi and Powder. Large ensemble cast, multiple POVs, but mostly Vi.

100k words. Completed. Fanart chapters and art comms.

While the World Turns Around

Silco/Vander post betrayal reconciliation AU. Set before the show. POV Vander.

5.2k words. Completed. Entire chapter of gifted fanart at the end.

Our Love, That Flows Into the Sea is the same fic but from the POV of Silco. Unfinished WIP I don't plan on continuing.

The Shimmer Baron’s Family

Silco/Vander Regency AU. Estranged family, set during a ball at the Medarda estate.

10k words. Unfinished. No plans to finish it, stop asking lol or else make a serious request via my ko-fi.

A Stray

4.7k. Set in the "good verse". Silco and Vander adopt Viktor. One shot converted to WIP, has fanart.

Whatever I do, this is where we end

A dark Silco time loop, but told from the POV of Vander, who gets reset every time unknowingly. Strong themes of violence, suicide, despair and smut. Read the tags.

7.7k words. Completed. No fanart.

Science of the Soul

Ongoing WIP, Jayvik Avatar AU in which Zaunites are Na'vi and everyone from Piltover are humans. With art from me and others.

Cursed, by a brush of your hand

Silco/Vander soulmate AU where the soulmark is framed as a potential life ending curse. Aroace Silco, BFF with Renata Glasc. Basically an aroace perspective on soulmates.

7k words. Completed. No fanart.

What I wouldn’t do for you

Silco & Vander role swap. Silco adopts the kids and runs the Last Drop.

5.2k words. Completed. Open ending. No fanart.

The Darkin Child

Viktor, Singed and Silco are vampire-adjacent monsters, Vander is a werewolf. Married zaundads with Viktor returning to Zaun in hiding.

4.3k words. Unfinished, no plans to finish it.

The Centaur Breaker

Silly centaur AU with Silco as a rancher in a fantasy world (not a US Far West setting), rescuing captured centaurs. Vander, Sevika, Jinx & Vi as centaurs.

2.8k words. Unfinished. Only a single chapter and no plans to continue.

☆ Arcane Art Dump 

The home of all my Arcane fanarts worth saving.

One Shots

Those are sorted by kudos, from the most popular down to least.

Pretty Blue Puffs of Arcane Smoke

829 words. Silco and Powder discuss getting tattoos. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU.

Worries, and ways to dispel them & Explosions, and their fallout

5k words total. Silco x Reader two parter, written in the week before season 1's finale. 2nd person gender neutral reader without body description.

Lost Child

3.7k words. Pirate Silco is back in Zaun and trying to avoid Vander. He runs into a lost child called "Cait" at Bridgewaltz market.

The Monster Within & The Monster Without

1.3k words for Monster Within. Post-betrayal Silco recovers and cuts his hair. Based on a fanart by @/Wish. 1.6k words for Monster Without. Set at the same time, but Vander POV as he deals with emotional turmoil after attacking Silco (probably my favourite one shot to this day).

Adoption

1.8k words. Vander and Silco are still brothers. They discuss adopting the girls in this no-betrayal AU.

Beer And Bribery

2k words. Vi & Sevika. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. Vi asks Sevika for help picking a present for Silco. Written for the Arcane parenting week event.

Let Me Try

4.3k words. Newest on the list! Arcane season 2 finale fix it. Timebomb... Ekko walks away from the final battle in a daze after learning that Jinx is dead. She isn't, no matter what Vi may believe.

Not Dead Yet & A Friend In Need

3k words total. Jinx finds a dead body in Zaun, but Viktor isn’t quite dead yet. Jinx & Viktor, written prior to season 2 for Sicktember.

Without Questions

627 words. Written for a fanart that is currently down, but hopefully I'll fix it soon. Young Zaundads fluff. Vander doesn’t understand what Silco sees in him, but he’s not willing to question it.

Gun Nerds Of All Nations

3k words. Set in a similar AU to F&D but not actually. Powder & young Caitlyn bond at a fair's shooting competition. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

Memories of Sweetness

2k words. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. Silco discovers that a staple food of his youth, long thought to have disappeared from Zaun, is back on the streets. He has to share this with Powder and Vi, both born too late to have ever tried it.

No Favourite

1.2k words. Vander claims he doesn't have a favourite among his kids, but they don't see it that way. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

Hard Truths

3k words. Ren (Marcus' daughter) tries to find to meaning to her father’s death and ends up meeting Jinx in Zaun.

Blame

830 words. Jinx POV heavy angst. Jinx talks to Silco after his death, until Sevika comes to find her. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

A Lesson In Silence

3k words. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. Mek (now known as Gustove) takes Powder on a spying mission. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

Last Chance

1.3k words. Past Silco/Vander. Missing scene in the cannery, a private conversation between them. Generally bitter sweet and canon compliant.

Son of Zaun

2k words. One day, Silco's mother took him up-top, to see the sky, the sun, and the people who live above them all.

Sepia Smile

732 words. The photograph is faded, its sepia tones keeping the colour of the man's eyes a secret. Vi stares at it for a long time, perplexed. She doesn't understand what Vander saw in him. Written for the Arcane Parenting Week.

A Terrible Gamble

2.3k words. Jinx (and Silco whispering in her mind) set off to rescue Vander from Singed’s lab after the events of season 2.

On Your Head

2.5k words. Alternate retelling of Mel and the young princess' of her memories. In the Princess' POV.

Drunken Dreams

Comic fanart. Jinx brings a drunk Vi home.

Just a cough & Dramatics

685 words for Just a cough. The moment Silco wakes up with a sore throat, he knows he's in trouble with Vander. Written for Sictember. 1k words for Dramatics. Vander sickfic to match.

A Fresh Start

1.9k words. Second person POV where you are brought to a recovering Silco in secret, and give him a haircut and much needed comfort. Gen fic.

Eat You Alive

604 words. Dark!Vi kills Caitlyn as soon as they enter the Lanes.

Maintenance

1.6k words. Explicit. A smutty Mek/Marcus with power dynamics in Silco’s office.

A Haunting

754 words. Heavy angst Vander & Silco meet shortly after the betrayal.

A Touch of Memory

2.2k words. A self-indulgent Star Wars crossover set in the Old Republic with Sith Silco, Jinx and Sevika and Mandalorian Vander. Has links to fanart.

In the Jaws of the Fox

247 words. Mel/Jayce. Mel contemplates the man sprawled in her bed, sleeping insouciantly.

Who Saves The Boy Saviour?

1.3k words. Dark fic!! Jinx captures Ekko post season 1 finale and straps him to the chair Silco used on Vander. Timebomb.

Ragdoll

766 words. A look into young Silco and Vander's budding relationship. It's complicated. With art, made for the Zaundads Zine.

A New Tattoo

968 words. Set in the Fathers and Daughters AU. The story behind Mek’s tattoos.

Five Times Vi Got In Trouble

4.8k words. Vander & Grayson friendship fic done for a charity prize.

Bullseye

500 words. Mel Medarda/Grayson. Mel takes the sheriff with her to visit a progress day and asks her to show off in a shooting range.

My Ko-fi is open for tips, but I'm also open to discuss writing commissions. My DMs are open | Find me on Bsky

[crow-crafting]

Round 2!

I learned quite a bit from round 1, so this is already going much quicker.

I did a quick ph test, results below with my water on the left, 1 cup with 1 tsp of citric acid, and 1 cup with 2 tsp of citric acid.

From how dramatically it lowered the ph, I have gone with 2 tsp per 1 cup of water for now (more details lower).

Next we have the 4 colors i will be using. My only local art store that sells acid dyes is going out of business and all the dye powders were 50% off. So I got every color they had. I'm missing a few, which is why we are starting on the higher end for now. 635 : brown, 636 : gold ocher, 637 : gun metal, and 638 : silver grey. I already did 639 : jet black in round 1.

I made 1% stock solutions of each, aiming for 0.4g of powder, but when I went over, I just made note of how much liquid to add to keep it at 1%.

The brown is very... gritty and green at this stage. The gold ocher is a lovely golden brown, the gun metal has an intriguing blue cast, and the silver grey is gray.

I continued with the same dos sampling I started last time, so I made samples of 2%, 1%, 0.5%, 0.25%, and 0.125% for each color. I have them in numbered leftover containers (not food safe, dye specific equipment), where I added 3/4 cup of the water the wool was soaking in, and 1/4 cup of the citric acid solution I made at the beginning, added the dye, then lowered the fiber into the dye.

I put the containers outside for the moment, so they can warm up, and will be adding another 1/4 cup of the citric acid solution either later tonight or tomorrow afternoon.

When i add the solution, I will take pictures of how the fiber is doing!

[lovedbysolaris]

Through Ash and Iron (6)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.(She/her)

Word Count: 6.7k

A/n: I slacked last night to post this chap, ya girl was tired lol. f this 9-5 ON A SUNDAY- anyways yall enjoy lol

_________________________

The hum of the Undercity stretched below you as you sat perched on the edge of an old rooftop, the air thick with the scent of metal, oil, and faint traces of decay. The flickering neon signs in the distance cast an eerie glow across your features as you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. The city buzzed with life, chaotic and unyielding, but up here, it felt strangely quiet.

“Brooding already?” Jinx’s familiar voice broke the silence.

You turned your head slightly to see her slinking toward you, her wild hair catching the light like a chaotic halo. She plopped down next to you with her signature reckless ease, her legs swinging freely over the edge as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“I don’t brood,” you shot back with a smirk. “You’re confusing me with Vi.”

Jinx snorted. “Vi’s brooding is all fists and scowls. You? You’re more of a ‘mysterious loner with a tragic backstory’ kind of brooding. Very cinematic.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Yeah? And what’s your deal? Crazed powder monkey with a flair for dramatics?”

She gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. “Excuse me, but I prefer the term artistic mastermind.”

“Sure,” you said, leaning back on your hands. “That’s definitely what people call you.”

The banter continued, sharp and fast, each quip met with equal intensity. But then, amidst the teasing, Jinx’s voice softened just slightly. “I missed this.”

You glanced at her, your smirk fading into something gentler. “Missed what? My dazzling wit?”

“Maybe,” she said with a sly grin, but her eyes betrayed her vulnerability. “Missed you.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, the weight of everything you both had been through pressed down like a storm cloud. Without thinking, you reached out and took her hand, your thumb brushing over her scarred knuckles.

Jinx’s gaze dropped to your arm, her sharp eyes catching the faint lines of ink peeking from under your sleeve. “What’s with all these tattoos, anyway?” she asked, tilting her head. “You never told me.”

You hesitated for a moment, the question digging up memories you preferred to keep buried. But Jinx’s curious stare was relentless. “They’re… a map,” you admitted finally. “A map my so-called family gave me. They told me it would lead me to something important—something I needed to find to figure out who I was. But it’s from my past, and I haven’t looked at it in years.”

Her interest piqued, Jinx leaned closer. “A map, huh? Lemme see more of it.”

Before you could protest, she tugged at the hem of your shirt, lifting it enough to reveal the intricate network of lines and symbols inked across your chest and stomach. The tattoos were stark against your skin, a labyrinth of pathways and cryptic markings.

Jinx’s fingers hovered above the lines before tracing them lightly, her touch featherlight. “This… this is insane,” she murmured, her usual chaotic energy replaced by quiet fascination. Her fingers stopped at a particular symbol etched near your ribs.

“Wait a second.” Her voice grew sharper, her finger tapping the symbol. “This. I’ve seen this before.”

You glanced down. “What about it?”

“It’s Silco’s symbol,” she said, her voice laced with a mix of curiosity and unease. “How the hell do you have this?”

You frowned, shaking your head. “I don’t know. It’s just part of the map. I never understood half of what these marks mean.”

Jinx stared at the symbol for a moment longer before her fingers resumed their path, tracing the lines of ink as if trying to decode you. Her touch lingered, and her voice softened again. “You know, when I was a kid… I used to dream about someone like you.”

Her confession caught you off guard. “Someone like me?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice distant, almost wistful. “Someone who could pull me out of the mess I was in. Someone strong, who’d see me for who I am and not some broken thing. Someone who could…” She trailed off, her eyes meeting yours. “Give me the life I always wanted but could never have.”

Her words struck a chord deep within you, and without thinking, you leaned closer. “And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her lips curled into a faint smile. “Now I’ve got you. So, I guess… dream fulfilled.”

The warmth in her eyes pulled you in, and before you could stop yourself, you closed the distance, your lips pressing against hers. The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with all the unspoken things you’d been too afraid to say.

Jinx melted into you, her hands gripping your shoulders as if anchoring herself to reality. And for a moment, everything—the chaos, the pain, the uncertainty—faded away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet glow of the Undercity.

Caitlyn sat at her desk, a chaotic array of maps, reports, and scattered photographs spread across the once-pristine surface. Her office, once a model of order and discipline, now reflected the turmoil in her heart. The faint hum of Piltover’s cityscape filtered through the window as she poured over the last known locations associated with you. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, but she refused to stop. Not until she had something solid to go on.

“Commander Kiramman, there’s… not much to go on here,” the enforcer standing before her said hesitantly, his voice grating against her frayed nerves. “The reports from the Undercity are unreliable. And the last sighting was weeks ago.”

“That’s unacceptable!” Caitlyn snapped, slamming her hand down on the desk. The officer flinched at her sudden outburst. “I don’t care if the information is unreliable. You are reliable, aren’t you? Then do your job. You find her.”

The enforcer opened his mouth as if to protest, but the icy fire in Caitlyn’s eyes silenced him. “This isn’t just another case,” she continued, her voice low but seething with urgency. “I don’t want excuses—I want results. She’s alive, and I need to find her before someone else does.”

The officer nodded nervously and backed out of the room, leaving Caitlyn alone with her thoughts. She leaned back in her chair, running a hand over her face as a wave of emotion washed over her. She couldn’t shake the guilt, the memories of what she had done to you.

For weeks, Caitlyn had been consumed by a singular need to find you—not to capture you, not to punish you, but to make things right. Now that she knew the truth, that Ambessa had fed her lies and manipulated her into believing you were responsible for her mother’s death, the weight of her actions was unbearable. She had hurt you in ways she couldn’t take back, and yet, she couldn’t let go of the feelings she still carried for you.

She cared for you. Loved you, even. That much she couldn’t deny anymore.

You had always been a mystery, but there was something about you that drew her in—your strength, your resolve, the quiet way you carried the scars of your past. And now, knowing you had been innocent all along, those feelings burned even brighter, mixed with an aching need to atone.

She stood abruptly, her decision made. Grabbing her coat, she strode out of the office and made her way to the grand steps of Piltover Tower. By the time she reached the top, a crowd of enforcers had gathered below, their curious murmurs filling the air. Caitlyn stood tall, her sharp gaze scanning the assembled troops as she prepared to address them.

“This city,” she began, her voice steady but firm, “has been through hell. We’ve lost good people—our families, our friends. And in the midst of that pain, we’ve made mistakes. I’ve made mistakes.”

The enforcers exchanged uneasy glances as Caitlyn’s words hung in the air.

“I’ve come to realize that some of the choices we’ve made, some of the people we’ve blamed, were wrong. There’s someone out there—a person who was wronged by this city, by me. And now, they are in danger.”

She took a deep breath, her voice softening as her eyes drifted to the horizon. “Y/n isn’t a threat to us. She never was. And I won’t let Piltover’s mistakes take her away from me again.”

The crowd murmured, confused but attentive.

“I’m ordering a citywide search,” Caitlyn continued, her voice hardening with resolve. “Every corner of Piltover and the Undercity will be searched. I don’t care how long it takes—we will find her. And she is to be brought back alive.”

Her last word rang out like a commandment, silencing any doubts among the ranks.

“There’s another threat,” she added, her expression darkening. “Someone is targeting her—someone who wants to use her for their own gain. We cannot allow that to happen. I won’t allow it.”

Her gaze swept over the crowd, and for the first time in weeks, Caitlyn felt a sliver of clarity amid the chaos. She turned sharply, walking back into the tower, her mind already racing with plans.

This wasn’t just about making amends or clearing your name. It was about protecting you, saving you from the same forces that had taken so much from her. Because deep down, Caitlyn knew the truth: she still loved you, and she wasn’t ready to lose you again.

The streets of the Undercity buzzed with the usual mix of life and chaos as you walked alongside Sevika. She lit a cigar as the two of you moved through the crowd, your hood pulled low to avoid unnecessary attention. It was a routine now—your almost daily rounds to reinforce your presence. Let the people see you, remind them that you weren’t a ghost, that the streets still had a protector, even if it wasn’t the one they expected.

“I don’t get why you bother with all this,” Sevika muttered, exhaling a thick plume of smoke. “Your face is plastered on every corner. Pretty sure they know you’re alive.”

You shrugged, adjusting the bag slung over your shoulder. “Gotta stay ahead of the rumors, Sev. Besides, it’s not all for appearances.”

“Right.” Her smirk was as dry as the tone in her voice. “Totally not about that dish Jinx keeps whining about or those goggles you were ogling for the kid.”

You shot her a look, but it was playful. “She’s been craving it for days. And Isha… she’s been working so hard on her little machines. She deserves something nice.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, taking another puff. “You’re soft, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you admitted with a small smile. “But they make it easy.”

Her expression softened briefly, but then she leaned in, her tone turning teasing. “So, you and Jinx, huh? Gonna make it official or keep tiptoeing around each other?”

You scoffed, the tips of your ears burning. “I don’t even know what we are. But… it’s something. She’s something.” You hesitated, your voice dropping as the words spilled out before you could stop them. “They both are. Isha and Jinx, they make me feel… like I belong. Like I finally have something worth holding onto.”

Sevika’s teasing grin faltered, her usual tough exterior replaced with something quieter, almost understanding. “Yeah, well… don’t screw it up.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Her mood shifted abruptly, her eyes narrowing. “Speaking of screwing things up… you know Caitlyn’s been sniffing around, right?”

That caught your attention. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen her,” Sevika said, her tone casual but her gaze sharp. “Gathering troops, barking orders. She’s definitely on a mission, and I’m guessing it’s to find you. Word’s out, Spark. She knows you’re alive.”

You frowned, your mind flickering to Caitlyn and the weight of your history with her. But before you could dwell too much, you changed the subject, unwilling to let the conversation linger there. “What about you, Sev? When are you gonna stop babysitting me and get yourself a love life?”

She barked a laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, because brooding loners with bionic arms are a hot commodity these days.”

“Hey, I’m proof it works.”

Sevika rolled her eyes, shoving your shoulder lightly. “Shut up and go get those goggles, sap.”

The teasing put a smile on your face as you ducked into a dimly lit shop tucked into the corner of the street. The air was thick with grease and the metallic tang of machinery. Rows of mismatched tools, gadgets, and gear lined the shelves, but it was the sleek pair of goggles hanging near the back that caught your eye. You reached out for them, turning them over in your hands, when a voice from the shadows made you freeze.

“Well, well… if it isn’t the lost one.”

The voice was low, measured, and carried an unsettling familiarity. You turned slowly, your eyes locking onto a tall, gaunt man stepping out from the shadows. His face was pale, his sharp features shadowed by a hood, and his eyes gleamed with a cold intelligence.

“Singed,” you said cautiously, your grip tightening on the goggles.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me,” he said, his tone almost amused. His gaze flicked over you, lingering like he was studying a specimen under glass. “But it’s me who knows you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, keeping your voice steady.

“Don’t you?” His lips curved into a thin, cruel smile. “Oh, you’ve forgotten. But that’s to be expected, isn’t it? The past buried so deep, you don’t even recognize the name you were given.”

You narrowed your eyes, but before you could speak, he said it—a name you hadn’t heard with that voice since you were a child. The sound of his tone–it sent a jolt through you, like a trigger and for a brief moment, your vision blurred.

The purple flash. It came unbidden, your body reacting to the name like a spark to a fuse. Your heart raced as you blinked, forcing yourself back to clarity, but Singed had already noticed.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, his smile widening. “It’s still in you. Buried, yes, but not gone. I was right to be patient.”

“What are you talking about?” you demanded, but your voice wavered.

“Oh, you’ll understand soon enough,” he said cryptically, his words slipping into a language you couldn’t place. The sound of it was almost hypnotic, a strange rhythm that made your head swim and your body feel weightless.

You stumbled back a step, gripping the counter for support, your eyes unfocused. The world around you felt hollow, distant, as his voice echoed in your mind.

“Don’t worry,” Singed said, his tone almost mocking. “I’ll find you again. When the time is right.”

And just like that, he was gone, slipping back into the shadows as if he had never been there at all. You stood there for a moment, your breath shallow, your mind racing with questions you couldn’t answer.

The lair was dimly lit, the hum of machinery in the background blending with the occasional clink of metal tools on the workbench. You sat on a battered old chair in the corner, your hands clasped tightly, your elbows resting on your knees. It had been hours since you’d spoken. Since you’d even moved.

Your reflection in a nearby cracked mirror caught your eye. You barely recognized yourself. The sharp confidence you once carried felt dulled, replaced by something hollow, something unfamiliar.

His voice. That name.

“Spark.”

The word echoed in your mind like a haunting melody. It wasn’t just the name—it was the way he said it, the power it held over you. Your fingers twitched as you recalled how your body had responded against your will. A primal reaction you couldn’t control, one that made your stomach churn with disgust.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” you muttered under your breath, your voice hoarse.

Jinx’s light steps barely registered until she plopped down on the floor beside you, cross-legged and watching you closely. Her usual manic energy was subdued, replaced by something softer, more curious.

“Alright, what’s eating you, Big Shot?” she asked, tilting her head. “You’ve been sitting there looking like someone stole your favorite gun.”

You glanced at her, your jaw tightening. You wanted to brush it off, but the weight of the encounter was too much to carry alone.

“Do you know someone named Singed?” you asked, your voice low and strained.

Her expression shifted immediately, her playful smirk vanishing. “Yeah… I know him. He worked with Silco back in the day. Creepy guy. Always muttering, always experimenting. Why?”

You took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly. “I ran into him earlier. He… he called me by that name, Jinx. A voice I haven’t heard since I was a kid.”

“What name?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Spark,” you whispered, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. “And when he said it… it was like… like I wasn’t in control anymore. Like I had to listen.”

Jinx’s expression darkened. “What do you mean ‘had to listen’?”

You shook your head, struggling to find the words. “It was like I wasn’t myself. My body just… responded. I felt feral, like there was something buried in me that he was pulling out. I wanted to fight it, but I couldn’t. I felt… hopeless. Submissive.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Jinx’s fingers tapped against her knee, her gaze fixed on you but distant, as if she were piecing things together.

“I don’t like this,” she finally said. “I don’t like any of this.”

“Neither do I,” you admitted, your voice cracking. “I need help, Jinx. I need to figure out what’s happening to me, why I reacted like that. And I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

Jinx hesitated, biting her lip. You could see the conflict in her eyes. She hated the idea of you being vulnerable, hated the thought of you needing anyone but her. But she wasn’t blind to the truth.

“You’re saying this is bigger than the Undercity,” she said quietly.

You nodded. “I think it is.”

She ran a hand through her hair, groaning in frustration. “I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but… you’re right. If Singed is messing with you, and he’s tied to whatever happened to you as a kid, we need someone who knows how to deal with him. Someone with resources.”

Your heart sank as you caught on to where she was going. “Jinx—”

“It has to be Caitlyn,” she interrupted, her tone firm despite the reluctance in her eyes. “She’s the only one who can help you figure this out. I hate it, but if it’s between that and losing you to whatever freaky science Singed is pulling, then I’ll deal with it.”

You looked at her, surprised by the resolve in her voice. Her loyalty was fierce, but this level of sacrifice was new, even for her.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, searching her face.

“No,” she admitted with a wry smile, “but I’m sure about you. If Caitlyn’s what it takes to keep you safe, then fine. But I’m not gonna let her take you without a fight. Got it?”

You couldn’t help but smile, the weight on your chest lifting slightly. “Got it.”

She reached over, taking your hand in hers. “We’ll figure this out. I don’t care how many towers we have to burn down. You’re not going through this alone.”

Her words settled deep in your heart, and for the first time since the encounter with Singed, you felt a flicker of hope.

Caitlyn’s quarters were dimly lit, the soft glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the room. It was eerily quiet, save for the occasional sound of her shuffling papers or the creak of her chair. You stood in the shadows, watching her as she slumped at her desk, her head resting in her hands.

Her once pristine space was unrecognizable. Papers were scattered everywhere, drawers left half-open, and an empty teacup sat forgotten on the edge of the desk. She exhaled deeply, her body trembling as she fought back tears. But eventually, the dam broke.

“I hate this,” she whispered to the empty room, her voice shaky. “I hate how much I care. How much I miss you. And you’re probably out there hating me after everything I did to you.”

You shifted in the shadows, her words hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“I trusted you. I loved you. Still love you, even though I shouldn’t.” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her hands to her face. “Even if you don’t love me back… I can’t stop. I can’t let go of you.”

You clenched your fists, emotions swirling inside you. You felt deeply for Caitlyn, more than you were ready to admit, but now wasn’t the time to explore those feelings. There was too much at stake, too many questions that needed answers.

Still, seeing her like this broke something in you.

Leaning against the doorframe, you spoke lightly, trying to mask the weight in your chest. “You know, your security’s terrible. Anyone could just waltz in here.”

Caitlyn froze, her tear-streaked face snapping toward the sound of your voice. Her wide, disbelieving eyes found you as you stepped forward, your lips quirking in a teasing smile.

“Hello, Commander,” you said softly, the playfulness in your tone betraying the tension in your heart.

She didn’t hesitate. Caitlyn launched herself out of her chair, her boots thudding against the floor as she closed the distance between you. You barely managed to catch her as she threw her arms around your neck, pulling you into a desperate embrace.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice muffled against your shoulder. Then, louder, as if saying it would make it real: “You’re here!”

Her hands found your face, her thumbs brushing against your jaw as she held you at arm’s length to look at you. Her fingers were trembling, her breath hitching. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I… I’m so sorry. For everything. For hurting you. For not trusting you. I’ve missed you so much.”

You let her hold your face, her warmth grounding you in the moment. “I’m here now,” you said softly, your hands resting on her waist. “But I need your help, Cait. I really need your help.”

She blinked, her tears slowing as she searched your face. “Anything,” she said quickly. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it. Just tell me.”

You stepped back, reluctantly breaking her hold, and removed your coat. Then, with a steadying breath, you lifted your shirt over your head, exposing the tattoos that snaked across your torso.

Her eyes widened, her gaze tracing the intricate lines and symbols etched into your skin. She reached out instinctively, her fingers hovering over one of the symbols near your ribs.

“These…” she whispered. “You’ve never explained them to me before.”

“They’re a map,” you said, your voice low. “My so-called family gave them to me when I was a child. I didn’t understand what they meant back then, but… Singed does. He called me by a name, Caitlyn. ‘Spark.’ And when he said it, I wasn’t… myself anymore.”

Her fingers brushed against one of the symbols, and you shivered at the contact. “He did something to you?” she asked, her voice tinged with anger.

You nodded. “I don’t know how or why, but it’s like… he has some kind of control over me. I need to understand what these tattoos mean, what he’s after. And I need you to help me find out.”

Caitlyn’s eyes softened as she looked up at you, her hands still tracing the lines of your tattoos. “We’ll figure it out,” she said firmly. “I’ll do everything I can to get you through this. You’re not alone.”

She pulled you into a hug, her arms wrapping tightly around you. For a moment, you let yourself sink into her embrace, her warmth chasing away the lingering cold left by Singed’s voice.

You held her close, your cheek resting against her hair. “Thank you, Cait.”

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at you, her blue eyes filled with determination. “Whatever it takes,” she promised.

You nodded, a small flicker of hope igniting in your chest. For the first time in days, you felt like you had a chance to take control of your fate.

The dim glow of the desk lamp illuminated the worn records of Silco’s operations scattered before you. You sat hunched over, elbows propped on the table, flipping through the faded pages. Caitlyn had been quiet for some time now, seated across the room with her own stack of documents, but you felt her gaze lingering.

You glanced up, catching her staring. She didn’t look away.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, leaning back in your chair, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at your lips.

Caitlyn blinked as if pulled from a trance. “No, I just…” She trailed off, setting her papers down and folding her hands in her lap. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “You’ve changed me.”

Her words caught you off guard. You tilted your head, waiting for her to elaborate.

“I mean, the way I see the world,” she continued, her voice soft but steady. “I used to think everything was so black and white. Good and bad. Piltover and the Undercity. But you… you made me see the shades of gray. The hope. The humanity I ignored in the people I was supposed to protect.”

Her blue eyes softened as they met yours, and something in her expression made your chest tighten. You tried to brush it off, turning your attention back to the records in front of you, but her voice drew you in again.

“You gave me hope,” she admitted. “You made me believe things could be better, even when I was at my lowest.”

You were about to respond when you realized she wasn’t across from you anymore. Somehow, she was beside you, her presence warm and steady. Her fingers brushed against your arm, and your breath hitched.

You cleared your throat, trying to break the moment. “Cait, I…” you hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I’m seeing Jinx. And… I have feelings for her.”

Caitlyn froze for a second, then nodded, her expression unreadable. “I know,” she said quietly. “And I understand. I’m not trying to come between you two.” She looked down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting slightly. “But I need you to know how I feel. How much you mean to me.”

Her voice wavered, and before you could react, her hands were on your face, her touch gentle but firm. You froze, your heart pounding as her gaze locked with yours.

“Cait…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Stay on task,” you added quickly, trying to redirect the moment. “We need to focus on what Singed is planning.”

Caitlyn sighed, her hands falling away as she pulled back slightly. “You’re right,” she said, though her eyes lingered on you a moment longer. Then, as if something clicked, her gaze sharpened, and she leaned closer again, her eyes catching on the faint symbol etched onto the side of your neck.

“What’s this?” she asked, her fingers brushing lightly over the mark.

You frowned. “It’s part of the map. Why?”

Caitlyn stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor as she crossed the room. She rifled through a stack of papers, muttering to herself until she pulled out a crumpled sheet. Her eyes darted between the paper and your neck, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“This symbol,” she said, holding the paper up for you to see. “It’s tied to Hextech. There’s someone who might be able to help us. They’ve worked on experimental tech, mapping neural pathways, and… well, they might know how to decipher this.”

You stared at the paper, the symbol on it eerily similar to the one on your skin. Your fingers brushed over the mark on your neck as unease and curiosity warred within you.

“Who are we talking about?” you asked, your voice steady despite the knot forming in your stomach.

Caitlyn looked at you, her resolve clear. “Heimerdinger,” she said. “If anyone can help us, it’s him.”

The faint, persistent hum of that voice had been tormenting you all evening, like a needle threading through the fabric of your thoughts. You tried to ignore it, to push it back where it belonged, but its grip only tightened.

The teacup slipped from your trembling hands and shattered against the floor, porcelain shards scattering like stars across the wooden boards. Your knees buckled, your hands flying to your head as a scream tore loose from your throat—a sound that was raw, primal, and animalistic.

Your vision spun, flashes of fragmented memories—or perhaps illusions—assaulting you. Faces you didn’t recognize, voices layered over each other in chaos, the faint glow of a strange symbol seared into your mind. And the voice. That commanding, icy voice calling you by a name you hadn’t heard in decades.

“Spark,” it whispered. It echoed, again and again, rattling inside your skull.

“Y/n!” Caitlyn’s voice cut through the haze. Her footsteps were quick as she rushed to your side, dropping to her knees beside you. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

You couldn’t answer her. You couldn’t see her. Your eyes were wide, flickering between their natural gray and an unnatural, glowing purple. Caitlyn froze, her hands hesitating in midair as your gaze snapped toward her.

Her breath caught. “Your eyes…” she whispered, fear lacing her voice.

Your breath was ragged, shallow, as if something deep and primal was clawing to the surface. The world blurred, your senses heightening in unnatural ways—every sound sharp, every scent piercing. You were becoming something unrecognizable, something feral.

Through sheer will, you found a sliver of control. With trembling hands, you fumbled into your pocket and pulled out the emergency flare Jinx had given you. Your hands shook as you thrust it toward Caitlyn, your voice a low, broken rasp.

“Go,” you managed.

She stared at you, stunned for a moment, before the severity of the situation sank in. Without hesitation, Caitlyn grabbed the flare and sprinted to the nearest rooftop. The night swallowed her footsteps, and moments later, a sharp hiss filled the air as the flare ignited.

The smoke rose thick and red, a stark beacon against the starless sky.

->

Jinx sat at her workbench, goggles perched on her forehead as she tinkered with a delicate trinket. She worked with an uncharacteristic focus, her tools clicking against the small device. A faint smirk played on her lips as she muttered to herself, occasionally shooting Isha a glance.

Isha sat nearby, her small frame rigid and tense, her wide eyes darting between Jinx and the object in her hands. The girl’s expression said everything: curiosity, apprehension, and admiration, all swirling together.

Jinx noticed the look and wagged her finger, a teasing grin curling her lips. “This little beauty? It’s not gonna bite, kid. Unless I screw up. Then…well…” She mimicked an explosion with her hands, laughing as Isha’s eyes widened further.

Isha’s head snapped up, though, her gaze fixed on the window. Her lips parted slightly, her brows knitting together in concern.

“What is it, gremlin?” Jinx asked, not bothering to look up. “I swear if it’s another—”

Her voice died as her eyes followed Isha’s line of sight. The flare burned bright in the sky, its red smoke twisting like a serpent against the black.

Jinx froze. The world seemed to stop around her. Her breathing quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. Without a word, she sprang to her feet, her stool clattering to the ground.

Her workbench became a blur of movement as she scrambled to grab her weapons, tools, and anything she might need. Every motion was frantic, precise, desperate.

Sevika was making her way to Jinx’s lair when the chaos hit. The red smoke was unmistakable, its ominous glow visible even through the smog of the Undercity. She turned the corner just as Jinx barreled into her, nearly knocking them both over.

“What the hell—” Sevika began, but Jinx’s hand gripped her collar before she could finish.

“It’s Spark,” Jinx blurted, her voice unsteady, her eyes wide and wild. She didn’t need to explain further; the desperation in her tone said it all.

Sevika hesitated for only a heartbeat before she nodded. Her hand moved instinctively to her weapon, her expression hardening.

“Let’s go,” she said, and the two of them took off toward the flare, their footsteps echoing through the labyrinth of the Undercity. Neither of them spoke, their shared urgency driving them forward into the unknown.

<-

The room felt impossibly small as you clawed at your mind for control. Your breaths were shallow and ragged, each inhale jagged like broken glass scraping your lungs. The voices—taunting, commanding, relentless—coiled around your thoughts like venomous snakes.

The table in front of you cracked under your tightening grip. Your strength betrayed you as it splintered and gave way, collapsing in two with a deafening crash. Your hoarse scream tore through the room, raw and primal, echoing against the walls.

You stumbled to your feet, your body swaying like a marionette with severed strings, and found your way to Caitlyn’s bathroom. The tile felt icy under your bare feet, but you didn’t notice. Your trembling fingers twisted the faucet handle, and steaming hot water roared from the showerhead. Without hesitation, you stepped under the cascade, letting the searing heat soak into your skin.

The world blurred as the water streamed over you. Memories began to rise, vivid and haunting, like waves crashing against the walls of your mind.

You were small again, no more than a child. The bridge stretched before you, cracked and broken, its foundation trembling with each explosion that rocked the air. Smoke choked the sky, and screams pierced your ears.

A man knelt in front of you, his face obscured by the haze, his voice calm despite the chaos around you.

“Sparky,” he said, his hands cupping your tear-streaked cheeks. His tone was warm, protective, but tinged with desperation. “Listen to me. You’re strong. Stronger than you think. But you have to go. Run.”

“I don’t want to leave you!” you cried, clutching at his arms.

He smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll find you. I promise. I love you, kid. Never forget that.”

Another explosion roared behind him, the shockwave forcing him to let you go. His body shielded you from the debris, but the force sent you stumbling backward.

“Go!” he shouted, his voice nearly drowned out by the chaos.

You turned and ran, your legs heavy with fear. The bridge groaned beneath your feet as more explosions rattled its structure. Then, the sound of splintering metal tore through the air, and the ground vanished beneath you.

You screamed as you fell, the world spinning into a blur of smoke and sky. The man’s distant cry of anguish echoed after you.

The memory collided with the present as your scream ripped from your throat once again. You stumbled back against the shower wall, the water now unbearably hot, but you didn’t care. Your hands gripped your head, nails digging into your scalp as you slid down to the floor of the shower.

Jinx burst into Caitlyn’s residence, her face flushed with urgency. Her mismatched eyes darted around until they locked onto Caitlyn, who had already armed herself and was braced for confrontation.

For a moment, the air between them was thick with tension. Caitlyn’s sharp gaze met Jinx’s defiant one, both women silently acknowledging what neither wanted to say aloud: they both loved you, and they both knew it.

Jinx clenched her fists but broke the silence first. “She’s in trouble. You know it, and so do I.” Her voice was steady, but there was a crack in her tone, a vulnerability she rarely allowed.

Caitlyn nodded reluctantly, her grip on her weapon loosening. “I know.”

Sevika, leaning against the wall, smirked. “Well, isn’t this cozy? Two sides of a war teaming up over a girl. Feels like I’m stuck in a bad romance novel.”

Neither Jinx nor Caitlyn acknowledged her quip, but they both shot her sharp looks before heading down the hallway.

As they approached the bathroom, Caitlyn noticed the steam curling out from under the door. Her chest tightened.

“Stay behind me,” she said firmly, motioning for Jinx to wait.

But Jinx ignored her, shoving past and throwing the door open.

The sight that met them was chilling. You lay slumped in the shower, the hot water pouring relentlessly over your face and body. Your skin was pale, your lips parted as shallow breaths escaped you.

Jinx was the first to move, skidding to her knees beside you. “Hey! Come on, don’t do this to me now!” Her voice cracked as she shook your shoulders gently.

Caitlyn followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She crouched next to you, her hands trembling as she reached for your face. The heat of your skin against her palm was alarming.

Your eyes fluttered open, but they weren’t the gray she knew. They glowed an unnatural purple, their intensity sending a shiver down her spine.

“Y/n?” Caitlyn whispered, her voice barely audible.

You stared at her blankly, as if you didn’t recognize her. Then your lips parted, and a guttural growl escaped, low and feral.

Caitlyn turned to Jinx, her expression grave. “I need to detain her. For everyone’s safety.”

Jinx bristled, her hand already reaching for her pistol. “The hell you will!”

“She’s not herself!” Caitlyn snapped.

“Like I care!” Jinx yelled back, her voice breaking.

Sevika lingered in the doorway, her expression unreadable. “Oh, this is gonna end well,” she muttered under her breath.

The tension in the bathroom was suffocating, Jinx and Caitlyn standing inches apart, their heated argument escalating.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jinx hissed, her voice sharp. “She’s not some wild animal to be locked up in your tower like a damn trophy!”

“She’s a danger to everyone, Jinx!” Caitlyn fired back, her tone equally biting. “If we don’t control this, people will die. You can’t just ignore that because you—”

“Because I what?” Jinx interrupted, stepping closer, her mismatched eyes blazing. “Because I love her? Like you don’t?”

Sevika, leaning against the doorframe, let out a frustrated growl. She’d been watching you the entire time, noting the way your body tensed and twitched, your breath ragged, your purple eyes flickering faintly as if battling something unseen.

They didn’t notice the moment you stirred, your body beginning to rise from where you lay. Sevika did.

“Enough!” she barked, stepping forward just as you fully began to sit up, your glowing purple eyes locking onto the nearest target. With a single motion, Sevika’s mechanical fist slammed into your temple.

The metallic sound of the impact echoed in the room as you slumped forward, unconscious.

“What the hell, Sevika?!” Jinx shouted, rushing toward you.

Caitlyn froze, her face pale as she watched Sevika lower her arm, her expression dark.

Sevika turned on them, her voice sharp and unwavering. “You two were so busy fighting over who loves her more that you didn’t even notice she was about to tear both your throats out.” Her voice cracked slightly as she muttered, “And then Isha would be alone.”

Jinx’s mouth opened to argue, but nothing came out. Caitlyn lowered her gaze, guilt washing over her.

“You think this is a game?” Sevika snapped, her glare shifting between them. “You think any of this is about your feelings? It’s not. If she goes feral again, it won’t matter who she loves or who loves her back—none of us will make it out alive.”

Caitlyn stepped forward, composing herself. “We need to detain her. Somewhere safe.”

“Not the tower,” Jinx said immediately, her tone defensive.

Caitlyn frowned. “Jinx—”

“She’s not going there,” Jinx growled. “Ambessa’s there. You think I trust her anywhere near Spark?”

Caitlyn hesitated but relented with a nod. “Fine. Somewhere secluded.”

Sevika sighed heavily, bending down to lift your unconscious body over her shoulder like a sack of flour. “Let’s move. We’ll figure this out on the way.”

_________________

Well...

[angel-sweets666]

Cast me a spell

barbarian! Bakugo x witch Afab! reader one shot

A barbarian needs a spell to cause the downfall of his enemies, he found just the witch to do it

warnings: smut

chapter two here

a/n bro I just freestyled this 😭😭 btw I made it afab cuz it’s smut and I probs can’t write gay sex rn but everything else is gender neutral trust. Also this is my first time writing smut so please don’t judge 😭

Bakugo is aged up to 20

Bakugo groaned as he walked in forest, dry leaves and twigs snapping under his boot. Bakugo had been sent by his tribe to find a witch, a witch who would rig the war they were in and beat the other tribe. Bakugo didn’t know why he had to go, there were so many barbarian men who would go! Why’d it have to be him! The elders found him the strongest clearly, that’s got to be a good sign. Maybe he’ll inherit the chief title from his father…. Bakugo shook the thoughts away as he looked around for some kind of cabin, some sort of suggestion to show there is a witch out here like the elders say, maybe they’ll see bakugo is strong and worthy if he manages to make the witch come with him back to the tribe. Bakugo whistled while looking around, suddenly a fox came up to his legs and sat by him “what..? What do you want you pest” he tried to kick the fox, but the fox dodged it and used his head to tell bakugo to come with him “I’m not going with a fox forget it.”

bakugo continued walking before the fox yelped out and four more foxes appeared, all different colours. What stood out to him was how one fox seemed to have a light purple almost lavender colour, the sun made it difficult to see however “huh..? No I don’t trust no fo- OUCH!” Bakugo yelped as all 5 foxes bit him and tried to drag him too the other way “fine! Fine! I’ll follow you..” bakugo grumbled, seemingly annoyed. The foxes let go and began to lead bakugo down a pathway, he began to see fruits and vegetables being grown on a sort of farm. Bakugo at first thought that the foxes were leading him to a farmer and this was some sort of advertisement but he was proved wrong when he saw a fairy dust like powder float above the crops and then be placed ontop, making the crops grow almost twice their size and look healthier. Then he noticed the clearly unnatural cloud of rain water the plants, it was so close to the ground that there was no way it was natural. It just hovered over the crops in a neat line. Then the natural sun seemed to do some good. Bakugo noticed that the creatures seemed to look more mythical the further he went, once black birds were now beautiful shades of blue, pink, yellow ect. Cats and bunnies around began to come up in more colourful shades too, bright blue and green eyes watching. Now the flowers had a glow, they were all gold and sparkling. Everything looked unnatural and non normal…mythical, almost fairy tail like… he began to hear the humming of a person he was preparing for a ugly hag.. but no, a beautiful person with a equally as mythical look to them! You! A fox went up the To you and you got on your knees to “hear” what it had to say, then… you looked up at bakugo

“what are you needing…?” You asked him as you raised to your feet “I.. Uhm… I need something, my tribe actually. My tribe needs something” he informed you “needs… needs what?” You began to walk towards bakugo “a bad luck spell.. something like that. We’re at war and…” “you want me to rig it..?make ‘em loose?” You interrupted him “how’d you know…?” Bakugo was shocked “I know this stuff, now.. do you want them to loose..?” You asked softly and he nodded “I think.. I think I have just the thing, come inside” you used your finger to motion him to come inside. You began to mix up a potion, full of that gold flower, the fairy dust like powder, a couple fruits, some other unknown ingredients ect… you put it in a bottle that while it looked small, could fit a whole tribes worth of water. Then you stepped towards a book shelf, looking through the spell books available to you. You made a “ah” sound and then pulled a dusty book, blowing the dust off. “Do you have anything of the uh.. other sides” you asked him “like their hair or some shit?” He asked aggressively “that could work, clothes, arrows they shot, accessories, blood. Anything that come from the other team”

Bakugo thought for a moment, “uh… I have a piece of one of their swords” he pulled a bloodied peice of metal out from one of his pockets, dried blood falling off and onto his fingers “that works!” You grabbed the piece of metal and placed it by an unlit candle, grabbing a match and lighting it. You reached over to light the candle and then sat by the candle and began to whisper something, like a prayer. “What are you doing?” He asked, you ignored him and continued your whispering “answer me” he grumbled, you looked at him then closed your eyes again. Once again continuing your whispering, after a couple of minutes you finished and slowly stood back up “doing a spell, as per you asked.” You grabbed the glass bottle full of the potion “you feed these to your armies, you’ll be strong enough and the war will be over in a day or two” you said quietly to him as you placed the bottle into his hand, and closed his hand for him. “What would it taste like?” He asked “like water, what do you think?” You leaned your weight onto one hip “I don’t know, like shit?” He rolled his eyes “don’t get an attitude with me” you got up into his face “who are you talking to like that?” He grumbled “you obviously” you chuckled then walked off. Grabbing herbs and other stuff, clearly organising stuff “what you just going to stand there?” You asked, wondering if he was going to leave anytime soon, looking over your shoulder at him. “Could you come back with me? To my tribe?” He asked with his typical rough deep voice “why would I do that?” You placed books in a wooden book shelf “we need your help” “I’ve already helped you haven’t I?” “Just do it.” He grumbled at you, grabbing your shoulder “mmmm no” you said

in pure frustration with you bakugo picked you up and threw you over his shoulder “oi! Why’d you do that!” You kicked in an attempt to get away from him “get over it princess” he chuckled as he pushed the door open with his body and then walked you in the forests back to his tribe, holding your body over his shoulder and your legs down with his arms to prevent you from kicking him “out me down put me down!” You screamed as you yanked at his hair, he didn’t notice nor did he care. “Will you be good and not walk off? You’ll follow me?” He asked as his ego got larger and larger “ughhhhhh fine!”you agreed, he leaned down and placed you down onto the ground “you owe me, I rigged a tribal war for you” you said with a obvious attitude “oh yeah? What do I owe you? A animal? Weird ingredients for your freaky potions? A quest? Sex? A man from my tribe once had to sleep with a witch for potions” he listed off his ideas “why would I sleep with you? Your egos probably bigger than your dick.” You crossed your arms in frustration “someone’s got an attitude” bakugo playfully shoved you “don’t even.”

you went back to bakugos tribe, he gave his tribe the potion you gave them, the war just like you said was over in a day. You ended up having to follow bakugo around because you didn’t know anyone else as well, you eventually had gotten used to the change, by the sixth month of living there you were considered one of them. I’ve had atleast 50 people come up to me asking if your my spouse/wife/husband” he said while you two were going for a walk “well lucky I’m not” you chuckled “maybe you should be, I’ll need a wife/spouse/husband when I become chief” you blushed deeply “w-w-what..?”you stuttered “it’s true, they don’t let people who aren’t married be chief. I’m next in line to be chief and I’m not married” he informed you “are you trying to propose to me? You’ve known me a whole of 6 months!” You said in surprise “my parents got married after 3” “is that like a cultural thing?” You asked “yeah… the other tribes get married after a later time, I guess this is what we’ve always done, we done need to love each other, just so I become chief.” He says “so this is a proposal?” Your eyebrows raised “yes I suppose it is.” Bakugo grumbled “I’ll think about it”

you laid in bed that night as you stared at the roof of your hut, thinking about what bakugo said. You slowly rolled out of bed and put some shoes and stumbled out of your wooden hut and looked towards bakugos hut, the light from his windows suggest he was still awake. You slowly walk towards his hut, the sound of grass beneath your feet. Most huts were dark, a way to say the people in them were asleep; not bakugo though. Bakugo stayed up late training. You knocked on bakugos door, you could hear him put something down then walk towards the door; he opened the door and he looked down towards you “oh.. hello” he said in surprise “I Uhm…whatcha doing?” “Working out, your supposed to be asleep” he furrowed his eyebrows “yeah I know but I can’t sleep” you said as you walked into his hut, flopping onto his bed “don’t get too comfy there” he sat down next to you “your beds comfier then mine though….” You whined and got yourself buried into his bed sheets, he sneakily wrapped an arm around you “what are you doing..?” You asked him “nothing..” he said with a smile “your really trying when it comes to this whole getting married thing..” you whispered to him, his hand reached for your hips “maybe I am…. Maybe I’m not” he sighed and rubbed your side. You rolled over to lean on his chest a bit, you used light magic to make fire flies appear, having a sort of light show appear. Bakugo watched it and smiled “have you always been able to do that..?” He asked “since I was around 8 maybe…” you replied, bakugo reached into your shirt, softly rubbing your chest. You whimpered softly, he smiled and leaned down to kiss your neck. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked softly “no…” you replied.

you slowly wiggled out of your bottoms, he watched you do it from above. He smiled softly at the sight. “Should we just get straight at it?” He asked softly as he unbuckled his belt, an obvious buldge in his pants. He grabbed you by your hips and pulled you towards him “just be a good girl him?” He grumbled and managed to pull his pants down and pulled his member out “tell me if it hurts bub” he says softly “okay.. yeah I can do that” you nodded, you felt him slowly push inside of your body. He let out a slight grunt, you bit down on your bottom lip. He eventually bottomed out which didn’t take long due to the size of his length. “C-can I uh… mmph.. m-move now..?” He whined softly “mhm..” you whines and spread your legs a little bit wider for more access to your body. He slowly pulled out almost all the way only for him to push back in, you yelped and wrapped your arms around his neck. Burying your face into his neck while he thrusted into you, stretching you out. It had been a while since either of you had done something like this so it was obvious why he was so needy. He gripped your waist softly and eventually found a pace that both of you found pleasurable. You let out a moan as he began to go a bit faster with you, the tip of him tapping against your cervix, the knot in your belly began to tighten suggesting the fact you were getting close “mmph..” he whimpered as he buried his face into your neck, you reached up to pet his hair. You moaned and whined. Eventually his thrusted became sloppy and more like he was chasing his own climax, the knot in your tummy threatened to burst and eventually… it did. The warmth of his cum going inside you was a comforting feeling

“you know maybe I will marry you…”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In The Cold

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, social dejection, mentions of religion, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: Your Christmas is set to be a lonely one, but you do your best to share the cheer with your only friend.

Character: Arvin Russell

Day Seven of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - cottage!core 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The tension is something you’ll never be used to. The silence is as bad as the hushed voices and the sneering side looks. It's all so suffocating. 

So much as you might’ve earned your judgement, it cannot make them righteous. What was it the pastor extolled; ‘let he who be without sin...’ And why is it that the stones they cast are aimed at you and not the man who joined you in your misdeed? The very one who cozened you into the act?  

Henry still sits on the town council, he still goes home to his wife and other children, he still gets a ‘good morning’ or a ‘good day’, and none bat a single eye along the pew. You can’t even get the same from him these days. He’s a stranger now that your dresses are too tight and your gait is wider and wobbly. Now that his adultery has grown inside of you and continues to, he runs from it. 

You pay at the counter for your meagre fare. Janie fired you not long after the minister’s scolding and none-so-subtle remonstrance of straying innocence. Like your mother and father, she abandoned you to your dejection. You would not stain her Christian mantle. 

The shopkeep, Ted, packs up your goods in the bag without a word. He drops your change on the counter and turns away as you gather it up. Despite that, you still thank him. You lift the bag and hug it above your bump. 

You keep your head down as Esther steps up to the counter with her basket. She makes a comment about the holiness of the coming holidays. Of how Jesus’ birthday should be kept sacred. You know she means you to hear but you don’t show that you do. 

You step out into the chilly winds as they swirl around with a gust of powder. You nearly collide with another as you do. The chuckle that comes with the near-catastrophe eases your nerves. In an instant, the weight is scooped out of your arms. 

“There ya’are,” Arvin greets. He’s the only person in town who talks to you.  

In fact, he’s the only reason you have a place to lay your head. He did up his old shed so you could live there for a while. A barter you insisted on. What would people think if you accepted his invitation to stay in the spare room? Surely worse than the already do. He does not deserve to be tainted by you. 

“You all done for the day?” You ask as you keep your arms crossed. 

“Oh yeah,” he answers brightly, “what’d you get? Anything good...” he sniffs the top of the bag, “I smell cinnamon.” 

You chew your lip, “yeah...” 

You glance at him. He wears his fleece lined denim jacket, the collar greyed with age and a button missing on the right chest pocket. It’s not really enough for that kinda cold. Knockemstiff lives up to its name quite often and the winter will be sure to freeze your bones. 

“Sorry, I’m being nosy,” he chuckles. “You want some candy? Got some in my pocket. Mr. Callahan sent them in with Edwin.” 

“Oh, no, I’m okay,” you blow into your woolen mittens. It’s bitter these days. “Um, I was hopin’... I could make ya dinner tonight. Since ya done so much for me. ‘Fraid I don’t got much else to give right now.” 

“That’d be awfully nice,” he accepts with a bounce in his step, “here.” He shifts the weight of the bag into one arm and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a long shape wrapped in brown paper, the top twisted and tied with ribbon. “Butterscotch.” 

“Arvin, I told ya--” 

“I got lots,” he insists. 

You take it with a thank you. You continue down the packed snow. He’s entirely oblivious to the way Charmain passes with a glare but you feel it in your chest. 

“I was thinking, before the baby comes,” you swallow as the thought bubbles up from the pits of constant dread. “I should leave.” 

“Leave?” He wonders aloud. He looks over at you as snow gathers in his hair, the cold nipping pink his cheeks. He’s two years older than you but looks and seems much younger than you. “Where to?” 

“I got an Aunt a few townships over. She’s the only one still answering my letters. She never had no kids of her own. They all... none of ‘em made it, ya know? I been writing to her and that.” 

“Oh,” his disappointment tweaks in his throat. “Well, you don’t gotta, you know? I don’t mind ya stickin’ ‘round.” 

“I mind. You been so kind already. Once I got the babe, no one gonna take me then neither. No work here, and I’ll be lucky to get a pew on Sundays.” 

“Yeah, well, all these folks be saying they’re godly and how do they act?” His tone edges hotly. “Ain’t godly to turn a soul out. My mama always said so. No soul’ll make it through this world with a dent or two, but the lord’ll forgive.” 

“Mm, she sounds like a nice lady,” you say. 

“She was,” he sniffs. “And so I wouldn’t be puttin’ no shame on her memory by bein’ selfish, ya know? So’s as long as you need it, the shed is yours. I told ya, though, there’s a room inside.” 

“No, no,” you loosen the ribbon and peek inside the paper. The candy stick of twisted sugar is all shades of caramelly brown. You smell it and it plucks at your bottomless hunger. “I don’t mind it. Pa never had the stove goin’ less the snow was past our knees. He always says, if you’re cold, put another sweater on.” 

“Huh,” he scoffs darkly. 

“What?” 

“Yer pa’s the reason you’re in my shed,” he harrumphs. “Sorry for sayin’ it, but I wouldn’t take no advice from a man who’d disown his own blood. He’s the one brought Henry ‘round. They still gettin’ drinks down at the tank.” 

That information is more chilling than the cold. You didn’t know that. You try not to hear things about your father or the man who put this curse in you. 

“I...” he begins crisply, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t gonna tell ya.” 

“Woulda found out soon enough,” you shrug and shove the butterscotch stick in your mouth. You suck on it pensively. It’s sweet but you can hardly enjoy it as your eyes burn with a glaze of tears. 

“So,” he coughs, “what’s for dinner?” 

You pop your lip off the candy, “it’s a surprise,” you say. 

“Oh, I like surprises,” he smiles, not that he ever really stops. Not around you. 

“Well, I hope you like this one,” you drone. 

💝 

You wash the plates from dinner as dessert bakes in the oven. The smell of cinnamon fills the house as you hear Arvin tinkering in the next room. He’s always messing around with something mechanical. You’re not always sure if he’s fixing them or just taking them apart. 

You dry and stack the dishes away. The old house is cozy, quaint. You know it belonged to his parents. It’s still strewn with their memories. As if he’s preserving them in those walls. So you do your best not to disturb it. 

You take the pan out of the oven. The rolled-out dough is perfectly baked and the colour is pristine. The shape resembles their namesake; elephant ears. It’s only dough, sugar, and cinnamon, but so so delicious. Your grandmother used to make them. Despite your current predicament, you’re nostalgic for the simper days. 

You put one on a plate and peek at the doorway. You pause to dig out the parcel you hid under the sink then bring both items out to the front room. You keep the latter behind your back as you approach Arvin. He sits on the floor in front of the burning firestove as he pokes at an old clock with a screwdriver. 

“Here ya go,” you offer him the dessert. “I could make some coffee or tea?” 

“Nah, I’m good,” he puts down the clock and tool, then wipes his hand on the cloth draped over his knee. He reaches up to the take the plate. “Smells good.” He brings the dish down to examine the pastry, “what is it?” 

“Called an elephant ear. Not super fancy.” 

“Looks good,” he grins. “And what’s that?” 

He lifts the baked dough and bites into it as he angles his head as if to see around you. You bring your hand out and present the parcel. 

“Merry Christmas,” you say. “I know it’s not much, and a bit early but it’s gettin’ real cold.” 

He places the plate on the rug and claps his hands off as he chews. His dark eyes sparkle as he takes the bundle wrapped in brown paper. He brings it over his lap and carefully unties the twine. You sway on your feet and rub your stomach as you watch anxiously. 

He uncovers the knitted scarf and cap. He already has thick gloves that he wears for his work. He feels the wool and examines it quietly. You’re suddenly very unsure. 

“You made these? For me?” He looks up. You nod. “Wow, it’s... you lined the cap?” 

“I had a few old pieces I repurposed,” you shrug. 

“It’s...” 

“Not too much. I know. I’m sorry. I don’t make too much these days. People only hire me if no one knows and it’s gettin’ harder to sneak around.” 

He huffs and shakes his head. He lowers his chin and pets the scarf. “It’s everything.” He continues to examine your work. “I hope you don’t mind, my gift’s not ready yet.” 

“Oh, Arvin, you don’t gotta get me nothin’. You done enough.” 

“I want to,” he says. “Now,” he lays down the wool on the rug neatly and grabs his plate. He uncrosses his legs and stands. “Why aren’t you havin’ some dessert? You need to sit down. Let that baby rest. He mustn’t sleep very much with you titterin’ around all the time.” 

“He’s already titterin--” you go to argue and stop with snort. “I think he knows we’re talking about him.” 

You feel your stomach as the baby kicks. Arvin watches your hand on your belly as his brows rise up his forehead. “You think it’s a boy?” 

“Could be. Not too sure. Oof.” You twitch as the baby kicks harder. Then wince again as Arvin puts his hand on you without warning. It’s surprising but not unwelcome. His warmth seeps through your dress. 

“Oh!” He exclaims as the baby beats on your insides. “I can feel him.” 

“It’s a bit early,” you reach back to brace your hips, “he usually waits ‘til I’m in bed.” 

He keeps his hand on you, watching your belly as the baby continues his dance. He seems awestruck by the ripple under your skin. You’re more exhausted of it. 

“I’ll have your present ready soon,” he says. “Promise.” 

💝

Arvin’s truck rumbles up to the house. You were surprised when he drove it into town today. He doesn’t usually start it unless he’s going to fetch firewood or going off for long trips. 

You open the shed door, a blanket around your shoulders as you peek out. His headlights shine through the greyness. It’s still early by your count, unless you lost track again. 

He hops out and stomps through the snow. He waves at you as his hair curls out from under the cap you made him. He wears it every day. You’re happy for that. 

“Merry Christmas,” he calls out. 

“Christmas... it’s still two days away,” you stay behind the door to shield yourself from the winds. 

“Two days!” He claps as he approaches. “Since you gave me my gift early, I got yours ready too.” 

“Mine?” 

“Mmhm. You’re not the only one who can do surprises. So pack a bag.” 

“Pack...” you wonder. 

“Ah, ah, just get a bag, alright?” 

You can see him jittering in excitement. You hate to dampen that but you also feel bad. You made him a hat and scarf. He’s got something planned out that’s gonna at least cost him gas and his time. 

“Oh...” you murmur. 

“Don’t,” he wags a finger. “Really, come on! I wanna get there by dark.” 

“Alright, I’ll be fast.” 

You gently close the door and retreat. You can’t deny him. His words trouble you though. By dark? How far are you going? You don’t want him to do too much. 

You don’t have a lot to take. A few dresses that still fit, some stockings, your sole pair of boots, your coat, and other things just in case. It doesn’t sound like you’ll be coming back tonight. 

You come out in your coat and boots as Arvin keeps the truck idling. He meets you near the hood and takes your bag before he helps you up into the front seat. He gets in the other side and puts your bag between you. 

“Do I get a hint?” You ask. 

“Nope,” he shifts into gear. “Just hold tight.” 

💝

It’s a few hours before Arvin stops. Your eyes scour the sentinel pines all around and fall upon the painted wood of the cabin’s face. The porch pillars are stained a dark blue as the siding stands as white as the snow. It’s only the edgework along the window frames and door that make it visible amid the winterscape. 

You gasp, “Arvin?” 

“Surprise,” he exclaims. 

“What...” 

“My grandfather built this place. Ma’s dad. I been workin’ on it,” he proclaims. 

“Workin’ on it?” 

“Yep! Ma wouldn’t want you raisin’ that boy in a shed.” 

You mull his words and stare at the cabin. “Arvin, my aunt--” 

“I know, she’s a nice woman by the sounds of it. She can always come see us but you know, not many place around that’ll be as nice as her. Not when’s they see a mother with no husband.” 

You shrink down. He’s right. 

“But I’m not--” 

“Like I was saying,” he interjects, “you’re gonna be a mama. Means you need a proper house.” 

He doesn’t wait for you to argue. You don’t have any to offer as you reel in disbelief. Why would he do all this for you? It’s not his baby. You’re not his problem. 

He comes around and offers his hand. You climb out, gripping him tightly, as you flick away your tears. You sniffle and keep your head down as he leads you across the snowy yard. 

“You’re upset?” He asks as he kicks snow off the steps. 

“I’m... surprised,” you croak, trying to hide your face. “Arvin, it’s too much.” 

“Not much at all,” he counters. “But I got a new stove in and the fireplace real nice since I redid the bricks. And I got it all wired up to a gas generator.” 

“Oh,” you puff out as you climb the steps, still latched onto him. You hiccup as your tears flood over. 

“Oh?” He echoes. 

“Arvin,” you babble behind your hand. “Why-- why would you go and do all this for me?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He tugs you toward the door. 

“But...” you choke on your words. 

You kick off your feet before you enter. He moves behind you, guiding you from behind with his hands on your arms. He stops you in a dark doorway. He lets go of you and you listen to him shifting around the dimness. He shines a flashlight into the front room. 

“Once I get the lights on, it’ll look better,” he assures. 

You shake your head, “it’s too much.” 

“Nothin’s too much,” he argues again. “Look, you need this place and you need me. You need a husband, don’t ya?” 

“Husband? Arvin, you can’t--” 

“I wanna.” 

“But--” 

“Baby boy’s not mine. No one else needa know. Them folks in Knockemstiff, the don’t go so far. And the next one will be mine. Maybe a girl--” 

“Next one?” 

“Uh huh, gonna give this one lots of brothers and sisters,” he puts his hand on your stomach. 

“I...” your heart sinks from on high. 

He’s quiet, measuring the silence as you do too. You peer into the front room then wince as he turns the light in your direction. You shield yourself as it shines in your eyes. 

“Well, you gonna tell me no?” His voice is low and silty. “Cause I don’t think no one’s gonna take you away from me. Ain’t no one else want you.” 

It’s like a knife sinking into your gut. Your frown and grab his hand, trying to shove it off your stomach. Why would he say that? He twists free of your grasp and clings to you instead. He turns the light under his chin so it casts his features in a sinister glow. 

“Without me, you and that baby’d be frozen to the side of the street,” he sneers. “All’s I’m tryna do is give you everything, you could at least do the same.” 

[kayesfanfics]

wsppp 😋😋

Do you think Adrian tepes, Trevor, or hector would date a fem witch, ghost or werewolf ? If they would date a werewolf girl, how do you think they would deal with her shifting? It’s supposably painful bc the bones are breaking then fixing themselves in a new form😭 do you think the ghost gf would sometimes have self image issues cause she isn’t really there(transparent) witch gf would be really cute esp if she has a familiar like a black cat or crow (really basic ik) omg and she like has her familiar deliver letters to her lover when they are away 🥹 or she tries to like show her lover how to make potions and he ends up growing plants or a small explosion 😭😭 imagine he makes smth right and he’s bragging but then it blows up into his face 😹😹

I always see people write for vamps but I think it would be cool to include other monsters yk. I have so many ideas but idk how to write 😔😔

Hope ur doing well! -🌙

A/N: I added Isaac as well, but THIS WAS SUCH A FUN PROMPT AND IM SORRY IT TOOK SO DAMN LONG. But I love exploring other monsters, it’s so fun-

Trevor Belmont x Witch! Reader

His knowledge on magic is limited, but not unheard of. He understands the kind of magic Sypha uses, but yours isn’t quite like it. Your type of magic uses alchemy, black magic, the “devils work”. You’ve been cast out and targeted for practicing such things, but you continued to practice witchcraft despite the attempts on your life. Trevor had actually seen you being hauled off to a jail roughly before saving you, recognizing you as a healer around this town

After saving you, he asked for a your witchcraft services to help heal a rather nasty wound he had received, so you took him to your house, where your familiar, a beautiful crow, was awaiting your return. He cawed at your and flew over to land on your shoulder, before cocking his head curiously at the large man behind you

“He’s a customer, my dear! Be hospitable!” You teased, before guiding Trevor over to a room that contained all of your supplies and books. You put together a salve for him, and offered to put it on his wounds for him, to which he accepted and casually began to undress until he was shirtless. You stared at him with a blush on your face for a moment, until he grinned and teased you saying “My eyes are up here, love~”

You allowed him to stay with you for a few nights, which slowly blossomed into some sort of a romantic and physical relationship. When he had to leave to go kill some vampires he’d been hired to get rid of, you’d send him off with healing herbs he’d need to recreate the first salve you made for him. You’d send your familiar out to track him with magic and send him letters or extra supplies, and he’d always send some cheeky note back to you that made you giggle and kick your feet

He definitely tries to help you with your potions and powders, getting supplies or tools for you when you asked. One time he successfully recreated a potion, that is until he got cocky and knocked over another vial into the potion, causing it to explode and blow up into his face, ruining his hair and leaving his face scorched, which made you laugh so hard you nearly pissed yourself as he sarcastically laughed along with you

Adrian Tepes x Ghost! Reader

You often times didn’t feel real and felt like your existence was useless and didn’t have a purpose, that is until you met a beautiful man with pale skin and pale blonde hair, with beautiful golden eyes and sharp fangs. He was mesmerizing and intelligent despite his age, and the two of you formed a relationship, which was soon crumbled by his father injuring him so badly he had to lock himself in a coffin to rest and heal. You haunted the place he had put himself to recover from his fathers attack, and took it upon yourself to watch over him and guard his tomb

After joining Trevor and Sypha on the journey to kill Dracula, you went with them and used your own abilities to help fight. Luckily nothing could kill you again, so you were able to fight by becoming fully invisible, making yourself solid then phase through creatures. Sypha asked you many questions on the journey about you and what it’s like being a ghost, Adrian smiling fondly as the two of you chatted excitedly, as he hadn’t seen you have a friend before

Whenever your self doubts and insecurities about your existence plagued you, he was always there to assure you that you were indeed real. You didn’t have a grave or body to visit as your body had been burned and cremated as to not start a plague, but you had a whole life before him you could tell him about. He’d be able to touch you and feel you were real, kiss you on the forehead to show you you were real

You too didn’t need as much sleep as he did, being dead and all. So you both often roamed the castle together and continued to clean and upkeep it together, rather than restlessly lying in a bed all night. The two of you would have intelligent conversations about philosophy, the science his mother studied, history, things of that sort to get you through sleepless nights. Lying in bed together cuddling while conversing, his hand rubbing your back as you rested your head on his chest

Hector x Werewolf! Reader

As an expert on creatures of the night, he wasn’t phased slightly when he heard Master Dracula had recruited a werewolf into his Court. Despite being half human, you were never treated as one, only being treated like a dog by your fellow species. So you instead took revenge by ripping apart those who hurt you, and Dracula had met you years ago similar to how he met Hector and Isaac, but was recruited last due to your hiding out in secrecy from everybody, you were difficult to track down even for Dracula

When you arrived, you appeared as a regular human, but the vampires could sense you were anything but. You bowed to Dracula and thanked him for the opportunity to help his cause, before he told you to begin planning with the other generals. After speaking with the vampires, you decided to learn about the humans, as you were curious why they would help kill their own kind as well. You started with the silver haired man, and bonded over your shared mistreatment by humans, and he was curious about your more wolf form. You smiled and told him he’d have to wait for that, making sure he’d have something to come back to you for, as you grew fond of the shy and straight to the point man

When he finally got to see it, he watched in borderline horror as you howled in pain from the transformation, hearing your bones snap and crack into new places as you transformed into a large, furry monster. But Hector wasn’t truly afraid of you, just of the pain he heard you in, and he gently approached you and rested a hand on your forehead as he did his night creatures to comfort and calm them through their own transformations. You shut your eyes and leaned into his touch, waiting the transformation out together until it was complete, and you could stand at your new full height, well above him. He’d only look at you with fascination rather than fear or hatred like everyone else did

Isaac x Gorgon! Reader

He is clearly not disturbed or taken aback by monsters of any kind, he’d face one with a stoic face and calm demeanor. You came to Dracula one night after being driven away by townspeople for accidentally turning someone to stone, so he allowed you refuge in his castle and gifted you a magical blindfold that would keep you from laying your eyes upon anyone and turning them into a statue. Ever since then you’ve been loyal to him and agreed immediately to help him with your cause, and to use your ability to fight off humans that have wronged you. When you met Isaac, he was immediately intrigued but didn’t make it obvious. You spent a lot of time listening to him work and hearing his night creatures be brought to life, and he’d even guided you to pet a night creature that was calm for him

Throughout the war you formed a relationship with the cold man, though he was warm to you. Never sappy or super affectionate, but he’d do things like learn Braille for you and create plaques as labels on things for you, fight alongside you and tie your blindfold back on for you when the battle was over, create night creatures specifically to help you. He allowed you to hold his arm as you walked through the ever changing castle with him. He never thought he’d find love amongst all this chaos and death, he didn’t even want to befriend Hector because of it, but yet he found himself infatuated with you and wanting to spend as much time as he had left with you

He didn’t mind the fact he’d never be able to look into your eyes, and you didn’t mind the fact you’d never be able to look at him at all except through maybe a portrait. The two of you simply enjoyed the others presence and company, oftentimes sitting beside each other doing your own things, always having a comfortable silence between the both of you. You didn’t turn objects to stone, so if you made sure not to look at any living being, you could do things like read and he’d help make sure you wouldn’t accidentally turn anyone to stone

[freakmcnastyy]

A Show for One

Heeseung x f!reader (circus AU)

Summary: You sneak into an abandoned circus and meet a strange performer.

Note: I hope you enjoy itt <333 (English is not my first language)

⸻

The idea of sneaking into an abandoned circus grounds had sounded fun at first. Not in a horror movie kind of way, but more like stepping into those dreamlike amusement parks you used to run through in your childhood dreams...

As you climbed over the crooked iron fences, a rusted sign swayed above your head. Whatever it once said was no longer clear. The paint had peeled away, and the stars once decorating it had faded to near invisibility.

The moon sat high in the sky. The clouds hung low, yet its glow cast just enough of an eerie shimmer over the empty lot. Around you were toppled candy stands, ripped cotton candy bags, and moss-covered benches. Every time the wind blew, you thought you heard something whisper — but maybe that was just your imagination.

You stepped forward slowly. The silence was almost uncomfortable, but curiosity outweighed it.

To your right stood a decaying Ferris wheel; one of the cabins creaked as it swayed gently in the wind. Dusty, tin-like melodies still echoed faintly in your ears — like the carousel music you heard as a kid.

And then… you reached the big tent.

Its red and gold fabrics were torn, the top of it drooping like a clawed bird of prey. But the entrance was still wide open. As if waiting for someone.

Inside was pure darkness — absolute, impenetrable black. But your feet didn’t turn back. This time, your curiosity was stronger than your fear. On your toes, you stepped inside.

At first, you couldn’t see anything.

Then something changed.

The air inside the tent grew heavier. A faint hum rose — so soft, it was nearly inaudible… but it was there.

Then suddenly — the lights snapped on.

Hundreds of bulbs hung from the ropes above. All of them lit up at once. On the stage, on what you’d thought was an empty platform, an old gramophone began to spin by itself. Crackling music spilled from it — a circus march, but twisted, dark, teetering on the edge of madness.

Your eyes stung from the brightness. As you turned your head, your heart slammed against your chest, because…

You saw someone.

Right in the center of the platform, at the heart of the stage, a man stood.

His expression was strange. Not quite smiling, not quite angry.

It was as if… he’d been waiting for you for years.

His posture was proud, yet there was a quiet exhaustion beneath it. He wore a long black coat that brushed the floor as he moved. His shirt was old-fashioned, buttoned up to the collar. On his left arm was a golden-embroidered handkerchief — clearly not something from this place… or maybe something entirely fused with the spirit of it.

His hair fell across his forehead, casting shadows on half of his face.

But his eyes… they pierced straight through you.

While you were too afraid to breathe, he took a step.

Then another.

The sound of his boots hitting the wooden floor echoed through the tent. With every step, the lights seemed to flicker slightly.

Then he stopped.

He looked you in the eye and spoke.

His voice didn’t echo, but you felt it in every corner of the tent.

It struck a chord deep inside you.

“It’s been a very long time… since someone came here.”

You couldn’t look away. You didn’t even know what to ask.

Were you afraid? Maybe. But at the same time… a strange warmth began to spread through you.

And with the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he continued:

“Let me introduce myself.”

After finishing his sentence with a graceful smile, he took a few steps back.

At that moment, the lights flickered once more; from the center of the stage, a rotating platform rose up. The wooden boards groaned as it ascended, and out of it burst clouds of colorful powder and glitter.

The music shifted instantly—more cheerful now, but still warped, like a manic version of that nostalgic circus tune.

Heeseung snapped his fingers.

Velvet curtains dropped from above, forming a circle around you.

They were covered in old circus posters — but every single one had the same name printed across it: “Lee heeseung”

He continued speaking — never letting you out of his sight — as he slowly circled the tent.

His footsteps matched the rhythm of your heartbeat.

“I’m not… exactly who they say I am,” he said, stepping outside the ring.

“Not quite real… not entirely a dream. Not from today… and not of the past either.”

“I am the one who keeps singing when the voices fade. The one who keeps dancing even when your eyes are closed.”

He snapped his fingers again.

Golden cards began to rain from above; as they hit the floor, they vanished — as if dissolving into the air.

And Heeseung… he watched you. Not just with his eyes, but with every part of him.

Each movement was deliberate, each gesture a story in itself.

This wasn’t just an introduction — this was a show made just for you.

“Names don’t mean much in this tent. They belong to the world outside.

Here, you are only… as much as you feel you are.”

He turned back to the center of the stage.

He spread his arms wide.

The moment your eyes met, all the lights began to fade — until only a single spotlight remained, falling directly on him.

“But if you insist on having a name…”

He bent one knee and lowered his head — theatrical and respectful at once.

“They call me… Heeseung.”

As his words ended, a silence fell.

You realized you’d swallowed.

Your heart was still beating in that same rhythm.

The stage, the music, the lights… everything seemed to stop, yet it all continued echoing inside you.

And in that moment, he turned to you.

Took a few steps forward.

He was close now — so close, you could feel his breath.

And in his eyes, that same look from before: the look of someone who knows you and doesn’t; someone who’s been waiting there forever.

“So…” he asked quietly,

“Who… are you?”

His tone wasn’t interrogative — it was exploratory.

Curious. Honest.

There was a faint smirk on his face, but it wasn’t mocking; it was almost childlike in its wonder.

And somehow, to your own surprise, you answered.

“I… I’m Yn.”

Heeseung tilted his head, as if the name rang familiar.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

He smiled faintly.

But whatever he was going to say… he didn’t say it yet.

Because the show had only just begun.

“Yn,” he repeated softly.

“A lovely name. One that doesn’t belong here… and yet now, it echoes through this place.”

Heeseung extended a hand toward you.

His fingers were long and elegant; even the stitching on his black gloves looked like it had been handcrafted.

You hesitated.

But he waited.

He didn’t try to convince you with his eyes — he simply stood there.

Patient. Silent.

As though he respected your choice.

And finally, you took his hand.

The moment your palms met, the lights inside the tent shifted again.

A warm golden hue spread through the air.

You squinted slightly — but then you noticed something:

The tent no longer looked abandoned.

The torn fabrics had mended.

The carpets had returned to a velvety red, rich with patterns.

The lights above no longer flickered, and the mirrors on the walls reflected again.

Time had rewound — but only for the two of you.

“Would you like to see the rest?” Heeseung asked.

And without waiting for an answer, he pulled you closer.

You stood nearly chest to chest.

He placed one hand gently on your waist, while your other hand remained in his.

The music started again.

But this time it was different — an old waltz, broken but graceful.

Your feet stumbled at first, but Heeseung guided you with ease.

Your steps barely touched the ground — it felt like dancing on air.

The tent expanded.

Was it real, or just a feeling?

You weren’t sure.

But the world around you had become a ballroom.

Crystal chandeliers, mirrored walls, a glowing floor.

You twirled.

And with every spin, another corner, another memory… maybe even a different piece of time revealed itself.

One area you passed was lined with mirrors.

In it, you saw yourself — but dressed differently.

Your dusty shoes were replaced by velvet heels.

You wore a vintage gown, trimmed with lace.

And Heeseung had changed too; now even more refined, glittering — as though he were a version of himself that only existed here.

And then the dance ended.

He slowly guided you back to the center of the stage.

When you arrived, that familiar gramophone spun again.

But in its place now stood a small black velvet table.

From it, he pulled out an old deck of cards.

His hands moved quickly — yet they were calm.

Every motion deliberate, like that of a seasoned actor.

“My final act,” he said in a low voice,

“is for you.”

He extended the deck toward you.

Then drew a single card.

He flipped it in the air, but you couldn’t see its face.

He pressed it gently into your palm.

As his fingers closed around yours, the lights flickered once more.

“This place has been silent for years. Forgotten inside its own abandonment.”

“But you… you came. And this tent breathed again.”

When he opened his palm, he held a card embroidered in gold.

Its edges glowed with gilded detail.

A crown sat in its center — perhaps the strongest card.

But the symbols were unfamiliar.

It wasn’t a normal deck.

It was something of his.

A seal of this place.

He offered it to you.

“This… is your key.”

“If you ever return —but only if you come alone— this card will bring you back here.”

“Through the same gate, but in a different time.”

“If you accept… it would be my honor to host you once more.”

And then, he winked.

Smiled faintly.

“But can you keep a secret, Y/N?”

“This circus… does not open to every heart.”

You took the card.

It was bright but heavy.

Warmth pulsed between your fingers — it was real.

Or maybe, in that moment, you just wanted it to be.

Heeseung stepped back.

Took a few slow steps away.

But his eyes were still on you.

The lights began to fade once more.

The floor rumbled.

And then, slowly… everything went dark.