#giving him a reason to have that cane

[time-woods]

is projecting on a projection too far . . aka the rot is gettin bad yall . .

[welcometogrouchland]

Hello, another doodle compilation post of everything I haven't posted since the period of May to now that I didn't hate but didn't like enough to post on its own + fanart i made of @catboymoments's fankids Azura and Hyacinth! I'm not normally a fankid person but these guys are a whole moment unto themselves I love them sm. ID in alt text bc it was getting lengthy! Let me know if there's any issues

[lamarie-artsy]

I call this the Unfridged AU because of the trope, and because saying "Alpheus' parents and Hammerhead's Wife are still alive" takes too long.

But yeah, that's the premise.

I love Alpheus' concept art and I've already made his dad and honorary grandad goth so of course that comes through in this version, while the little sister who only exists in this AU is sort of borrowing from what I wore at her age and what my cousin wears now, being that age herself and the daughter of two former goths.

The crash I mentioned is my version of Alpheus' parents deaths, orchestrated by Proteus by the way of him just T-boning their car in a deathproof-style Jeep or something. Here, however, Keda didn't get knocked out, and that lead to her and Chander's survival and then Kai's conception a few weeks later. She did, however, end up with her right leg broken in three places and her hip needing reconstruction, while Chander survived with a concussion that lead to contact aphasia and then selective mutism resulting from anxiety about talking.

Kai was a c-section baby because of the reconstructed hip.

Alpheus wanted the basement bedroom because he was sixteen and wanted to put as much distance between himself and his parents as possible, as one does when one's parents refuse to let you leave the house, ever, in case you get kidnapped. Tallulah got it because Alpheus already had a perfectly good bedroom on the floor below his parents and sister, and Tom wanted to keep a guest room open for other visiting family so he was finishing the basement as a bedroom whether she chose it or not. Of course, Alpheus ends up sleeping there more often than she does because of their deal, and really only uses his room to keep his clothes in. He gets the bed when she's at school, and usually sleeps on her couch when she's there anyway.

I haven't gotten around to drawing the Unfridged AU of Hammerhead's family, but there are some differences there too.

[homunculus-argument]

Character idea that I had at some point: A dance teacher who had to give up his own highly promising career as a performer after an injury, and now makes his living giving lessons to children. He comes off as stern, serious, and frighteningly strict, and even some of the parents have a hard time believing that the kids genuinely like him and enjoy the lessons. Which, to be fair, are frightening to watch with no context of what this is about.

The children go through their practices with downright eerie, automation-like, coordinated synchrony, with stern and focused looks on their faces, while the teacher circles them, observing and correcting, brandishing his cane like a weapon and every once in a while dramatically lamenting about how "you little vermin can't do anything right", and occasionally the music stops and the only sounds coming from the studio are of kids running and screaming while their teacher bellows about teaching them a lesson.

This, however, is all just method. He started the first lesson with the children by proposing a game: How about they play flea circus, where he is the cruel evil ringmaster and they are all his poor suffering little fleas. One of the girls starts crying, protesting that she doesn't want to be a flea. Well, how about mice? Mice are cute. The children accept these terms, and ever since they've spent dance lessons playing Evil Circus.

For reasons beyond adult comprehension, children of a certain age really love playing pretend in a setting where everything is Dark And Horrible And The Worst, and Evil Mouse Circus is exactly that. And whenever he picks up that the kids are starting to get too genuinely nervous or agitated, that's when he goes "that's it I'm going to beat all of you" which is their cue to take a break to run around screaming, while he chases them. He won't catch them and isn't even trying to, the kids just need to let the nervous energy out.

It looks horrible to an outside observer, but the kids are having an excellent time playing circus mice.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Dom!reader x sub!scarletella

Warning: fictional stuff - stimulation through a separate object (?), inspired by some fanarts (artists are amazing), teasing, degrading pet names

I’m seeing so many fanarts that have this implanted and I HAVE to do something about my horniness that’s holding me back from working so, as far as I understand, for mr. Scarlettela his real body is his umbrella or it’s at least connected to him - anyway, can’t believe I’m writing about homicipher bruh, I feel ashamed T^T

!!Spoiler warning!! This is not canon but has some elements from it

He is a good boy, he really is! Well, maybe not at all times, but he’s trying his best for you. And haven’t you seen just how much he loves and trusts you? He’s basically devoted to you! Like a faithful follower~ Handing the red umbrella he always carries over to you so easily, when he normally would never let anyone touch it, let alone give or lend it. It’s just proof of how much he likes you!

So why were you so mean and destroyed it? You like him, didn’t you know that his umbrella is connected to him? Why were you hurting him. He didn’t understand, he didn’t even know what to do. Because in the end, he still liked you.

Now this over 8 feet tall creature was kneeling in front of you, head lowered in confusion as he stared at the concrete floor. You were still holding the now broken umbrella, scoffing as you stared down at his rather pathetic form. It wasn’t entirely broken, just some bend metal and rough ends, or a little tear here and there. Yet for some reason his clothes were torn and disheveled, hands shaking slightly as he kept mumbling the words ‘I don’t understand’ or ‘I like you’ over and over again. At first he seemed intimidating, but now you didn’t have an ounce of fear left.

There must have been a connection between him and this umbrella. Instead of speculating, best just ask him.

Slowly you pointed the long object in your hand at him, the tip pushed below his chin as you made him look up at you. His round, almost completely dark eyes stared right at you, one side was covered by his crimson hair. There were tears steaming down his cheeks, he was crying, how unexpected. The two of you locked eyes for a few seconds, and you wondered what you should do about this crazed man.

While their language was hard to grasp at first, you were getting the hang of it by now. “This umbrella, is you?” The meaning of the question itself was unbelievable, but since this ghost realm exists, maybe your hypothesis wasn’t that out of place. “Yes. Me body.” Look at that, you were right. That explains why he suddenly got so sad. You groaned internally and pulled your arm back, using the umbrella as a cane instead.

As you were still thinking over your next step, his hands reached out to you hesitantly, and softly tugged at the ends of your coat. After stretching the fabric out a little, he leaned his forehead against it, mumbling almost inaudibly, “please don’t go, I like you.” You raised an eyebrow, the corners of your mouth subconsciously moving upwards as you snickered, “What?” His grip got a little tighter and his hand trembled from tensing his muscles so much, then he said a little louder, “I like you, don’t you like me?”

God you wanted to laugh, this was so sad it was laughable. How in the world did he come to that conclusion? In that moment, you had a lot to say t0 him, but due to the language barrier you couldn’t convey it really well. So you just talked to yourself, needing some time to vent.

“Oh you poor thing.” You chuckled in your own language, the one he didn’t understand. “What am I supposed to do with a perv like you?” He looked up at you again, wanting to ask what you said if not for your shoes that were pressing against his chest. “..what?” The person- or monster asked, but he didn’t resist your touch and leaned back, following your guidance. From earlier up to this point, he has been kneeling, just this time he was also using his arms behind his back to stabilise himself.

Without changing the almost arrogant look in your eyes, you used the gift he gave you to trace some imaginary lines on his body. The tip glided from his jawline to the tip of his chin, and you asked, “your name?” The heavy tension was something he also caught on, and he hesitated, not knowing to what this would lead. He shook his head, forcing out a “don’t know…”

You hummed slowly, showing you understood the message. Nonetheless, you continued to move the tip down his neckline all the way to his toned collarbones, “I’ll give you a name.” His eyes widened even more, it made him look objectively creepier, but you thought he looked like a dumb puppy. All big eyed, bearing a deep need and raw desire in his pupils. “How about,” then, just like drawing with a stick in the mud, you traced the word, “Scarlet,” over his chest, simultaneously voicing out the word.

He shuddered as the hard surface scribbles around his torso, squeezing his lips together while he tried to stay still for you. You weren’t being exactly gentle there. When you stopped to glance at him, he quickly nodded. That wasn’t the end to your little play yet, and you slid the pointy end across his abs and stomach, down to his thighs, making him spread them a little wider, “I gave you a name, so you’ll be my servant from now on. Understood?” This has been said in your language, but you hoped he’ll get the overall meaning.

Again he nodded. In his head, being your servant meant you liked him, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t keep him around! So how could he ever say no.

“Use your mouth.” You ordered, digging the tip into his flesh a little, and he answered shortly after, “I understand, me happy.” Sweat was forming on his forehead, and his previous crying ceased. Instead a faint taint of pink covered his cheeks, and he stared at you almost manically. “Good.” You said, which was basically a praise— right? —and he smiled, a shaky, breathless one.

A little behind you was a chair, and you dragged it closer to the still kneeling man below you. Even you were starting to get tired of standing, so you sat down in a comfortable position. “What now.” You said to yourself, not really paying him any attention anymore. It would be nice if you had a collar, would red or black look better on him? But your resources were limited, and you didn’t exactly have a lot of things with you as well. That’s when you absentmindedly thought over what you did own.

Besides that crowbar you’ve found down here, you really didn’t have a lot. Well, you also had a broken umbrella now— hold up, that’s right, you own him now. A rather sadistic thought came to mind, and you pondered to what limit you could control him with this red, unusual umbrella. Would he feel your presence when you just hold it? You got lost in your thoughts again, fumbling with the torn textile and the handle. This didn’t stop until a strange sound caught your attention.

Your eyes left the red batch of fabric in your hands, and instead wandered to the other red thing in the room. He crawled into a ball, arms folded in front of his body while his head pressed against the ground. It looked like he was in pain again, though you weren’t sure if these noises were whimpers of pain or pleasure. “You okay?” You eventually asked, and he whispered in a higher pitch, “me okay..!”

Once again your gaze returned to the umbrella. He must be in this state due to something you did, and so you tightened your grip around the handle while mindlessly drawing a line with your index finger on the panel. As expected, his shoulder jerked upwards even more, and he rolled more together, as if he wanted to take up as little space as possible. His entire body was twitching, also for some reason his coat was only hanging off his arms now.

“You are into it.” You commented, not even too shocked to learn this rather unnecessary fact. At least you can have your fill of fun with this. “What about this?” Suddenly you started moving your hand up and down the handle, rubbing the umbrella panel with the other hand. It was a truly humbling experience to do something implied sexual to a literal object, but your eyes were glued to the ghost before you, so you didn’t even notice how weird it must have looked.

And sure enough, there was a change in his behaviour, he got louder. Your smile widened involuntarily, and your pace also got quicker and rougher. Oh fucking hell, if he was really feeling that kind of sensations, you won’t be able to stop yourself. It was like you were hypnotised, concentrated on nothing but his expressions. On the different ways his face twisted into one of ecstasy.

A big, dark, lunatic grin, paired with fanatic eyes that were ripped wide open. Some hints of a scarlet blush covering his face while sweat rolled down his face. Those perverse sounds he made were proof of the probably internal pleasure he felt, and he quivered all over, still bend down on the floor. Now that you’ve got a better grasp of what was happening, you realized he was crawled together to hide something.

“Ngh, hgGnn- ah..! Please…♥︎～” he whined at your feet, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth and landing on the floor. You’ve been fumbling with the handle for some time, so you’ve gotten bored again and was curious about if the textile was a part of his being as well. Without a second thought, you simply stuck two fingers between the folds, and you were met with a heavily muffled moan.

“Arghhh-…MmmHFfffF～ ♡♡♥︎” Once he felt your touch, he bit into his own palm to quiet himself down. At some point he started crying again, glistening tears decorating his already ruined face. You didn’t think his reaction would be this good, this lewd, whatever you did, he must have liked it a lot. Which is why, despite the absurdity of your actions, you moved your fingers in and out of the holes or just randomly caressed whatever part you felt like touching.

Out of nowhere you felt something tugging at your coat again, it gave off a sense of Deja vu. Of course it was him, who was only pinching the corner of it with a shaky hand. His grip had lost any strength compared to before, and you couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction. “What?” You asked him, though you didn’t stop your administrations. He cried out when he opened his mouth to speak, breaking down in front of you, for your entertainment only.

“Haaaa-HnnGh… wait, p-please wait-!♡” Was he telling you it was too much? It’s making you want to overstimulated him even more. He was being so pathetic it was cute. Without wasting a single second, you went as fast as you could, blatantly ignoring his pleads. Based on your own observations, he must have been close, if he was similar to a real person. “Feels good?” You asked, to make sure he was alright. He didn’t reply again and only nodded all weakly, but you’ll let it slide this time.

He felt so hot and strange, it was a nice but unfamiliar feeling. Not only that, he felt something burning building up inside him and it was threatening to spill. That’s why he wanted you to slow down. Poor thing was confused, absolutely baffled what this warm feeling was. Is it love? It must be love. He loved you and you loved him after all. All in all it wasn’t a bad feeling, and since you seemed happy, he is too!

Another sudden wave of pleasure coursed through him, his eyes were clouded with lust and bliss, and the dirty whimpers that slipped past his lips got more erotic by the second. How desperate and lovesick he sounded, begging, pleading, squirming and trashing around on the spot. Thighs pressed together while his toes curled, back arched as a last moan ripped from his throat, “nnNgGHhh ♡♥︎ ♡～” Just as you predicted, that must have been his climax. Now’s the question, did he came in his pants? Did such things still have a reproductive system?

My my, it seems that is the case, whatever it was it seeped through the dark fabric of his trousers, causing an even darker spot to appear.

You only caught glimpses of it since he was hiding his own body so much, but you were content nevertheless. Since he was so obedient the entire time, you decided to be nice to him with the limited vocabulary you had. “Cute.” His kneeling figure was still shuddering and twitching, ragged gasps and pants were also coming from him. But for him, the only thing he could hear was your voice ringing and echoing in his mind, as well as the awfully loud beats of his own heart.

After all this time, you finally praised him! Well you did before but this time he was sure of it! And you found him cute! He was so happy he couldn’t stop grinning. That’s when you said, “do you want anything?” It was to kind of make up for making a fool out of him, or maybe for breaking his umbrella. He didn’t even think before quickly turning his head up, slurring out, “g-give me you name?” You blinked, that wouldn’t have been what you wished for but oh well. Right before you simply told him the answer you stopped yourself, and responded teasingly, “call me master.”

You weren’t sure if he knew the meaning behind it, but it didn’t matter. He had a blank look for a few seconds, mumbling to himself, most likely repeating that word a thousand times. While he did that, he let his head hang low again, facing the floor. His hair hid his face really well, and you couldn’t read his expression. “You alright?” You asked once the silence started to make you feel uneasy.

He placed both his hand on the floor and leaned down, until his face was hovering centimetres above your shoe, and he whispered eagerly, excessively so, “I’m happy, master. I love you.” Before kissing the tip of your shoe. You stared down in disbelief, a shiver running down your spine. He was more of a freak than you thought.

The moment he was done, you grabbed a fistful of his hair, proceeding to yank on it, making him face you on eye-level while he gasped in surprise. Your other hand clutched the umbrella more tightly, causing him to groan slightly. “Stupid dog.” You chuckled with a sinister smile spread across your face, watching as hearts appeared in the middle of his pupils.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I’d die for you.

Viktor:

‘I’d die for you.’

‘Please don’t.’ He says almost pleading with you to reconsider after hearing you say such a thing, to be willing to trade off your own life for his own that was already on borrowed time, so wouldn’t your sacrifice be a waste if he was bound to die regardless?

He came from the undercity where loss was an constant occurrence and survival was the norm. So the idea of loosing you wasn’t one he’d warmly welcome nor want to endure as he’d only bury himself deep within his work, going to such lengths with the off chance that he could theoretically bring you back from the cold embrace of death,

‘You’ve got so much ahead of you Viktor.’ You countered. ‘So much to do to achieve your goal of helping others!’ You add.

Viktor moves to look at you from his workplace with a raised brow. ‘And so you automatically think your life is forfeit in comparison because of this?’ He asks as if to show you just how ridiculous it was to just throw your life away because you believed his dreams for the future outweighed the worth of that of your own life.

You stayed quiet as you could see the disbelief clear within his amber eyes as he grabbed his cane and made his way over to you to hold your hand in his long, slender and calloused ones as they caress the back of your knuckles. ‘For it’s not. No life is more important than the others solely based on what the person can give to others.’ Viktor tells you as sits himself down next to you.

‘Our lives are of equal value and I’d would much rather you’d live for me instead.’ He says with a small smile. ‘Do you think you can do that for me?’ He then asks softly, intertwining your fingers together. You smiled back at him. ‘I can sure try as long as you do too.’ You replied and Viktor let out a sigh of relief, squeezing your hand in thanks.

‘Then we shall live for each other.’ Viktor said but little did you know that he’d be lying and he wasn’t going to be staying very soon.

Ekko:

‘I’d gladly die for you.’

‘No, you wont.’ Those words might’ve come out more harsher than Ekko wanted but he wasn’t about to let you joke about trading your life for his own. He just wouldn’t.

Even now the idea of you being the self sacrificial hero made him feel slightly sick to his stomach. He was the one who should be protecting you, protecting everybody really and once his mind was made up Ekko was more or less an immovable object, never yielding and never budging from his ideals for nothing.

So to say he wasn’t liking the idea of you dying on him was an understatement. He didn’t like it for a plethora of reasons as he’s already lost enough people close to his heart, he wasn’t willing to have you be amongst them, painted on the mural by his own hand as he feels the guilt and grief eat away at his heart. ‘Promise me you won’t be reckless the next time we’re out on a mission.’ He gives you his pinky, something you two did when you were being serious about things.

‘Ekko-‘

‘Promise me you won’t.’ Ekko cuts you off in desperation, his eyes wide and his breathing becoming rapid and uneven the longer you didn’t immediately link pinkies with him like you usually did, it had him feeling as though his heart had dropped to his stomach. ‘I don’t want to loose another person I love.’ He adds and you interlock your pinkies with him before being pulled into his strong embrace where he buried his face into yours neck, not wanting to let go of you after hearing that statement leave your mouth.

‘I’m not ready to say goodbye to you just yet.’ He whispered into your neck, grip tightening on you as he feels you rub his back soothingly. Ekko wasn’t ready for the day he’d have to say goodbye to you and so until that day he’ll keep protecting you until he couldn’t anymore, for he’d rather see you move on forward without him, but if he knew you as well as he did then you would just be equally as stubborn to see him live another day.

So he’ll just keep ahold of you like this everyday when you were alone just to remind himself that you were still here and here you will stay.

Silco (young) :

‘I’d die for you.’

‘Don’t say such things, haven’t we suffered enough?’ He’d say as he has you by your shoulders, his grip tightening in tandem with the idea of possibly loosing you to all sorts of things, whether it’d be Zaun or the corrupt enforcers from topside. Silco wasn’t exactly willing to lose the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

It was a day he’d never wish to see pass him by as he didn’t know what he would do should he find you dead in the rubble from a something that was purposely intended for him, he’d blame himself and be left to seek solitude in the darkness and shadows should that ever be the case.

‘But it’s true.’ You’d reply.

Silco grits his teeth at your stubbornness but it was one of your defining traits that he deeply adored. ‘Well I’m not going to allow it.’ He retorted. ‘I won’t allow you to hastily throw your life away just because you felt like being a hero.’ He practically spat out the last part as though it were poison. Hero what the hell has being a hero ever done for anyone? Nothing that’s what and Silco would refused you at every time you got like this, not once liking the implications it left within his head.

‘Not a hero, just someone who cares enough about another person to be willing to see them keep living, even if it means dying in the process.’ You defended yourself, crossing your arms over your chest as you continued to look him in the eyes to prove your words true, but you didn’t need to do that for Silco knew well enough you were a person of your word, never once going back on it when you probably should’ve.

‘Heroes don’t exist in Zaun.’ Silco said as he rests his head against yours, looking you in the eyes. ‘So don’t try and be the first for I don’t want to be the one to make your mural. Don’t make me have to leave you behind. Don’t make me mourn for what we could’ve had.’ He pleads with you as you gently hold his face and caress his cheeks, allowing him the chance to rest his eyes and drink you in through your touch.

He didn’t like the idea of you dying before him, not one bit, so he’ll try and make sure that you survive together long enough to see the betterment of Zaun.

[danveration]

Sleep well, amour.

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: You’ve been very intrested in Alastor ever since you met him. He invites you to see his recording studio, which you accept. Then you ask if you can stay and listen to him host! While listening, you fall asleep. How does he react?

Word count: 2844

Warnings: Ummm not really much? Alastor being Alastor! One mention of not being able to sleep sometimes, mention of seeing people in hell doing dr*gs, k*lling eachother, and fighting, mention of reader having bad social skills (?)

part two

A/N: UM!! this is my first time writing for alastor, so apologies if it isn’t the best. Please give me any feedback you want, I’d love to hear it! Also sorry for any spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoy :’)

Alastor the radio demon. You know of the things he’s done, you know that people are quite literally terrified of him. But for some reason... you feel a certain way towards him that you can’t describe, but it’s surely not fear.

You’ve had a some-what odd admiration of him since you landed in hell, only a few months ago. You got spotted by Charlie when you first got to hell. She noticed you looking around nervously and lost, and put two and two together that you must be new. She very kindly introduced herself which was refreshing because.. well.. it’s hell. Everywhere you looked people were fighting, doing drugs, and even killing each other. You were glad there were kind people even down here.

“Hi, you! Uh, you lost?” Charlie smiled you and waved.

“Um yeah! I’m guessing this is hell, huh?” You awkwardly chuckle. Social skills weren’t ever your thing, it seems they haven’t got better after you died, either.

“Yep! This is hell! You must be new? I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar. It’s so nice to meet you.” She smiled and stuck out her hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie! My names Y/n.” You politely smiled back and shook her hand.

After that meeting, Charlie showed you to the hotel in which you eagerly accepted to stay at, her being the only sane thing you’ve seen down here. It was a pretty nice place, no 5 star hotel like back on earth, but it was something you’re very grateful for. Who knows what would’ve happened to you if you haven’t met her.

While she was showing you around, someone caught your eye. He was a tall man, very polite and respectful looking. He was dressed head to toe in old fashioned attire, with a cane to suit his charming look. He was smiling in a way that made you look at him like he was something you wanted to inspect under a magnifying glass.

He glanced at you and smiled larger, stepping over to you and Charlie.

“My, my! What do we have here? Charlie! You didn’t tell me that we’ve got more guests? It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear! The names Alastor!” He spoke politely.

His voice was sort of.. Radio-like? You found it soothing.

“Haha yeah! I found them wandering around on the street this morning! They’re a newcomer, their name is Y/n.” She spoke back, excited to introduce you.

“Y/n! Well, my, my. That’s quite a lovely name!” He said. “Say.. do you listen to radio? I host a brilliant radio broadcast that’ll give you some real insight on this place!” He said enthusiastically.

“Oh.. haha thank you” You smile. “I do actually! I love radio shows.” You immediately feel drawn towads him. You cant tell if it’s just the new scenery or what.. but you want to just sit and chat with him for hours.

Alastor perks up at that. “Oh you do, do you?” He smiled more.

“Yeah! Back when I was.. uhm.. alive, I actually had a whole playlist of them! What do you do your show about?” You ask.

Alastor is delighted to have you take interest in his show. “Well, dear, I do all sorts of things on there! Yes, yes, you think of it and I’ve most probably done it! Most commonly known is the souls I entrap and prison, as I broadcast their screams of horror all over this horrible place and people get to hear the noises of their never-ending torture and demise. But! I also just made a wonderful segment on my mother’s Jambalaya recipe!” He stated.

While part of those sentences gave you chills, you still seemed to take interest in him.

“Well,” you chuckle. “I will certainly check it out!” You smile.

“Ah! Wonderful news, my dear.” He said while he twirled his cane.

Charlie was watching you interact with him and noticed how you looked at him, as if admiring. She smile and said, “well! We better finish the tour.”

She motions for you to follow her and you do, waving Alastor goodbye.

He waves back and yells, “goodbye, sweetheart! Lovely to have met you.”

After that, you wanted absolutely everything to do with him. You’ve also got to know the other people staying at the hotel. Angel, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, and Sir Pentious. They were overall kind people. Husk found your interest in Alastor to be no good.

“Yeah, no. That, whatever thing you have created in your mind about him, isn’t true. He’s vile, Y/n. Trust me on that.” He grunts.

Angel thought you had some kind of kink towards “scary, creepy men.” Which wasn’t true because you didn’t even find him scary. You found him charming.

“Ah.. Alastor? Fucking sexy weirdo if I do say so myself. He’s got some reaaal problems but hey, if you’re into that-“ You cut him off by saying it wasn’t like that & that you don’t think anything sexual towards him.

One day, you were talking to Sir Pentious about his “crush” on Cherry Bomb. He completely denied it but you could tell from his blush and his nervous demeanour that he was very interested in her.

You were caught off guard when you heard that radio voice coming up from behind you.

“Y/n, my dear! I have a question for you.” Alastor came and stood beside you, looking down from where you’re sitting.

“Al! Hey, what’s up?” You ask, containing your excitement.

Sir Pentious excused himself quickly, seeing one of his “egg boys” were being played with by Niffty. She isn’t one to be gentle.

“So, I know how you’ve been listening to my radio show as of late, and I was wondering if you’d like to see where the magic happens!” He states.

“R-really? I’d be honoured!” You say, smiling.

“Ah! Lovely. Come now, this way.”

You get up and he locks arms with you and chats about his new microphone that he got.

Once you guys arrive, you’re shocked. It looks very professional and comfortable. It suits him heavily. There’s a big open window, a desk, some chairs and sofas, a bunch of technical stuff on the desk along with his new mic that you recognize from his descriptions, and a deer coat hanger?

“Wow, Alastor. This place is so actually so sick. I love it. And the new microphone suits you!” You say. “Thank you for showing me, really.”

Typically, Alastor would never show someone something personal of his, including his studio, but you are an exception. He isn’t sure what it is about you but he doesn’t seem to hate you as much as he does with anyone else. At first he was weirded out, but now he just embraces it. He also feels protective of you. He doesn’t know exactly why you’re even down here. For as far is he can tell, you’re an angel. Always being kind even to those who aren’t kind to you, always saying “please” and “thank you,” all that jazz. Jazz! You even like jazz music, his favourite. He told you that he lived on earth the time jazz music was popular. The 20’s and 30’s. That explains his vocabulary and how he dresses. You just find it more interesting and take time to ask questions about what it was like in that time.

“Why of course, my dear! If I’d want to show anyone here, it would be you.” He says, giving you his iconic smile.

You have a thought. “Hey, Al? Would it be alright if the next time you do a show, I could stay and listen?”

You hope he doesn’t think this is odd.

Alastor raises a brow. “Why would you want to do that?” He asks.

You panic, thinking you went too far by asking and now he’s going to cut you off or something.

“Ha! Kidding, sweetheart! Of course you can. I love when my broadcast is wanted to be listened to. Though I love it as well when they don’t want to.” He says.

You’re relieved, a bit scared, but still relieved.

“Say!” He says. “I was going to make one tonight talking about this silly technology box that thinks he is better than me! You know, expose all his lies and secrets to my listeners, and unwilling listeners. Maybe broadcast it all throughout hell!” He starts laughing manically. Then calms down and stares at you.

“Would you want to stay and listen, hm? I can do it now! I didn’t have any plans today going forward and well, getting it out sooner is better than later, I always say.” He asks.

You know he’s talking about Vox when he mentioned the technology box. Him and Vox have a sort of rivalry going on. Though Alastor seems to not care much about him, Vox is sure obsessed. He’s even gone so far as to making posters about him. Which areee.. not much of a resemblance.

This offer strikes you and you immediately perk up. “Yes! I’d love to.” You say.

You don’t think Alastor knows this but whenever you’re struggling to sleep, you put on his radio show and his voice comforts you to sleep. You’re sure if you told him, he would find it weird.

Little did you know, Alastor already knew. He walked past your room one night and heard static sounds coming from your quarters. He immediately was intrigued and put his ear close to your door to hear his voice. He was surprised, but not weirded out. He found it delightful that you found comfort in his voice. It’s not everyday someone does. Usually it invokes terror and anxiety on anyone who hears. This was new, and he didn’t hate it.

“Lovely! Let me get all set up. You can sit wherever you feel the most comfortable!” He says, adjusting his mic and pressing a buttons on his table.

You find a spot and sit down. Feeling honored to even be in the same room as him, let alone HIS room.

“Ahem! Welcome ladies and gentlemen-“ He goes off into his introduction, before winking at you and starting.

After about 20 minutes, you begin to feel tired and put your head on the side of the wall, still listening but with your eyes closed.

Alastor immediately notices and smirks, knowing how his voice effects you. He continues on and after about another 20 minutes, he finishes up. You’re asleep, slightly smiling.

He walks over to you and looks down.

“My, my. You really are an interesting one, aren’t you?” He whispers. He smiles more softly than he usually does and looks around to find a purple blanket hanging on his deer coat hanger, and gently places it on you.

He feels his heart fluttering while looking down at you and he immediately shrugs it off.

“Mm well, my dear.. I guess you can stay here. I’ll just be over there, transferring my broadcast to the other radios around town.” He says and points to his table.

“Sleep well, amour.” He speaks softly.

[deathbxnny]

Hi I love your writing!! can I request headcanons of arcane characters if they’re s/o was blind??💕

Arcane characters with a s/o that's blind! | Ekko, Vi, Jinx, Viktor x Gn! Reader

I absolutely love this idea, so thank you very much for your request, and I hope you'll enjoy this!<3

Content: Reader is blind/visually impaired, romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》EKKO

He doesn't treat you any differently than anyone else, just based on your disability, but still does his best to make the hideout as accessible as possible for you. Ekko never wants you to feel like a burden either.

He definitely sometimes forgets that you're blind and asks your opinion on things he was looking at aa if you could see them too. He gets very embarrassed after realising, but you at least find it endearing.

Anyone who comments on your disability negatively will be dealt with. The last thing he wants is for you to feel bad about it when you should feel supported instead.

Allows you to touch his face or hair whenever you want, since that's the best way for you to visualize him. He'll shyly deny any compliments you give him but is deep down very flattered that you find him handsome even with your inability to see.

Since you can't fly a hover board on your own for obvious reasons, he often takes you on rides himself. He'll keep a tight hand around your waist whilst he enjoys the sight of you giggling and laughing in the evening sun with him.

》VI

God forbid anyone ever mistreats you or speaks badly about your disability because she won't hesitate to end them. You definitely have to hold her back at least once a day from putting someone 6 feet under.

With that said, she's extremely overprotective, perhaps near overbearing at times. She doesn't want you to accidentally get hurt or lost, especially when you're walking around Zaun.

She guides your fingers across her many tattoos, hoping you'll be able to visualize what they look like that way when you're curious about them. Vi is thankful that you can't see her red face.

She definitely also sometimes forgets your blind, which always ends up in a laughing fit for you. Hearing her embarrassed apologies always makes you feel so at ease about your disability.

》JINX

She was fascinated by you from day one. Something about you perceiving the terrible world she grew up in so differently drew her to you deeply. You couldn't see the flaws across her face and body or the shimmer that glowed in her eyes and ruined her from the inside. No, you saw her soul, and that's what made her love you.

Her hideout is practically baby proofed for you with special handrails and fences that protect you from accidentally falling off. It took her days to make, but seeing your excited face at the accessibility made it all worth it.

Jinx and Isha always hold your hand when walking around outside, as Zaun, just so you don't get lost or hurt.

Anyone who tries hurting or insulting you is as good as dead, so you never have to worry about a thing with her around.

》VIKTOR

He understands you better than anyone else due to his own disability. He never wants you to feel like he does and therefore makes sure you don't feel like a burden or discouraged by it.

Viktor makes many little inventions for you that help you around the house or in public. Whether it's for navigating the city safely or cooking up a meal completely on your own without incident, everything he does is for you to strengthen your sense of independence, since he knows you can't always rely on him.

He takes small walks around campus with you and describes your surroundings in great detail whilst holding onto your hand tightly.

Viktor also definitely likes to joke that you're matching whenever you both are out with a cane in hand. Hearing you giggle about it every time makes his day.

[genshin-obsessed]

Helloooo~!! Could I request the men in honkai star rail with an s/o who makes various different plushies for themselves and the men?

Just imagine Dan Heng getting a chonky dragon plushie version of himself.

✩ ‒ You guys have the most creative ideas sometimes lmao I would’ve never thought of this and it is such a cute idea!!

✩ ‒ I wasn't going to do everyone but they came out really short so I made it up by adding more characters ^w^

✩ ‒ Characters: Caelus, Dan Heng, Welt, Gepard, Sampo, Luocha, Jing Yuan, Blade

✩ ‒ Caelus

He’s not the biggest plushie guy out there, but come on. You made it so cute and all.

He keeps it safe in his room and does a pretty good job at keeping it clean. Like dust free and all.

Caelus isn’t ashamed of it by any means, everyone knows about it. He just doesn’t want to end up tearing it or something which is why it's always in his room.

Big fan. You made a couple of yourself and he keeps them together. They're together like the two of you are. He’s debating on getting a dedicated shelf.

✩ ‒ Dan Heng

He originally received two. One of his normal self and then his Vidyadhara half. It’s so accurate, too. He definitely spent a few hours analyzing them both.

He wasn’t sure at first but the longer he had it, the more he began to like it. He kinda sleeps with it now. I mean... they're just on his bed and that's where he sleeps...

You’re welcome to make more but he doesn’t have room to place them. Besides… how many could you possibly make?

He actually likes the little dragon one. It’s so cute, the details are well done, and you seem to really like it too.

✩ ‒ Welt

Aww, a plushie for him? It was so cute! It even had his lil cane and all. Honestly, Welt loves it.

He keeps it with him all the time. When you often go off on missions, he likes to hold it for comfort.

When you made one of yourself, he decided the plushies could never be separated- much like you two. So, basically now he carries two plushies with him at all times.

Pom Pom and Himeko gush over the cuteness of the plushie. You’re really talented, why not start a business at this point? You'll definitely get March or Stelle asking for one too.

✩ ‒ Gepard

He was confused at first. Why did you make a plushie of him? But he really liked it. You even got the shield right.

He prefers it to stay at home where his fellow guards can’t see it because it’s a little embarrassing. He’s a grown man and all.

Ok, but it’s so cute. The little hair, the outfit- the shield! Come on? How is he supposed to remain composed? He will stare at it sadly when he has to go to work.

He had to admit, when you made one of yourself it felt complete. The plushies are always sitting together on his bed. Sometimes, he'll even put a blanket over them to keep them warm.

✩ ‒ Sampo

Omg once he gets one, it's on his person permanently. He loves seeing you work on them, too. It gives him a perspective on how much work you put into them

He’ll give suggestions all the time and you do make most of them. You often make yourself as well and it leads to lots of matching plushies.

Sampo did try to make one himself but it looked horrendous. He tried to throw it away but you wouldn’t let him!

That thing haunts his dreams but you like it for whatever reason. Honestly, Sampo takes that thing everywhere and even learned how to wash it properly.

✩ ‒ Luocha

The accuracy. His hair, eyes, outfit, the coffin- it even opens! Like, the effort that went into that was phenomenal.

Luocha is a big fan and does keep the plushie with him during his travels but keeps it hidden. It's something that reminds him of you (ironic since it looks like him).

He’s rather protective of the plushie. Someone once tried to take it and well… he almost stuffed them in the coffin. Lmao jk.

… ok, he did it once and never again, you can’t judge him, that’s his plushie. You gave it to him, not that rando. And no, it wasn't a kid! Why do people keep asking him that?

✩ ‒ Jing Yuan

Mind blown. Seriously, the talent that took was incredible! You even made a Lightning Lord plushie which attaches to the Jing Yuan one.

He keeps them on his desk at work and no one is allowed to touch them. He's worried others might damage them, but he wants to show them off at the same time.

He keeps the one you made of yourself with him though. It’s his good luck charm. Much like you.

Secretly hates tearing apart the plushie version of you and him. Heartbreaking when they have to see each other go. Sniff.

✩ ‒ Blade

Ok, listen. This is Blade we’re talking about. He can’t just be seen carrying a plushie- and of himself, no less. It’s embarrassing.

Is what he thought until he saw how sad you got when you found out he left it in a drawer. On the pain in his heart…

Now he keeps it on his person all the time. He even learned how to wash it because it’ll get dirty sometimes. No blood gets on it though, don't worry. Just some minor dirt or something.

For tougher missions, he puts the plushie in a plastic bag to keep it safe. It’s like a good luck charm of his. He lost it once and he almost had a heart attack.

[katz-rambles]

Hi ! Could we have a childhood friends to lovers ViktorxReader please ? 🥰 I am CRAVING for new works

Yess!! I love this trope it's sooo cute!!

2k words, so I hope you enjoy, Anon!

(fluff, gn!reader, reader is a professor, making out, getting caught, Viktors a bit of a tease (when is he never though), I think this is it!)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

When your family left the under-city, you knew everything would change. You were glad that it happened, it opened a whole bunch of doors for what you could become when you grew into an adult. But it also meant leaving your old life behind, one of the things you still think about to this day. Your heart aches when you think about the people you knew, you just hope that they ended up in a good place. When the shimmer trade spiked, you thought you'd never see any of the people you knew ever again, most of them probably either succumbed to the drug, or was killed during the many times the enforcers went down. You didn't like to think about it, but it's the harsh reality of Piltover.

Now you're walking the halls of one of the most esteemed universities inside of piltover, not as a student, but as a professor. You climbed your way to the top, and you know that your family is proud of you. They're the only reason this became possible, so when you got offered, you jumped at the chance. You're not complaining either, it's a well paying job with good benefits.

The day seemed to be going by incredibly slow, each hour felt like a year. You had a pile of tests on your desk that you had to mark, you've gotten through about half of them. But there's only so much marking someone can take before you feel like ripping your hair out.

So, instead of ripping your hair out, you decide to go on a coffee run and get some fresh air. You've been inside your office for so long, you're surprised you're still standing. One of the downsides to being a professor.

The walk to the Cafe down the road from the university isn't a long one. It's about three minutes, so long enough that you can get some well needed fresh air, but not long enough that you're regretting your decision.

When you reach the university, hit coffee in hand, you run into one of your former students, Jayce Talis. He gives you a friendly wave and comes up to you, “hey, professor. How's your day been?” He asks, awkwardly trying to make small talk and you have to cover your smile by pretending to clear your throat. “It's been well, thank you for asking. How's yours been?” You smile at him, not wanting to seem impolite by just ending the conversation there. He shrugs and sighs, you get the feeling.

Just when you're about to ask a question someone calls Jayce over, and when you both look over you're met with the sight of someone who you thought died long ago, but there he is, standing right in front of you, his cane in hand. You've heard of hextech, you're not in your office that much, and you've heard that Jayce didn't do it alone, but you never knew who his lab partner was. You also know that Heimerdinger has an assistant, but you were never able to catch said assistant's name. But you expected everything and anything, but him. You could have sworn he was dead.

“Viktor,” you manage to get out, although it's been years since you've last seen him, the memories you two made together as children stay fresh in your mind. Plus, he's incredibly attractive, everything from his overgrown hair to the way he leans on his cane, still managing to be taller than you, though not by much. It all had your mind swarming. His eyes rake over you before he looks back to your eyes, “Milý,” he breathes, a faint smile on his face as he continues, “you’re.. ehh.. hi.” He chuckles, standing a bit straighter on his cane. Before either of you can say anything else, Jayce buts in, “I hate to ruin a good moment, but the council wants to see us, Viktor.” Viktor nods and gives you one last nod before limping after Jayce.

Seeing someone who you hadn't seen in a good decade or so was not on your bucket list. You sit down in the chair behind your desk and lean back, letting your head just barely dangle off the back of the chair. You bring your hands up and rub your face, taking a deep breath and groaning. The sound is muffled by your hands. You sit back up again and sigh, you shouldn't feel this way. But you can't deny the way that you felt your heart race when you saw him again, he has such a boyish charm that just pulls you in, the same as is it did when you two were kids. You just chalk it up to a shock factor, you haven't seen him in years. You're just shocked, that's what you tell yourself.

The whole day all you can think about is him, you almost feel giddy, almost like a schoolgirl again. You take a breather, you've made a good amount of progress on the tests so you can afford a quick walk. Plus you have a class soon, and your classroom is on the other half of the university, and you've still got to set up your notes, you internally groan at the thought of giving another lecture. This is your fourth today.

When you finally reach the classroom, the professor that was using the room before you is just finishing cleaning up. You opened the door, only to be met with Viktor and Jayce, and then Heimerdinger soon after. You give a polite nod to Heimerdinger, and smile at Jayce and Viktor. You take your bag off and grab your notes, placing them on the table in front of you, before speaking up, “I thought your lecture ended a while ago, what are you still doing here?” You try and make your tone seem polite enough to cover up the, almost, rude question.

It's Jayce that speaks up first, “Heimerdinger thought it would be a good idea for us to sit in for one of your lectures, since the subject your an expert in is arcane.” You nod and chew the inside of your cheek. You're an amazing talker, and can easily give an hour long lecture, but with Viktor there, you feel anxious at the thought. Although it makes sense, hextech deals with arcane and what better person to listen to than someone who's an expert in it. You try and finish setting up without letting your mind wander too much, but your eyes keep on drifting from the papers in front of you to Viktor. When you look over at him, you find him already staring and he quickly looks away from you.

Now it's just a matter of waiting, you have ten minutes until your class starts so why not help Jayce and Viktor with their problems. You let them, mainly Jayce oddly enough, to ask you any questions they may have and you answer them to the best of your ability. Soon enough your class starts and you have to push away the temptation of staring at Viktor the whole time. Though, a few times you caught him, out of the corner of your eye, looking at you, and you embarrassingly stumbled over your words those times. You swear you saw the ghost of a smirk on his face at your reactions. Everything about him is so damn enticing, it's infuriating. How can one man be so wonderfully perfect, it doesn't make sense to you.

After your lecture, you're leaning over your desk, your mind swarming with thoughts, some not as innocent as you'd like.

When you're met with a hand on your back that has you letting out an embarrassingly loud yelp. Lo and behold, Viktor’s standing right behind you, with a smirk on his lips. “You seem awfully.. eh.. jumpy today, is everything alright?” He asks, moving his face closer to yours, and your heart is racing so fast you're convinced it'll jump out of your chest. His hand on your back moves lower until he rests it on the curve of your hip, gently squeezing it. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired.” You sigh, doing your best to not stutter or hesitate on your words. Viktor chuckles, the sound is something you'd pay to hear again, and moves his face closer to yours again. “Well, we can't have one of the best professors sleeping on the job. Now can we?” If it weren't for the teasing lift to his words you'd think he was actually concerned, but you both know that you're he's not actually. He almost immediately caught onto your lie.

You have to crane your neck at an, almost, uncomfortable angle to be able to see his face. You have to loft your face up for your neck to not be strained too much and you unintentionally bring your faces closer together. In the moment everything feels heightened, you're more aware of him. The hand he has on your hip feels heavier, you can feel the heat coming from his body from the proximity of you two, and you can smell him, a wonderful scent mixed with oil from the lab, the salty smell of the bay, and the knee-weakening scent of his cologne. Right now, everything about him feels intoxicating.

His hand lifts from your hip and to your back, carefully nudging you to turn around so you two are fully facing each other. He then places his hand on your chin to lift your face up, once again. He lets go and grabs your hand, placing it on his chest before speaking, in such a quiet tone you almost didn't hear him, “do you feel that?” Under your palm you can feel each beat of his heart, it's fast, probably just as fast as yours is. All you can muster is a nod. “That's what you're doing to me.” He sighs and brings his face closer to yours, the sound of his words mixed with the tone of his accent is something you're slowly becoming addicted to.

You bring your free hand up to hold his face, your finger traces his cheekbone and then you rest your palm on his face. “Good.” You smirk and his eyes flick down to your lips, and you take the hint, closing the gap between you two. He presses you against the desk and reciprocates the kiss, just as eager and desperate as you are. Each second that passes by feels like an eternity, and you hope it never ends. You've wrapped your arms around his neck and his free hand is resting on your hip. You're the one to pull away first with a quick gasp for air. Viktors face has a red flush to it and you swear you fell deeper in love right then and there.

“I've waited so long to do that, when you left for the top-side the only thing I regretted was not telling you how I felt.” He chuckles, stroking your hip, and you smile and lean in to kiss him again, this time it's him who closes the gap. His lips against yours feels right, you've kissed other people, men and women, but none have felt as right or as good as this. It's a bit messy, and rushed, but it feels right. You slide your hand back down to his chest, feeling his heart race under your palm is something that has you feeling giddy. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer to him. The moment, unfortunately, had to come to an end, the sound of the door opening, not only were you two caught but it reminded you that you two were inside a classroom, thankfully it wasn't a student who caught you, just an incredibly shocked Jayce. You look at Jayce and then back at Viktor, who looks just as shocked as Jayce, and you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your giggles. “This is a place of learning, you two!” Jayce scoffs and throws his hands up, and Viktor groans, taking a few steps back.

“Good thing we're learning then, or we were learning.” Viktor teases, giving you a quick wink before going over to Jayce who looks even more shocked than before, he looks at you and then back at Viktor before groaning in defeat and chasing after Viktor. You're not sure what's going to happen between you and Viktor next, but you're sure that, whatever it is, it will be amazing.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Sweatshirt (Greg House x gn reader)

Summary: House gets jealous by a certain article of clothing you're wearing

Warnings: petty/jealous House (aka the best kind), heavily implied poly House x reader x Wilson in case that's not your thing, very mild and brief swearing

A/N: based off a random little thought I had. don't ask me when during the show this is supposed to be set because I have no clue

It was missing. Wilson's McGill sweatshirt was missing, and House was very upset. It was his turn to wear it, and although he could've sworn he left it balled up on his side of the bed before he left for work it wasn't there when he returned.

The thought popped into his head that someone might've stolen it, but that was just stupid. After all, who would break into his apartment just to take a sweater?

You, apparently, as he soon came to realize when combing back over his place to look for it. He hadn't noticed it on you at first when he walked in, but now it was hard to miss, like a bright red target painted across your chest.

He almost glared at the way you were casually lounging on the couch, reading a book as if you hadn't stolen from him. "You're wearing his sweater." It wasn't a question, rather a statement, which made sense due to how very obvious the fact was.

You looked up from where you'd been reading and gave him an unimpressed look. "And you walk with a cane. Tell me something I don't know."

The corners of his lips quirked upwards into an amused half smile, but he tried to push his fond thoughts of you to the side for the time being. "You know, it's my turn to wear his sweater."

Letting out a hum, you dropped your eyes back down to the book in your hands and lazily turned the page. "Technically, it's my turn, after you decided to hide it for three weeks so I couldn't wear it."

That was true, he did do that. It was for no reason other than to mess with you, but now he was really started to regret his past decisions, something that rarely happened, if ever.

"You stole it from me, right out of my very own bed," he tried a different approach, putting on a face of mock hurt and offense in hopes of swaying you and getting it back. "Shame on you."

"You stole it from me first." Damn it, you had him there. "I was just returning the favor."

House stood there in front of you for a few minutes more hoping you'd somehow break with no such luck. Sighing loudly, he flopped down in his armchair, giving you a dirty look. "You know, two wrongs don't make a right."

You glanced up from your book, peeking at him from over the top of it. "An ethics lecture coming from you of all people? Well, this oughta be good." Now, it was your turn to be amused, something that didn't bode well with his competitive nature.

Seeing as it wasn't going to happen any other way, he tried a more direct approach in order to get you to give it back. "I want it. I want to wear it. It's mine."

"Technically, no, it's not. It's Wilson's, and I'm borrowing it," you pointed out, appearing unbothered by the evil look getting thrown your way. "Go find something else of his to wear if it's upsetting you so bad."

"I don't want to wear something else, though," he whined obnoxiously, trying to get on your nerves. It was working, but not nearly enough to get him what he wanted.

"Tough, because I'm wearing it right now. You're just going to have to deal with it."

Part of you thought that maybe you'd won this argument when he got up and left the room, but that thought was soon diminished when he came back less than a few minutes later, throwing something at your head.

"Really?" You asked in obvious irritation while pulling the shirt he'd thrown at you off your head.

"Put that on, and give me the sweatshirt back. That way you'll still feel all cozy and close to your doting boyfriends without having to wear that specifically," he reasoned as he stood there, his hands resting on the top of his cane. He looked proud of himself, like he was a little kid who'd finally solved a puzzle.

Despite your annoyance, it was hard to keep the slight smile off your face. Still, you weren't going to let him win that easily. "I'm not wearing it because of sentimental value. I'm wearing it because it's comfortable."

He groaned loudly, becoming visibly annoyed. "Why must you always be so damn difficult?"

"Funny, I could ask you the same question," you muttered as you held up the shirt and took a good look at it. It was one of House's old band tees, which made you realize something. "Hold on, are you jealous because you don't get to wear the sweatshirt, or is it because I'm wearing Wilson's clothes and not yours?"

The obvious pout on his face quickly gave away the answer. "Just give me the sweatshirt now, and I'll promise I'll give it back later." He held his hand out expectantly, resulting in you throwing his shirt back at his face.

"Nice try, but you're going to have to pry this off my cold, dead body." You settled back into the couch with your book as he walked away, grumbling under his breath. It appeared as though you'd won the battle, for now at least.

End notes: I've never written for House before but I tried to capture his personality the best I could! Hope y'all liked the Hilson references sprinkled in lol

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

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[bluecookies02]

Viktor x Wife!Reader

Marriage headcanons that nobody asked for. Fluff, Hurt/Comfort.

word count : 0.5k

cw: none

Being his wife is a chore and a half.

The limited time spent together, the stress of his job, the snappy attitude he gets when he's being swarmed with deadlines, inventions, investors, the council....

But then he's waking you up early every morning, just so he could spend those sweet 30 minutes before he has to leave for work, having tea or coffee with you until the very last moment. Then he's texting you during every 5 minute break he takes, and if the occasion allows, he calls.

At night he's tiptoeing into bed as to not wake you(you hear his cane from the hallway), laying perfectly still until he can't help but put an arm over you, or touch your legs together. It's endearing to watch him hold his breath as you pretend you've fallen asleep.

If he notices that his research kept him away too much that month, he will start inviting you to his lab. He won't have a lot of time to give you his full attention, but he will scrap up those sneaky little moments until they add up to something significant. He lives hoping that it's enough, and he's always battling with himself, knowing that you deserve more.

He is giving you everything he possibly can. You know this. His time off is scarce and pitiful, yet it's almost exclusively spent with you. Time holds more weight, when it's coming from him, rather then it would if you were with anyone else.

Despite what many people think, he comes to not reject PDA. All within social norms of-course. He holds your hand and he lets you kiss him without much complaint(he secretly likes it bc it boosts his ego a lil). It took him getting that comfortable over the years but it's wonderful.

He isn't an initiator. That can make you feel moody and neglected at occasions. He also can't say a mouthful of loving words to you, it's impossible for him, like there's some sort of a lump in his throat that will never let him.

He will reply to your "I love you's" but he will rarely be the first to say it. He more often says things that look like love confessions if you squint. He makes up for it by being touchy. Puts your legs on his lap when you're resting together, pets your waist or your stomach while you're sprawled out on the couch, softly squeezes your shoulder...etc etc

The worst part of your relationship comes when he fully shuts down emotionally. You had to learn to navigate these sudden switch ups. They used to upset you a lot, they still can if you're being honest. If you do or say the wrong thing, he will say so many ugly things that stab right into your heart, with intention to hurt you and make you hate him, because under that anger is guilt of 'wasting your time' and feelings of complete inadequacy to keep you happy.

He does his job with an insane amount of passion, and that's one of the main reasons why setbacks or pulled fundings easily get him in this state.

You used to have screaming matches, dramatic throwing of your rings to the floor, slamming doors and leaving the apartment...All excepted considering you married quite young.

Now, to save you both the emotional toll it left on you, he tries to shut into his lab for a bit to calm down and you try not to nurture his self sabotage if it comes to it. It isn't the healthiest but it does work.

You recognize when he starts getting intentionally mean and you completely ruin his plans by leaving the room and telling him to get his shit together and come to bed once he's equipped to act like a proper husband you know he is. These become more rare the longer you're together aswell, because the security into your relationship grows exponentially with time (they come back full force once his disease progresses...please don't let him push you away🥹)

idek where i was going with this, i just want this man as my husband.

These are like, delulu headcanons, i have plenty different ones for when I am not feeling biased. For one, this dude ain't marrying anyone, at least not legally.

[madschiavelique]

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 5 - Temperance

summary : viktor and reader work together in the library (so much banter, it's insane), then maybe there's a small fight because a guy called viktor a cripple and that causes some issues

content warnings : mentions of blood but really not that much tbh

word count : 5,4k

author's note : you thought i was gone on this one huh ? WRONG. we're so back babies! i know it's been 2 years since i've touched this baby okay, but i'm back now! hopefully i will get more time to write about this lil guy bc i love this fic.

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world

masterlist : here

taglist : @doctorho

For the rest of the two long hours, Heimerdinger continued his lesson.

The class had come to an end, you silent, the class teeming with gossip. Professor Heimerdinger had distributed the subjects one by one to the students at the end of the lesson. He was a perfectly reasonable, friendly teacher who tried to make his pupils laugh at the expense of their historical knowledge.

When you had a lesson with him, you knew you were listening to a teacher who was wise enough to turn events and experiences into jokes to lighten the burden of his history lessons.

He was always on the lookout for questions and comments from the students, not hesitating for a moment as he gave the subjects to the groups one by one to point out the difficulties they might find and the pitfalls that might await them.

In short, Heimerdinger wanted his students to succeed, not to see a decline in the Piltover Academy's chances of success, which in the eyes of many seemed to be something to crow about rather than something to be ashamed of.

The very idea of being one of the few students to overcome these difficulties and succeed was, in your eyes, the greatest reward that could ever be given to you.

“Young folks,” he said, pointing to the two of you. “Come this way. I have reserved a subject especially for you.”

Heimerdinger didn't do things haphazardly. He gave students subjects that reflected them, or at least where he knew the results would be most interesting. You couldn't help but fear what he was up to.

When the students had dispersed, the tinkle of Viktor's cane sounded until he arrived at your side. You sighed audibly as you looked at him, crossing your arms over your chest as he gave you a winning smile.

He seemed to enjoy it when you got angry, and took great pleasure in teasing you constantly. Had he been a friend, you wouldn't have held it against him, even though your list of friends consisted mainly of Eris, Sky and Jayce. However, a friend wasn't supposed to be a problem for your success. There's only so much space in the academy for students who come out on top, and you weren't about to give yours away.

“Good,” he said at last as the last student passed through the doorway. “There's no need to point out that you two are the sharpest elements of this class, you're well enough aware of that, as is the rest of the school certainly.”

Your bickering and petty battles almost made the corridors of the school come alive again with the excitement of rumour and gossip partaking in your reputation.

“None of the fellow teachers in this establishment seem to have brought to the table, however, a possibility which seems to me to be the most interesting for both of you: teamwork.”

You arched an eyebrow, finding the reasoning profoundly moronic.

“Sir,” you couldn't help but point out, “this school is eliminatory. Why would you want to associate students who won't necessarily all have the chance to pass the exams?”

Heimerdinger chuckled, “I'm not doing it with the prospect of a pass or a gold medal waiting for you at the finish line, Miss.”

You tilted your chin up in a slight pout of surprise.

“You see, I'm not necessarily trying to prepare you for the exams, but for what will happen once they're over. Having a diploma is all very well on paper, but what counts most in the end will be what you achieve.”

“All right,” you admit, “but why put us in a pair like this?”

“It's quite simple,” he jumped up from his desk, trotting across the floor to stand in front of you, your eyes downcast on him. “In the working environment, you don't always find a shoe to fit. And when you don't have the power to dismiss your colleague just because you don't like them, you have to learn to sacrifice your temperament for the sake of the common good. Now, I'm not asking you to make sacrifices, that word is far too violent, but I am asking you to compromise.”

You exchanged a look with Viktor, your fists clenching until your knuckles were white. You'd already made enough compromises for one lifetime, and now you had to go on? He, for his part, didn't seem too bothered by the situation. How could he be so calm? So serene about the idea of cooperating?

“You don't always work with the person of your choice, and not always on the subjects you'd prefer. Oh, that's just it! Speaking of subjects…”

He stood on tiptoe, grabbing the last sheet of paper from his desk and holding it out to Viktor.

The latter, for once, frowned in pure confusion and even perhaps... irritation?

“The evolution of Zaun's power?”

Your eyes narrowed before shifting from Viktor to Heimerdinger, “Are you joking?”

“I do love to laugh young lady but the shortest jokes are the best. You both seem, for different reasons, to have an excellent knowledge of Zaun. Its political power, its evolution, and even the iconic figures who can make themselves forgotten in the shadows of its depths.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, trying to remain upright and not revolt on the spot. Heimerdinger seemed way too amused and happy of his little scheme.

“Any questions?”

Viktor read the subject and what you had to complete, “Do you have any books to recommend to us Professor?”

Heimerdinger's voice became a blur as your thoughts drifted like the Grey in Zaun. Every corner of this city was out to kill you, and even when you were out of it, it followed you like your shadow.

Were you ever going to get out of such a cycle, out of this city’s grasp ?

“Miss?”

The teacher's voice brought you back down to earth. Distracted, you simply offered a confused hum in question so that he would repeat his last words.

“Your assignment is due in a month. That gives you time to put your differences aside and find a way of working together. If you'll excuse me, my next class is coming up soon.”

He gestured towards the exit, and soon enough you found yourselves in the corridor. The momentary emptiness of the hall almost seemed to bring you back to reality.

You drew in a breath, meeting Viktor's gaze beside you. You couldn't afford to get a bad mark, especially not for a Heimerdinger course. He was one of the most renowned scientists in the country, with his own seat on the Piltover council. To produce mediocre work would be to end your career on the spot, and you were prepared to at least try to cooperate with someone like Viktor.

“Why are you not begging the teacher to put us both in different duos?” you asked while Viktor was still reading the subject content.

“Hm, I think it might be fun.” he said, not even glancing at you.

You scoffed, “You and me?” your trigger finger pointing back and forth between the two of you, “Together? Fun?”

His eyes dropped from the paper, scanning you with a changed interest.

“You'd rather go back in there and ask for a rematch like a loser?”

A muscle near your eye tensed for a moment.

He sighed, his eyes returning to the subject, “Admitting defeat takes strength.”

“So you think I'm weak ?”

But Viktor didn't seem to have the slightest interest in you at the moment.

You relaxed your shoulders, sighing. There was no point in trying to beat him, you weren't - on that subject at least - in competition.

“Can I see the subject?” you asked, reaching for the paper, but he removed it from your reach in an instant.

You frowned, this wasn't going to be easy.

“Do I disgust you?” he asked.

The question caught you off guard, your eyes blinking several times as you almost looked at him with fresh eyes.

If the question was purely physical, no, Viktor didn't disgust you. He was always accompanied at all times and in all places by that same invariable weariness that gave him a particular elegance. He had features common in Zaun, brown hair, amber eyes, and an accent that made some of the girls in your class drop like flies.

When it came to his character and personality though, it was another thing entirely.

“You annoy me,” you replied, managing to snatch the subject of his hand with enough agility that the gesture left him surprised, “but you don't disgust me.”

He remained silent for a moment. You could feel his eyes on you as yours fell on those of the subject.

“The only thing that disgusts me is your taste in pasta,” you confirmed.

He let out a little laugh, the kind that mixes humming and nose blowing, the kind you do when a remark makes you nostalgic.

“Friday, 5pm, library, don't be late.” he said simply, the clink of his cane echoing on the floor as he began to walk away.

As your eyes roamed over the page, you couldn't help but take in nothing of what was written. Your mind was stuck on him, on the trick Heimerdinger had just played on you.

He had just orchestrated a game that the whole school was going to bet on, the teachers were going to look at your situation in a new light, and in the worst case scenario, multiply the group work to put you both in pairs.

Your heart looped as you realised that this was undoubtedly another test. Heimerdinger was going to observe which of you was the best performer, the most pliable, the best at teamwork.

You had to be flawless, you had to.

Friday came earlier than you imagined, and you weren't looking forward to it in the least. You hadn't stopped thinking about it, finding yourself on numerous occasions distracted during your homework.

The card of the day you had drawn was Temperance, and the little booklet told you:

Alchemy. Mixing and harmonising opposing forces and concepts. Maintaining opposing ideas and encouraging complexity in life. Fusion produces evolution.

The archangel Gabriel, the angel messenger, is represented on the card. He wears the sign of the sun on his forehead. This is also the alchemist's symbol for gold. This card reflects the changing of the seasons and the adoption of new ideas. Temper in Latin is the act of repetition to invoke skill or to refine something, to make it sharper like a sword.

What a pain that was, and to think you'd have to endure this for a whole month of deep research and hours spent by his side working, together.

You dragged your feet as you made your way to the academy library.

It was a magnificent place, filled with the smell of varnished wood, old paper and dried ink. The ceiling was arched, the bookshelves forming real walls that separated the room like rows of pews in a church. If it hadn't been reserved for the academy's research students, it would surely have been on Piltover's list of monuments to visit.

There weren't many people there, apart from a small handful of students finishing their homework before basking in the arrival of the weekend. You were a good fifteen minutes early, and didn't see Viktor at all.

You were just about to put your bag and things down by a table and start your research, when a voice you wouldn't have preferred to hear at the time greeted you:

“Ah, there you are,” Viktor approached, coming out of one of the library corridors, “I just needed some help to get to the higher tomes.”

With his free hand, he held up a small stack of tomes, pressing them under his chin before placing them on a table with two or three other books already laid out.

You sighed, moving your things over to his table, “Have you been there for long already?”

“Why, do you care about me?” his cheeky grin made you roll your eyes.

“I think you overestimated my greatness. Which shelf?”

He said nothing, making his way to one of the shelves. You followed him. Fortunately, the women's uniforms at the academy had trousers. You wouldn't have known what to do if it had been otherwise and you'd ended up on a ladder above him.

“You know,” he began as you reached the meagre ladder to the upper shelves, “I've been looking forward to working with you.”

You arched an eyebrow, your hand gripping the ladder as you looked at him in confusion.

“Why?”

The two of you were only picking on each other, you were avoiding him like the plague, and you'd made it clear to him several times that your situation was that of a competition. So obviously you had a right to be surprised as to why he'd want to work with you.

He shrugged. “You were the top student before I came here, surely there must be a reason behind it.”

You expelled an abrupt puff from your lungs, your breath taken away by his insolence. You could only expect it after all.

You climbed a few steps up the ladder, looking for Zaun's historical tomes.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment, or am I to believe my working buddy seeks to diminish me to a fictive second rank?”

“We're in a library, alas, reality catches up to this fiction, miss number two.”

You clutched the volume in your hand, your nostrils flaring for a moment in anger. He knew how to annoy you, and you never seemed to find a single point on which you could reciprocate.

You held out the tomes one by one for him to take. “Guess I could work on a pet name for you too.”

“Be my guess.”

Once his arm was full, you took a few tomes in your hands before climbing down the ladder and walking towards the table. “And make you the honour of thinking of something to be done for you ? I'd rather lick sandpaper.”

He feigned disappointment, “So I do disgust you, this pains me.”

You set the pile of volumes down on the table, reaching into your bag to pull out paper and pens.

“Yeah well, You were supposed to pretend I didn't exist, not try to bother me to death. So I guess we're both disappointed.”

He took a seat, grabbing a volume and placing it in front of him. “So I bother you ?”

You sat down opposite him, imitating his gesture as you searched with interest for a tome to start with.

“What a transcending sense of observation you have.”

He brought both his hands up in front of him, resting his chin on the backs of his fingers.

“How do I bother you?”

You were starting to get annoyed by his questions. You had come here to work, not to chat.

“Your simple existence?” you replied, staring into his eyes.

He sighed, opening his book and noting on the page its title.

“As if yours wasn't proof that failure has a sense of humour.”

You said nothing, letting his comment wander in the air as you started your own research in silence, locating the chapter of interest to you in the table of contents.

“But seriously,” Viktor continued, “why do I bother you?”

You sighed, pinching the page you were on before shifting your eyes from the words on it to Viktor's curious amber gaze.

“You want an honest answer ?”

He nodded. You let go of the page, straightening up.

“You come into my life and wreck everything I've built brick by brick, wouldn't you be the slightest bit frustrated if that happened to you ?”

It was his turn to be silent this time. He seemed to look at you differently, as if, by some miracle perhaps, he'd just realised what was at stake for you in this situation.

He wasn't even touching the tip of the iceberg of why you'd come to the Academy, but for a moment he seemed to understand how important it could be for you.

Your eyes returned to your page, trying to find keywords to write down or information to record.

“You surpassed me in the exam, teachers love you, you make great friends…”

“Almost sounds like you're obsessed with me.”

Your lips parted, eyes wide as you looked at him as if he'd just slapped you, leaving your cheek and your thoughts with a warm tingle. You were so surprised that nothing came from your lips, which was beginning to be enough for a flash of mischief to cross Viktor's eyes and for the corner of his lips to form a sneer.

“I'm not.” You finally reply, trying to remain composed and not to stammer for anything in the world.

“Denial would've worked before the long vacant stare,” he says, advancing slightly on the table.

“Why do you have to be like that?”

“Like what?”

You humph, dropping back in your chair in despair.

“Better than me.”

He recoiled slightly, as if the remark was completely far-fetched and unfounded.

“There are thousands of people better than me, why do you have to focus on my poor self, hm? Did I barge in your territory?”

He had, unconsciously he truly had. It was you who was supposed to be first, otherwise the consequences would've been mentally dire.

“Take it this way,” he continued, “there's surely something you're better at than me.”

You couldn't think of much on the spot, especially not when there was a possibility of you making a list of things he topped you in. There was surely one thing though.

“Running.”

He opened his lips in surprise, a smile stretching across his face which he hid with his hand. You were already regretting what you'd just said.

“Jayce is going to be the first one hearing about this.”

“No it's-”

“So you're participating in a system made against disabilities.”

“I never-”

“Are you going to steal my crutch next in hopes of beating me to a race?”

“You're never going to drop this now are you ?”

“With such a statement ? Never.”

“Whatever let's just- let's just work.” you mumble, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and shame as you desperately try to move on.

He gave one last chuckle before getting back to work. He seemed to be reading a tome on the history of the masters of Zaun.

“About Tytos, I still think you've got that wrong.” he said as he read another page from the tome.

“I think I'm going to smash your face in.” you replied calmly without looking at him.

“As if you could reach me.”

“You know what-” you began, raising your voice.

However, somebody shushed you in the room, restricting you to remaining calm.

“Raising your voice in a library? You'd have to be a stupid fool.”

“Trying to contradict me when even Heimerdinger considered my answer excellent is not the wisest either.”

“Heimerdinger would tell a snail that goes slightly faster than the norm it's excellent. But maybe your low self esteem is just common sense.”

“Maybe my self esteem will just leave this library right now.” you say, crossing your arms on the table.

“And leave me to pursue this matter on my own? That wouldn't be very serious, miss number two.”

You sighed, getting back to work. Your blood was boiling in your veins just from sitting at this table.

“None of the books mention Tytos.”

“Since when do you trust Piltover books on the accounts of the history of Zaun ?”

Touché. He raised his eyebrows as if it were the only relevant thing you could have said.

“You never said where you were from, in Zaun,” he remarked.

You tensed slightly. “Why do you want to know that ?”

“We're making an exposé on Zaun, we're both from there, might as well just know it,” he said, raising his eyes to yours.

You watched him for a moment, he didn't seem to want to make a joke of you once your answer was out of your mouth. But in any case, you weren't going to give it to him.

“You wouldn't know,” you replied simply as you jotted down another date.

‘I'm sure that I-”

“You don't want to know.’ you said firmly, the seriousness taking over your face to assure him that this was certainly not territory he wished to venture into.

He frowned, confused. He seemed deeply intrigued by you, and that made you uncomfortable. Never before in your life had anyone asked you so many questions about yourself in such a short space of time. And so here he was, shaking up every one of your pillars like a bowling ball knocking over pins.

This one, however, was not about to give way.

You looked at your watch for a moment, sighing.

“Let's work for one more hour. We'll make a plan and subparts of what we'll talk about at the end of it.”

This time Viktor seemed to get the message: silence. 

You couldn't help glancing at him from time to time. You noticed the way his long fingers flicked across the pages, the way his eyebrows furrowed as he read, the way he rested his cheek on the back of his hand with a sigh as he read a boring piece of writing. 

Or when he would click his pencil for a moment to write something down, and his handwriting would lie gracefully on the paper, scratching the grain of the paper.

It was not without surprise that, once the hour had passed, there was hardly anyone in the library but the two of you. 

When you explained your plan for the presentation to Viktor, he agreed, simply giving a few perfectly critical and serious remarks without condescending to him in any way.

“Good. I think this is a good time to stop for today,” you said as you stood up, taking a stack of books in your arms.

All in all, working with Viktor like this wasn't so bad, when it was done in silence. But as soon as either of you opened your lips to say anything, politeness left the room in great strides.

You put each tome away in its old place, both of you taking your things, and left the library. The academy wasn't closed yet, and some people still had classes or were hanging around in the corridors.

You walked side by side, your pace the same as Viktor's. All the students seemed to turn around as you passed, your duo seeming like a pair of circus animals. 

You glanced at Viktor, who didn't seem in the least affected by this.

However, a trio of students were watching you with evil, mocking eyes. You couldn't help but tense up, however, when the one who seemed as tall as he was stupid remarked: 

“Die already, cripple. You're slowing the traffic.”

Your shoulders tensed as you walked, expecting to do what you'd always had to do here despite the taunts: ignore and move on.

But Viktor wasn't going to listen to you like that.

“Thank you for your advice, I'll try euthanasia once you'll be able to count higher than the number of butterfingers you've got.”

A few chuckles echoed in the corridor at his reply, but the young man seemed to be boiling with hatred. It was as you passed in front of them that, in a cowardly move, he kicked Viktor's cane.

He lost his balance, falling face first to the ground as his cane fell beside him. The air stopped for a moment with the shock of the gesture, your eyes shifting from Viktor on the ground to the idiot who had just knocked him over. Students knelt down beside him immediately to help him.

“Oops, my foot slipped. Sorry.”

But nothing, of course, conveyed any regret at this behaviour.

He turned his back and walked off with his group of friends. Your blood ran cold.

Quickly, you grabbed Viktor's cane, which was still on the ground, and made it whistle through the air before it struck the back of the student's knees. It was his turn to shrivel up on the floor, and he immediately turned to you, his cheeks red with anger.

“Oops, my hand slipped,” you said, glancing at the crutch for a moment before returning to him. “Sorry.”

You turned back to Viktor, handing him his crutch. He looked at you with fried whiting eyes, deeply surprised by your gesture without moving a muscle.

“You fucking slut…” you heard behind you.

But as soon as you turned around, a sharp blow hit you in the cheek. The force of it knocked you back two steps, a metallic taste spreading through your mouth. You brought your fingers to your lips, hissing as you touched them, your bottom lip burning. Bringing your fingers back into line of sight, you found them bloodied.

You turned to the student, his face far too satisfied for your liking.

‘’What a brilliant idea,‘’ you breathed as, in one swift movement, you struck his crotch with the crutch.

He bent over instinctively, gasping for breath, before you punched him right in the nose. He fell, cowering on the ground like a miserable insect.

"What's going on here?" asked a stern voice.

Madame Agrane, one of your teachers, came into the corridor. Her eyes fell on Viktor on the floor, your lip split, the student on the ground surrounded by his two friends.

“Everyone in my office, now.”

You pressed a bag of ice cubes to your cheek, sitting next to Viktor who was clutching his crutch in his hands. As for the idiot, he kept grumbling and giving you nasty looks. You recognised him now, the student from the museum, the one that had called zaunites rats.

"Can someone explain to me what happened for you all to end up in such states?" questioned Agrane.

You were about to start but the idiot beat you to it.

"Madame Agrane, I was just minding my own business in the corridor when these two pupils came up to me! One was hitting me with his crutch while the other was punching me. I don't know what I've done to deserve this.' He exclaimed theatrically, Viktor and you looking at him like the most ridiculous being to ever be.

If there was one thing that helped your reputation, it was that you were known as serious students, who didn't fall into the category of those who would start a fight in the corridors for no particular reason.

"That is far from the truth," Viktor retorted calmly. "He insulted me, then made me fall, and then...’

He seemed to be hesitating over his words, or at least looking for the right term. He turned to you, letting his eyes drift for a moment to your split lip, and then back to Madame Agrane's gaze.

"... My friend protected me."

Friend? the word made you clench your jaw, inhaling. It was just a lie, just a word brought to the front to give your teacher sympathy. No, he certainly didn't mean it.

The teacher looked at you, seeming more convinced by your story than the other. Noticing this, the student couldn't help but plead his own case: 

"Madam, these two students come from Zaun. The blood of violence will always run in their veins."

Agrane seemed to give you a new look, as if you and Viktor were ready to pounce on her like two wolves.

"Is this a joke? You started all this," you said, offended.

"Beating you up would have brought greatness to Piltover." he replied.

"Oh, look at you, attempting greatness! Pity it's just an attempt." you sighed, pressing the ice pack a little closer to your cheek to put out the fire your anger was beginning to spread.

"Madam Agrane," he continued, turning to her, "you know what my patron will think about this. Imagine his reaction when he will hear how you have treated his favoured student?"

You had no idea who his patron could possibly have been, but she didn't hesitate for a second to say: 

"Miss, you'll get an hour's detention for your violent behaviour in the corridors. I hope I don't have to catch you again doing such barbaric acts."

Your eyes widened just as much as Viktor's.

"What?! But he's the one who-" you tried, pointing at the idiot who was smiling victoriously.

"There's no buts about it. The discussion is closed. You'll have your detention period this Monday."

"Madam, I think there's been a mistake." Viktor began.

"Do you want to be given detention too, young man?"

Viktor remained silent, sighing before lowering his eyes to the ground.

"Good, see you on Monday, then."

The fool stood up first, walking past you with a foolish grin on his face.

"Bet it feels just like home to be in prison by monday, hm?"

Your lip hemmed in disgust, your nose scrunching up.

"Try what you've done just once more, and I'll personally make sure you have no offspring."

He looked slightly frightened for a moment, then frowned like a child before leaving the room.

You sighed, standing up. You wanted to get out of here right away, away from the horrible feeling of injustice in your heart, away from the word ‘punishment’ burning into your skin.

Your free hand instinctively came to rest on your shoulder for comfort, and you stood up to get your things.

“You didn’t have to do this earlier, you know.” Viktor said.

You sighed, walking towards the door. “Whatever, what is done is done.”

"Hey," Viktor said, standing up behind you.

You didn't even turn to him.

"Thanks, I wasn't expecting that at all."

You waited for something, for anything that would come after what he had just said, but nothing came. Your turned to him.

"Is that all? No remarks about how I'd have been better off hitting him somewhere else, or stupid sarcasm about my action?"

He seemed surprised by your reaction, his face puzzled and almost saddened.

"We're not friends." you said, your face as cold as the ice pack on your cheek. "We're..."

But what were you apart from rivals? Two rivals working together to do a job that would rely on both of you, that wasn't really rivalry. It was camaraderie in a way, you were classmates, but friends?

You pursed your lips, a slight trickle of blood beading from them.

"See you next week."

Without further ado, you left the room. You walked down the corridors, the students staring at you like an alien. You were suffocating under all those sharp, curious, numerous stares. You pressed on, leaving the academy as quickly as possible.

Once outside, you took the first quiet alley you could find.

“Shit!” you swore, pressing your back against the first wall you could find.

You brought your hand up to your forehead, sighing until you almost felt your body slide down the wall, running your palm over your face in frustration and exhaustion.

You wanted to cry, the weight of everything feeling like it was zipping up on you like a body bag. You'd been stupid, acting on your emotions. You should have kept your head down, let the administration do its job, not invented a life of heroism trying to redress the balance that some fool had tipped.

You didn't even like Viktor, but you'd still jumped at the chance to do him justice. No, you didn't like Viktor any more than that.

But you respected him.

Could you be friends with him?

The question passed through your mind for a moment, but you ended up putting it out of your mind.

You let your head fall back against the wall. The thought of an hour's detention in your perfect record seemed to you like a thread sticking out of a beautiful dress, itching to be pulled on. You tried to console yourself, to come to terms with the fact that it was just another hour of extra study. But you couldn't help feeling heavy with pain.

Eventually you gathered up your things and walked home, hoping that the cool night air would help to quench the fire that was still boiling inside you. Winter was on your doorstep, and ready to complicate things.

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[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

𝒢𝑜𝑜𝒹 & 𝐹𝒶𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒮𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒶𝓃𝓉

haha, another fic I wanted to finish...I'm team Black, I swear...but Alicent is just too pretty I don't know what to say

Summary: Alicent struggles to deal with the feelings she harbors for you, her chambermaid and ally.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), religious guilt, infidelity, slight dubcon, oral, fingering, some angst

word count | 3.2k🤙🏻

Alicent sighs heavily as you inform her of yet another servant that has been chased away by her son, Prince Aegon. She didn’t know why she was surprised anymore, it happened so frequently. Even worse, she expected it to happen more often as he aged. She just couldn’t catch a break…

It was hard enough being married to an old, rotting man at such a young age, but to raise all of her children alone? Alicent often wondered how they aren’t turning out worse than they already are. She had no support from anyone, not her husband nor her own father, him banished from the Red Keep and Lord Strong only helping her for his own gain and power. She couldn’t even rely on her childhood friend anymore, now her stepdaughter. It was almost laughable the hand Alicent was dealt. The Gods were cruel. But they did give her one good thing though; you.

You had been Alicent’s personal servant ever since her last child was born, helping raise them the best you could whenever Alicent had to rule in the king’s name, meaning she was often busy. You clicked instantly, though you had a sort of talent for always getting on someone’s good side. You could see the light in her eyes that was slowly dying out the older she got and the more time she had to spend in the Red Keep. You could tell she missed her home and her father, so you often comforted her whenever those feelings seem to cloud her thoughts. She warmed up to you pretty quickly, longing for a companion other than her favorite child. And when she needed information, you’d get that for her too. Unlike Lord Strong, you didn’t ask for anything in return.

The first time you made her laugh was when you accidentally voiced your thoughts about fantasizing about kicking his cane out from underneath him. You thought she’d scold you for thinking such a horrible thing, but the prettiest sound you ever heard escaped from her lips. Bashful giggles filled her chambers which caused your face to heat but filled you with a sense of pride. Even so, Alicent looked more ashamed of herself for finding what you said funny. But from then on, you were determined to make your queen laugh whenever appropriate.

She confided in you a lot, about everything, even things she never admitted to herself before you came along. You never judged her, ever. You may have been biased but in your eyes, your queen could do no wrong. For Alicent, ever since getting close to you, she started to feel things she thought she never would again. She hadn’t felt this happy being around someone since Rhaenyra was her best friend all those years ago. But therein lied another problem; Alicent wasn’t just friends with the Targaryen princess, she wanted to be more than that. Now that she was feeling that same way about you, her feelings of guilt came back even stronger than before. 

Alicent always struggled with accepting herself. All her life, she was told how to behave and how she should be. Following the Faith of the Seven, being attracted to the same sex was strictly forbidden. It was just another reason to pick at her cuticles until they bled. She hadn’t done it in a long time (mostly thanks to you), but every time she had…sinful thoughts about you, she didn’t even notice she was hurting herself again until you called her out on it.

You were concerned and had asked what had been causing her to hurt herself again, but Alicent very well couldn’t tell you the truth, could she? So, she blamed it on Aegon’s behavior and that seemed to quell your curiosity, but you still kept a more watchful eye on her to keep herself from picking at her skin. You just didn’t know that you were the cause and kind of made it worse, though it meant you spent even more time with her, so she couldn’t really complain. But after this incident with the servant girl that Aegon harassed, you could tell Alicent needed time to herself, so you quietly dismissed yourself.

You felt horrible for thinking such things at a time like this, but you also felt you needed some special time to yourself. Unbeknownst to Alicent, you were having some of the same issues she had. Although, you were ashamed of yourself about it. Even though she was upset, Alicent looked absolutely stunning in her green dressing gown and the urge to relieve yourself was almost overbearing. Now, you weren’t the most lecherous individual, but to say you weren’t a prude would’ve been an understatement.

You had some distant relatives from Dorne and went to visit them for a couple months, your parents saying something about you needing to experience the world before being tied down to King’s Landing. You weren’t going to complain, in all your life you never thought you’d ever even travel past the Stormlands. You were somewhat sheltered, but just a few weeks in Dorne and you learned more than most highborn ladies ever did. You learned much about yourself with the help of the Dornish, especially learning about your sexuality which everyone was open about there. Even just a kiss in public between lovers always seemed to be looked down upon north of Dorne. You came back to King’s Landing changed, but for the better.

You found pleasure whenever you could and without shame, but you also knew you had a reputation to uphold, not just for yourself but for the family you worked for. Not many people get the opportunity to serve the royal family, so you knew acting out on your feelings for the Queen  was the quickest way to getting your head impaled on a pike for all the Red Keep to see. You would be labeled a heathen, whore, and a dishonor to your family and those statements would follow you all the way to the Seven Hells. So, you always found your release in the privacy of your own chambers, not having to fear wandering eyes or ears. If you were ever to go to a brothel on the Streets of Silk, word would travel before you could even blink. But you couldn’t think of that now. As you laid back in your bed with your hand in between your thighs, all you wanted to think of was your Queen Alicent.

You ran your delicate fingertips over your hardened nub hastily, grabbing at your breasts, desperation painting your features as you thought of Alicent’s soft lips. You imagined how they’d feel pressed against your own, on your neck, chest, and even further south. Just the image threatened to oversensitize you, but you needed the thought to find release. “Alicent…” You breathed a whimpery whisper, your peak building steadily, that burn in your belly spreading over you like waves. But just as you were about to finish, you heard a loud gasp. “My Queen-!” 

The Queen Alicent stood wide eyed in shock, mouth agape, unable to stop herself from looking where your fingers were coated in your arousal, your cunt glistening in the sunlight seeping through the curtains into your chambers. “My apologies.” Alicent spoke curtly, quickly turning and exiting your chambers without another word.

In quite a blunt manner, you expressed your embarrassment as soon as she was out of your sight: “Fuck.” You prayed to the Seven that she hadn’t heard you moan her name.

In truth, you had nothing to worry about. Queen Alicent was too flustered to even register that she was the object of your desire, blood thrummed loudly in her ears as her face reddened at the sight of you in the throws of near ecstasy. She didn’t know how to react, and she certainly didn’t know what to do about the ache in between her legs as she made it back to the sanctuary of her solar.

Alicent sat in her chair with a shaky exhale, closing her eyes to try and calm herself, only to see the image of your fingers inside yourself. She could still hear the faint sound of the moist suction from your fingers moving in and out, sending a shiver down her spine. She didn’t realize she was picking at her cuticles until she felt a droplet of blood running down her hand. It wasn’t enough that she had these sinful feelings and desires, the gods kept tempting her, but that went too far. How is she supposed to resist temptation when she has to be around someone so intoxicating as you? It wasn’t fair. Why were the gods consistent in handing her the short straws in life? What had she done to deserve such divine punishment?

The ache in Alicent’s core hadn’t faded, the image of you still burning through her mind. She gazed around, there was no one but her in her chambers and there was no one likely to barge in without knocking first. Perhaps this one time, she could try to quell that desire that’s begun to feel so familiar every time she’s around you. But she didn’t know where to start.

Of course Alicent knew of her clit, but she never dared to touch it lest she gets sent straight to one of the Seven Hells. But that spot of throbbing so badly, it would hurt to leave it untouched. So cautiously, she lifted her skirts past her knees, experimentally running her fingers up her inner thighs. The closer she got to that aching spot, the more her breath quickened. And just as she was about to reach closer, she stopped abruptly. No, as soon as she gives in to herself it's more likely she’s to give in to you. That couldn’t happen. That will not happen, or so she believed.

The next couple weeks were awkward, to say the least. The Queen could rarely make eye contact with you, let alone sit with you in private as you used to do. You knew it wasn’t really your fault, but you still felt guilty Alicent caught you like that. You knew she wasn’t used to pleasure, her marriage to an old man being proof enough. You felt bad for her, but you didn’t know how to help her if you even could. You tried easing into a discussion about it, but she never took the bait. You would’ve given up entirely if it weren’t for you catching her staring at you on multiple occasions. And besides, if she was offended or heard you moaning her name, you’d be a headless body right now. But the way you caught her looking at your fingers with an almost glazed over expression, you figured she wasn’t offended and uncomfortable with you, but herself. The poor woman, she didn't understand it at all, did she?

You decided to confront her later in the evening, when her other maids rested for the night and the children were asleep. Your heart thumped in your chest rapidly, scared but excited for how this conversation might turn out. You watched as she sat in her plush chair in exhaustion, looking at the window in thought. She was beautiful.

“Your Grace?” Your soft whisper almost startled Alicent if it wasn’t for the fact she was acutely aware of your presence at all times. “May I speak with you?”

Alicent shut her eyes, already knowing what you must’ve wanted to talk about. She did not want to have this conversation at all, but there was no escaping it any longer. “You may…” She spoke quietly, tensing up when you took steps closer to her, sitting on the footrest of her chair, entirely too close for comfort. It wouldn’t have bothered her before, your closeness, but all she could think about was you pleasuring yourself.

“If I can be quite blunt, your Grace…you’ve been distant these past couple weeks and it’s quite obvious why.” Alicent’s heart threatened to beat out of her chest. “I hadn’t meant you to see me like that, my Queen. I thought I was alone…”

Alicent sighed, shaking her head. “I’m the one at fault. I never should’ve barged into your chambers like that, especially without knocking. You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

“And I’ve also noticed…how you can’t keep your eyes off me since.” 

Alicent breathed in a sharp breath, her lips dipping into a frown. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I believe you’re forgetting your place.”

With a shaky exhale, you placed a trembling hand on the Queen’s clothed knee, feeling her tense immediately. “I think you do, your Grace. I may be disrespectful right now, but I can’t help but see how everyone else treats you, including the King. I can see how he doesn’t even care to make you feel loved. You deserve to be with someone who makes you feel like the only woman in the Seven Kingdoms.”

Alicent blushed brightly, whispering your name in disbelief.

“Please, let me serve you, my lady. Properly. That’s what I’m here for. I can’t see you like this any longer.” And without another word from either you nor Alicent, you delicately lifted her skirts up past her knees, smelling her obvious arousal from where you sat. She wanted this, whether she admitted it or not.

Alicent looked down at you with a conflicted expression, the soft tips of your fingers gently spreading her legs apart and tracing them up her inner thighs. Her core throbbed achingly, the guilt of sinning threatening to overwhelm her, but the feeling of you finally coming into contact with her dripping cunt making those feelings retreat to the back of her mind. So wet, you thought, bringing her face closer and licking a stripe up her slick folds. Alicent gasped at the sensation, the feeling of your tongue running up and down her sensitive flesh, making her wonder why she’d never had this done to her before.

Alicent’s moan as you circled the tip of your tongue around her clit was music to your ears, you would die a happy woman if you were able to hear her moans again and again. You needed to hear more. You used your middle finger to gently push inside her, feeling her tight walls clenching at the intrusion. She moaned your name as you thrusted your finger against her sweet spot as you lapped at her engorged clit. You could tell she was already so close, her moans raising an octave, her walls trying to push your finger out, and her hips bucking against your face. That fool of a King never made her feel this way, that much you were sure of. Could it be you’d be the first person to make her feel such pleasure?

You moaned as the Queen Alicent released on your finger and tongue, your mouth eager to taste and lap up all her sweet juices until she was licked clean. You were grinning as you pulled away, looking up at her like she was the one to put the moon and stars into the night sky. The Queen herself looked quite satisfied, a thin sheet of sweat coating her hairline, her natural curly auburn waves cascading down her body and framing her like a golden halo. Her eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated in the aftermath of her pleasure. “May I kiss you, your Grace?” But those words seemed to snap her out of whatever haze she was in, her eyes blinking rapidly, the fondness in them disappearing altogether and replaced with shame and rage.

“Leave. Now.” Alicent snapped, hastily smoothing out her skirts and pushing you away to stand. The feeling of rejection overtook the feeling of pride when you saw her legs tremble as she walked to her chamber doors, opening one and giving you a look that almost scared you. You left without another word, wondering if you should write to your family one last time before you were surely beheaded for overstepping.

You awaited death, but it never came.

Queen Alicent couldn’t stop thinking about you, no matter how much she tried to distance herself from you, you were her every waking thought. She hated feeling this way, wracked with such guilt. She couldn’t even look at her husband anymore, for fear that somehow he’d be able to sense her debaucherous acts with a servant. Her thoughts never drifted far from how amazing you made her feel, the memory of your tongue on her never failing to make her shiver. She had never desired someone so much after Rhaenyra, she never wanted to, but you invaded her mind and made a home there.

More weeks passed, you and Alicent together but never more apart. She only talked to you when she needed to, which she tried talking to other servants in your stead. It was infuriating, and it hurt. You almost regretted making your desires known, but it was done. You couldn’t change what you did. The Queen would have to decide for herself whether she wanted to continue what relationship you had on her own.

But for Alicent, it couldn’t have been further from simple. She wanted you, truly, but she’d be putting you and herself in danger if she pursued more. There were spies everywhere, and she couldn’t have any harm come to you. But every day, seeing you, it got harder to hold herself back. She needed you, and she knew you needed her just as much. At the end of the day, it wasn’t a difficult decision. She couldn’t keep herself away from you. You were shocked when she came barging into your chambers one day, without knocking once again. But she was the Queen, she didn’t have to knock.

“Your Grace.” You stood up from your bed with a startle, your heartbeat picking up at the sight of Alicent’s beautiful frame. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Alicent sighed breathily. “I didn’t know I’d be coming here.”

You raised a brow. “Why are you here, your Grace?”

Without another word, the Queen rushed to you, taking you in her arms and colliding her lips with yours in a passionate embrace. You moaned in surprise, her soft lips felt like pillowy clouds as she moved against you, bringing your body close to hers desperately. You never thought a pair of lips could feel so heavenly. “Your Grace-”

“Alicent. Call me Alicent.” She interrupted, keeping her lips close to yours, never taking her eyes off you.

“Alicent…” You whispered, “are you sure you want this? Want me?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” She spoke clearly, her big, brown, doe eyes boring into yours, making you feel like she could see into your soul. You believed her, and that was enough for you. Damn the consequences.

You surged forward, capturing her lips once again. “I’ve wanted this for an age.” You confessed against her lips, not having the will to pull away, even to tell her what you’ve wanted to say for what felt like a lifetime. “I’ve always wanted you, Alicent.”

“And I you…it took me a bit of time to figure that out. I apologize. I did not wish to be rude to you, but I was scared. I still am.”

You cupped her jaw, encouraging her to look into your eyes. “I’m scared too. But whatever happens will be worth being with you, my beautiful Queen.”

i'm team black, i swear😰

[justatypicalwizard]

Up and under | Jayce

Aracne Jayce x Zaun seamstress reader The relationship went up and under, missed chances and regrettable mistakes. If only Zaun and Piltover were not so very different places. After spending days in that pit Jayce understood that before the upcomming battle he has to make things right with you. Jayce and reader have history before the Arcane plot. This story follows the second season of Arcane but loosely. Word count: 3,5k

He really should have asked you to dance that night. Jayce thought to himself as he laid at the dark bottom, the hole he fell into. It must have been days, weeks even. His hair grew long and messy, beard scratched and muscles ached from the omnipresent cold. The broken bone was nearly mended, judging from his ability to walk.

Thrashing around the dirty floor for hours upon hours Jayce had time to think. It felt like He had never wondered before, not like that. Jayce Talis was hardly a man of overinterpreting and overthinking. He deemed himself sturdy and down to earth. Maybe if he ever took the time to properly gaze upon his doings he wouldn't be here now. Viktor wouldn't be corrupted by the hextech, Sky wouldn't be dead and the whole of Piltover wouldn't be a ruin. He could have been dancing with you, gold and silver lacing the summer night air.

It was hard to remember exactly what charity event they attended. One of the families must have been throwing a ball. It could have been related to academia, that would answer why the heck he was even there.

Jayce was standing in line, a few other men in front of him. There was a multitude of people present in one of the academia rooms that day. Fitting for tuxedos. It must have been connected to his whole year, maybe the whole academia even if so many students were gathered.

Shaking his head he sighed, it felt like ages ago, too far for his mind to stretch. Doesn't matter.

What he did remember was the line he was standing in compared to the queue for your measuring. You were there, a simple yet trustworthy bag on the desk, sewing supplies scattered all around as you were never the type to mind putting tools back on their place when working. Gold seeped through the vast windows bathing you and Viktor in a golden hue, supplying you with the natural light that was best for your work, that you didn't have back home.

Only Viktor, good old Viktor, chose to try on your tuxedo, the seamstress from Zaun. How could he not, the two of you knew each other somehow. At first Jayce thought it was the reason you were allowed into academia in the first place. Later he learned about your standing as a seamstress and a stylist. Back then he didn't give much thought to his mistake, you were a Zaunian after all. He should be ashamed.

The other stylists clicked their tongues and rolled their eyes at you, a dirty intruder in their clockwork golden world, a faulty gear. But after being pushed into a shirt with a lacy ruff squeezing his throat like a bad cold Jayce gazed with longing at your fresh and modern designs.

Viktor looked handsome, turning around slowly on his trustworthy cane. His shirt was white and seemed to be crafted with meticulous precision, from geometric pieces hugging the body of the wearer in every right way. Jayce huffed, looking back at his own yolk yellow shirt and making a mental note to ask Viktor about you later, when no one will be watching.

That's how Jayce knew the way to your workshop. It was not deep Zaun, not slums infected with The Grey nor junkie tent-cities. Yet, it was past the bridge, past what seemed socially acceptable in his cast.

Even now, when the city was half abandoned, everyone preparing for the upcoming battle, Jayce Talis b-lined his past self into your workshop. It looked different than years before. The sign was more devilish, fungi building up on the wood, the original color long gone, the edges daring to leave your fingers full of splinters. The glass was dirty and oily from the bad air. The entry door dark and unwelcoming, not even a flicker of light behind them. Jayce knew better than to turn around, he learned it that day.

Viktor gave him the directions that he followed, finding himself in front of a  small workshop. A hand-painted sign welcomed the patrons. With a little bit of hesitation he pushed the door open only to enter a nearly empty room. Apart from a few mannequins with rather odd looking dresses there was only dust hanging in the air. Jayce took a few steps forward and jumped in fear upon hearing someone's voice.

“What'cha lookin’ here for boy?” An old woman sat behind the counter. She was as still as a sculpture, easily overlooked as one of the mannequins. The tops of her white, rheumatic knuckles visible over the counter. She was clutching something under the surface.

In a peaceful manner Jayce raised his hands, slowly coming closer.

“I'm looking for a young seamstress. I need a tuxedo.” She looked Jayce up and down with a frown. “If I got the wrong address I'm sorry, I was following directions from a friend.”

“Friend who?” She pestered eying a stopwatch hanging from his pocket on a thin gold chain.

“One Viktor.” Jayce figured giving away his partner's surname to a shady Zaunian old lady most likely clutching a gun may not be the smartest idea. Instead he mimicked Viktor’s cane walk with an awkward smile.

“Down the stairs and to the right.” A clang could be heard from under the counter and a sigh left the man's lungs. As he passed the woman he saw her hungry gaze still zeroed in on the stopwatch. Jayce clutched it tighter descending the stairs.

Your head popped from under a pile of material, gaze surprised. Before you had time to ask who he was Jayce already stated his purpose. The short encounter with the old woman proved him not to test the limit of the Zaunian distrust.

“I'm here for a tuxedo.” He smiled, the atmosphere of the room lighter despite an even thicker density of dust in the air. 

“Of course.” You neared him with a measuring line but halted to gaze at the stopwatch on the thin golden chain. “On second thought, I may not have materials to your liking, sir.”

Sir. A transparent wall grew between you and him. The glint in your eye was gone, replaced with something sad.

“I can bring material, it's the design I'm more hung on honestly.” Somehow Jayce didn't want the fierceness of your gaze to drift away. He wanted to see it when you looked at him. Yet, you still didn't look sure, taking a step back and breaking your fingers. “Viktor said I should visit you, I asked who designed his set.” Maybe bringing forward a familiar name would melt the suddenly arisen tension. 

His small manipulation worked. You seemed to nod at the name, quickly shooting questions about how he knew Viktor. He briefed you on the whole academia buddies, charity event thing and soon he was taking his coat off to give you the measurements.

The dim lights were not the vast academia windows flooding you with sunlight. A cramped room full of scraps to repurpose didn't meet the standards of Piltover designer workshops. A nobody Zaunian seamstress was not a renowned stylist. Yet, Jayce Talis followed every move of your skilled fingers working on his scarcely clothed arms, admiring how small your palm looked in his.

He dragged his tired legs further into the workshop. The odd dresses merged into an odd pile of junk, mannequins arm or headless, scattered on the floor. The man pushed forward, descending the stairs. He'd love for the memories of flickering candlelight, dusty air and your little intimate space to take over him but Jayce Talis was never one to escape his mistakes. So he went forward, taking in the ruin of what was left of your workshop, of your life. These walls remember countless conversation, a multitude of moments spent together. Bits of memories when Jayce missed chance after chance for what might have changed his life.

“I want to make peoples' lives better.” He stated, unconsciously pushing his chest forward, swelling with pride. He was spending, yet another, evening in the underground of your little workshop, your little world. Lately, he could be spotted here rather often, for measuring of course. “Especially the most hard-working ones like the miners - ouch!” A pin scratched him under the shoulder blade. “Was that on purpose?” Jayce smiled, turning his head to the side to look at you, working the material on his back. “What will people think if I leave with so many scratches on my back? Ouch! This one was on purpose.”

“You're being very improper, sir.” You seemed to be controlling the transparent wall, putting it up and tearing down to your liking

“I'm sorry.” He let out a small laugh. “Shouldn't be talking like that to my friend's lady.”

“You got it all wrong.” Jayce crooked a brow at your denying. “Not all Zaunians date each other just because we know one another.”

The strong division between the under and upper city was a constant variable in the chemistry of your encounters. At that time Jayce thought it was something natural, just as the world spinned, just as day came after night, Zaun and Piltover were opposites. Only later did he realise, it was his prejudice that inflicted this schema, that evoked such a defensive mechanism in you.

“Oh.” He breathed, a tint of pink dusting his cheeks at the thought of you possibly being open for options. He caught you peeking a look at him but you turned around.

“So, miners you were saying.”

“Yes.” Coughing awkwardly, he gathered his thoughts. “Just think about all the inventions that could make their work easier. Shorter shifts with the same level of efficiency, less physical labour per hour, safer work environment. With new technology I - I mean we could make Zaun a…” He stopped, red flashing his cheeks. Once again he let his stupid tongue lap uncontrolled.

“A better place.” You defleated like a hot-air balloon after all the tourists were done with their ride. “You don't need to hide your feelings about this place. I'm used to this.” There was a bite towards the end of your words. Used but they still hurt.

“Well, you shouldn't be used to them. Zaun should be just as good a place to live as Piltover.” Then, Jayce really thought so. He looked at Viktor and he wanted the next generations of children to live a better childhood. He looked at you and wished for all the women in the undercity to feel safe and not have to keep guns under the counter of their small workshops. What he didn't see was that it might not have been an issue with Zaun only, rather the exclusivity of Piltover.

“It doesn't matter, really.” The smile was back on your face. More pins poking out of a small pillow strapped onto your wrist. Precisely cut out pieces of fabric in your fingers as you approached him with a soft look on your face. “Stay still.”

Jayce watched as you pinned the back and the front of his shirt together. You worked over his shoulders, the front of his chest, his belly area. You were close, inspecting what would soon be seams, calculating where to put them to squeeze out all the handsomeness he had to offer.

“Look up.” You commanded, putting a finger under his chin to tilt it upwards. Yet, he still looked down as your fingers worked the collar around his neck.

If he would move his head back down Jayce could meet you halfway. It was tempting, he remembered that feeling very well. His fingers itched, hands laying useless on his knees. He wanted to put them around your waist, put his lips to yours. It would be wonderful. Jayce Talis knew he had a small crush on you, a sweet little nothing. Yet, he could change that. Undoubtedly, if he grabbed you here and now, kissed you and told you how pretty you looked when focusing, his crush wouldn't stay a little nothing. It would be hard to stop it if it started. You could do it, here in the workshop. Or he could take you back to his place.

Jayce saw a scar on your forehead, faint enough to go unnoticed unless you moved very close, like he was now. What happened? Did you fall while playing as a child? Did you hit your head in the cramped space that was your workshop? Did someone do this to you? Did Zaun happen?

It was just a goddamned mark on the hairline. You might as well have been born with it, but for some reason the past Jayce felt like this was the hill he would die on.

“A - are you done?” His eyes darted upwards. You caught him red handed as he stared at you and for some time, you also stared at him. Yet, his comment made you both back away.

You nodded, patting your sides, walking away to supposedly look at something in your sketchbook.

What was he thinking? Jayce was from Piltover, a promising inventor coming from a renowned branch of academia. He worked for his success so hard and just now he wanted to get entangled with a Zaun girl just because she came close to his face.

Jayce Talis forgot he had a crush on you, he forgot all the moments he admired your skill, humuor, and person. He scolded himself for thinking with the wrong part of his body.

You guided him to a tall mirror. It was dusty but when Jayce looked into it a handsome man stared back. The clothes on his body looked fantastic, it would only take a good pair of trousers and elegant shoes to make him look like one of the most important people of Piltover. In the back he saw you, breaking your fingers.

“It's perfect.” He said.

That night Jayce left with many regrets, balancing which ones were greater - the missed chance to kiss you or the fact that he nearly jeopardized his own career with a scandal.

He never ever anticipated that Viktor of all people would get interested in his love life. As they met at the academia, moments before entering the charity event, the partners talked.

“I see that you took my advice on a seamstress.” Viktor smiled softly as only he knew how. Both of their outfits, despite obvious differences, held similarities of design. Jayce nodded and wanted to add something but Viktor continued. “You know, I asked her here tonight. Did you bring a pair?”

The other man's eyes widened. Bringing a pair to the ball was not necessary but rather a social norm, unless one was looking for a fiance. Now the ton would think he is either awkward or open for marriage.

“Now this will look funny, me with a lady and you without one.”

It was tough to stay together, the amount of patrons looking for a conversation with the promising inventors overflowing. Jayce glowed between them, starving for the attention. The world was gold with dresses and clocks, tuxedos and flowers, expensive champagne and microscopic dishes. The moon bathed the open terrace with a silvery hue. It felt like hours and millions of polite conversations later when Jayce bumped into Viktor and you.

Of course your dress was perfect. It was hand sewn by you yourself. It hugged you in all the right places, bringing out your beauty. Tonight you didn't look like a girl from the undercity. Yet, there was something off. Like a chameleon you merged with the crowd but it only took a few steps closer to see something was wrong. It may have been the cheapness of the fabric that you crafted your dress from. Obviously you wouldn't have the money to buy equally soft and luxurious material as the one Jayce brought to your workshop days ago. Or your hair, too roughly cut for a Piltover lady. The fact that you looked a bit lost, clutching onto Viktor's arm as if he was a lighthouse amidst a storm. Maybe that's why people left you alone.

You asked for a moment so Viktor promised to wait for you. In the meantime he turned to Jayce.

“Busy night, isn't it?” He started, visibly tired, relying on his cane more and more.

“Yes.” Jayce nodded, whipping his head around to see if anyone else wished to talk to him.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Viktor might have as well grown another head, from how surprised Jayce looked. “You see, I'm not much of a dancer as you could guess.” He tapped the tiled floor with his cane. “Would you mind taking her to the dancefloor, only once. I saw how she looked at the other pairs.”

Viktor wanted him to dance with you. Dance, keep you close while twirling around. Put a hand on your waist and look into your eyes. Lead you into the curious crowd. He was ready to say yes and a split second from running away from his friend. The thought of dancing with you didn't even cross his mind that was too occupied with the opulence of the night. Now, when Viktor planted the image, he couldn't stop his mind from running.

“Hello.” You greeted him politely, coming back from the ladies room. Jayce looked at you and nearly melted like the ice statue some person of doubtful intelligence thought of bringing tonight.

“So?” Viktor pushed, stepping closer, leaning into Jayce's ear so that only he would hear him. “She really likes you.”

There was hope in Viktor's eyes, hope for Jayce being smarter than stereotypes. As a Zaunian himself Viktor knew what it meant to get your strings cut when someone learned about your place of birth, how it felt to get judged solely on the basis of upper or undercity. That's why he hoped that Jayce could put aside such artificial prejudice. Unfortunately Viktor was wrong, it would take years for Jayce to understand his mistake.

“I should really get going, the patrons won't wait for me unless I catch them.” He smiled awkwardly nodding his head at you and turned in his heel to merge into the crowd.

“I see.” Viktor whispered, squeezing your palm just as disappointment squeezed his heart.

For the rest of the night Jayce Talis felt like suffocating. Nothing was the same, the conversations were off, the lights were too bright, the alcohol too light. He blamed it on the late hour, he must have been tired after spending the whole day running around the academia. He really didn't want to admit that what he felt was shame and guilt.

After the ball night Jayce only saw you amongst others. You merged with the background of what created Viktor’s person and stayed there. Only after spending days at the pit bottom of a ruined Piltover Jayce accepted his feelings. They never really died out, he pushed them down his throat forcefully and pretended you never existed. Then came his career that filled in the hole. Later came Mel - a trophy that made him swell with pride. Such a powerful woman chose him out of everyone. Maybe if he wasn't so handsome he would grow out smarter.

After coming back to Piltover Jayce wanted to close many chapters in his book, afraid that soon fate will most likely cut his story short. He wanted to make his wrongs right, to die with a consciousness even only slightly lighter than what he felt now. So he knew he had to find you, to tell you the truth.

It took him past the workshop, past the counter and down the stairs into the room once packed with fabric and sketchbooks. Now it was a ghost town. You most likely gave away everything that you had to aid the upcoming battle. Were you even here? You could as well take the hexgate to a better place, find a new workshop, get a new life, new friends and a new man, one that would be honest with you. Yet, something inside him told Jayce he would find you here, and he did.

Your head emerged from under one of the empty desks. You hid upon hearing someone descend the stairs, but you came out when you saw him. So still, after all these years the betrayed girl from Zaun trusted Jayce Talis.

“Jayce?”

It was a rhetorical question, nonetheless one very appropriate. He looked so different. His hair grew out, he had a beard and a sharp look on his features, nothing like the charismatic, warm inventor-boy. Carrying the hammer, heavy like his guilt, made Jayce bigger, more manly and sturdy, more closed and reserved.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“What are you doing here?” He might as well reverse the question. You should be long gone, not carry his mistakes and risk your life in this burning hole.

“I couldn't leave.” There was anger on your tired face. Jayce always knew what to say to sour your mood.

“Then I guess fate gave me another chance to make things clear.” He said more to himself than to you.

You did not understand his words. You did not understand when he came closer. You did not understand when he sank above you, the guilt and burden bringing his shoulders down.

“I'm sorry.”

Jayce said and kissed you, wishing for all that he meant to echo through his lips. It must have, because you put your palms on his cheeks and pushed into his chest showing that there was still one last person in all of the world who wanted him.

[silversodas]

The Fairy Department Really Screwed Peri

Just to get it out of the way I am glad I was wrong about Peri being no contact with Cosmo and Wanda but he did seem to be low contact with them and does seem to have some issues with them, like look how he reacts to seeing them face to face for the first time

Like dude, why are you holding your cane/wand like a crucifix holding off a demon? We do learn later that it’s because they are pretty clingy and still see Peri as their baby.

It’s obvious Peri wants to be taken seriously by his parents and wants their respect, if him wanting to go into the family business is anything to go by.

And you know what? He was actually doing everything right. What screwed him was getting a hard case child AS HIS FIRST GODCHILD!! Bro was basically thrown to the wolfs! And it’s not Dev himself that makes him a hard case, it’s his home life. To me what makes a kid a hard case is a kid with a neglectful parent or parents. Why is this screwing over Peri other then the obvious reasons? Well what is a Godparent?

A Godparent (in short) act as a spiritual teacher (life coach) for the child and fill in the parental role when the actual parent no longer can. Cosmo and Wanda are already acting as life coaches, in a way. Hazel has good parents and doesn’t need Cosmo and Wanda to fill the parental role, but you know who is currently not filling his parental role? That’s right Dale dick-ass! So Peri’s first ever Godkid is someone he is going to have to straight up raise and move on from and that sucks!

That might be a slow build though. From what I see, Dev does not trust Peri vary much (yet). Dev has two shields, treating people badly, and his sunglasses

He wares his sunglasses to avoid feeling vulnerable or open, and before making up with Hazel at the museum he wore them the entire time around Peri, the only time he seems comfortable enough to have them off is around Hazel. But he did seem to feel comfortable enough around Peri to not wear them during their visit to Cosmo and Wanda’s apartment, but maybe that’s because Hazel was there?

Though he is not attached to Peri like he is to Hazel, I can tell he is gonna get super attached to Peri, look at this!

Peri is just giving him a hug and boy looks like he just saw God!!