#go give hex hell

[legacyofthedamneddsaf]

Harry! Do you know (or care) where roger and Jake are?

[sthilarions]

When Charles declared himself The Brawn, they both thought they both knew what it meant.

It’s a full year later, when Charles throws himself in front of a cursed bullet meant for Edwin and Edwin is toweringly furious, that they realize there may have been a miscommunication.

“I’m the one who gives and takes the hits! That’s my job! That’s my whole point!”

“I agreed for you to be the one who deals out blows, Charles, but that does not mean I can not take them! I spent seventy years in Hell, I am not delicate. I can take a hit.”

He can. Charles has seen Edwin be burned by iron without even noticing, go through pain with barely a flinch that would have had Charles himself writhing.

“I know you can, Eds, but you don’t have to. I can do it. That’s what I’m for.”

Edwin’s body is rigid, his eyes icy and fiery at once. “That is not what you are for. Your purpose is to be my partner, to be a detective, and to hit people with blunt objects periodically. It is not to throw yourself in the way of things I am perfectly capable of handling. You do not have to do that. I would never ask you to do that.”

“Well, maybe I want to.”

They don’t resolve it that night. It is, in fact, one of very few nights of their partnership where the sun rises on them still angry.

Over the next decades, though, they fall into patterns. Because Charles does want to protect Edwin, with all his heart, and Edwin finds he can’t refuse anything Charles wants. (And, perhaps, as much as Edwin doesn’t need it, the idea that someone wants to spare him pain - wants him to feel safe, in an existence defined by fear - maybe there is something appealing about that. Maybe.)

So Charles gives the hits and takes them, standing out front and brawling while Edwin chants spells behind. And when he is afraid, Edwin runs, faster than Charles, knowing Charles will be there to guard his back.

And if sometimes Edwin breaks their pattern - grabs the blade of an iron sword with his bare hands as it slashes down towards an insensate Charles, twirls his way in front of a torturing hex as it hurtles at Charles’s back - well. What Charles doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

[solxamber]

Fairytales and Fever Dreams - Vil Schoenheit x reader

When you decide to beg a fairy for help at your lowest point, you didn't expect that he'd decide to help you— at the cost of you making skincare for him.

You’re a mage at the academy, and life has officially declared war on you. Seriously. You’re about this close to having a full-on breakdown, the kind where they find you cackling in the library while surrounded by half-finished spell scrolls. One more minor inconvenience and you swear, you’re going to walk out onto the quad, set fire to the herbology building, and just stand there, staring blankly as it burns, sipping tea.

And why? Because you have four—count them—four finals on the same day. You don’t know who pissed in the universe’s cereal, but apparently, you’re the one paying for it.

"Okay, it’s fine," you mutter to yourself while chewing on the end of a quill. "You just need one little miracle. Just a small one. Like, I don’t know, a meteor wiping out the school. Or the headmaster spontaneously combusting. Something normal like that."

But then, you remember the rumor—the kind of rumor people whisper about when they’re this close to a mental collapse. Oh yes, the whispered tale of the fairies in the forest at the edge of town. Supposedly, if you bring an offering to the fairies, they’ll grant you a wish. Any wish. No strings attached.

You snort. It’s probably a load of magical nonsense. But considering your current state of sleep deprivation (and let’s be honest, mild hysteria), you’re willing to give it a shot. Desperate times and all that.

So, you scrape together the fanciest honey and milk your student budget can manage, which is probably a 5/10 by fairy standards but hey, beggars can’t be choosers. You pack it up in a basket like some weird, broke Little Red Riding Hood and trudge out to the forest.

The second you arrive, you’re not even trying to be subtle or respectful about it. No, you go straight to begging.

“Please, fairies, PLEASE!” You fall to your knees dramatically, waving the basket around like you’re presenting some holy relic. “I’m begging you. I need help. I haven’t slept in three days, I’m running on a liter of coffee and sheer spite, and if I fail one more class, I’m gonna have to turn myself into a toad and live under a rock. Just—just one wish, that’s all I’m asking!”

It’s bad. Like, so bad, you’re half-expecting some animal to come along and put you out of your misery out of sheer secondhand embarrassment.

But then, there’s this rustling sound behind you, and when you look up, someone is standing there.

Correction: the prettiest person you’ve ever seen is standing there.

He’s tall, ethereal, and glowing—literally glowing, like he bathes in moonlight and stardust. His hair’s all silky and perfect, his skin looks like it’s never heard of acne, and the expression on his face tells you that he’s about two seconds away from calling security on you.

“Why, exactly,” he starts, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow that could cut glass, “are you kneeling in front of my forest and making this embarrassing display?”

You blink. Several things occur to you all at once:

1. Fairies are real. Huh. You thought you were just being insane.

2. Holy hell, he’s the most beautiful person (fairy?) you’ve ever seen.

3. Wait—his forest?

You quickly wipe the pathetic tears from your face and stumble to your feet. “A-are you… a fairy?”

“No, I’m a sentient dust bunny,” he deadpans. “Yes, of course, I’m a fairy. What are you even doing here?”

You hesitate. He’s giving off serious annoyed model on a runway vibes, and you’re not sure if he’s going to hex you out of his forest or just roll his eyes so hard that you get flung into another dimension.

“I, uh… finals,” you mumble, the tears starting to well up again. “Four finals. Same day. And I haven’t slept. I’m one failed exam away from permanently turning into a raccoon.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like your existence is just too much for him. “And you thought the best course of action was to come here and… grovel?”

You nod pathetically. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

For a moment, he looks like he’s about to just walk away, leaving you to your breakdown. But then his eyes narrow, and he points at your backpack. “What’s that?”

“Huh?” You look down and see the sunscreen bottle sticking out. “Oh, uh, that’s just something I made. I’ve been working on a skincare formula for sensitive skin.”

He steps closer, plucking it from your bag with the grace of someone used to handling priceless artifacts. “Skincare, you say?” He opens it, sniffing it cautiously before dabbing a bit onto the back of his hand. His eyes light up for a second, and you swear you hear an angelic choir in the background. “Hm. Not bad. A bit of a lavender undertone. Smooth texture. SPF 50?”

You nod. “Y-yeah.”

He looks back at you, and for the first time since he appeared, you see the barest hint of approval on his face. “It’s hard to find good skincare products these days, even among the fairies.”

You’re not sure how to respond. Is this your life now? Trading finals survival for skincare tips with a beautiful fairy?

“Well,” he says, still admiring the product, “I suppose I could grant you one wish. One. But only if you agree to make more of these skincare products for me.”

“Really?” You blink, not entirely believing your luck. “You’ll help me?”

He gives you a sidelong glance, a smirk playing on his lips. “I don’t do charity. But your skincare is adequate. And it’s not every day I meet someone this close to unraveling. It’s almost entertaining.”

You stare at him, mouth hanging open like a fish. “Deal. Deal. I’ll make you whatever skincare you want, just get me through these finals.”

He gives a nod, satisfied. “Then we have a deal.”

And just like that, you’ve somehow bartered your way out of academic doom with a fairy obsessed with sun protection. Let’s hope this arrangement works out better than the rest of your life so far.

Apparently, fairies like Vil don’t believe in things like cheating or, you know, the basic decency of using magic to fix your problems instantly. No, that would be too easy. And Vil—your very pretty, very exasperating new fairy overlord—has decided that the best way to help you pass your finals is to tutor you personally.

His price? One skincare product per lesson. And you, being surprisingly decent at making potions and cosmetics (alchemy major, what else), agreed because, at the time, you thought, How hard could it be?

Sweet summer child. You had no idea what you were getting into.

Because Vil? He’s not just strict. He’s villain origin story strict. His “tutoring” is so intense, so grueling, that you’re starting to wonder if he’s secretly training you for some kind of sadistic mage boot camp. At one point, you fail a poison-brewing technique, and he makes you redo it. Then again. And again. And again.

By the fifteenth attempt, you’re seriously contemplating bottling the poison and taking a little sip just to see what happens.

“Again,” Vil says, his voice icily calm, like he hasn’t just been watching you fail for an hour straight.

“I think I’m seeing stars,” you mutter, staring at the cauldron. “Should potions be giving me a near-death experience?”

“Focus,” he says, completely unfazed by your descent into madness. “If you can’t even get this basic potion right, I have serious concerns about your competency as a mage.”

You’re on the verge of a mental breakdown. One more failed attempt, and you’re going to throw yourself off the nearest cliff. Or better yet—turn yourself into a toad and hop into a pot of boiling water. Anything to escape the relentless perfectionism of Vil Schoenheit.

“Maybe I’ll just hex myself into a mushroom and live out the rest of my life in peace,” you grumble under your breath as you stir the potion yet again.

“ What was that?”

“Nothing!” You stir faster.

To your utter shock, the potion finally turns the right color. You’ve done it. You’ve successfully brewed the poison, and it only took, what, half your lifespan?

Vil inspects it with a critical eye, and after a long, painful pause, he says, “Acceptable.”

“Acceptable?!” You want to scream. This is the culmination of blood, sweat, tears, and the remnants of your sanity, and all he has to say is acceptable?

“Yes, acceptable,” Vil repeats, as if your suffering isn’t the most amusing thing he’s seen all week. “You’ll need to refine your technique, of course, but this will suffice for now.”

You groan, head in your hands. “I’m going to transmute myself into a sock and live in someone’s laundry basket.”

But here’s the kicker: despite all of Vil’s strictness, he’s actually the nicest person (fairy?) you’ve ever met. You don’t know if that’s pathetic or straight-up depressing, but still, it’s true. He’s picky, yes, but he cares.

Apparently, Vil has a radar for poor life choices because one day, after what feels like your 57th failed poison attempt, he takes one look at the sad pile of instant noodles and energy drinks cluttering your desk and clicks his tongue in disapproval.

"You've been eating this?" He gestures at the disaster that is your meal—a cup of ramen sitting next to an open bag of questionable chips. His expression could curdle milk. "Do you actually value your internal organs, or are you trying to audition for the role of a trash panda?"

You blink, staring at your gourmet spread, and then back at him. "Excuse me, I’ll have you know, this is an advanced student diet. We run on caffeine and MSG."

He raises an eyebrow. "You’re not running on anything. You’re sputtering at best."

You open your mouth to argue, but then glance down at the pathetic excuse for food in front of you. Okay. Fine. Maybe you are sputtering. But what are you supposed to do, handcraft five-course meals between four finals and Vil’s poison-torture sessions?

Vil sighs dramatically, as if your very existence is a personal affront. "I’m not letting you continue this… self-destruction. You’re going to eat real food even if it kills you." He waves a hand, and suddenly a basket of the most beautiful, vibrant fruits and vegetables you've ever seen appears out of thin air. It's like the entire organic section of a high-end grocery store, but, you know, without the soul-crushing price tags.

"Where did you even get all this?" you ask, poking suspiciously at a particularly shiny apple. "Did you steal it from some enchanted Whole Foods?"

Vil glares at you like you’ve personally insulted his lineage. "I foraged it from my forest, you uncultured turnip."

You blink. "I’m a potato now, and a turnip? What’s next? Are we making a root vegetable salad?"

Vil rolls his eyes. "No, we’re making something that doesn’t resemble a cry for help. Get to it."

You sigh, but with Vil watching like a disapproving food critic, you figure you might as well try to impress him. You rummage through the basket, grab a few ingredients, and somehow manage to throw together a halfway decent stir-fry. You may be broke, but you can cook. It’s one of the few things that hasn't gone completely sideways in your life.

You serve it up with a flourish, smirking a little. "Voilà, a proper meal. Happy now?"

Vil inspects the plate with his usual level of judgment. You half-expect him to whip out a magnifying glass and start searching for flaws. Finally, he takes a bite, chews thoughtfully, and then gives you a rare, grudging nod of approval.

"Surprisingly competent for someone who survives on garbage," he says, in what you can only assume is Vil’s version of high praise.

"Wow, a compliment. I feel blessed," you deadpan, but you’re grinning. It’s not every day you get validation from a fairy with standards so high he probably judges oxygen.

Vil continues eating, and you join him, secretly proud of the fact that you managed to cook something that didn’t send him into a rant about toxins and poor life choices. For a moment, the two of you sit in companionable silence, just… eating. It’s weirdly nice.

After you both finish, Vil leans back, looking mildly satisfied. "If you continue to feed yourself like a proper human being," he says, "you might actually survive your finals."

"Yeah, well, if I keep spending time with you, I might also survive on sheer fear," you mutter.

He smiles, that rare, dazzling smile that makes your brain short-circuit for a moment. "Fear is a good motivator. But I expect more than just survival from you. I expect excellence."

You groan. "You know, for a fairy who showed up because of my embarrassing begging, you sure do expect a lot."

Vil just smirks. "You begged for help. I’m making sure you don’t embarrass yourself further by failing."

"Touché," you admit, stuffing another bite of food into your mouth to avoid further conversation.

You know, maybe being insulted by the prettiest fairy in existence while eating fresh, organic food isn’t the worst thing that’s happened to you.

But soon enough, it was back to work. After the food debacle, you whipped up a fresh batch of moisturizer for him. It’s something you’ve done a thousand times before, so you’re not expecting much.

Then Vil tries it. And his entire face lights up like you’ve just handed him the elixir of eternal youth.

“This is… impressive,” he says, his voice soft with genuine surprise. “It’s incredibly hydrating, and the texture is—” He pauses, then flashes you a smile that’s so dazzling, it practically sparkles. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

And then, out of nowhere, he leans over and kisses you on the cheek.

You freeze.

Your brain flatlines.

“Wha—Did you just—?”

Vil pulls back, completely unfazed by the fact that he just KISSED YOU. “If you continue to make products of this quality, I may have to keep you around longer.”

Your heart is still trying to restart, but you manage to nod. “Yeah… yeah, sure. Skincare. I can do that.”

You stare at him, wondering if this is real life or if you’ve just died and gone to some bizarre, fairy-run skincare hell. Because if that’s what’s happening, it’s starting to feel weirdly okay. Especially with the way he’s smiling at you.

And as you walk away, still reeling, you catch yourself thinking, Is dropping out of the academy to become Vil’s personal skincare maker really such a bad idea?

Honestly? With a smile like that? You’re starting to think it’s the best idea.

You’ve finally survived—ahem mastered—the hell that was poisons and advanced magical theory under Vil’s terrifyingly perfect supervision. You can now confidently brew lethal concoctions and analyze obscure spells without mentally cursing out every deity you can name. That’s progress. But of course, your next subject is Magical Beasts, and because life apparently hates you, it’s your worst one yet.

When you express this to Vil, expecting some helpful advice or perhaps even a break (hah, wishful thinking), he just waves a hand dismissively.

“I’ll ask a friend for help,” he says simply.

And that’s how you end up in the presence of the most extra fairy you’ve ever seen in your life. (Okay, you’ve met a grand total of two fairies, but still.)

The fairy in question bursts into your study room in a whirlwind of sparkles and sheer chaos, trailing a cloud of rose petals and the distinct scent of overly expensive perfume. He’s tall and elegant, his wings shimmering with iridescent hues, and before you can so much as blink, he’s speaking a mile a minute in a mix of French and pure gibberish.

“Mon cher! Quelle horreur! This room is an insult to aesthetics! Non, non, I simply cannot work in these conditions!” he cries dramatically, gesturing wildly at your meticulously organized notes.

You blink. “…What?”

But he’s already prancing around, rearranging your books and scattering glitter like some kind of deranged fairy godmother. Then, with zero transition, Rook starts rambling about magical beasts and their habitats in a way that has your head spinning. One minute he’s critiquing your choice of ink color (“Black? How dull!”), and the next he’s rattling off obscure beast facts with the enthusiasm of a caffeinated professor.

“The Hippogriff prefers moonlight baths! Ah, and the Knarl must be serenaded with music, or it will—how you say?—stab you!” he chirps, waving his delicate hands around in a way that seems more dangerous than helpful.

You’re sitting there, bewildered and slightly concerned for your sanity. “Wait, wait, wait, so—hold up, what do I do if a Knarl shows up in the daytime?”

Rook stares at you like you’ve just asked if water is wet. “Why, you run, of course!” Then he bursts into laughter, as if this is the funniest joke he’s ever heard.

By the end of the afternoon, you’ve lost count of the number of strange and sometimes horrifying tidbits he’s thrown at you. You’re pretty sure you’ve somehow become an expert in magical beast theory without consciously realizing it, and the sheer absurdity of the situation is enough to make you feel like your brain’s been hijacked.

“And that,” the fairy declares with a dramatic twirl, “is how you tame a Chimaera!”

You blink, staring at your notes, which are now a colorful mess of drawings, beast diagrams, and snippets of what you hope are actual instructions and not just fashion advice. “…I feel like I’ve learned a lot. But also absolutely nothing.”

“Perfect!” he crows. “You have done magnifique!”

Before you can process what the heck just happened, you decide to thank him the only way you know how: by giving him a small, beautifully-packaged vial of a custom serum. You’ve worked hard on this formula, combining the best of alchemy and skincare magic, and as soon as you hand it to him, his eyes go wide.

“Pour moi? C’est incroyable!” He clutches it dramatically to his chest, as if you’ve just gifted him a crown jewel. Then, without warning, he’s leaning in way too close, inspecting your face with an intensity that borders on obsessive. “Mon Dieu, you are a true artiste! So beautiful! So—”

“Excuse me,” a low, frosty voice cuts in.

You turn just in time to see Vil gliding over, expression smooth but eyes narrowed. With the grace of a professional diplomat (or maybe a particularly possessive cat), he slips between the two of you, placing a firm hand on the other fairy’s shoulder and gently guiding him away from your personal space.

“Thank you for your assistance, Rook,” Vil says with a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We appreciate your expertise, but I believe that’s enough for today.”

Rook pouts but finally relents. He throws one last, longing glance at your serum and then at you, as if you’re both equally captivating. “Ah, c’est dommage… I shall return!” With that, he flits off, leaving you standing there, more confused than ever.

You turn to Vil, raising an eyebrow. “Uh… thanks?”

But Vil isn’t looking at you like a savior. No, he’s looking at you like you’ve just betrayed his entire bloodline.

“Excuse me,” you ask, blinking in confusion. “Did… did I do something wrong?”

“You,” Vil says slowly, his voice dangerously soft, “are my skincare human.”

You stare at him. “Um. What?”

“Mine.” Vil’s gaze flickers pointedly between you and the direction Rook flew off in, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I did not agree to share your talents with anyone else.”

Oh. Oh.

“Vil,” you say, a grin spreading across your face despite yourself. “Are you… jealous?”

The way his expression shifts from imperious to indignant would almost be funny if it weren’t so incredibly satisfying. “Jealous?” he scoffs, tossing his hair back with a haughty flick. “Don’t be absurd.”

You glance pointedly at the pink tips of his ears, which are steadily darkening into a bright red.

“Riiight,” you say slowly. “Totally not jealous at all. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m not,” he insists, crossing his arms, but his voice is just a fraction too defensive.

“Sure, sure,” you say with a mock-serious nod, fighting to keep a straight face. “It’s just that, you know, your ears are kind of giving you away.”

Vil sputters, shooting you a glare that could melt glass. “You—!”

“I’m just saying!” you chirp, smirking as you lean back. “I’m your skincare human. Got it, boss.”

He narrows his eyes, but the flush on his ears betrays him. “Remember it,” he huffs, turning sharply on his heel. “And don’t you dare give away my products to anyone else without consulting me first.”

You watch him stalk off, your grin widening. Maybe studying under Vil isn’t so bad after all.

Finally, your last subject: Offensive Magic. You’re almost at the finish line, but there’s one little problem. Apparently, dueling Vil or Rook is a fast track to the afterlife, and you aren’t too keen on becoming a cautionary tale.

That’s how you find yourself facing off against the youngest of the bunch—a fairy named Epel. He looks as thrilled to be there as you are, which is to say, not at all.

“Vil made me do this,” he mutters under his breath, glaring at nothing in particular.

You quickly realize that Epel’s main emotion is mild resentment, which honestly? Relatable.

The duel begins, and you’re expecting something simple—maybe some low-level spells, something to pad out your barely passing grades. But then Epel smirks, lifts his hand, and suddenly, half the field explodes in a brilliant display of magic that has you rethinking your life choices. Like, seriously reconsidering everything that led you to this exact moment.

You’re left standing there, jaw practically on the floor as bits of dirt rain down around you. “Holy shit,” you breathe. “You’re so cool.”

Epel freezes. His eyes dart to you, clearly shocked by the praise, and he suddenly looks a lot less surly. “...Really?”

“Yeah! That was amazing! I didn’t even know you could do that!”

He rubs the back of his neck, trying to hide a smile. “Well, I’ve been practicing…”

And just like that, you’re friends. Bonded over the mutual understanding that Offensive Magic is both terrifying and awesome when Epel’s involved.

Later that day, after a lesson where you actually didn’t almost explode yourself (personal growth!), you, Vil, and Epel are lounging in the forest. Rook’s off doing...whatever mysterious thing he does, leaving you all in relative peace. You’re casually chatting about the lessons when Epel, totally offhandedly, drops the biggest bomb of the century.

“Yeah, well, you’re pretty lucky the king of the fairies decided to help you out.”

You blink. “The what?”

Epel gives you a look like you’ve just asked if the moon was real. “The king of the fairies. You know, Vil.”

You almost choke. “Vil’s the king of the fairies?” Your voice cracks like you’ve hit puberty again.

Vil, lounging nearby, doesn’t even flinch. “Didn’t I mention that?”

“NO. YOU DIDN’T.”

“Well, now you know.”

You stare at him, mind reeling. “I’ve been—wait—what in the Sevens—you’re the king of the fairies? And you just—casually tutor people? Like it’s no big deal?!”

Vil sighs, flipping through a book as if this is the most normal thing in the world. “I thought it was obvious.”

“It was not obvious!” You’re flailing at this point, and Epel is snickering behind his hand, clearly enjoying your existential crisis.

Vil’s still cool as a cucumber, but when you stammer, “No wonder you’re the most beautiful fairy I’ve ever seen,” you catch the faintest flicker of a smirk on his face. He straightens up just a little bit, clearly preening at the compliment.

Rook suddenly appears out of nowhere, laughing like he’s just witnessed the funniest thing in his life. “Ah! How charming! Our humble little mage finally sees the light!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumble, feeling your face heat up. “This is too much. My brain can’t handle this.”

The lesson ends, and you decide to thank Vil the only way you know how—by crafting him a night cream as a parting gift. You’ve gotten pretty good at making skincare, and you can tell he’s been eyeing this particular blend.

But then, in a rare moment of what can only be described as vulnerability, Vil hands you the jar and says, “Could you…apply it for me?”

You freeze. “Huh?”

He’s holding it out to you, but he’s not meeting your eyes, and—wait, are his hands shaking? You squint. Is he nervous?

Nah. Can’t be. Vil doesn’t do nervous.

“Sure,” you say, trying not to overthink it. You take the jar and start gently massaging the cream into his flawless skin. Vil closes his eyes, and for a moment, it’s almost…peaceful.

“You’re really good at this,” he murmurs.

You smile to yourself, oblivious to the emotional storm brewing inside him. “Thanks! I’ve been practicing.”

What you don’t realize is that this was your last lesson. Vil knows this. And for some reason, it’s hitting him hard. He’s spent all this time tutoring you, teaching you everything he knows, and now…you won’t need him anymore. You won’t come back. You’ll pass your exams and move on with your life, leaving him behind. And the thought of that—it stings more than he wants to admit.

Meanwhile, you’re completely unaware of his inner turmoil, humming to yourself as you finish applying the cream. “There you go. All set!”

You stretch, packing up your things, already mentally planning your next skincare batch for him. “Well, I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Wait.” Vil’s voice is soft, almost hesitant. You blink as he suddenly pulls you into a hug, catching you completely off guard.

“Uh…Vil?”

He’s holding you tightly, and when he speaks, his voice is a little sad. “Good luck.”

You frown, confused. “Why do you sound so sad? I'll pass my exams for sure after all your help.”

He doesn’t respond. You shrug and hug him back, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Alright, see you later, drama king.”

And with that, you stroll off, leaving Vil standing there, still holding on to the weight of his unspoken feelings.

Rook, watching from a distance, smiles knowingly. “Ah, how bittersweet…”

Epel just rolls his eyes. “Man, this is like watching a soap opera.”

You passed your exams. Scratch that—you topped them. You’re basically an academic legend now, leaving everyone wondering what kind of ancient god you made a pact with. The professors are whispering your name like you’re some ancient prodigy who’s been secretly acing exams since the dawn of time.

Naturally, you’ve decided to celebrate by making your magnum opus: the most legendary lip balm the world has ever seen. The kind of balm that could revive a dying star, or, more realistically, soothe the chapped lips of a certain fussy fairy.

With your glorious lip balm in hand, you set off to the forest to see Vil. The path is familiar, and yet, today something feels... off. The trees look droopy, the flowers are wilting—like someone forgot to water this whole section of the forest.

“Oh, great,” you mutter, stepping over a vine that looks like it’s given up on life. “Did everyone just forget what hydration is?”

When you reach Vil’s cottage, your gut instinct kicks into overdrive.

Something’s wrong. Really wrong. Your heart is racing. You knock once. Twice. Still nothing. Panic sets in, and before you know it, you’re knocking the door clean off its hinges in your haste.

“Oops,” you whisper, but there’s no time to dwell on it because you see someone on the bed. It’s Vil, and he’s looking about as far from his usual flawless self as you’ve ever seen. He’s feverish, pale, and frankly, it kind of looks like he's dying.

“Vil!” you rush over, shaking him gently. He opens his eyes, squinting at you like you’re an overly bright light in the middle of his fever dream.

“I didn’t know hallucinations could be so vivid,” he mumbles, his voice hoarse.

“What hallucinations? I’m real!” You’re practically crying now, shaking him harder. He just smiles faintly, completely convinced that you’re some fever-induced mirage.

Fantastic. Not only is he sick, but he also thinks you’re a figment of his imagination.

Frantically, you start brewing a cooling potion, your hands shaking as you mix the ingredients. Vil just watches you with a dazed, slightly amused expression, like he’s impressed that his hallucination has such a good grasp on potion-making.

“I’m real,” you repeat, as you pour the potion down his throat. He gives a tiny nod before slipping back into unconsciousness.

Cue full-on panic mode. You don’t know what’s happening or why Vil’s like this, so you do the only thing you can think of—you send a carrier pigeon to Rook, because of course fairies don’t have phones.

Rook shows up in record time, practically gliding into the cottage like some kind of majestic hunting bird. He takes one look at the pitiful scene—Vil feverish and weak, you hovering like an anxious mother hen—and smiles.

“Oh, he’s heartbroken,” Rook declares, as if that explains everything.

“Heartbroken?!” you echo, disbelief dripping from every syllable. “I saw him two days ago, and he was fine. How could he be heartbroken in two days?!”

“Ah,” Rook says, his eyes twinkling with dramatic flair, “fairies can only fall in love once, and when they do, they fall hard. He thought you wouldn’t return after your exams. He was suffering in silence, believing you’d move on without him.”

You stare at Rook, dumbfounded. “Is he blind?!” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been horrendously in love with him since day one! How could he not notice?”

Rook just beams at you, like you’ve confirmed his favorite romantic theory. “Ah, l’amour. So tragic, yet so beautiful.”

At this point, you’re ready to throw your hands up in frustration. How does Vil not notice? You’ve been making him skincare products, practically living in his cottage, and hovering over him like a lovesick puppy. Could he really think you were just going to leave? But of course, Vil—being Vil—had assumed you’d outgrow him and move on to something better, leaving him behind like a discarded serum bottle.

With renewed determination, you take care of Vil, nursing him back to health with potions and plenty of water. You even manage to coax him to eat something other than the fairy equivalent of air-dried kale. Slowly, he starts looking more like himself, his fever fading and his color returning. But when he finally wakes up, fully lucid, his eyes widen in shock.

“You... you’re real?” he whispers, staring at you like you’re some miraculous vision.

“Yes, I’m real,” you huff, crossing your arms. “And I made this.” You pull out the lip balm you’ve been working on, your prized creation. You swipe some on your lips and then lean down to kiss him.

Vil blinks, stunned into silence. After a moment, a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “That’s... a surprisingly effective balm.”

You grin, feeling the tension melt away. “Maybe you should test it again.”

Vil wastes no time, pulling you in for another kiss, his lips soft and cool from the balm. He kisses you a second time, then a third—because, well, it’s important to make sure the balm has long-lasting effects, right?

But then, you pull back slightly, the grin slipping from your face. “Vil, I... I passed all my exams. I even got an offer to move to the capital.”

Vil’s entire body tenses. His hands, still resting on your waist, tighten slightly as his eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place—fear? Dread? Whatever it is, it’s like a storm cloud settling over him.

“Oh.” His voice is soft, but there’s a weight to it, like he’s bracing himself for the inevitable. “I see.”

You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself so carefully, as if preparing for you to tell him you’re leaving. That you’re going to take the offer and disappear from his life, just like he feared. He’s already trying to let you go, even as his hands tremble slightly against your waist. It hits you all at once—how terrified he must have been, thinking you’d leave him behind.

For a moment, you just watch him, your heart aching at the sight of his barely concealed distress. And then, finally, you say, “I declined the offer.”

Vil’s breath catches. His eyes snap up to yours, wide with disbelief. “You... you what?”

You smile, leaning in closer. “I declined. I’m not going anywhere, Vil. In fact...” You take a deep breath, your grin widening. “I’m opening a skincare shop right here, on the edge of the forest. And I’m going to live here. With you. No arguments.”

For a moment, Vil just stares at you, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Then, slowly, the tension in his body dissolves, replaced by pure, unfiltered relief. His hands, which had been shaking moments ago, steady as they pull you closer, wrapping you in a tight embrace.

“You’re staying?” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m staying,” you confirm, your heart swelling at the way he’s holding you, like he’s afraid to let go.

Vil presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice so soft, you almost miss it.

Your heart skips a beat. You smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too, drama king.”

Vil huffs out a small, breathy laugh, pulling you down into the bed with him, his arms wrapped securely around you. For a moment, everything is still, peaceful, as you lie there together, tangled in each other’s arms. Neither of you says a word, content just to hold each other, the weight of the past few days finally lifting.

And as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a sense of warmth, knowing that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be—by Vil’s side, where you’ve always belonged.

I'm so deeply in love with this man it's kinda embarrassing

Masterlist

[prythianpages]

I Put A Spell On You | Acotar x Witch Reader

━━━━━━•───⋅☽𖤐☾⋅───•━━━━━

[season of the witch masterlist]

summary: You, a witch, perform a ritual over your mate.

warnings: witchy rituals, Az being smitten with Green Witch, suggestiveness for Cas's bc he's horny for Love Witch, and a bit of Eris being soft for his Chaos witch.

a/n: Happy Summerween! This is inspired by the meme "hot witch wife and me doing whatever the hell she wants" that came from the gif above. Only Azriel, Cassian and Eris are included in this. Idek if these count as drabbles since each one is roughly a little longer than 1K but oh well lol.

moon divider by @tsunami-of-tears <3

━━━━━━•───⋅☽𖤐☾⋅───•━━━━━

Azriel x Green Witch

Candles were lit and placed carefully around the room, casting a warm glow that danced with your every movement. You knelt in the center, drawing a chalk circle with meticulous care. Your eyebrows knitted together, focus unwavering.

A sight that had Azriel’s gaze softening as he watched you from where he stood. His shadows flitted around him, singing in content. Precious, they whispered. Yours. The corner of his lips tugged up into a faint smile. Ours. His shadows were just as smitten with you as him.

"Azriel," you called softly as you shifted into a kneeling position.

He stepped forward, shadows shuddering under the force of your magic as he crossed the chalk circle. Kneeling before you, his gaze flickered to the tray between you, filled with an assortment of herbs, shimmering crystals, and freshly cut dandelions. Through the bond, he could feel your anticipation and nervousness humming like a vibrant current. He sent a soothing wave of calm your way, reveling in the way your muscles seemed to relax.

Lighting the candle on the tray with your magic, you finally look up and meet Azriel’s gaze. A faint blush colors your cheeks at what you find in those hazel eyes. "Why are you staring at me like that?" 

“Because you’ve bewitched me.”

You lifted a brow. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Oh, but you have.” He grinned, hazel eyes sparkling. “Just being you is enough.”

“Don’t distract me,” you admonished, though your voice lacked firmness, and the blush on your face deepened. “I could be casting a hex on you for all you know… what if I were cursing you into a toad?”

“I’d croak only for you.”

“And if I jinxed you with a body-bind curse that would immobilize you?”

Azriel tilted his head, his eyes boring into yours with a challenge. “So that I’d never leave your side…Are you sure that’s a curse?”

You stared back at Azriel, eyes narrowing in skepticism. But he doesn’t waver. You’re certain he doesn’t even blink, and the sincerity radiating from him sends a wave of warmth through your heart. He’d let you do anything to him.

“You’re insufferable,” you finally replied, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed your words.

“And you’re adorable,” he said softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch sending delightful shivers down your spine. 

Before his hand could fall back to his side, you reached out for it and laced your fingers through his, smile widening when one of his shadows wedges itself through the cracks.  “Will you let me focus now?”

Azriel gives your hand a squeeze, silently commanding the shadow between your fingers to return to him. With a wave of your other hand, your spellbook came flying to you from your desk in the corner. In a whirl of green, the pages began to turn, your eyes darkening as they searched for the spell in mind.

“What is this spell for anyway?” Azriel couldn’t help but ask, realizing he had no clue as to what this ritual of yours entailed. When he told you he was going on a long mission–a full week–and you had asked if you could try something, he had simply said yes.

Darkness fully consumed your eyes, the turning pages coming to a stop. He doesn’t flinch when your dark eyes look up to his. To him, they were just another beautiful part of you that he loved.  “It’s a small binding spell for protection. It’s like a stepping stone for the spell I want to cast after our mating ceremony.”

“And no, I won’t tell you what that one is because it’s a surprise.” You added after sensing the next question ready to roll off Azriel’s tongue.

Azriel let out a small huff. He doesn’t like surprises but you’re stubborn and unwavering. At the slight pout of his face, you bring his hand to your mouth and brushed your lips against his fingers. The subtle twitch of his right wing betrayed him, making you smile. 

“Now, sit back on your heels and relax.” You instructed, taking his other hand in yours so both hands held his.

Azriel’s wings curled in slightly, the dark talons lightly grazing the floor. His shadows quieted, resting against his neck and lap. You gave both of his hands a squeeze before you began to murmur a chant, your voice soothing and melodic. The flames surrounding you both danced higher, responding to your magic.

Your magic enveloped you both, swirling along the line of your circle and casting a shimmering green glow upon the room. The magic from Azriel’s cobalt blue siphons sang in response, fluttering toward your emerald light and intertwining with it, just like your fingers are with his.

The combined force of your magic sent a cool gust of air your way, making your hair sway gently. The dandelions between you both seemed to awaken with a life of their own, the pappus carrying their seeds stirring. A tender flutter of warmth rose from Azriel’s stomach as the dandelions began to rise, his mind flashing back to that day in the field of dandelions when your laughter had filled the air.

The feathery plumes floated in the air between you both, carrying promises in the wind of your magic.They wrapped around your intertwined hands, morphing into a golden thread in a burst of bright light. Azriel eyes filled with a mix of admiration and something deeper that made your heart race. It prompted you to close your eyes, not wanting to be distracted as you whispered the last words of the spell.

When you finished, the room fell into a calm silence. You opened your eyes, and Azriel watched as the darkness lifted from them, smiling as you were brought back to him.

Azriel rises first so that he can guide you to your feet. His hands don’t let go of yours. Though it’s time for him to leave for his mission, his shoulders feel light. As if a huge weight has been lifted off and he feels something he’s never felt before–an overwhelming sense of safety. Even his shadows seemed to give a sigh of relief.

Resting his forehead against yours, he takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut briefly. “I’ll come home to you as soon as I can. Crawl if I have to.”

“You won’t have to,” you promised, looking up at him. “You’ll come home to me unscathed and we’ll have our mating ceremony. Then, I’ll show you my surprise.”

His lips brushed against your forehead in a tender kiss, the promise of your future together shimmering like the magic lingering in the air.

Cassian x Love Witch

Cassian’s head tilted back in pleasure, his large hands falling to your hips. Your lips found purchase against the newly exposed skin of his neck, slowly working your way up. He let out a deep groan when you grinded down against him, his hands kneading into you to press you further onto his growing bulge.

“Sweetheart–”

“Can I–” 

“Yes.”

You let out a breathless giggle, pulling back to look down at your mate, your heart shaped pupils making an appearance. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“Well, let’s fix that?” He smirked at you, his hand sliding up your shirt.

“I want to try something.”

“Anything,” Cassian replied, eyes hooded with lust, before chasing after your lips.

You placed a finger against his lips, stopping them from meeting yours and when your lips curved into a devious grin, Cassian realized you were not talking about sex.

“I want to cast a spell on you, perform a ritual.”

His throat bobbed. “A ritual?”

“Mmm,” you replied, shifting in his lap as you cradled his face into your hands. “One I can only perform when the recipient is in love with me. It makes my love potions more potent. I’ve never tried it before but I’d like to. It’ll be fun…”

Cassian searched your face, eyes narrowing at you. “Fun in what sense?”

“Fun in the sense that it’ll make you feel real, real good,” you replied, hands falling to his chest slowly snaking their way upwards to run down his back and teasing at the area where his wings meet his skin. His wings shuddered, his arousal filling the air.

“Only if I get to make you feel real, real good after.” His hands guided you to circle your hips over his lap again, eliciting a soft moan out of you as you felt his desire for you.

“Deal.”

**

Cassian watched as you moved about your spell room with a grace and purpose that made his heart swell with pride. Since you had become a couple, your magic had been steadily returning to its former strength. It seemed that all you needed was to believe in yourself for your magic to flourish again.

This wouldn’t be the first time you’d work your magic on him but it was the first time you’d perform a ritual on him. He couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anticipation as he laid down in the center of the circle you had drawn. His wings, arms and legs were splayed out in a relaxed yet expectant manner.

You sprinkled salt around the circle, its crystals catching the fae lights hanging above and adding a shimmering boundary. Then, with a dash of cinnamon, Cassian’s nose wrinkled, the warm, spicy scent teasing his senses. As you scattered rose petals along the floor, Cassian’s eyes followed you, tracking your every movement. 

“How does this work again?” 

You made your way towards Cassian, your feet stopping right at his head as you peered down at him. “It’s simple. You think about me and only me—”

“Easy.” He smirked up at you.

With a playful wink, you threw a handful of rose petals at him.  “—while I chant a spell. Your feelings will manifest into a tangible energy that I can then work with and stir into my potion.” You explained as you added drops of honey and more cinnamon to the brewing potion in the cauldron at the edge of the circle, the mixture bubbling softly.

“But what if I accidentally think of other things?” Cassian couldn’t help but ask. 

His thoughts did tend to drift away often, usually to not so innocent thoughts of you. However, there were the occasional random ones such as what he’d be having for dinner, the  result of the loud instrument he had gifted Nyx on his birthday or what would make Azriel tick next.

“Then, the cauldron will tip over angrily over your defiance to love me.”

He lifted his head slightly from the ground, relief bringing it back down when he saw you were joking.

“Just don’t think of anything negative. Otherwise, you’ll mess with the spell.” You reassured.

“Okay, got it! I can definitely do that. Think positive thoughts.” His eyebrows knitted together in concentration but then another thought came to mind and once again, he was lifting his head from the ground.

 "And why am I shirtless?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Oh that," you grinned back at him, eyes sparkling with mischief.  "That's for my own entertainment."

You began the ritual by lighting candles placed at each cardinal point of the circle. You then took a small, ornate vial from a nearby table, filled with a shimmering liquid—the essence of moonlight collected during the last full moon. You carefully poured a few drops into the cauldron, causing the potion to glow.

As you started chanting the spell, the energy in the room seemed to shift and intensify. Cassian closed his eyes, focusing on his love for you, letting the emotion swell within him. You placed your hands gently on his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. 

“Stay still.”

“Your hands are cold and it tickles.” Cassian breathed but did his best to not move.

The air around you crackled with energy like a steady, burning hearth. The pink thread of magic began to weave itself around Cassian, glowing brighter with each passing moment. The connection between you two was palpable, a current of love and magic flowing freely. You could feel his love transforming into a tangible force, ready to be harnessed for your potion.

As the final words of the spell left your lips, you gathered the energy with a sweeping motion of your hand, guiding it into the cauldron. The potion bubbled vigorously for a moment before settling into a golden liquid, infused with the power of your love and Cassian’s devotion.

You looked down at Cassian, who opened his eyes and met your gaze. “There,” you said softly, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.” Cassian replied, his entire body humming with a pleasant warmth. He felt good, real good. Just as you had said. He reached up and gently pulled you down for a kiss, his lips warm and soft against yours. “You’re amazing.”

Then, he flipped you over, positioning you on the ground beneath him as he hovered above you. His gaze darkened, love and lust simmering in those hazel eyes. “Now, it’s my turn to make you feel good.”

Lost in the promise of pleasure, you failed to close the ritual and your brewing love potion bubbled, turning into something more sensual…

Eris x Chaos Witch

Eris entered the dimly lit chamber, the hair on the back of his neck rising at the sudden chill in the air. The sensation, once unsettling, now was a welcomed embrace, a whisper of the magic that thrived in these walls. He closed the door behind him.

It was only then that he allowed his shoulders to sag, burdened by the heavy yet long desired mantle of his new responsibilities as the High Lord of Autumn. As he begins to unbutton his coat, the soft hum of a melody reached his ears, a soothing sound that seemed to dance with the flickering shadows. Drawn towards the source, Eris walked into the bathroom, where the air was thick with the scent of enchanted herbs and essential oils.

In the center of the room, a large, claw-footed bathtub awaited, filled with steaming water. Floating atop were petals of autumn blooms, interspersed with sprigs of calming lavender and rosemary. You stood beside the tub, your back turned towards him, but he could feel your awareness of his presence through the bond that tightened in his chest.

Eris leaned against the doorframe, taking a moment to fully appreciate the scene before him. The tightening in his chest blossomed into a pool of warmth, the sight of you bringing him a sense of peace that always left him wondering if this was all a dream. Another tug through the bond reminds him that it’s not. 

You wore a flowing gown of deep burgundy, reminiscent of the Autumn Court’s forests, and your hair cascaded around your shoulders. The humming ceased, and with a smile in your voice, you finally greeted him.

“My High Lord.”

A faint smirk tugged at Eris’s lips as he crossed his arms. "What is all of this?"

You turned around to face him, your eyes glowing a vivid crimson as the room darkened around you. "A little treat for you."

Eris raised an eyebrow, his own magic flickering the candles surrounding the bathtub to life. "A treat? For me?"

"Mmm. That’s what I said.”

Your eyes softened back to their natural hue. “Your energy has been all over the place these past couple of weeks. I thought a ritual might help ease your burden." You gestured to the enticing bath. "To relax you a little."

Eris blinked, momentarily taken aback by the gesture. His eyes roamed over the various jars and elixirs lining one of the counters, each one glimmering with an otherworldly light. His gaze returned to you as you moved towards the array. You paused, studying the selection with a discerning eye before picking up a dark vial, its contents swirling with a strange mist.

You approached the bathtub with the chosen elixir, the air tingling with anticipation. You uncorked the bottle, releasing the trapped mist with a soft pop. You brought the open bottle to your nose, inhaling deeply and closing your eyes as if savoring a fine wine. “Frog’s breath,” you said, the corners of your lips twitching at the slight grimace on Eris’s face. “It’s surprisingly refreshing. It’s the toad’s breath you have to watch out for.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to go sniffing the wrong amphibian,” Eris replied, his tone laced with dry sarcasm.

You shot him a wry look before turning your attention back to the bath. With a flick of your wrist, you directed the mist towards the water, where it hovered above the surface like storm clouds, emitting a soft hiss as it settled.

Then, you reached into your dress, pulling out a long, vibrant feather from your chest, its colors shimmering in shades of reds, oranges, and gold. Your eyes glowed with a radiant red light as you admired the feather. “A phoenix feather. It brings forth rebirth and renewal—a rejuvenating energy, perfect for new beginnings.”

You beckoned Eris closer, and he complied, his amber eyes alight with curiosity and intrigue. He stood beside you, watching intently as you cast the feather into the bathtub as if it were your cauldron. There was a sudden flash of light, and the water began to glow with a faint golden hue.

“Looks like you’re preparing to make a stew out of me.”

You turned your head to meet his gaze, finding him already watching you. Your smile widened into a mischievous grin. “Oh, how you wound me, my love. I thought we were well past the murderous stage.”

Eris chuckled, reminiscing about the tumultuous beginnings of your relationship. How far the two of you had come since those early days. He never would have imagined that the witch with a love for chaos could capture his heart so completely. As you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle nudge, he turned to face you.

“Will you let me take care of you?”

Eris gave you a nod, not trusting himself to speak. His throat felt tight with emotion.

You began to undo the remaining buttons on his coat, your fingers moving with a practiced grace. The fabric soon slid down his shoulders and fell to the floor. You continued with his vest and then, you reached his shirt, your nimble fingers brushing against his chest. 

As the garment fell away, you took a moment to appreciate the sight before you. Your hands traced the planes of his muscles, the touch light and reverent, invoking a delightful shudder that ran through him like a current. Your eyes find his as your hands begin to trail lower, teasing at the waistband of his pants.

Eris’s gaze is intense, bringing your movements to a stop. He finishes undressing himself, knowing that if he allowed you, there was no way he’d have the strength to indulge in the bath before indulging in you.

His hands found purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him, lips meeting yours in a tender caress. “What next?” He breathes, his nose brushing against yours.

“Do you trust me?” You whisper and though he can only muster another nod, he sends his reassurance through the bond. “Then, get in.”

You extend your hand to him, and he takes it without hesitation, allowing you to guide him into the bath. Even as he settles into the tub, his back resting against the cool porcelain, his hand never leaves yours. The hot water envelops him, immediately easing the tension in his muscles, and he lets out a contented groan.

Bringing your hand to his lips, he brushes a kiss against your knuckles, his amber eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "What would I do without you?" he murmurs.

“Guess we’ll never find out. You’re stuck with me now.” You reply, tugging at the golden threads that tether your souls together.

"A devastating tragedy," Eris feigns lament.

"A true catastrophe," you echo, matching his tone.

The two of you share a smile, the look in your eyes contrasting the words exchanged. Your hands move gently to remove the autumn diadem from his head, a symbol of his new rank and the burdens he bears. You place the diadem safely onto the counter and then, you’re returning to his side.  

You sit on the stool beside the bathtub, your fingers threading through his hair with a soothing touch. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," he replies and though it’s not the first time you performed a ritual over him, it’s your first time performing one as his mate and for pleasure. His heart flutters in anticipation.

Leaning in, you press a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "Just sit back and relax.”

His breath hitched as he felt the coolness of your magic radiate from your fingertips and seep into his scalp. You began to hum an ancient tune. The chill of your magic transformed into a soothing, calming caress, gently breaking down the shields of his mind. He closed his eyes, allowing the sensations to wash over him—the warmth of the water, the scent of enchanted herbs, the soft glow of candles.

Eris, who had always been the one to shoulder burdens and stand strong, felt an unfamiliar sensation—a deep, unspoken care enveloping him. It relaxed him, allowing him to be vulnerable in a way he rarely permitted. And in the quiet embrace of the night, he realized how fortunate he was to have someone like you in his life.

Someone who understood the storms within him and embraced them, bringing harmony to his tumultuous world.

a/n: hope you enjoyed these! Eris's turned out a lot softer than I first imagined. I do intend to post more witchy HCs/drabbles but at the moment, I don't have an idea for one. But if you do, feel free to send it my way!

[witch au masterlist]

general witch tag list: @rcarbo1, @scorpioriesling, @ninthcircleofprythian

love witch tag list: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon,

@talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning, @anuttellaa, @breadsticks2004, @chicken-fifi

green witch tag list: @fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[daenysx]

Hii, could you do something with james x fem!reader who's also in a quidich team only not gryffindor? Maybe she's also a beater idk this is my first time requesting smth iv no idea😭😭

thank you for requesting ♡ i hope you enjoy

james potter x fem!reader

if there's one thing you'd like to do right now, it's wiping off the damn smirk from james potter's face.

the fact that he's super attractive and exactly your type doesn't help. tall, has a pretty smile, gorgeous hair, and a soft voice when he wants to impress someone. you turn your head, putting your broom aside before walking where he stands. you keep your face stoic. james potter won't win this no matter how pretty his smile is.

he greets you, using your last name. you give him a curt nod. "potter." you say. it's only two of you here. "i don't want to have this stupid discussion again."

"you mean the discussion we have over who gets the pitch to train?"

"it's our only free time this week." you say. "and we already got the permission. you cannot use mcgonagall's word to get it from us-"

"i know." he stops you. "you can have it."

"what?" you are throughly surprised. what the hell is he talking about?

"i'm not here to argue over it." james explains. "i'm here to see you."

now, you are fully confused. what's the point of this conversation?

"is this a prank?" you ask with a rough voice. "if it is, i swear to-"

"no." james shakes his head. "of course, it's not a prank. what fun will i get from pranking you? i wouldn't dare."

"okay." you say slowly. "what do you want then?"

james is such a flirt most of the time. now, he's not. not really. he definitely uses his charm, the way he knows how to, but he's actually nervous. remus tried to convince him it'll be okay, and sirius was like come on, prongs, what's the worst that could happen?

he gathers up his entire courage in a breath and looks at your eyes. "i was wondering if you'd like to come to the yule ball with me."

"you- what?"

he's cursing sirius in his head, here's the worst. your eyes are huge as you process what he offered. it's a cute sight but james will have a heart attack if you don't say anything.

"i'm not joking, i promise." he says. "i'm not fooling around. i really wanna go with you, if you have me."

you don't know how to resist at those pretty eyes and his hopeful smile. you don't want to resist.

"sure." you say. "we can go together."

james can finally let out the breath he's been holding. "really? i mean- thank you."

"for what, james?" you chuckle. james. not potter.

"for not hexing me? i don't know, i was so nervous, i don't even know what to say now."

you reach for his hand. it's big compared to yours, you like the feel of it. "my dress is blue. you need to wear something matching."

[marauroon]

Another Remus request bc I love Remus so much.

What about Remus secretly dating Sirius’s younger sister (one year younger, also in Gryffindor) Because they both know how protective he is over her (she’s never kissed anyone or anything bc he scares everyone away) and eventually they get caught.

I S I T W O R T H I T ? — REMUS LUPIN!

you fell in love with your older brother’s best friend. oops.

remus lupin x black!reader | 1.2k | flangst? | masterlist.

a/n — live laugh love remus

You’ve never been anyone’s secret before.

It’s strange and exhilarating—this feeling of sneaking glances across the Gryffindor common room, of pretending you’re just friends when your heart races like mad every time Remus smiles at you.

It’s dangerous too, of course. Sirius Black is your older brother, and everyone at Hogwarts knows better than to provoke him, especially when it comes to you.

Over the years, Sirius has earned quite the reputation for scaring away anyone who might look at you twice. It’s not that you’re not interested—far from it. But whenever someone tried to flirt with you, Sirius’s arm would appear around your shoulders, he’d send them a glare that could freeze fire, and they’d bolt faster than a startled Hippogriff.

And then there’s Remus.

Remus Lupin, your brother’s best friend and perhaps the one person Sirius would least expect you to get close to.

But you have, oh, you have.

It started innocently enough—late-night conversations in the library, stolen moments under the beech tree by the lake, where the world seemed to slow down. Remus would smile that soft, crooked smile of his, and you’d feel your heart skip a beat.

You don’t even know how it happened.

Maybe it was when he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear for the first time, or when he called you “special” in that quiet, reverent voice. You just knew you couldn’t stay away.

That’s how it began—the sneaking around, the whispered words in empty corridors, the kisses under the invisibility cloak when no one else was watching. And while Sirius was loud and wild, the kind of brother who’d chase away boys with threats of hexes, Remus is all quiet affection and careful touches.

With him, every stolen moment feels like the most wonderful secret in the world.

Still, you know what would happen if Sirius ever found out. It’s why you’re so careful. Sirius trusts Remus like a brother, but that’s precisely what makes it so dangerous.

—

The real trouble starts about three months in, after you and Remus push your luck just a little too far.

It’s late, long past curfew, and you’ve somehow convinced Remus to sneak out again under the invisibility cloak. You’re hauled up in the astronomy tower, where the moonlight spills through the open alcoves, painting everything silver.

Remus sits comfortably on one of the banisters, his arms loose at his sides, and his brown eyes locked on you. He looks at you like you’re magic—like he can’t quite believe you’re here.

“I missed you today,” you murmur, stepping closer.

His mouth quirks up, his eyes following as they tilt up to meet yours. “I saw you at lunch.”

“That doesn’t count.”

You don’t give him a chance to reply. You close the space between you and kiss him softly, feeling the way his hands come up to hold your sides—tentative at first, as though he doesn’t want to push too far, but steady and sure as the kiss deepens.

It’s intoxicating, the thrill of it, the way your heart hammers against your ribs like it’s trying to escape. You’re not used to this kind of closeness—this kind of intimacy. Sirius made sure of that. But Remus is gentle and warm, and you’re so lost in him that you forget, for just a moment, how reckless this is.

Until you hear the voice.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?!”

You freeze. Remus pulls back instantly, his expression full of panic, and you turn to see Sirius standing a few feet away, wand in hand and eyes blazing with anger. He’s not alone, either—James is right behind him, wide-eyed and clearly caught between amusement and terror.

“Sirius, I—” you start, your voice trembling.

“Are you serious—no, don’t even answer that!”

You’d point out the pun if he wasn’t proverbially steaming from the ears.

Sirius is fuming, his face flushed and his fists clenched. His eyes dart from you to Remus and back again. “Remus? Really? *Remus Lupin?*”

Remus steps forward, raising his hands as though to calm Sirius down. “Sirius, I can explain.”

“Oh, I bet you can.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you blurt out, even though it’s exactly what it looks like.

Sirius gives you a look that could reduce a lesser person to ash. “No? I didn’t just catch you snogging my best friend in the astronomy tower after curfew? What did I see then?”

“Maybe you should let them talk, Pads,” James offers nervously, but Sirius isn’t listening.

“Remus,” he says, turning his gaze, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re supposed to be my best mate. How long has this been going on?”

“Not long,” Remus says quickly, though he glances at you as he says it, as if apologising. “And it’s not like that, Sirius. I care about her. A lot.”

Sirius looks at Remus like he doesn’t recognize him. “You care about her? She’s my sister, you—”

“Sirius!” you interrupt, stepping between them. “This isn’t just Remus’s fault, alright? I’m not a child. I care about him too.”

For a moment, the anger flickers in Sirius’s eyes. He looks at you—really looks at you—and you can see the hurt there. The betrayal. You’re his little sister, the one person he’s always tried to protect. You’ve never had secrets from him before.

For a long moment, no one speaks.

Then, Sirius looks at you—really looks at you—and his expression softens just a fraction. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because of this,” you admit, gesturing between the three of you. “Because we knew you’d react like this.”

“I just—” Sirius falters, his anger flickering into something more vulnerable. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Remus steps forward slightly, his voice quiet but steady. “I would never hurt her, Sirius. You know me.”

Sirius stares at him, his jaw tight, but there’s something in Remus’s tone that seems to get through to him. He huffs, running a hand through his hair. “I swear to Merlin, if you hurt her—”

“I won’t,” Remus practically cuts him off, his voice steady. “I promise.”

Sirius doesn’t look convinced, but at least he doesn’t punch Remus in the face like you’d feared. Instead, he looks back at you, his expression softening just slightly. “And you,” he says. “You better be sure about this.”

“I am,” you reply, because there’s no hesitation in your heart.

Sirius shakes his head, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “unbelievable,” before turning on his heel and storming off. James gives you a small, awkward thumbs up before hurrying after him.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and Remus reaches for your hand, his fingers lacing with yours.

“That went better than I expected,” he says wryly.

You laugh softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “He’ll get over it.”

“Eventually.”

You glance up at him, your heart full despite the chaos. “You’re worth it.”

Remus smiles down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “So are you.”

[storiesfromafan]

He's Not So Bad (18+) - Mattheo x Reader

A/N: I bring you the awaited follow up to He's So Annoying 😊

I hope this ain't too bad. I finished writing it this morning before work. And just finished revising, so forgive me if there is any spelling/grammer mistakes.

Also, today wasn't such a good day at work, would appreciate some love 😅

Warnings: spelling/grammer mistakes, public sex, p in v

Prompt/s: “Can you feel how much I want you?” and “You’re mine"

Tag list: @moorningvoice @legobookstore @revesephemeres

After Potion’s class, you found Mattheo flirting and annoying you more with every shared class for the last few days. And every time you do your best to ignore him or put him in his place, he continued to drag up that night. You began to think he enjoyed remembering it, and like if he mentioned it, you’d jump back into bed with him. And you wanted too. But your better judgement told you no, he just wanted you physically.

Unfortunately this day was the day he’d followed you out of your last class – Divination – and was adamant on giving lost puppy energy. And that was even with people around.

“Honestly, why do you keep chasing me, when there are so many willing females that would gladly be your bed buddy?” You sighed turning down a hallway that looked to be deserted.

Mattheo shrugged. “I like the chase with you. It’s a challenge, love”.

“Don’t called me love!” You shot back, sending him a glare. Which made him smile.

Mattheo thought it was funny how you hadn’t clued on. How he was infatuated with you. His constant presence, annoyance and the nickname – love – were tell-tale signs of his affection for you. Hell, he’d even gotten detention the other day for hexing a Hufflepuff guy who Mattheo overheard planning to ask you out. You were his. And that meant you were off limits.

Mattheo chuckled. “Deny all you like, love, but I know you enjoy it".

Rolling your eyes while you picked up the pace, wanting to put distance between you too, as well as get back to the Ravenclaw house. The only place you could be free of the menace on your heels. If only you know what was about to come.

You felt a hand wrap around your wrist, then being pulled down a dead end of the hallway. Your body being pressed against the wall, hidden behind a statue and pillar. Another hand was pressed against you mouth before you could even make a noise. Before you was Mattheo, the person who had dragged you down here and pressed you against the wall.

Your shock expression turned to that of a glare. Which told him that you weren’t going to scream, probably tell him off, but he could handle that. So with a small, sweet smile on his lips, Mattheo removed his hand. Instantly you let him have it.

“What the hell! What are you thinking!?” You voiced, tone sharp and annoyed.

Mattheo remained quiet, admiring the fire in you. He moved the hand that had been over your mouth, to push back your hair so it was over your shoulder. Before running it along your jaw and down your neck. You shuddered. You told yourself you had to be mad, and not show how his simple actions affected you. Because they did. His touch was electric, the pads of his fingers running slowly over your skin, sending your heart a flutter.

Mattheo of course noticed the shudder, and the slight change in you. He’d been studying for so long, he knew the signs. The hand holding your wrist moved to rest against the wall next to your head, almost completely caging you in. His warm chocolate brown orbs had darkened with the thought of what was to come. So long as you let him, of course. Mattheo wouldn’t do anything you didn’t beg for. And he’d have you beginning.

Leaning in, Mattheo ran his nose along your jaw, taking in the faint smell of your perfume. Which he noted he needed to find out what it was, so he could buy you more, for it was his new favourite scent when mixed with your own smell. You stiffened at his action. You didn’t expect Mattheo to be this forward. Sure, he liked to flirt and bring up that night, maybe even tell you what else he’d like to do to you. But actually do it? This surprised you.

“You smell so good" Mattheo softly groaned before nipping your jaw, making you jump. “Jumpy, love?” He chuckled.

You shot him a dirty look, which he enjoyed oh so much. “N-no" you retorted.

Once more Mattheo chuckled, before kissing your jaw and then nipping once more. Again you jumped, but not as much as the first time. “Hmmm, you are jumpy" he commented teasingly.

You placed your hands against Mattheo's chest and push, hoping he’d get the hint and back up. But no. He only moved closer, your strength nothing for him. Before your hands could be trapped, you moved them to his shoulder. Bad move. It not only allowed Mattheo to press his body completely against yours, against the wall. But also gave him the idea you wanted him. Which you did, but tried to fight the spark between you both.

His lips moved to your neck. Kissing and nipping. You fought the rising moan that so badly wanted to be freed from your lips. No, you couldn’t let Mattheo win. Yet the moment his free hand skimmed up your side, coming to rest under your breast, you wanted to whine, wanting him to touch you there. And you know he wanted to, the way his hand slightly shaked against you, his restraint impressive. But he wouldn’t just do it, not without permission, your submission and begging.

The hands on his shoulders grasped at his white button up shirt, your nails would have dug into his flesh if not for that item of clothing. The memory of how your nails felt on and digging into his flesh flooding both of your memories. Recalling how Mattheo moan and groaned from the scrapping down his back, and the reminder he had for a few days. He wanted your mark on him always. But that would be another time.

Yet you were holding back, and he couldn’t have that. He needed you to give in to him. Mattheo pressed his lower half closer to you, his arousal pressing into your hip.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” He groaned lips having moved to your ear, his hot breath tickling. “So badly I need you, love”.

Your breath caught in your throat from the feel of him and his admission. Which hit straight in the pit of your stomach, adding to your arousal. You pressed your legs together trying to will it away, but the embers were lit. From here it would just grow to an all-consuming fire. Against your better judgement, and senses, you moved a hand to the back of Mattheo's head. You grasped his brown curls, before pulling his head back so you could look at his gorgeous face. Expecting a knowing smirk upon his lips, you would have been surprised by the dark look on his face, if you weren’t lost by desire. Which mirrored in his eyes.

You pulled him in so that your lips collided in a hard, messy kiss. Giving all in. Which Mattheo accepted. The hand resting under your breast moved to cup your mound, that you sighed at. Taking his opportunity, Mattheo slipped his tongue into your mouth, claiming it and your tongue for himself. Feverishly his tongue moved with your own, a frantic dance.

While you lost yourselves in the kiss, Mattheo moved both hands down your sides. Moving over your hips and down your thighs. He moved down and you continued to move with him in the kiss. Mattheo then moved his hands back up your thighs, under your skirt, to the back of your thighs. Before you knew it, he had lifted you, bringing your legs up around his waist. His hands groping your behind, while he pushes you further against the wall. His arousal pressed against your aching core, both clothing separating those intimate places. With a hard, slow grind against your body from Mattheo, you pulled back from the kiss and moaned. Instantly he moved to sloppily kiss your neck.

“W-we shouldn’t b-be doing this h-here" you managed to choke out, as he kept grinding against you.

Mattheo groaned against your neck. “But I need you now, love. I can’t wait" he retorted. “No one will know, as long as you’re quiet".

The way his voice lowered and had this desperate tone to it, it just added to the fire. With those words and tone your last shred of sense left you. Too far gone now to back out. You bucked your core against his arousal, solidifying you heard and understood him. And that pleased Mattheo so much.

One of his hands moved to your clothed sex, fingers finding your bundle of nerves and pressing it over your panties. You groaned softly, before you mewed when he moved those fingers in circles over the nub. You rested your head against the wall, eyes closed while your hand gripped Mattheo’s hair. He moved his head back, drinking in the sight of your face and his hand pleasuring you.

When he abruptly stopped his ministrations, you shot him a dirty look. He chuckled. “Patience, love. It’s just beginning".

He placed a long, chaste kiss to your lips. While his hand moved to his slacks, he pulled down his zipped and managed to free himself. It was a moment of relief for Mattheo, for his hard member had been in torture being confined. Using his hand he pumped himself a few times before feeling the over whelming need to be inside you. So, letting himself go, Mattheo moved his hand to your panties. Pushing the clothing a side, he jostled you up the wall a little move, hand firm on your behind.

Moving himself to your entrance, Mattheo ran the tip along your folds, gathering your slick. When the tip nudged your bundle of nerves, you groaned, feeling a jolt in the pit of your stomach. He did that a few more times, enjoying the noises and how your face looked from his actions.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to be in you" he sighed, lining himself up at your entrance.

You didn’t say anything, or get the chance too. For Mattheo began to push into you. Slowly the tip entered you, followed by inch after inch. He growled at how tight you were around him. But eventually he pushed all the way in, bottoming out, fully inside you. He waited a few minutes, letting you adjust to him and relax.

After a few minutes Mattheo started to pull out till the tip was just inside you, and with a snap of his hips, he pushed back inside. Over and over he did this at a slow pace. Your hands gripped his hair and shoulder, back arching, clothed breasts pushing up against him. You felt so good, like heaven, just like he remembered but better.

There you were, in a dead end of a deserted hall, with Mattheo fucking you up against a wall that was just concealed from sight. You should have protested the public setting, but when he felt so good, and made you feel so good, you couldn’t do anything but take it.

With a harsh snap of his hips, you bit back a loud moan, for he’d reached that spot with in you. And with every second or third thrust, Mattheo was hitting it repeatedly. You buried your face in his shoulder, holding onto him tighter, a small whimper leaving your lips. Knowing how good he was making you feel, Mattheo picked up his pace, chasing your releases.

You felt that coil in your pit tightening with each thrust, your sex tightening around him every time after hitting that spot deep within you. You both were a panting and sweating mess, lost in this moment and the other.

“You're mine" Mattheo groaned, thrust harsher into you. “Tell me you’re mine!”

You moaned against his shoulder, from his thrust and words. Being so sex drunk, your better judgement was out the window. “I-I'm yours" you moaned.

“I can’t hear you" he groaned, gripping your ass with both hands as he thrust deeply and moaning.

You let out a small cry when he did that. “I-I'm yours!”

Hearing you better, Mattheo grinned. Pleased with your answer. Without saying anything else, he focused on getting you both over the edge. He focused on his thrusts, long and hard, and trying to hit that spot over and over. That coil in your pit tightened with every thrust. You found yourself tell him you were close. So he worked harder. Soon his thrusts got sloppy, but he kept at it.

When you finally came, you told him just before that coil in your snapped. You tightened around him, moaning Mattheo's name and riding out your release. With a few more sloppy thrusts, Mattheo finally hit his own release, a groan leaving his throat. He thrusted a few more times as he coats your insides with his release. Mattheo buried himself inside you, body leaning against you as you both tried to catch your breathes.

It was silence, except for your soft panting. Mattheo rest his forehead against your shoulder, while the hand in his locks ran through them. He was savouring this moment. While you wondered what this meant. You were confused by his want for you to say you were his. Was it something to help him get off? Yet you were unsure of voicing that question.

After a while Mattheo pulled back, and he removed himself from you, covering you back up with your panties. He helped lower you to your feet, which were a bit shaky. But once he was sure you were standing, he put himself back in his pants and zipped them back up. It was silent between you both, for you, you were unsure while Mattheo was satisfied and content.

Feeling self-conscious, you picked up your bag and were about to leave. “Um, a-alright" you stuttered. Unsure of what to say after a quickie in the hall.

You had just moved past Mattheo, when he grabbed your wrist. “Where are you running off to love?”

You sighed. “I told you, I’m not your love”.

Not hearing a retort or him releasing your wrist, you turned to see a knowing smirk on Mattheo's face. He moved closer to you, hand moving to lock with yours, as he pulled you closer.

“Oh, but you are love” he said in that overly sweet tone. “You said it yourself, you’re mine”.

Your face flushed. While all words left you. That was the moment you realised you had unknowingly given yourself to Mattheo Riddle. You were his. And he was completely yours. Slowly a smile crossed your lips. You decided to accept your fate. He’s not so bad.

[lalalychee-x]

BOOTHILL D!CK PROFILE ft. headcannons

♡ OK SO! Yk those comments that pop out hex codes about character's cock? Yeah, well, I'm going to do that too. Except its BOOTHILL! 's dick, so there's a few catches. gn!reader. I do actually describe his dick like this in my fics, but here's a PROPER rundown! ♡ BASICS!

girth: #1f2124 (almost-black kind of grey) body: #3b3b3b to #9c9c9c gradient (girth to tip) tip: #1f2124 (almost-black kind of grey) size: undefined/ usually 9-10inch. texture: ribbed/ridged/plated/cold thickness: undefined/ usually 2inch - 2.5inch. foreskin:  no.

BOOTHILL! 's cock isn't made of skin, obviously. It's made of metal plates like his torso, plated a bit like scales. So there's larger and wider plates at the bottom, progressing into thinner ones as you go from girth to the tip. The edge of every metal plate is also coated in rubber, so every edge isn't sharp and can't cut you. 

BOOTHILL! The plating design allows his cock to actually curve and bend like skin.

BOOTHILL! 's tip is made of rubber, like medical-grade silicone! Like thick, dark, smooth silicone molded into a bulbous shape, and surprisingly needs a lot of lubrication to slide in anywhere.

BOOTHILL! 's cock is obviously metal, so that means its hard HARD. God, it (in theory) never really softens, but just stays thick inside you.

BOOTHILL! 's cock isn't just a regular texture, but is ribbed and ridged along the thick of it from the aligning of the plates. And god do they feel good...

BOOTHILL! It's unscrewable. No questions asked. He can get another one made of any design and just screw it on.

BOOTHILL! 's mechanic gets regular requests from you. You messily draw a new design of a dick you want to try with Boothill, begging him to tell his mechanic to make a dick of what you were imagining. Boothill does eventually give in, raising his eyebrows in surprise at what you were asking of him. "Good fudgin' god, darlin'— y'want to do... what?!"  The mechanic is definitely a masc lesbian with tattoos who is now wondering if she should quit her job. 

BOOTHILL! probably doesn't actually wear his cock often; he'd take it off during work because it's just another weak point and he wouldn't risk a blow to the groin.

BOOTHILL! has no actual fixed size, since he can just customise whatever the hell is between his legs. Or not between his legs. But he'd probably go no more than about 9 inches with you, because he doesn't want to hurt you. Expanding from that, he's probably a real sweetie at heart, but will tease the hell out of you to be mean at times.

BOOTHILL! can't (in theory) ejaculate. I mean, where is the substance coming from (pun not intended)? But through a lot of begging, his overworked mechanic agreed to make it work. You still can't get pregnant tho, if that was a possibility for you at all!

BOOTHILL! ...I can't decide if he has balls or not.

Feel free to ask for other characters!

♡ Please do not modify, steal, plagarise or post on other platforms without asking. Thank you!

[mimir-anoshe]

I love that ARCANE is using the MAJOR ARCANA for symbolism.

Chefs kiss.

These are Sevika's tarot cards from season 1.

The Magician (upright) overlapping Death (upright).

Foreshadowing? Oh hell yeah. But its only now after S2 Episode 6 do I understand what they might actually be foreshadowing. People may have talked about this before, so I apologise if this is similar to anyone else's meta. These are all my own thoughts, I usually just watch arcane and don't dabble into the meta but this season has me feral and I just rewatched season 1.

SPOILERS for Arcane S1/S2 below.

I just want to prologue this post with a note about how I've noticed even from season 1 there are thematic parallels and linear symbolism being afforded between Jinx and Viktor. Others in the community have too I'm sure. Its strange. I thought it was interesting in S1 but didn't deep dive into it, but S2 has driven headfirst into it and its making me go "oh... oh ok." Even Viktor in S1 noted Jinx's genius, and in another timeline perhaps Powder would've been a student of Viktors had fate not set them on parallel paths. Two children of Zaun, both mechanical/scientific geniuses. One physically disabled whilst the other mentally disabled. One who "escaped" and was given a chance, rising to the top only to create something that would be used for harm. Fighting that fate at every step. Whilst the other trapped at the bottom of the barrel, forced to use her gifts to become a weapon herself. Such GOOD story writing.

So now let's think about the art of the cards, because in tarot, even the symbolism of the specific art is important. Its why an artists interpretation of a major/minor can be so crucial to a reading.

Here's a figure map I made earlier.

Lets begin with Death.

Thirteenth of the Major Arcana, a "significant transformation and the end of a phase in life." There is death and rebirth symbolism all over arcane, but let's take a closer look at the symbolism mirroring the art.

Figure 7&8 - The one who has "died" a skeleton/skull laid down and being "imbued" with something as something else is taken away.

See that the imbuing focuses on the "chest" area.

It's quick, but it flashes briefly when Viktor is being imbued with the Hexcore. He canonically dies "the skull" and is reborn with the Hexcore on an "altar"/table.

Same with Jinx. Canonically "dies" and is reborn laying on an "altar"/table using shimmer. Purple being used as the visual thread between shimmer and the arcane of the hex; a colour imagery representation of "magical" alchemical/arcane power turning them into something beyond human.

Singed and Jayce. Two hands of death, giving and taking life as if they were a God. One using shimmer, the other Hextech thats imbued with shimmer. Messing with the balance of life and death.

With Viktor, the energy is transferred straight into his chest, just like on the card.

So now we've established the parallels to the death tarot, lets look at The Magician.

The First of the Major Arcana, "the connection between the physical and spiritual worlds, and the ability to manifest one's desires."

Viktor is the Magician. No doubt. He connects the physical and spiritual world of the arcane, he brings people back from the brink of death, as he was. He manifests his desires through the use of the hex, the arcane. And the dude just looks like a mecha wizard.

Though if you want it to be even more obvious.

Figure 3 - The Third Arm/Third Hand.

The image below is "The Machine Herald" Hero from League of Legends. This is the hero Viktor is based upon.

He canonically has three arms, same as the Magician in the card. The Magician is Viktor, Viktor is the Magician. The Magician is the Machine Herald.

The Magician overtakes/overlaps death. But Viktor by episode 6 still doesn't quite resemble the machine herald from the games. There's no third arm... Yet. So the Magician in the card isn't Viktor from episodes 1-6, this is the machine herald who comes after the one killed in episode 6. Another Rebirth is set to happen for Viktor.

Figures 1 &2 - White mask. Red/pinkish eyes.

Hmmm... Red/pinkish eyes are associated with shimmer. And a white mask, of the machine herald? The mask of a messiah. That the hextech Viktor will most likely also be imbued with shimmer like Jinx, to become the true "machine herald." Messiahs of the hex, monsters of the shimmer.

Its also worth noting that both Jinx and Viktor are framed as messianic figures of Zaun in this season. One the fighter who will rally together the undercity and free Zaun from its oppression. The other a healer and a saint like figure who will free the Zaunites of their suffering and lead them into a better future.

Jinx wanting peace - represented by Isha - and Viktor's dream of peace and healing for Zaun - represented by a lot of things including healing Vander - are metaphorically and literally killed in episode 6. Funnily enough, one symbol of peace killing the other (Isha and Vander - Child and Father). After all, peace and violence are two sides of the same coin, as are Viktor and Jinx. Or should I say, two sides of the same cog...

Figure 4&6 - The Cog shaped Hole in the Magicians chest/The Cog Coin and Jinx's cog.

"I understand now. The message hidden within the pattern. The reason for our failures in the commune. The doctor was right. Its inescapable. Humanity. Our very essence. Our emotions... Rage. Compassion. Hate. Two sides of the same coin. Inextricably bound."

In episode 6, whilst Viktor is explaining to Vi about what it will take to heal Vander, Jinx is sceptical. She doesn't even believe in herself as a messiah, so this "hero"? This "saviour" coming along to solve their problems? To fix things? When all she can do is break everything around her, jinx her own family, destroy? She's scoffing at Viktor sure, but she's also scoffing at herself. Mirroring. People treat her like they treat him, so to believe in him as a saviour means she would have to look into the water of that well and face her own reflection. And Viktor sees right through it, the pretence, and he sees her potential.

Knowledge is a paradox. Jinx wants to stick with what she knows, to destroy instead of to build, to "Watch it all burn." Or ignore the plight of Zaun, so she can live peacefully with Isha. Jinx - Powder - is choosing to remain ignorant to what's right in front of her. Right up until the moment Isha dies.

In the scene earlier in the episode, Jinx accidently destroys a bit of the well, releasing a cog that falls into water. Cogs have been symbolic of Viktor healing people throughout this season, using cogs to "Build."

Powder was thrown into water just like that cog by Silco, and reborn as Jinx. But its not Silco that picks up this cog. Its Viktor. He holds the potential of his creation in his hand, and in paradox, holds Jinx's destruction. Viktor holds Jinx's potential. He's literally holding the two sides of Jinx/Powder in his hand, her - their - fate. Just like Jinx, Viktor has the equal capacity to destroy, and if he is reborn as a weapon later on, perhaps that cog represents Jinx being reborn too. As a creator. A builder.

He holds onto Jinx's cog all the way through the rest of the episode, balancing that potential, that fate, of creation and destruction in his hand. Right up until the moment he dies, and the coin/the cog falls, sealing their fate. His death causing the deaths of Isha and Vander too.

So we've established that the story is viewing cogs/coins in a similar light. We've also established the show is linking Viktor and Jinx through the symbology of the cog.

This is reiterated in the symbolism surrounding the Tarot cards. Around the cards are coins that take the shape of cogs, the currency of Zaun. Fate - coin flips - and cogs, gods and machines. Deus Ex Machina, that is what Viktor is to become, and Jinx creates destruction using machines. She's an inventor, just like Viktor and Jayce. A creator and a destroyer. A god of the machine.

So how does Figure 6 - the coin cogs - relate to Figure 4? The hole in the Magician's chest.

On the Tarot Card, the Magician has a circle in the middle of his chest. A hole. Just like the hole Jayce puts through Viktors chest at the end of Episode 6. The one that kills him.

But if you look closely at the image above, it might be a stretch, but to me, the striations on the inner ring look very similar to those of a cog. The hole is what kills Viktor. Cogs have been given visual symbolism for healing, and are also associated with Jinx's potential for creation. Its a stretch, but it could potentially be foreshadowing Jinx using her abilities to heal Viktor; to build instead of destroy. We've already seen Jinx do it once with Sevika, by "building" her a new arm.

I also find it interesting that we're shown Jinx using her talents to build someone a new arm, and Viktor - the machine herald - still has yet to acquire his third arm. Perhaps he doesn't make it. Perhaps Jinx does?

Maybe, just maybe, Jinx - Powder - is the one to fix Viktor, and flip the cog of fate once again.

Now in Episode 6 we already get foreshadowing that it'll be singe - not Jinx - who saves Viktor by imbuing him with the ultimate shimmer from Warwick/Vander - stabilising him. He says it in the episode, but Viktor refuses to sacrifice Vander in the name of creating the ultimate weapon of destruction.

"It would destroy him."

Viktor's potential for destruction goes hand in hand with Jinx's.

Its even foreshadowed in both the cards. The red/pink eyes of the machine herald foreshadowing shimmer. And the shadow being imbued into the chest of the dead skeleton (Viktor) looks an awful lot like Warwick; the beast that traps Vander.

So why am I talking about Jinx saving Viktor if I'm so certain its Singe? Well I'm certain Singe will bring Viktor back to life, to be used as a weapon. That seems like the most likely outcome.

But like Viktor was saying about Vander "He's not a specimen, he's a man." Viktor was doing everything in his power to save Vander's humanity. So yes Singe will bring the machine herald back most likely - even if I think it'd be thematically cool for it to be Jinx - but I think Jinx will save Viktor. Save the man, the humanity. Be the big fat hero.

Jinx was a girl imbued with Shimmer, and despite having monstrous abilities and doing monstrous things, her humanity has still survived.

I could be wrong, I most likely am, but the the thing that's getting to me is this...

Figure 5 - The Broken Infinity.

At the centre of Viktor's chest, in the middle of Jayce's death blow and Jinx's cog of creation & destruction, is a symbol.

Now a diagonal infinity symbol is associated with the Firelights. Ekko. The boy who shattered time.

Broken Infinity? Shattered time? Seems to go hand in hand.

Though Ekko's symbol is a whole infinity, more akin to a Z than an ongoing X.

There are plenty of theories Ekko will play a role in Viktor's fate and the fate of everyone by rewinding time somehow. And the multiple shots of the coin rolling support that to an extend. Rewind time, change fate, change the flip of the cog. And I agree, I think Ekko is going to have a role to play. But there's also another character who fits with this symbol, who uses shimmer to move faster than humanly possible and defy fate time and time again. Who is the fulcrum of fate in the eyes of the story, the catalyst of everything. And only one character who has solely been associated with a broken infinity symbol before.

Jinx. That's Jinx's symbol. Her champion tag.

Jinx's symbol, right at the centre of Viktors chest. And this line to Jinx from Viktor...

"You have much to offer this commune, Powder. Your talents could be used to build instead of destroy."

And the line from Singe, about Viktor's fate being tied to the commune. Viktor IS the commune, he's the centre of it all. The one who can make the dream of Zaun - Vander's dream - a reality. And that line foreshadowed Jinx using her talents to help the commune. To help Viktor.

Hell, she was technically the reason he "died" in the first place. She fired the rocket that nearly killed him. Wouldn't it be poetic story telling if she was the one who saved him in the end?

I can't wait for Saturday.

I believe whatever happens, Viktor and Jinx's fates are inextricably bound.

[decemberspeech]

more gushing about warframe 1999

i will never stop talking about the lore reveals that wf 1999 is giving us. the drifter being able to recap the story so far, confirming that they do need to eat + sleep (and cut their food into cubes because it reminds them of the Zariman which is bittersweet as hell)

as well as just how cute the KIM chats are!! this entire update is the definition of "charming" thanks to every little detail. the way the Hex member's personalities shine through in their typing style which is SO good (arthur is formal, short sentences and abrupt ends to conversations. amir types extremely quickly and keysmashes. aoi's emoticons, lettie's animals running across her keyboard, quincy's shortening of words, eleanor's long and deep conversations.) i cannot stop myself from stimming from how the conversations range from cute to hilarious to sad, and just how real they all feel.

my favourite is the small details of the hex designs like how amir has a TAMAGOTCHI!! NO ONE POINTS THAT OUT!!!!

the OST is amazing. besides the Onlyne songs which already have so much praise, the heavy guitars and bass really make for an enjoyable experience in missions. there has never been a warframe song that doesn't go hard.

also DE listening to player feedback is always wonderful to see. the atomicycles in normal missions thing was a glitch but everyone loved it so much that DE is keeping it in, which leads to hilariousness like beating The Sergeant with your bike. i love DE's willingness to roll with the punches and to just listen.

[morwap]

𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍.

regulus black x fem!reader x evan rosier

smut

nav • r.a.b m.list • e.r m.list • poly!revan

sub!regulus, dom!evan, switch!reader, threesome, evan and reg are in the same year as the marauders, praise and degrading, oral m! & f!receiving, p in v, unprotected sex,

───────✧ 𓆩♡𓆪 ✧───────

evan rosier and regulus black.

the two names that have seemed to never leave your brain since the beginning of 8th year. two people you were never supposed to get involved with nor did you think youd ever even talk to without it being harsh words or hex’s but here you were having feelings for and relations with them.

evans dirty blonde curls and regulus’ grey eyes never seemed to leave your mind just like your frame and scent never left theirs, but at least they could express their feelings and needs with each other and you were stuck with inner monologues and your hand to satisfy yourself til the right time came.

one thing you all had in common was your friends hating the other person. evan had gotten more irritable and his patience was wearing thin when Mulciber or barty talked about you and regulus had to stop evan from lashing out at them and starting something that would be hell to finish, it was almost the same with your friends, james’ passive aggressive comments about regulus made you want to put him in his place but you refrained and remus and peter’s comments on evan made your blood boil as they talked shit about something they actually had no idea about.

sirius was a big factor, you knew hed be hurt if he found out you were fucking his brother and his brothers best friend behind his back but you never meant to get tangled up in regulus’ and evans web. the more you thought about it a lot of your friends would be disappointed so maybe that should’ve told you to cut it off after the first time but it was like a drug, the more you tried to stay away the more your want and need for it grew and eventually you gave in.

your bracelet vibrated once more, it was a gift from both of them to help make communicating better.

the three of you finally met up in the prefect bathroom durning dinner one night, regulus happily told you that him and evan were staying an extra day before going home for the break and that you should try so you all could spend time together before leaving.

and now here you were, almost everyone was gone for winter break and you were one of the few gryffindors left but there was just one problem, remus, remus fucking lupin had also decided to stay an extra day because he had been helping ms pince in the library. knowing remus he had the map, and would defiantly check it he if thought you were acting weird.

watching remus from your seat next to the fire, waiting for him to say he was gonna nap or walk around or go to the library, hoping and praying that he would say something like that so you could leave and get to evan and regulus’ dorm as fast as you could. your bracelet buzzed against your skin once more, you already knew which one was trying to give you the green light as to come to them.

normally it was evan, who only buzzed it once and then a second time if you were really really late; but today it was regulus, the constant buzzing at random times indicated that. you’d tease him about it since it seemed as if he couldn’t wait, you could imagine him mumbling the spell on the bracelet they had and waiting for you to show up at the speed of light and then doing it over and over when you were taking your time to get there.

jumping a little when remus coughed and got up and stretched. “i gotta go to the library, wanna meet up and walk to dinner together later?” remus asked, grabbing his wand and book then fixing his shirt while waiting for you to answer.

you nodded, “yeah ill come up to the library so you dont have to walk all the way over to get me” you said and smiled at him. remus nodded and left the common room.

muttering the spell towards the bracelet to let them know you were on your way. waiting a bit so you knew remus was far away before leaving the common room.

the bracelet buzzing again, making you smile and think about how to tease regulus about it in a bit. turning the corner as you kept looking around for any other people but luckily there was no one around.

evan was waiting for you beside slytherin common room, you watched him play with his sleeve before he looked up and saw you.

crossing his arms with a smile on his face as you got closer then reaching out and pulling you to him.

lips already going at each other and hands roaming and gripping at clothing and skin, hungry and needy for each other from being away for so long. the amount of glances and fantasizing while looking at the other person was gone and replaced with what you both desired, the real fucking thing.

pulling away to catch your breath, hands rubbing against his chest as your back was now up against the cold stone.

“you have no idea how much we missed you” evan whispered, his lips coming back to yours for a quick kiss before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours.

“i think i know by how many times hes buzzed me” you quipped, and evan instantly laughed and shook his head.

“i told him to quit, that you’d be here when you’d get here but hes basically cumming in his pants at anything that has to do with you” evan said, the happy tone in his voice made your heart flutter. you giggled and mumbled the spell to the bracelet, sending two buzzes to let him know you were and it buzzed back almost instantly which made you and evan bust out laughing.

“well, lets not leave him waiting” you laughed and took evans hand, pulling him towards the common room door. evan said the password and looked around to see if the common room had anyone in it, luckily no one was in there.

evan guided you to their dorm, all their dorm mates were gone leaving it the perfect spot.

regulus’ leg bounced up and down, he was excited to see you and get off since evan had been denying him since the night they found out they were staying too, no matter how hard regulus begged for evan to touch him or if he wanted to touch himself the answer was “no, you’ll thank me later” and regulus knew he probably would.

evan snuck you into the room, making sure no one would see you in case they just showed up out of nowhere. regulus jumped up when he heard the door click open. a smile coming onto his face almost instantly.

seeing them used to be awkward but now it was just like hanging out with your friends but so much more intimate, you wished you could be around them all the time which is crazy now since almost a year ago you didn’t like them and they did not like you.

the transition from seeing you again to already getting intimate was smooth and quick, it didn't feel forced like you were just there to have sex with them and then leave, it was loving and like you all had come home from a date together.

you sat on the side of evans bed, regulus was on his knees taking your pajama bottoms off, you could see his hard on in his pants.

“reggie you’re already hard, we’ve barely even started” you teased, regulus whined a bit at you pointing it out, he was aching, had been since he knew today was the day you were coming.

“told you he was practically cumming in his pants” evan quipped as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“I wouldn't be if you had let me cum” regulus snapped back, making evan laugh. you smiled then pouted at regulus.

“he’s so mean isn’t he, i’ll make sure you cum tonight baby” you said to him as you took the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up and off him. regulus had scars, not at many as sirius and definitely not as many as remus. he told you about them once, one day on the astronomy tower late into the night.

“thank you” regulus mumbled and side eyed evan. you took off your shirt and looked at evan, he was undoing his pants.

“how about you show her how thankful you really are” evan said with a smirk, regulus looked up at you.

“can i?” he asked, you nodded your head and regulus’ hands went to your panties and pulled them down quickly.

“good boy” evan praises him, your hand went to evans cock which was covered by his boxers. regulus kissed your thighs a few times before licking your slit.

regulus moved your leg over his shoulder, his tongue getting faster as you were getting more turned on. evan leaned down to kiss you, his hand going to your jaw.

you moaned as evan kissed you, regulus’ tongue was lapping at your clit quickly. evans grip on your jaw held you where he wanted you, you continued to touch evans cock.

you pulled down his boxers, he was as hard as regulus now, you broke the kiss and brought your hand to your mouth and spit before stroking his cock.

evan groaned and rolled his head back, you focused on his tip then started stroking him from his base to his tip over and over.

regulus pressed kisses on your clit before sucking then moving down to your entrance. he spread you apart with his fingers, his cock straining in his boxers made him think about touching himself but he wanted to be good for both of you.

“you’re doing so good reggie” you moaned, evan grinned and watched regulus.

a few minutes later you were struggling to keep your hand going, you were so close to cumming, evan knew it and so did regulus, reggie was going faster.

“i think that's enough reg, i think its her turn to make you feel good” evan said, regulus whined and pulled away from you.

regulus leaned up and locked your lips with his, evan started moving his hips while you kept stroking him. regulus pushed himself against his boxers, he was trying so hard to be good.

evan watched you two, his hand moving down to yours, he guided you— making your touches on him more firm. your other hand snaked down into regulus’ boxers and once he felt your soft hand grasping his cock his body shivered and pushed into you.

you could hear evan laugh softly. you smiled as you teased regulus, making him shudder and break the kiss multiple times.

regulus broke the kiss and rested his forehead on your shoulder.

“please—please, keep touching me— i'm almost there” regulus begged, his eyes were closed tightly and he pressed more into you.

you glanced at evan, silently asking for permission.

evan grabbed regulus by his hair gently, pulling his head back to look at him.

“why would you want to cum in her hand when i was gonna let you cum in her” evan asked, cocking his head slightly and furrowing his brows. you stopped touching regulus, pulling your hand out of his boxers.

“what do you wanna do reggie?” you asked him, placing a kiss on his neck.

regulus lets out a sigh, “i wanna cum in you” he says with a nod.

evan let go of regulus’ hair, your hand dropped from evan as he took a step back and walked to the other side of the bed.

“lay down regulus” he commanded, regulus moved from you and got onto the bed, you turned to watch them.

evan guided regulus onto his back, moving his head to hang off the edge of the bed a bit. your hand moved to regulus’ thigh, rubbing up and down and inching closer to his boxers.

you moved closer to regulus, now hooking your fingers on his waist band.

“you remember don’t you? tap my thigh three times for me to stop” evan reminded him, regulus nodded and hummed in agreement, you and regulus made eye contact as you pulled his boxers down to his mid thigh.

“i love you” you mouthed to him, his face went a bit red before he mouthed it back.

evan smiled as you moved to straddle regulus. he leaned towards you, locking your lips with his for a few moments.

he pulled back, “are you ready?” he whispered softly.

“more than ready” you said, pressing one last kiss on his lips before sinking down onto regulus’ cock.

a sigh came from both of you, you hadn’t had him in so long and it just feels so right. regulus was covered in goosebumps, the feeling of you around him felt so good.

evan tapped regulus’ mouth with his cock. “open your mouth baby” he instructed. evan’s cock glided into regulus’ mouth smoothly, regulus was basically trained to take evan, you three just started and regulus was practically deep throating him.

regulus’ eyes closed and he moved one hand to evan’s thigh and the other to yours. you could see the outline of evan’s cock in regulus’ throat which made you wetter. you started moving your body up and down, trying to find the right spot where your clit would make contact with his pubic area.

“you’re doing so good reggie, being so good for us” you praised, your hand rested on his ribs and the other on the bed. evan could feel regulus whimper, the vibrations took some air from him.

“he really liked that” evan groaned out as he fucked regulus’ mouth faster. you could hear noises coming from regulus as he took evans cock, his nails digging into the skin of your thigh.

you threw your head back as you found the right spot, your clit dragging on his skin and his cock hitting your sweet spot. evan watched you, he missed you so much and was so relieved there was time for you three to be together, he didn’t care if you three just sat in silence, he just wanted to be with you and regulus.

“you’re so pretty darling” evan moaned, his hand grasping your neck gently, you smiled at him and leaned closer to him. your head was still a little tilted back and evan bent to meet you halfway. a sloppy kiss broke out between you two, you tried to keep up but with the friction on your clit it was getting harder to keep a clear head.

evan kept his thrusts at a good pace with a few stops in between so regulus could get a breath, he could feel every moan and whimper regulus produced.

you pulled at evans lip with your teeth teasingly.

“i love you” you whispered into the kiss and evan moaned it back.

you gasped when you felt regulus cum inside you, painting your insides with his cum. your cunt basically milked him, it started to run down out of you and onto the part of his shaft that was exposed and down his balls.

reggie was trembling, you could feel it. Now the knot in your stomach was getting tighter, regulus’ hand was gripping your thigh harsher.

you muttered cuss words as you tried to chase your climax, you were close, so close you could feel the beginning of it. you twisted the bed sheets in your fist as you tried to keep the friction on your sensitive clit up.

evan pressed his lips to your forehead, you watched evan’s dick move in regulus’ throat. you knew you were probably overstimulating reggie.

you clenched around his cock which made regulus whine.

you moaned as you clenched harder, you tried to keep moving as you came, trying to get as much stimulation as possible, your muscles tensed up and your abdomen trembled.

evan was soon to follow, his breathing getting quicker as he could barely stand any more stimulation from regulus. his cum shooting down regulus’ throat, he could feel regulus swallowing everything he gave him and once he was empty evan pulled out of regulus’ mouth.

Regulus took in a few deep breaths and coughed a few times. you gently laid on regulus, your head resting on his chest, his cock still in your cunt. regulus’ hand came to your back, tracing shapes on your skin.

“you took me so good reggie, i’m so proud of you baby” evan praised, leaning down to kiss regulus’ forehead.

you hummed in agreement with evan, “we’re both so proud of you” you added. regulus smiled and mumbled a ‘thank you,’ you felt evan place a hand on your head, ruffling your hair.

“you alright darling?” he asked, you smiled and nodded.

“just perfect” you responded.

[lostreverb]

DAD!RALPH BOHNER HEADCANONS

a/n: if we're gonna call him a dilf might as well write about it! also he gives girl dad vibes so we're going with that! AND SORRY ABOUT THE ANGST I'M LIKE ADDICTED TO WRITING IT

warning: mentions of PTSD, swearing

--

• you and your four year old daughter were coincidentally on a trip to visit family when the hex happened, your husband ralph couldn't get out of work but insisted you go without him

• after everything, ralph's mental state was so poor he had to quit his job, so instead of having a nanny, ralph becomes a stay at home dad while you work

• you were reasonably uncertain if ralph was mentally stable enough to take care of a child as well as himself but he insisted he's capable

• loves you and his daughter more than anything in the world

• calls her "bub, hon, sweetpea, babygirl, little gremlin, kiddo"

• is very protective of his family (especially after the hex)

• he buys everyone evil eye necklaces and makes you wear them to keep you safe

• doesn't sleep much anymore unless he's napping with his daughter

• it's quite literally the only time he gets any kind of peaceful sleep

• you had definitely spent an entire year trying to get her sleep on her own but that's out the window now and she'll only sleep in your bed

• on the occasions he does try to get a full night's rest, ralph still gets nightmares. but when he wakes up in a sweat, seeing "his girls" cuddled up with him calms him down, sometimes enough to where he can go back to sleep

• your daughter adores her dad's grown out curls, and often raves about how they look just like hers (compared to the cropped hair he had before) and mindlessly plays with his beard when they're sat on the couch watching TV

• does funny voices when he reads stories to her

• lives for hearing + making her laugh with corny jokes (btw she thinks he's the funniest person in the world)

• practices his one man show for her and the reason you know is because she'll try and recite certain plot points to you as if that's something that happened to her

• ralph forgets to eat but when he does, it's often just whatever your daughter doesn't finish of her food or he raids the fridge at 3 am

• generally his diet consists of celsius and half eaten dino nuggets

• sends her to preschool with totems he makes for show n' tell

• you got a call at work once because she did the black magic warding chants ralph taught her with an animal skull totem and it scared some kids and made them cry

• according to your daughter it was only "like 2 people" who cried and assured you that everything was fine b/c the rest of the class thought she was "the awesomest"

• you have to tell her to stop going around telling people her dad is an expert in "getting rid of witches" b/c they think she means "bitches"

• whenever you come home to seeing your daughter sat in ralph's lap at his computer, he tells you he's just working on his one man show but he's really on reddit and other forums teaching her how to protect herself from witches

• has learned well how to dress his daughter but b/c of his sketchy appearance sometimes ppl think she's been kidnapped, especially if she starts to throw a tantrum in public and you're not around

• cared very much for billy and tommy b/c they reminded him of his daughter

• there's been times where he's particularly struggling with his PTSD and accidentally scares her and it breaks his heart

• despite this, she'll come over and try to cheer him up with one of her stuffed animals and hug him or do one of the chants he taught her because that's what her idea of protection and safety is

-----------

ANGST DRABBLE

ralph sits with his head in his hands, distraught. he had another episode, this time in front of his young daughter. seeing the look of shock and fear on her face broke his heart.

those damn witches had hell to pay for what they've done.

"daddy?" he hears a small voice say. ralph's head shoots up. his daughter, holding her favorite teddy bear (which she renamed "papa bear" after noticing how closely his new look resembles the stuffed animal) walked up to him. her eyes are still a bit glossy, but she's smiling regardless.

"hey hon..." ralph speaks softly, reaching out to stroke her hair. "what have you got there?"

she puts the teddy into his arms, searching his face for a reaction.

"is.. this for me?"

she nods and ralph gasps holding it tight.

"oh wow, thank you babygirl- c'mere-"

he pulls her in for a deep embrace, kissing her head and whispering that he's sorry and that he loves her so much. a tear falls down his cheek as he holds her small body against his, hearing her say "i love you more, daddy!" in that sweet tone of hers.

it takes everything in his power not to completely break down.

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

FLUFF DRABBLE

after finishing dinner, you walk up the stairs, hearing the sound of chanting coming from the bedroom.

"close! remember kiddo you've got to do it twice for it to really work so let's go again- OUMMMM-"

"mommy!" at the sight of you, your daughter jumps off ralph's lap and throws her little arms around your legs.

"hi!" you respond enthusiastically, hugging her back. "just wanted to let you both know dinner was ready. what are you guys... up to?"

ralph avoids your eyes by pretending to look around the room. your daughter smiles up at you, bursting with excitement.

"daddy was teaching me-"

ralph interrupts. "dinner's ready? oh, you have perfect timing babe we're starving- uh kiddo? why don't you go wash your hands?"

"ooookayyyy!!" your daughter skips out of the room, curly ponytail swinging back and forth in time with her steps.

"again? ralph we talked about this-"

"i know, sorry..." he sighs. you notice his eyes linger on your chest.

"like what you see?" you tease, wiggling your eyebrows.

"no-! i mean- yes, of course but- you're not wearing the necklace..." he pouts.

you roll your eyes and reach into your shirt to pull the chain out.

"oh- my bad"

"yeah- now mr. bohnerrific69, could you please tell my husband that dinner's ready and he needs to actually eat tonight? because a whole pack of oreo's is not a sufficient meal."

"who told you i-?!"

ralph's gaze moves to your daughter, who's peeking past the door frame giggling.

"snitch!" ralph gasps dramatically and stands up from his desk, starting to playfully chase her down the hall. "thought you could rat me out huh? we had a deal!"

--

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8 @wcnderlnds @lacucarachapisser @xrag-dollx

[kmt123whatsthetea]

Karma’s a b*tch

Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

Fred and George get revenge on a girl who used to bully them in school by turning her into a submissive slut.

A/N: I told an AI on Chai that I wrote fanfics and it requested this (AI’s are kinky bastards). I came back to it because @jelloangela asked about an enemies to lovers fic. I know this isn't exactly enemies to lovers, but hey, it's still dirty as hell.

T/W: Rough sex, mean twins, No aftercare, Reader is a real a-hole and a Slytherin, Weasley twin bashing (I was only mean to suit our character), Bondage, Manhandling, Tie gag? (it will make sense when you read it), Maybe a little bit of dub-con, Hair pulling, Degradation, Spit roast (Vaginal and oral simultaneously), Cum swallowing, Orgasm denial

Every school has bullies. It's natural. Hogwarts just had a whole house full. Slytherin was the type of house that practically gave all those wearing the crest a free pass to be as cruel as possible.

Tripped up a student? 20 points to Slytherin

Hexed a first year? 50 points to Slytherin

There were the younger Slyterins who went along with it because they wanted to fit in with their new ‘family’, and then there were those who actually seemed to enjoy it. That's how the Weasley twins of Gryffindor first noticed you. Ever since the first year, you weren’t meek. You took pride in those you terrorised. You went out of your way to learn new spells just for the sole purpose of misery. When you first met the Weasley clan, they were an easy target.

You had heard people talking about them. About how the new Weasley boys both had handed down clothes and books. It wasn't a secret that most Slytherins had parents who were well off, and you were one of them. You took to the Weasley Twins like a bee to a flower picking child. You mocked every little thing they did, from the pranks they pulled to how they acted.

This went on for the whole 7 years of school.

After Hogwarts, you found that school wasn’t like life. You couldn't bully your way to the top like you could before. So when in Diagon Alley one day, you chose to go into the new Weasley Wizard Wheezes just to regain some of that power you once had.

The shop was the Weasley twins to a T. It was like walking straight into their mind. Everything was bright and colourful. Things popped and whizzed and sparked about the shop. Finding said twins was easier than you thought. Two ginger tufts of hair could be seen from a mile away. You made your way over there with a smirk on your face, but that smirk dropped when you saw the twins.

They looked so…grown up

Those two pranksters with untucked shirts and crooked ties were now standing on the staircase to their own business in suits that were both smart and ridiculous. For a minute, you stood there like a fish out of water, your mouth opening and closing as you took them in. a familiar voice slapped you out of your blubbering.

“Lookie here Georgie, I think a rat wandered too far from Knockturn Alley”

“So it seems. Maybe a hex will send her packing”

The men snickered to each other, and for a split second you felt a foreign feeling. Embarrassment. As soon as that feeling vanished, you painted your smirk back on and spit venom at them.

“Nice shop, Weasleys. Did your parents give you the money to open it or did you mooch off of the golden boy?”

There was a rumour floating around that Harry had given the twins the money for something. You just hoped it was right to give your words some merit. And it had. George looked away and Freds eyebrows furrowed. You felt that familiar pride and continued.

“Still selling the same old rubbish since Hogwarts? I guess not everyone has an aspiration to do something with their lives instead of working in retail”

Fred took a step down, a step towards you.

“We’re just doing what we’re good at. Maybe you should come back later and we’ll show you our new little project”

Fred looked up at George with a knowing smirk, one that George soon mirrored. You missed their shared look in favour of turning your nose up at the endless shelves of boxes, gadgets, and gizmos.

“Maybe I will”

And just like that, the twins' plan was set in stone.

____________________________________________

You came back to the shop a few hours later. The inside of the shop was dark and empty. The only light came from the top of the stairs that the twins had stood on earlier. You gave the door a knock and started tapping your foot when the twins didn’t immediately rush to open it.

When one of the men came to let you in, you gave a huff.

“Make me wait, why don't you? What’s the project?

The twin that let you in just smirked and led you to the stairs. He gave a gesturing nod, urging you to climb. When you got to the top and opened the door, you found the other twin. The door was locked behind you and your hands were forced behind your back. Before you could struggle, you felt something soft around your wrists. You looked back as best you could and saw the black leather handcuffs connecting your wrists to one another.

The twin behind you placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you down to kneel, keeping you there and increasing the pressure when you tried to stand up or squirm. The twin in front of you removed his tie and wrapped it around your mouth, keeping you quiet.

“You know, you’ve aged pretty well. Perfect tits, perfect ass, and then a bratty mouth. I bet you’re still the same spoiled little bitch you were in school. You had so much fun teasing people, but no one ever gave you a taste of your own medicine, did they brat?”

You tried to argue back, but it came out as a muffled mess or words. The twin holding your shoulders chuckled.

“I bet she’s cursing your name, Freddie”

“Or she’s begging to be put in her place”

Those very words send a chill up your spine and your clit seemed to twitch at the thought of being under their control. You were meant to hate these men, you had bullied them for years. Should their words alone excite you as much as they did?

George grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back, making sure that you kept your eyes on Fred. Fred knelt down before you to push your dress up to your stomach. He let out a dark chuckle.

“White lace? Is this for us, slut or are you trying to act innocent? There's no way a little whore like you is a virgin, I bet you were Slytherin’s house slut. Tell us, did you get on your knees for every boy or just those who had money”

It didn't matter how much you squirmed or tried to argue, you were stuck. But maybe that wasn't a bad thing.

George puts his hands under your arms and hoists you to your feet. He pushed you towards one of the doors, which led into a bedroom. One of the men forced you onto your knees on the bed with your face down. When a pair of hands pushed your dress up, the twins were met with just how wet you were.

The sound of fabric rustling and belts clinking met your ears, and your suspicions of their actions was confirmed when one of the ginger duo sat against the headboard in front of you with spread legs. You had to stop your eyes from widening. As that famous quote always stated:

You’re enemies are always more well endowed than your boyfriends

Or something like that, anyway.

The twin before you moved his hand to your hair and pulled you closer until your breath ghosted across his eager tip. He pinched your nose, waiting until you took a much needed breath, before forcing his cock in your mouth. He didn't let you get used to the weight on your tongue before roughly moving your head up and down.

A second pair of hands pulled your underwear to your knees and pushed something thick against your entrance. The moan that left your throat was muffled by the cock in your mouth. Your hands gripped the tie that kept them behind your back as your pussy was forced to accommodate the cock that was pushing inside. The cock in your pussy was soon pulled out, but you didn't stay empty for very long.

If someone had told a 17 year old you that the Weasley twins would force you to submit to them and use you as a fuck toy in the near future, you might have punched said person for even suggesting it. But if they had included how good it felt, you might have warmed up to the twins long ago.

The hands moving your head became more forceful until they held you down, keeping the twitching appendage snug in your throat. Your throat was soon filled with hot cum, it was so deep in your throat that you had no choice but to swallow.

The hands pulled your hair up, the cock slipping from your mouth. As soon as your lidded eyes looked to the face in front of you, that damned smirk was still there.

“What a dirty little slut. She swallows. You are gonna keep your eyes on me while Fred cums inside of that slutty cunt, and if you look away for even a second, he’ll keep cumming inside of you until you learn your lesson”

The whine that left your throat was sinful. The pace was so rough that each thrust had your body jolting, but George's tight grip on your hair kept you still. You did as told, surprisingly. You kept your eyes trained. A small part of your mind realised that they would use you again if you looked away, but that thought was quickly shut down. You hated these guys, and you were too stubborn to let this become a regular thing.

The grunts behind you became more vocal as your pussy was flooded by sticky cum. Fred pulled out before you even had a chance to reach your own release. You shot George a dirty look, which to him, looked like a child throwing a tantrum.

“If you want to cum, brat, we can always go again”

Would it really be so bad if this became a regular thing?

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 1

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 3.4k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to friends to lovers trope, slow burn, plot, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Synopsis: After Makarov gets away again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you with each interaction. 

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

You’ve always been a light sleeper, if you could even be called that. The truth was that you hardly slept at all. Bedtime was always more like cat-nap time. Light, soundless, ready to pounce at the sound of dust falling to the floor. That’s how you trained yourself and the habit stuck, even if you don’t take missions anymore. It was hard to deprogram a killing machine. 

The two years have been peaceful even if you were always on edge. Semi-retirement has been kind in only giving you the sounds of the forest trees in the wind, the gentle rush of the creek, birds singing every morning, and most importantly, no visitors. The world didn’t know that you existed and you preferred to keep it that way for as long as you could. While you did feel the phantom blood dripping down your hands every now and then to an unsettling reminiscent degree, you did like this little slice of heaven that was your off-grid cabin. It was a good place to be before you undoubtedly go to hell in the end.

You were in your bed when you heard the rustling of the forest floor just outside your window. Steps. But not the steps belonging to a fox or bear you have learned to recognize over time. These were the steps of a man. No, multiple men. The way the foot falls of a man walking is an undeniable melody you have heard thousands of times. In the dead of night, you bolted up out of bed and reached for your throwing knife and a pistol, always kept at your bedside. Like a thief in your own home, you silently followed the sounds outside along the walls until you reached the living room. They were going to come in through the front door. 

Under the cover of darkness, you readied your aim at the door. To your surprise, they were messing with the keypad that locked your house down, inputting codes with a subtle click and then beep of a correct code. No one should know the code except for two people. Laswell and yourself. 

As soon as the door revealed moonlight and a silhouette, you fired your gun. A warning shot. Grazing right past neck. The men stopped and immediately aimed their own rifles, but the one in front held his hand up in surrender. Following orders, the rifles were lowered. You were the first to speak, your voice dripping with venom. “State your purpose and maybe I won’t kill you all where you stand.”

A gentle yet deep Liverpudlian accent voiced back. “Easy now. We don’t mean harm. Laswell sent us here. Code Swan.”

“Song?” You replied, your muscles still tense, unwilling to lower your defenses until the full code was complete. It is what ensured both yours and Laswell’s safety.

“Black Death.” He replied back. You stayed in position for a few moments before finally sighing and lowering your weapon. You turned on a table lamp next to you to get a better look at the intruders. Four men stood in your doorway. One with a fishing hat, one with a mohawk, one with a baseball cap, and one with a skull mask. They were all tall, big with muscle, and seemingly not American from their patches. An interesting bunch to say the least. 

“Fucking Laswell.” You cursed Kate’s name. She should have contacted you about this. You were just about to paint the porch with her mens’ brains. You hated surprises. You often killed them before finding out the intentions. 

With a wave of your hand, you invited the men to come into your cabin. They cautiously came in, surveying the layout and now understanding what Kate meant when she said that you were “belligerent.”

You turned on the main lights and tried to get a fire going to relieve some of the autumn chill that had crept through the house. Their leader began to unload his things on the kitchen table, sighing from the weight relief. His men joined in, save for one. You could feel his eyes on you as you encouraged the fire. You didn’t even have to look back to know that he was watching your every move. 

“It’s rude to stare.” You warned curtly as you stood and turned. The man in the skull mask and balaclava didn’t avert his gaze.

His voice was rich and gruff like gaboon ebony. His Manchester accent came clear as day. “You’re half naked.”

He was referring to the large band shirt and boyshort panties that you were wearing. What did he expect from someone that thought that enemies were breaking in? You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “I’m in my pajamas. Besides, a good soldier shouldn’t get distracted by any amount of nudity.”

His blue eyes narrowed at your dig. He was a good soldier. An excellent soldier actually. One of the best. But excellent, good, or bad, no one would be able to resist staring at your figure. The exposed thighs, the large neckline of the shirt hanging off your shoulder, various scars scattered across skin like an abstract painting. He’s never seen anyone like you before. 

Too bad you had a combative mouth. 

Before he could get a word in, you had walked off into the kitchen, not bothering to go get pants on. It was your home for fuck’s sake. Besides, there were more pressing matters than your clothes or lack thereof. 

You began to pull out all the food you had out of your fridge. Everything from deli meat to leftover lasagna was being laid out on the large quartz island. You weren’t going to heat anything up or make something new, but the laid out spread would be enough. You weren’t a completely heartless host. Just a bare minimum one.

Once the food was out for pickings, you headed back near the dining room, leaning against the doorframe. The boys had maps, blueprints, and laptops covering every surface of your table. Your beautiful, hand-made pine table. This was to be their new safehouse for now. Hopefully not for too long.

“Captain, it’s connecting now.” The one with the mohawk called out. The captain came right over to greet the screen.

“Laswell, can you hear us?”

“Loud and clear, John. Did everything go well?” Kate chipperly asked. You haven’t heard her voice in a long while. You almost forgot how nice her voice actually was.

“She nearly shot my fuckin’ neck off.” Mohawk-guy grumbled. 

Kate gave a light, short laugh. “Sounds like it went smoothly then. The best that it could be. She there?”

All four men looked up to you, expecting you to come over and face Laswell through the screen. However, you stayed where you were. Instead, you spoke loud enough for your friend to hear. “Kate Laswell.”

“Hex, I’m sorry that I couldn’t warn you about this beforehand. You know I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t an emergency situation.” She began to apologize and justify. It was always an apology followed by a justification. You wondered if she even ever means her apologies, but in the end, you never really cared enough. However, now it is different.

“I don’t exist, Kate. And now four new people know that I do. . .” You retorted back.

It was silent for a moment, the tension in the air thick. She was on the other side of the screen, but it felt like you were going to get into a physical fight with her anyways. “They’re trustworthy. I trust them with my life and the lives of millions upon millions. Just like I trust you. And as the only people that I trust, I need you to help them.”

“They have already taken over my home. What more do you want from me?” You clenched your jaw, trying to prepare yourself for an answer you probably wouldn’t like. Like hell were you going to play dorm mother to them and like hell you were going to just move out. The last thing you wanted was to take care of these men longer than necessary. This was already pushing that line for you.

“Athame.” She bluntly said. That was the worst answer she could have said. The confused looks the men gave each other made you grateful for a fleeting second. They didn’t understand your secret codes and languages. But they will soon.

Your jaw was clenched so hard that your teeth ached. You damn near cracked them. While your voice before was dripping with venom, it was now drowning in it. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Hex, I-”

You finally came over, nearly pushing the captain out of the way in your warpath. Through the screen, Kate could see how angry you were. Not just angry, furious. She steeled herself, ready for your onslaught of curses, stopping herself midway through her explanation. “I don’t do this shit, Kate! I work solo for a very particular fucking reason. And now you want me to work with four strange men?! Now you want me to play nice?! I’m not a fucking soldier that can just be ordered around!”

“I know! I know. . . But. . . we’re desperate. I’m desperate, Hex. Please, this is the last favor I will ever ask from you. This is an awful target we’re talking about. Someone that is better off in this world dead.”

“You mean Makarov, right? Why should I clean up your government’s fuck-up? Again, might I add.” You spat. You lived off the grid and weren’t a citizen of anywhere, but you still watched the news. You always knew what was going on in the world among other secrets. Makarov was a threat to the world, but as far as you were concerned, it wasn’t your problem. If anything, the government needed this lesson as a direct consequence of their negligence and incompetence. 

“Because Chalice.” She simply stated, knowing that her final word was a last ditch effort. Chalice was an agreement that you two had made long ago. It could only be used once in your lives, a truly desperate resort for help. If one of you uttered it, then the other would have no choice but to help, no matter the request. That was the law between your friendship, among other things. The other code words were favors, but this was the ultimate one. Life or death.

You considered punching the laptop in anger. Right at Kate’s face. You didn’t like her call for Athame or Chalice, but now you didn’t have a choice but to comply. It didn’t mean that you weren’t still furious though. “Fuck you, Kate.”

“Thank you, Hex.” She breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to tell you more about what she needed from you, but she knew that you had to cool off first otherwise you would burst into flames. That would've made things harder for all of you. So, she nodded as a signal for dismissal which you gladly took. You retreated to your room, locking the door shut and basking in the darkness. 

You could feel the blood boil within you. It burned your insides and choked you. Grabbing your pillow, you pressed it against your face and screamed out your frustration. When that didn’t help, you punched the exposed logs of your cabin wall until your knuckles were splintered and bleeding.

~

Ghost sat on the couch, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty. The rest of the meeting with Laswell was brief, wanting them to try to decompress for the next several hours. Sleep, eat, process. All in the comfort of an assassin’s home. 

Compared to your personality, the cabin was decorated warmly. Everything was cozy, earthy, and fresh. The fire crackled comfortably, the plush couch was broken in, and every wooden piece of furniture looked hand-made. Bookshelves were filled with classic books and another shelf collected various music records. The only thing that seemed out of place was the lack of real personal mementos. No pictures, no art, not even knick-knacks. The others didn’t seem to notice or care as they picked through the food left in the kitchen. But for Simon, it left him uneasy.

He recalled the briefing before they were sent to the middle of nowhere to you. Kate said that you were an old friend of hers from high school. You have been friends ever since, but you were different than most people. You were a deadly assassin unknown by the world. No records, no pictures, not even a birth certificate. You handled delicate problems with grace and grave justice. You always worked alone, you didn’t trust others, and you were deadly. Everything about you was a secret until Kate made the crucial choice to ask for your help. Hell, they didn’t even know your call sign until Kate said it over the video call. 

“You should eat, Lt. There’s a lot of options, but they’re dwindling fast.” Soap patted him on the shoulder, awakening him from deep thought. Ghost looked up at the sergeant, watching him stuff a sandwich into his mouth. It looked like all the deli meat from one packet was in between the bread. No lettuce or tomato. 

“In a bit. I’m gonna talk to Hex real quick and ask some questions.” He replied and got up from the couch. 

Soap swallowed nervously. “Kate said that she’s gonna need time to cool off. . .”

“Our new member is part of the team now. She’s gonna have to get used to us even if she wants time for herself.” He justified it with a shrug of his shoulders. Soap shook his head and walked back into the kitchen, knowing that what Simon was about to do was most likely going to be a bad idea.

Ghost walked down the hall, observing each door as he passed them. Most of them were slightly open revealing extra bedrooms, an office, and a bathroom. Only two of them remained closed, both locked with keypads. For a second, he wondered which bedroom was yours before he could hear the sound of light music behind one of them along with swearing. It made him wonder what was behind the other door that was locked down.

Deciding to let it go for now, he approached your door and knocked. “Hex, open up.”

He heard you let out a frustrated groan before the door opened up. It was only just enough to see you, the pure darkness behind you, and the blood dripping down your fists. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and quirked a brow that you couldn’t see behind the mask. It didn’t take a genius to realize what you had done. “Are you done throwing a temper tantrum?”

You scowled at him, a fire in your eyes that made Simon’s heart skip a beat which confused him. He wasn’t afraid of you, so why would his heart alter its beat for you?

“If I knew that you were just going to insult me, I would’ve shot you dead on my porch.” You bitterly snapped, moving to close the door in his face. However, Ghost stopped it from slamming and took your hand in his, observing the damage you’ve done to yourself.

Your breath caught in your throat. Electricity ran through you at his touch. When was the last time someone has touched you? You attempted to pull back, but his hand firmly gripped yours. “Hey! What the fuck? Let go of me!”

“Calm down and let me see. It hurts, doesn’t it? Stings?” 

You narrowed your eyes, but eventually nodded. It did sting and the dripping blood already stained your carpet. However, you could take care of it yourself. You didn’t need some man coming in to try to fix you. “I’ll be fine. I can tend to it myself.”

“First aid in the bathroom?” He asked, seeming to ignore your clear hint that you wanted to be alone. 

Understanding that he probably wouldn’t drop this until he saw gauze around your knuckles, you headed to the hall bathroom with a huff, opened up the cabinet, and took out the first aid kit. You then took a seat at the edge of the tub and began patching yourself up. Every now and then you looked up towards the doorway, making sure that the skull man was watching you take care of yourself. Without his help. Without anyone’s help.

Finally, your hands were wrapped and the bleeding had stopped. You held up your hands towards him. “Happy now? Will you leave me alone now?”

“Hex.” Ghost simply said as a warning. God, you were infuriating. An attitude problem was something he would normally be able to snuff out immediately. He did it all the time when training new soldiers. Not you though. New soldiers were like little candles, easily blown out of their fire with just a breath. You? You were like a raging forest fire. One that clearly had its own traumas over years of service that the world may never know. 

You didn’t like how he studied you. How his eyes trained on you were a mix between hatred, curiosity, and something else that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. A magnetic pull that begged for you to look at him too. You also didn’t like how he was trying to treat you like one of his rookie soldiers. The only thing you wanted to do to make it all stop was to push him away. “Don’t talk to me like some new recruit straight out of school. I’ve already earned my place in the world with the amount of scars I have. So, don’t treat me like I’m under you. I won’t even let your captain talk to me like that.”

After putting the first aid back where it belonged, you attempted to leave the bathroom and retreat back to your bedroom. Yet, Ghost wasn’t giving up just yet. His hold body blocked the bathroom exit. He was tall, strong, and sturdy. It wasn’t hard for him to completely fill up the space. However, that didn’t intimidate you. You got up close, and looked straight into those icy blues. Even with the black warpaint, you could tell that his lashes were meant to be blonde. Some of the paint had flecked off revealing some true color. You wondered what the rest of his face looked like for a second. Just a second.

You stood your ground, engaging in a heated staring contest. It was like lightning crackling between the two of you. After a while though, Simon finally gave in and held his hand up like a handshake. “Lieutenant. They call me Ghost.” 

Hesitantly, you took his hand and firmly shook it, refusing to back down from a battle of wills. “Hex. That’s all you will know me by.”

Suddenly, he pulled you in closer, your chest almost touching his. On instinct, you pulled a knife from the waistband of your underwear. It was the one you took with you earlier for the showdown at the door. You held it to his neck, blade dipping in until you could feel the push back of skin. Ghost didn’t flinch or jump back at your defense. Instead, he whispered into your ear that he wanted to get close to in the first place. “As hard as you may try to fight it, you’re going to know me. And I’m going to know you.”

You bit back the shiver that went down your spine from the whisper, aching to slice his throat in retaliation. Chalice had you pinned, though. You had to avoid killing the people you are going to be working with at the very least. 

Ghost slowly backed up and headed back towards the kitchen for some food, leaving you to process what just happened. You silently walked back to your room without looking back at him, ears turning red and heart racing unnaturally. You didn’t want to give him any satisfaction by giving him any more attention. However, Simon was already somewhat satisfied. 

Yet, there was a part of him that wanted more.

Soap was eating a piece of lasagna when he walked in. Gaz and Price were quietly conversing at the other end of the island. It took a lot of food to fill up men like them. It wouldn’t take long for them to eat you out of your house and home unfortunately. 

“So, how did it go?” Soap nosely inquired. As Simon surveyed the food before picking out a tupperware full of stew, he shrugged casually.

“She almost sliced my head off.”

Soap suppressed a chuckle and did his best impersonation of Laswell. “Sounds like it went smoothly then.”

[bluetooththereptile]

Father in law (part one)

(Potential yandere Bruce Wayne x reader)

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: I use a gender neutral name, Angel, for Bruce's child.

Summary: Your life with your partner isn't going well, you have to do something about it.

Tw: mentions of abuse, harm and unaliving.

The sound of the TV echoed in the living room of the Manor, the atmosphere of the room tense, it had been like that since whenever you visited your partner. You rolled your eyes as you heard the chuckles of the presenters on the screen, a picture of you taken by paparazzi when you were in a hurry plastered on the corner of the screen. Angel tried to distract you by offering you a cup of tea but you declined, making them worry even more for you, but you were too lost in your misery to care.

Since your relationship became serious with Angel your life had become a literal hell, every date had ended up in some form of misery for you, Angel didn't get any of the side effects of your situation though and you didn't know how it had happened. How you had ended up on the paparazzi news, your life displayed as the worst version of what it could be, belittled and bullied, you had lost your job because of your tarnished image and you had lived in your car since your landlady had thrown you out because you were a "sexually deviant, arrogant and abuser" person and she didn't want you close to her own home. Speaking of the car, you had to refill its tank, but you didn't have the money for it. Damn it!

You groaned under your breath as you looked At angel who had tilted their head to the side, calling your name to catch your attention. God, how much you both hated and loved them at the same time. It was easy to love them, they were kind and caring, beautiful in every sense, perfect in every way, no wonder they were so popular, but, that also was the reason that you hated them as well, they had everything you did not, and since the time you had started dating, your life had become a literal hell.

"Angel..." you spoke, a little surprised by your tone, it sounded...weak "I wanted to talk about something..." Their body turned towards you so they could give you their whole attention, you wanted to wince at the gleam in their eyes, they looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, at first it was pleasant to have someone like that but now it was sort of like a hex, giving you the chills. Shivering slightly you cleared your throat and shifted on your seat "I've been thinking about breaking up..."

"What?! Why?!" Angel's hurt voice made you recoil in your seat, you wanted to tell them everything, to tell them all that happened to you had made you miserable, but you only sighed in their response "Something has been bothering you?" Angel's question made you wince, Angel was perfect but had a mortal flaw, they were delusional, you didn't know but it ran in their family. In their eyes you weren't dirty or miserable, you were simply tired, bored, or perhaps a little sick. What was on TV was just a joke, and perhaps you didn't have the humor to laugh at it, you were just a little rusty, that's all, right? Then why you wanted to break up? Was the date you had not good enough? Your dates were so much fun, they always ended up with a funny scene, you had so much fun together, and you were perfect together, why now you were talking about breaking up?

You palmed your face, sighing, looking away from Angel, only to see their father standing in the corner with an interested look on his face, Bruce Wayne, oh God you hated that man to your core, whenever you met him he'd roast you so hard that you'd end up like a lump of burnt coal, the look in his eyes showed that he looked down on you, not to mention his fucking family, ugh, you just wanted to get away from all of this, after all, you got into that mess just for the sake of dating Angel Wayne.

You turned to your partner "Look, I just want to break up okay?" Angel paused, the look on their face darkening, oh dear God here we go. "Am I not enough? Y/N, I have done everything I could to make you happy! What is wrong? Don't you love me anymore?" "No! I don't love you anymore!" You said harshly, wanting to push them away, even if it meant they'd be hurt emotionally, but to your frustration, Angel took in a deep breath before speaking "I know I have been busy with my work and you've been under so much pressure lately, I understand that you feel burnt out and want to take some time apart but breaking up is just overreacting to our situation!"

You felt like you'd want to roll your eyes so hard that they'd come out of the other side of your head, they didn't want to understand, they didn't take no by its literal meaning. You sighed, rubbing your eyes, if it was with someone else you'd feel thrilled that someone was so understanding and considerate, so hell-bent on keeping you by their side but this wasn't that, you felt like you were suffocating under the pressure. Your phone rang, making you flinch, as you looked down at its screen you let out a scoff, it was another call from another unknown number, how your phone number had ended up on the internet for people to bully, you didn't know. You were sick of this, sick of life itself!

No job, no house, your own family hated you for just existing after fabricated evidence of your various offenses had been published, you couldn't hurt a fly, and yet you have assaulted an old lady...sexually?!?! Angel touched your arm to pull you out of your thoughts but then you slapped their hand away. standing up, you didn't even turn to look back at them for the last time, ignoring their pleas "Y/N, you're being ridiculous please stay-" Angel paused as Bruce talked "Let them leave darling..." you rolled your eyes once more before walking away, not looking back to see the smirk on Bruce's face as he held his child

down by their shoulders on their seat; stopping them from following you.

You didn't know why all of this had happened, you didn't know that it was all because of Bruce Wayne, the bastard himself. He had paid people to tarnish your image, ruin your livelihood, and push you into depression so you'd let go of his child, you were never perfect for his Angel, his Angel deserved someone so much better than you. Barging out of the Manor you walked your way outside the yard and the gates, of course, you didn't have the money to pay for a taxi, so you started a walk into the night, too frustrated and angry to think of your safety.

Before you could figure out where you were heading you found yourself in front of the drugstore your mother used to take you to, the cashier was still the same old lady with those large eyeglasses. Without thinking you headed into the store, perhaps some nostalgia would help? The smell of lavender filled your nostrils, you walked to the second isle to avoid eye contact with the cashier, sighing as you looked at the different things for sale, until your eyes landed on the familiar brown bottle, something that your mother used to call her little helpers...Xanax.

You reached out for the bottle and looked at it, whenever your mother took one of these everything seemed better since she'd end up more relaxed, perhaps if you were to take some you'd feel better too? But you didn't have the money to buy it, and clearly, you didn't want to embarrass yourself by asking to borrow it, so you looked around, and since the only camera in the old store was way away from you, you quickly put the bottle in your pocket, walking out of the store as if nothing had happened, you'd finally have some resemblance of relaxation soon.

....

Angel's cries echoed in the Manor as they banged their fists on the door, pleading for their father to be let out, they had to see you, they had to touch your body, even if it meant it was cold already. Bruce closed his eyes, leaning to the door of their room as he tried to think of something else, something other the fact that your suicide had ended up messing his child so much that they had gotten into a maniac episode. Dick had found your body in the car, motionless with the empty bottle of pills, you had given up on everything.

But what bothered Bruce was not your death or Angel's distress, it was the fact that he felt...pain. surely it wasn't because he deep down had softened up a little for you, right? He had told himself those lies for about a week, and it was driving him mad, he had to do something about it to save both his sanity and Angel's, and he'd do anything in his power to make things right.

[meteor752]

can we have more details about hermes x Odysseus? Please ~

More than happy to dearie

(Also you didn’t need to send the ask twice lol)

Since Ody is technically Hermes great grandson (*cough cough*), he’s known about his general existence long before he met him on Aeaea. He didn’t care that much about him tho, cause like if he gave a shit about every mortal offspring he had then he literally wouldn’t have time for anything else.

Still, hearing that Athena herself had taken an interest in one of his? Fascinating to be sure. Not enough to start giving a shit, but still, fascinating

And then, Poseidon. Hermes was of course the first to hear the news that Poseidon had attacked and killed over five hundred Greeks over one slight, and you know he spread that gossip to the rest of Olympus like fucking wildfire. But still, that makes two gods (one of which a member of the big three) that has taken an interest in some way in Odysseus. So it might be time to investigate

Hermes finds him and the remainder of his crew having washed up on Aeaea, which tickles him a bit. One of Athena’s “warriors”, seeking refuge on Circe’s island? Interesting choice indeed.

But Hermes takes his time to indulge in one of his favourite pastimes, spying on people. And sure, Odysseus does his fare share of moping there on the beach, but to the messenger gods surprise, despite all of the man’s losses, he takes action almost immediately, ordering some other guy to go scout out the island. And even though Hermes loves watching Circe trick and hex people, he doesn’t leave to go check that out. He stays, watching the mortal go about.

Hermes also takes the time to truly take notice how handsome the man is. He has a slightly short stature and lean build, just like any descendant of his, but he seems to have not let that stop him as he moves about with confident elegance. His hair is much darker than Hermes own, and despite being ruffled and damp from the sea water, the messenger god can see that it’s well cared for. Most of all, he takes notice of the mortals eyes, a deep rich brown, and despite the weariness and paranoia to be found in them, he still sees a small twinkle in them, a light that has not yet been snuffed out by his uncle.

Hermes could have watched the man for hours if he so desired, and so was a little pissed off when the other man from before came running and interrupted them.

But it was through that that Hermes got a chance to see another of Odysseus strengths, his way with words. Despite the frankly idiotic decision to land on Aeaea, the messenger god could clearly see his sister in the way he spoke. He was even more intrigued by the things he was saying, showing loyalty and honour, despite having a chance to escape the situation. Hermes himself never cared much about loyalty, but the fact that the mortal is willing to risk his own life and safety for his crew? He can’t help but be impressed

Until he realises that yeah his new favourite mortal is most definitely going to fucking die if he doesn’t do anything, so, he gets involved.

And if he’s a bit extra giddy when Odysseus says his name, if he flirts a little more than he usually does, if he holds him extra close when they dance, well that’s only for him to know.

Hermes keeps spying on Ody even after Circe, even going so far as to follow him to the underworld. Usually when mortals have extreme breakdowns and cursing the gods out, Hermes finds it kinda funny. It’s a good show. But, when his mortal does it (Because that’s what he is. He’s not Athenas, or Poseidons, he’s his. It was Hermes who saved him from Circe, it’s Hermes who’s keeping an eye on him, hell he would never have been born if it wasn’t for Hermes), it’s way less fun, and just upsetting.

Hermes keeps keeping watch as his mortal keeps getting worse. The sirens, Scylla, his mortals crew turning on him, Hermes witnesses it all. As much as he’d like to assist in some way, he was already in trouble with Zeus for his intervention on Aeaea, and that had been a pretty minor thing all things considered. Despite everything that occurs, he still sees that same twinkle remain in his eyes, that same light that Hermes treasures so.

Still, it was hard to not get absolutely pissed when that other man stabbed his mortal.

When Zeus got involved with his mortal and struck down his crew, Hermes lost sight of him. The messenger god spent seven years scouring the ocean for any trace of the king, but to no avail.

When he’d searched every single corner of the earth, Hermes through in the towel and finally did what he really didn’t want to do.

He asked his sister for help.

Despite how much it upset him, Athena had actually formed a divine bond with Odysseus, which made her capable of tracking him.

And find him she did. On Calypso’s island.

Fuck.

Luckily, Athena wanted him freed too, so Hermes didn’t have to grovel to Zeus himself. He would have done so if needed, but having Athena do ir for him was easier on his pride.

And he was more than happy that that was the case, as Athena got a lightning bolt to the face, and Hermes got the job of retrieving his mortal.

He’s never been as excited as he was, travelling to Ogygia, past the veil keeping the island hidden from the outside world. And, maybe he’s a little gloaty when he tells Calypso to release his mortal, but it’s difficult not to be. The goddess has spent seven years thinking that Odysseus belongs to her. Laughable, truly.

Hermes has spent years thinking about his mortal, missing his elegant stride, his beautiful hair, his lopsided cocky smile, his eyes. Yet, when he first get a look of him again after so many years, building his sad little raft, it’s nothing less than painful.

Because he’s wrong. The paranoia has settled in, making him jumpy and uncertain, and while his time on Ogygia had made him altogether more healthy, it was in a way that just didn’t fit. He looked almost uncomfortable in his own skin as he moved. And worst of all, his eye twinkle had all but vanished.

But all of his upsetting feelings vanished the second his mortal laid eyes on him, and his smile shone brighter than Apollo himself.

Hermes stayed by his side as long as he could warning him both about the dangers ahead, but also drinking in every moment his mortals attention was on him.

But even still, he eventually had to depart. He knew his uncle was waiting for a final chance to finish his mortal off. If Apollo was to be believed, Odysseus would survive the encounter, somehow, but that didn’t stop the rising anxiety Hermes felt as he said farewell to his mortal, taking his leave with a soft kiss.

~~~

I have many thoughts on Hermes, my favourite Greek god (Not my favourite overall god tho, Idun my beloved <3). Mans is most def extremely Not Normal about poor Ody, who did not ask for all this attention from the gods.

I do also imagine most gods to be extremely possessive, and do not like sharing, so Hermes isn’t too fond of the fact that like five other gods are vying for Odysseus attention.

He remains silly tho, stalker tendencies and all