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fictionalsweethearts · 2 days ago

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ENDURE, TAKE, OWN | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

Synopsis: As you take control of your pleasure, Sevika reveals memories that still hurt.

Contains: hurt/comfort, soft!sevika, confessions, kissing, strap-on, vulnerability.

This a sequel of this fic, in case you wanna check it out. Enjoy!

"Huh, I don't remember..." Sevika said. "It happened ages ago."

"Are you calling yourself an elder right now?" you teased her, standing behind her, running your hand through her black strands. "How old were you?"

"Uhm... I dunno, seventeen?"

"Seventeen and sneaking girls into your room?"

"It didn't happen in my bedroom, doll." Sevika grinned just a bit, as if the emotion of the moment had suddenly seized her again, just as it had twenty-three years ago. "It happened in a warehouse where I used to work."

Sevika seemed to go over the events in her mind, she could still smell the alcohol and the aged wood, the girl's perfume, the taste of tobacco. Just the memory made her happy somehow, the expectation and the amazement she felt within those four walls was liberating, as she found herself in some sort of awakening.

"You see… I was still pretty lost when I was seventeen, I made a lot of bad decisions, I met people I shouldn't have hung out with," she explained. "The arguments with my old man were a daily thing, I was kicked out of the house many times. I don't regret it, though."

A gentle breeze blew through the window, and by then you were already running a brush through Sevika's locks. Seeing her with her hair down softened her features in a way you hadn't expected.

"I started working in a warehouse for the Barral Twelve company."

"Wasn't it the owner of that company who…?"

"Who killed himself in the main square? Yes, that same one. Those were different times, people were more… showy." Sevika sighed. "I worked double shifts, just to keep a roof over my head and not come back home with my tail between my legs, like my father expected. I used to steal things from the warehouse, mostly booze. It was more fun to work drunk."

"You drove the company into bankrupt then." you joked.

"Probably." Sevika chuckled, followed by a soft hum as you brushed her hair. "What are you doing?"

"You always wear that boring half ponytail, I thought… I'd change your look. For tonight."

"Just don't make me look like a schoolgirl."

"I won't." you smiled, starting to divide her hair into three sections. "I'm listening."

And Sevika continued.

"There was this girl I worked with, Nina," the woman continued, settling back in her chair as you did her hair. "She was older, I think. Twenty? I don't remember, but I do remember that we would sneak into the back rooms to smoke and drink whatever was on the shelves."

"So your first time happened in a warehouse?"

"Romantic, isn't it?" Sevika shrugged. "I'd kissed girls before, it was fun, but I was interested in what else she could offer."

You started braiding her hair, so delicately that Sevika felt a tickle on her scalp. "I remember taking off that ashen shirt of hers, she wasn't wearing a bra. I tried to suck on her nipples, she liked it…"

Sevika paused to review the events. "It must have happened during the break, we were in a hurry. I wasn't ashamed, rather curious cause I always liked her, she was pretty. Just maybe too much of a junkie for my taste."

"Junkie?"

"The white-nosed ones."

"Geez."

"Indeed." she agreed. "I remember her pushing me up against the wall, shoving her hands into my pants, and the rest happened in a minute or two. She covered my mouth when I came."

"And that was it?"

"First times are just that," Sevika said simply. "They're awkward, fleeting… even borning sometimes."

And that doesn't mean they were worth forgetting, they were steps to step on in an endless staircase of learning and mistakes. Sevika didn't see the first encounters as a problem, but rather as a time to identify what her body had to offer. After that encounter, she wasn't afraid to seek contact with girls in clubs, roommates, neighbors, waitresses or brothel workers. She was trying out the sexual diversity of Zaun, from shy women to shameless ones who enjoyed a slap in the middle of oral or a hand placed on their throat. Sevika accepted everything, in order to learn, in order to feel in control of what her body provoked in others. And she loved to own that power.

"Did you see her again?" you asked then, undoing the braid when you saw that it had become crooked. Not that Sevika was complaining, the feeling of your hands in her hair was delightful.

"No, she died. Overdose."

"Shit."

"Over time you learn to read people better, Nina had been seeing that coming for a long time."

Sevika had learned not to get attached to people whose lives hung in the balance. Death lurks around every corner in Zaun, in the form of drugs, crime and incidents, so seeing her peers succumb to one seemed more of a probability than an isolated case. Many times it was she who was dancing with death, dedicating herself to gangs from an early age, playing with substances that she herself did not know how to handle or exposing herself to Zaunian gases that competed to ruin her lungs with the cigarettes that she smoked day and night. Sevika's body remained firm as a rock, rooted to the land that saw her birth and her greatest tool to carry out a cause that gave her no respite.

Until the cause itself snatched one of her arms.

"I've never dared to ask you," you said after a moment of silence, your fingers gently braiding her hair. By then Sevika couldn't stop sighing.

"About?"

"The arm."

This time Sevika didn't sigh, but instead let out a subtle grunt.

"What do you wanna know?"

"About the experience… if you want to talk about it."

"I'd rather not." she admitted, noticing the way you flinched. "It's not a fairytale, doll. Losing a limb it's something you never quite understand."

"I know I couldn't fully understand it myself." you assured, now hesitant. "I'm sorry, I'm prying."

"What you wanna hear? The pain? The months it took me to get used to a life without an arm?"

You pulled your hands away from her hair, thinking you pushed the subject too far. Only for Sevika to sigh for the thousandth time and draw your hands into her hair again. "Alright... My arm was severely burned after a hex blast. It was completely unsalvageable from shoulder to hand."

And the rest of the story flowed so easily from her lips, that Sevika thought she had been waiting for someone to ask her so she could let out all the intrinsic thoughts she had been holding back since that incident seven years ago. "I still have the scapula and the clavicle, so inserting a prosthesis was possible. The first few days were hard to say the least, the phantom pains kept bothering me in the mornings and the pain in my neck didn't let up."

"Neck pain?"

"The weight of the prosthesis. This thing isn't light."

"I can imagine…"

"I never thought you could mourn a part of your body." Her expression darkened, the subject was as thorny as always. She soon felt the itch for a cigarette, something to somatize the emotions that were surging. She reached for the package on the coffee table. "You mind?"

"Course not." You assured, leaning down to light the cigarette between her lips. Sevika explained some details between smoke clouds, she certainly didn't allow herself to suffer from the accident as much as she would have liked. If the cause took her arm, she would continue with it until it took from her another or her life. Her priorities were ans still are different and to this day she believes that the loss of her arm was collateral damage.

"That doesn't make it any easier, Sev…" you whispered, wrapping your arms around her neck.

"It makes it more bearable," Sevika said. "Life down here is not about making it easier, but more bearable. I have learned to endure and soon enough my missing arm turned into an inconvenience only."

You processed her words in silence. Sevika seemed a woman so resigned to her place in the world that whatever she had to sacrifice for the cause was not a motive for sorrow, but rather for resilience. She believed in the power of overcoming situations, in moving forward and leaving behind what was necessary, and in the meantime, allowing herself fleeting moments of pleasure between gambling and women. Just to keep endure and give her tired soul a brief break.

"Have you realized you act just like a soldier?" You said then, making Sevika chuckle.

"Fuck off." You leaned down to kiss the blue scars on her cheek and neck, softening her frown. "Did you finish my hair, pretty girl?"

"Yeah, you look so pretty."

"Don't use that word on me."

But as soon as she looked at the mirror you brought her, the word no longer sounded so strange. You had made her hair into a loose braid, able to soften her features to the point that Sevika saw for a moment that seventeen-year-old girl, smoking inside the warehouse and willing to do anything to bring dignity to the land in which she lived.

She kept such thoughts to herself, of course, but you felt it in her gray gaze. She liked it. "Enough talking," she said then, stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray. "Let's save the mushiness for bed."

-◊-

You felt confident that night, shame no longer tied you down, nor did fear. You felt in control of your own skin and capable of transmitting such courage to Sevika. From the first kiss she was willing to be the one explored on this occasion, and you were grateful for her willingness to allow it. Sevika put her metal hand behind her head, the flesh one caressing your cheek as you spread kisses over her chest and abdomen, descending with tortuous slowness but giving her a view worthy of admiration. You were focused on each kiss, each touch, your thumbs embedded in Sevika's hips, massaging in circles before moving her legs apart, placing a kiss on her inner thigh.

"You have such pretty skin." you whispered.

"Flattering me now?"

"Stating the truth."

Having Sevika naked in front of you was not an opportunity to waste. She didn't usually strip completely, there was something about her that kept her on guard, you didn't know what yet. You thought it was her constant state of alert, she learned to never let her guard down. But today her tan skin was visible and within your reach and you couldn't help but shower it with kisses.

Sevika frowned, meaning she was liking what you were doing. By now you had explored the expanse of her skin and your lips were resting on her breasts. You sucked on her dark nipple, your other hand squeezing the other and you heard her sigh. Sevika followed your every move intently, her hand cupping the back of your neck to signal you to continue, and you caught her hint, taking your hand betwen her legs and rubbing gently, you felt a pang of pride by sensing how wet she was.

"To think that you barely dared to grab my ass before," the woman grinned. "You've improved."

You looked at her, leaning down to give her a kiss on the lips before spreading more on her cheek and the path of scars down to her neck. They were blue, Sevika hadn't used shimmer that night, in fact, you've seen her sober more frequently these days.

"As far as you allow me, Vika." you purred.

"Go downstairs, then." Sevika whispered, cupping your cheek as her eyes lit up. "I know you want it."

You felt a pang of anticipation stir in your gut, it was what you were aiming for and luckily Sevika read your mind before you asked her. You nodded, giving her another kiss before tracing your path from her chin to her pubis again, your breath brushing her pussy with a subtle tickle.

You scattered kisses around, patiently. If Sevika had taught you anything, it was not to rush. Her fingers tangled in your hair with a certain affection, she bent one of her legs as you moved them apart, allowing you better access. "Slow… as slow as you want, doll."

With the pad of your tongue, you spread a long lick from the entrance to the bud, drawing a subtle moan from Sevika's lips and giving you that dose of approval you were looking for. With the tip you traced circles, exploring the folds gently and then sucking on the hood, enjoying the musky taste.

"Just like that, pretty girl." Sevika whispered.

"You taste so good…" you moaned, lying on your stomach as you pulled her legs over your shoulders.

"Getting comfy, are we?"

"I deserve it, don't you think?"

Sevika smiled. "Yeah... you do."

You reveled in the sensations of her, the thought of pleasing her alone, it pleased you. There was something about Sevika’s physicality that drove you crazy. Maybe it was the subtle moans or the way her hips moved against your mouth, or the way her fingers tangled in your locks and asked for more. She wasn’t afraid to give instructions; slower, faster, smooth your tongue, yes so good, oh fuck… higher, suck there, ah shit. And you followed each one of them, committed to her pleasure as much as she was committed to yours.

"Feasting on me, don't you?" she said, followed by a loud hiss. "Look where teaching you got me, I should have done it a long time ago."

And you reached out your hand to trace circles on her abdomen, her muscles tightening under your palm as Sevika moaned, gritting her teeth as if your touch was painful, and it was so slow that it actually hurt. She reached for your hand, bringing it to her tit and you squeezed. “Keep it like that…” she panted.

Sevika wasn't loud when it came to cumming, she was as measured as always, she usually swallowed her moans or smothered them in a growl, followed by a long sigh as her whole body relaxed. If only you could take the weight off her shoulders that she's been carrying for as long as she can remember, if only you could make her feel as good as she does now all the time.

You placed one last kiss on her pussy, tracing an upward path back to her lips and kissing her with so much affection that it was mistaken for devotion; the truth is that you felt both for her. Sevika cupped the back of your neck, caressing it while her other hand brushed a lock of hair out of your eyes. "You've done very well," she whispered against your mouth.

With one look you knew it was time for what you feared and anticipated equally. Your eyes landed on the strap next to the bed and you nodded. "Nervous?"

"A bit."

"We've already practiced, you'll take to it just fine."

You stepped back, letting Sevika leave the bed. You could feel your heart racing, watching her put on the piece calmly, almost solemnly. How many times has she done the same thing with other women? How many times has she repeated this same ritual? Her past intrigued you as much as it made you sick with jealousy.

Sitting back on your heels, you clutched the fabric of your slip dress, suddenly believing yourself to be just as incapable as the first time. Your breathing became shallow, your muscles tensing as you waited for the typical pain you knew and hated, retreating down that path of shame. Until you felt a kiss on your shoulder.

"Don't go there, I know what you're thinking," Sevika whispered, settling behind you as she spread kisses across your exposed skin. Her hands played with the valleys of your hips and waist, you felt the caress of her breath on your nape.

"It will hurt."

"No, it won't." she insisted. "I won't let it hurt."

"Sev."

"Shh..." Sevika slipped her hands under your slip dress, tracing from your hips to your abdomen, inviting you to let go of your traitorous thoughts. She didn't like to see you hesitate, not when she'd seen you succeed before. Fear would get you nowhere, never. She carefully pulled the dress off, leaving you naked before an accusatory mirror in front of the bed. That mirror spared no one, it showed you what you wanted to see, and now you saw a woman too ashamed of herself for her own good, and behind you, a ruthless woman who seemed to have the world in the palm of her hand.

If only you could take from the world what Sevika claims without flinching.

You sighed, parting your legs once Sevika brought her fingers to your core and rubbed carefully. The cold metal of her other hand squeezed one of your breasts and you closed your eyes. You would like to give yourself into her arms and forget the sorrows of your flesh and your conscience for once, just once.

"Do you want to try from behind?"

"I'd like to see your face."

"Alright." she nodded, slowly turning you around, your back meeting the soft sheets underneath as Sevika gave you another kiss.

The strap-on extension wasn't too long, you felt the weight of the piece on your abdomen as Sevika kissed you, and you carefully tested the phallus with your hand. Sevika then brought it against your entrance and you flinched.

"Vika."

"Just grinding, doll, easy…" she whispered, rubbing the tip against you. "I've applied lub, it won't hurt."

And the truth was, you were soaking yourself.

You clung to her back nervously, hearing her pant against your ear as she applied pressure to your entrance, briefly, with no intention other than to soften your ill-used muscles. You had to breathe, you had to breathe, it's what you learned and it's what allowed you to take Sevika the last time you came on her fingers.

You counted to three, feeling the tip push through, you counted to fifteen and you had taken half of it, you counted to twenty-five and let out a whimper.

"Should I stop?"

"No." you begged. "Keep going."

Breath, breath, breath. Endure, learn to endure.

"Doll." whispered Sevika. "You're trembling."

"Just keep going." you insisted.

Be nice, endure.

And you closed your eyes as you felt the contact of her hips against yours, Sevika buried inside you completely. Only then did you allow yourself to cry.

"Hey, baby." she whispered, caressing your cheek. "No, not like that."

It was as soon as a couple of tears rolled down your cheeks that your muscles relaxed and you took her completely. You held on, just like you promised yourself. Sevika kissed your wet cheeks, moving her hips just a little, noticing how your lips parted and you gasped. "Does it hurt?"

"No." you whispered.

The truth is that you felt full, the pressure present but less and less invasive. Sevika began to move slowly, her hips brushing against yours, your walls adjusting to the phallus as you moaned subtly. It was a dynamic of breathing, questions and moans in response. Do you like it like this? Slower? You're doing so well, keep going like that, doll, I knew you would. And soon your hands wandered over her back, over her locks, over her chest, delighting in the extension of her skin, in her warmth, in her hardness. You were so present that your mind had fallen silent.

"Yes… please…" you gasped. "There, there."

"God, you're so pretty."

You felt like you owned something you thought was not yours, a pleasure that was rightfully yours but that you were afraid to claim. You thanked her for letting you have it back, for giving you back the ability to claim it.

"Thank you." You whispered once Sevika stopped to give you a break, cradling you against her chest and leaving a kiss on your temple. She was breaking down walls with you herself, which was both exciting and terrifying.

Sevika laid back on the bed, watching you straddle her lap with such confidence that she smiled. Her hand rested on your hip, you rose up on your knees as you guided the phallus to your entrance. But you stopped.

"Can I take it off?" you asked suddenly, and Sevika didn't know what you were talking about until you pointed at her arm.

"Why?" she asked.

"I've never seen you without it…"

The flicker of terror that crossed her gaze as you unbuckled the strap holding the base of the prosthesis took you by surprise for a moment. You never considered that Sevika's confidence depended so much on that piece, and allowing you to take it off was her way of telling you that she trusted you. And you felt honored.

"Just keep any comment to yourself." she grunted, as you slolwy disarmed the prosthesis.

Being vulnerable was one of Sevika's limits, until she found such affection and comfort in your gaze that she melted before you. You removed the arm, placing it on the table next to the bed, followed by the base and uncovering a stump that Sevika hid with her hand.

"Sev." you mumbled.

"Don't... don't touch it." she spat, her defenses went back up and you didn't argue with it.

"I won't." you stated, leaving a kiss on her cheek.

Sevika laid back down and you took her inside you again, letting out a sweet, controlled gasp. The sensation was different and unexplored, so you began to move your hips slowly. Sevika reached for one of your breasts, you looked at her with your lips parted and sucked between your teeth, taking it to place a kiss on her knuckles.

"You look good down there." you purred.

"You've discovered something tonight." she agreed.

Your breaths lengthened, your mouth no longer holding back moans, you wanted to be heard, by her, by everyone. You leaned in to kiss Sevika and continued, you felt in control and you loved it. By then the reflection in the mirror was not accusatory but revealing, you looked agitated, pleased, whole and present. Your reflection looked back at you.

"Fuck." you moaned as Sevika rubbed her thumb against your bud. "You always know when to touch me."

"Keep moving…" Sevika growled.

You nodded, your eyes focused on Sevika's gaze, on her dark lips, on the gap between her teeth, on her furrowed eyebrows and her blue scars. You wanted to cover her face with kisses. You pulled on her arm, making her sit up, capturing her lips in a panting kiss. You took it upon yourself to touch your clit, you cared more about having her close. "I feel so good." you confessed.

"I can see it." whispered Sevika between kisses.

"I love you." you blurted out, Not as a secret, but as a confession that you openly wanted her to hear. You didn't want to keep anything to yourself.

Sevika responded with a kiss, letting you ride out your orgasm which came out in whimper, falling onto her chest as your body surrendered to the torrent of oxytocin that flowed into you. Suddenly everything was silent, everything was okay, there was no evil in the world, just pure love, just Sevika, just you.

"My braid came undone," Sevika whispered after a long silence.

"I'll braid it again."

You looked at her with full eyes, Sevika seemed to be reading something in you that remained a mystery. Your eyes landed on her stump and she wanted to hide. "I've never seen you as naked as right now." you said, laying a kiss there.

And judging by the way Sevika's body relaxed, you knew she agreed with you.

-◊-

taglist: @bibi4exe @verseandchapterr

#arcane fanfic #arcane #arcane s2 #arcane sevika #arcane smut #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika x you #sevika #sevika my love #sevika smut

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relia-robot-writes · 3 days ago

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I'll fuckin do it pal don't tempt me

---

"Number three reactor's going critical! Repeat, cascade event imminent! Clear the bay!"

"Eject, 43!"

"Negative, command." 43 wiped blood from her eyes as she watched the countdown on the monitor tick. "There's still time to get it under control, but I have to be here to do that." There was an awful crunching noise from her left leg, the mechanisms finally failing after the beating they'd taken. 43 howled in agony as the force-feedback sensors let her know just how bad it was. She stopped for a moment, hunched and panting at the controls, sweat and blood dripping off her chin. She spat, and adjusted her reactor dials to give herself another precious handful of moments. She dragged herself forward, through a haze of pain and half-heard shouting over the comms. The lip of the bay turned out to be too much, and she collapsed, a long, drawn-out process she felt every inch of. Darkness pulled at her vision, and she tried to blink it away, to will herself to get back up, keep the reactor stable. She heard the sounds of laser cutters, and then suddenly there were hands all over her, disconnecting the force feedback systems, smearing the blood and oil she was covered in, tearing her hands off the controls. She fought back, kicking and screaming, desperate to get back to the monitor, to keep the countdown from finishing just a moment longer-

It stopped. "REACTOR STABILIZED," read the screen. "TIME REMAINING BEFORE MELTDOWN" was paused at 0:03.

43 collapsed, allowed herself to be pulled away, made small again. After some amount of time which might have been seconds or could have been years, a hand reached down to pull her chin up.

"You look like hell, 43."

43 tried to stumble to her feet, to salute, but only managed to fall off the chair onto her knees. Behind her handler, the ground crew was spraying coolant foam at the reactor casing they'd pulled out of her. A crane had been enlisted to move her shattered leg so the bay door could close properly, and the ground crew was already cutting and pulling at the twisted mass of metal that had been her left arm. 43 blinked, hard, and rubbed her biological left arm, trying to restore feeling to it.

Her handler ran her fingers through 43's hair. "You've had a rough day," she cooed at her. "Let's get you patched up, and then you can get your reward."

43 shivered.

---

The med room was bright - far too bright, after the warm soft red lighting of the cockpit - but the checkup didn't take long. Some dermis sealant for the lacerations taken when the cockpit caved in on her, and every other wound was psychological. Her leg still dragged behind her, and she had to remind herself not to hobble.

Her handler met her at the exit, holding a package. "Hit the showers, 43. You've earned it. I got you something to wear," (43 looked down at her flight suit, stained with every kind of fluid and sliced half to ribbons) "so meet me in the larboard lounge when you're done."

43's heart skipped a beat as she accepted the package. Larboard lounge? That was only a two-person space, nicknamed "lover's lounge" by the crew. What did her hander want from her there?

The shower, at least, was a godsend. The waters ran black, then burnt red, and finally, eventually, white with suds. 43's hair was short by necessity, but it felt like it had been caked with thick mud. Warm water ran over her, relaxing tense muscles and reminding her that she was in this body, here, at least for now. The package turned out to contain a luxuriously soft towel and, of all things, a set of soft green cotton pajamas, with slippers. 43 slipped them on and threw her old flight suit straight into the waste recycler.

She made her way to Larboard lounge, unsure of what to do. Should she... unbutton her top? A little? Was her handler expecting her to... or would she... 43 was red in the face thinking about the possibilities. It had never happened to her, but, she'd heard stories of... fraternization. Did she want that? Did she have a choice? And why these pajamas?

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she went right past the lounge. A hand on her shoulder caught her. "Hey, 43, you missed!"

Visions of leather and lace boiled up in 43's head as she slowly turned to see her handler... in the standard base uniform. Her handler was pretty, she thought, looking at her face, barely blinking, barely breathing. What now?

"43? You okay?" Her handler gave her a concerned look. "I got something for you, but if you're not up to it..."

43 shook her head, trying to clear cobwebs, embarrassment, fatigue, and the echoes of flashing reactor alarms all at once. "No, Ma'am! I- I'm fine!"

Her handler gave her a look 43 couldn't decipher, her head still half-full of fog, but dropped it. "Here," she said, steering 43 into the lounge. "This will be good for you."

Inside, 43 expected to find - well, she wasn't certain. Whips and chains? A school desk? A simple cot? All wrong, it seemed. Instead, there was a small table, set for two, and a lavish spread - real strawberries, fried protein rations arranged delicately, an artfully twisted nest of long noodles in a sauce that smelled of garlic and herbs, and a few other things set aside under metal domes for later. 43's stomach growled, and she blinked. "Wha?"

Her handler pulled out a chair for her and placed her hand on her shoulder to help her sit down. "Tada! I've been saving this stuff for a special occasion."

43 was at a loss for words as her handler sat down across the table from her. She managed to recover her tongue, but could only think to say one thing: "Why?"

"Why not?"

"I- I failed the mission, is why not! I didn't secure the objective, I got shot up so bad it'll take weeks to refit me - it - whatever! I lost everything! I should be punished, not-" 43 stopped, a hot feeling buzzing behind her eyes.

Her handler got up, walked to her side, kneeled down, and took her hand. "You came back," she said, softly. "That's worth celebrating."

43 resisted for a moment, then broke down sobbing onto her handler's shoulder. Her handler held her for a long time.

Eventually, she pulled back, and her handler offered her a handkerchief. 43 blew her nose, and then looked at her handler again. "Oh, your uniform..."

She waved off the comment. "I've got others. Let's eat, before it gets cold."

43 took a bite, and it was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted.

#relia writes #eggbug writes #science fiction #mecha #handler out here like #im doing a great job and going to get a good grade in handling pilots

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bapeach · 1 day ago

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Boombastic

Just a short story while I try to get back into writing. Don't love it, but it's better than nothing 😁 Constructive criticism is always welcome. Find my masterlist here :)

Pairing(s): Nika Mühl x female!reader Word count: 1.3k+ Summary: You catch Nika watching TikTok edits of you.

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When you enrolled in UConn, your only plans were to play basketball and get a degree. You didn’t care about making friends or getting a girlfriend. You only really wanted to play ball, but you knew you needed to have a backup in case something happened and you could never play again. So a degree in communication it was.

It’s not like you struggled making friends, you just didn’t ever have your own little friend group. You hopped from group to group, always a friend to everyone, but never letting anyone get too close. Well, that was before you came to university. If you really thought you were going to be able to only be teammates with your basketball team, you thought wrong. Joining that team means joining a family. And thank God for that. You loved those girls to pieces and were happy to call every single one of them your best friends.

You were especially close to Nika, however. Which was a good thing, seeing as she was also your roommate. And maybe you also had a tiny crush on her, but no one needed to know that. Sure, you two playfully flirted with each other all the time, but that was all just a joke. To the Croatian, at least. You meant every single thing you said to her. Things like how she was the prettiest girl you’d ever seen, how her smile could light up the darkest rooms, and how if she were yours, you’d treat her right.

There are moments when you think she might like you back. The way she looks at you isn’t the way friends look at each other. Friends also don’t blush the way she does when you lean in close to mutter a compliment. But then you start overthinking it and make yourself believe that you’re just imagining things. Because there is no way that the goddess that is Nika Mühl will ever like you.

----

You hum your favorite song to yourself as you walk through the hallways. You’d just gone out for some errands and were on the way back to your dorm. You wonder if Nika is already there or if she’s still with Paige. You hope she’s home, maybe then you two could finish the show you’d started a while ago. You quicken your step a little as you near your dorm. When you open the door, you take a step inside to see Nika already on the couch, her back towards you.

A grin appears on your face as you quietly put your stuff down on the table next to the door. You open your mouth to say something, but you know that wouldn’t do much. Nika is wearing those annoying headphones that you complain about at least once a day. They’re great for the person wearing them, the sound is clear, and outside sounds are completely muffled. They aren’t so great for the people around them, though. You can clearly hear everything the wearer is listening to, while they can’t hear you yell at them to turn it down.

You start taking off your shoes as you hear the song playing on Nika’s phone. You smirk a little as you recognize the music. Boombastic by Shaggy. The song has been all over your fyp all week, so you figure the brunette is scrolling on TikTok. Your face scrunches up in confusion when you’ve finally taken off both shoes. The song was playing on repeat. “I swear to God if she’s watching an edit of herself to that song,” you think to yourself as a mischievous grin grows on your face.

You walk over and pause behind her, watching her phone from over her shoulder. Your mouth drops open as you see yourself in the video. A smirk appears on your face as you watch Nika play the TikTok over and over again. You see that she’s already liked it and has it saved to one of her folders. You shoot forward, snatching the phone out of her hands as you quickly back up.

The brunette bolts up as she looks at you with wide eyes, her cheeks blazing red in embarrassment. “Y/N, give me back my phone!” She huffs. She tries to take it out of your hands, but you hold your arm away from her as you look at her cockily. “Damn, I look good,” you hum, pursing your lips.

“Y/N, please,” she begs, looking at the floor. You tap her profile as you check out in which folder she saved the video. “Oh. My. God… You have a folder with 102 edits saved of me?” You laugh in shock and amusement. The Croatian girl burns an even brighter red as she stops trying to steal the phone from you, having accepted defeat. She sits back down as she puts her face in her hands. “Shut uppp,” she whines.

You look away from the phone towards the brunette, your smile softening. “God, she’s adorable,” you think. Nika huffs as she hears you take a screenshot of the number and send it to yourself. She wishes the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Once you’re done, you throw the phone next to her, not looking as it bounces against her thigh.

You grab your own phone, saving the screenshot before opening your TikTok. After a few swipes, you put your phone back in your pocket as you look at Nika with a grin. Feeling her phone buzz, the brunette grabs it and unlocks it to check your message. She stares at the picture you sent for a few seconds. It was a screenshot of your own TikTok account, a folder with her name on it visible. The number “253” on display.

“You… you have 253 TikToks saved of me?” She says as she looks up at you, her eyes wide. “102 is a rookie number. I thought you liked me?” You tease as you cross your arms. She rolls her eyes as you walk over, a smirk forming on her face. “253 of me? People are gonna think you have a crush on me, Y/N/N,” she grins. You grab her hand and pull her up from the couch. Her cheeks flaming as you pull her against you. “Hmm, and so what if I do?” You say with a low voice as you grab her chin.

“I’m not sure I believe you,” she replies, looking up at you with doe eyes. “Is that so?” You mutter, leaning a little closer to her. “Mhm… Why don’t you show me how much you like me?” She mumbles back. She barely has time to finish her sentence as you pull her face towards your own. You kiss her hard and deep as you grip her a little tighter. When you’re out of breath, you back up a bit and smirk. “How was that for proof?”

She rolls her eyes at you, a grin on her face. You soften a bit as you look at her. You move your hand to cup her cheek as you rub your thumb across it. “I really like you, Niks,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper. You don’t care about the fact that you’re looking at her with vulnerable, desperate eyes. You needed her to know.

She grabs your face in her hands, pulling you close. You stare into her eyes, only being a few inches away from her. “Then why haven’t you asked me out yet?” She murmurs, her lips a small pout. You look at her in adoration and a hint of regret. “I’m sorry for being too scared to… Let me make it up to you? Dinner at 6 tomorrow?”

She grins at you, pulling you in for another kiss. “Deal.” You beam a wide smile at her before smirking. “So… Do you often watch TikToks of me on repeat?” You let out a deep laugh as Nika slaps your shoulder, pushing you away. You grab her wrists, pulling her back against you in a hug. “You’re a jerk,” she mutters against your chest. “Yeah, but you love me,” you reply, feeling her smile against your shirt. “Hmph,” she huffs, but squeezes you tighter.

You suppose those damn headphones aren’t so bad after all.

#nika muhl x reader #nika mühl x reader #nika x reader #nika muhl oneshot #nika muhl #oneshot #imagine #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #nika muhl x you #wlw fanfic #Spotify #BaPeach writes

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heli-writes · 2 days ago

Text

A dragon's heart, part 15.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of mate marks, trust issues

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Note: I know, I know... It's been wayyyy too long. What can I say? Live happened. Also, I was super unmotivated to write since I didn't know where this story was going. But... I had some intense thoughts about it. So... voilá!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Carefully, y/n traces the soft pink skin on her neck. She wishes she had a mirror and looks at the scar that Katsuki left behind. She presses her lips together. Right now, she's sitting in the tub washing off the grime and sickness of the past week. Ever since waking up, Katsuki has been uncharacteristically attentive and careful around y/n.

Part of y/n still wants to be angry with Katsuki but she finds it hard to be harsh towards him when he lingers around her like a shy dog who got punished by its owner. She notices how he tries to keep his hands on himself. Only late at night can she feel him touching her gently when he thinks she's already deep asleep.

There's a rustle from the curtain that marks the doorway back into the tent. Katsuki enters the bath hut without announcing himself. Quickly, y/n tries to cover up herself with her arms.

“Nothin' I haven't seen yet, doll.”, Katsuki comments dryly.

It sours his mood that y/n is clearly uncomfortable with him seeing her naked. He thought that after the marking, she'd feel more relaxed and secure around him, but clearly, that's not the case. Instead of strengthening their relationship, the marking pushed them back. Y/n doesn't seem to trust him like before.

He strides over to the tub and holds out some fresh linen for y/n. Hesitantly, y/n takes the cloth and gestures for Katsuki to turn around.

Katsuki turns around in defeat. He tries to suppress the feeling of annoyance rising within him. He promised to take care of y/n, but he also wants them to be happy, preferably together. This also means gaining her trust again and making her see that there's nothing for her to fear.

He hears how y/n gets up and dries herself with the linen. When he turns around, he helps y/n get out of the tub by extending an arm to her.

Y/n waddles into the tent leaving wet footprints behind her. Katsuki watches for a moment how the footprints start to fade before following her.

Maybe I should get her some slippers. The floor must be cold, Katsuki thinks.

When he enters the tent, he sees y/n wrapped in the linen on the bed brushing her hair with her fingers.

She might need a hairbrush for that long-ass hair, too, he ponders.

Y/n looks up and meets his eyes.

“Are there any fresh clothes?”, she asks him and points towards the pile of old clothes on the floor.

Katsuki understands and pulls out a dress he asked one of the older women to make for y/n. He picked the color red to match his eyes and Drami's scales.

Y/n pulls a face. The dress Katsuki is presenting to her is way too revealing. Not in a I-don't-like-showing-off-what-I've-got way but in a it's-way-too-cold-for-that way. Y/n shakes her head disapprovingly. She doesn't fail to notice the disappointed look at Katsuki's face.

“I can't wear that. I'm gonna be sick. Again. Do you want that?”, she tells Katsuki.

Y/n hops off the bed and strides towards Katsuki's closet and starts pulling out more suitable clothes. Katsuki watches her with a scowl. While he finds it endearing that y/n keeps wearing his clothes, he's a bit disappointed that she refuses the dress he had made for her.

When y/n has found everything she needs, she gestures for Katsuki to turn around again. Katsuki sighs and drops the dress on the bed. Adverting his gaze, he starts peeling an apple.

He hears the rustling of clothes. He looks up again when he feels a dip in the bed. Y/n sits there bundled up in way too many layers of his clothes. Katsuki thinks she looks like a drowned rat in it. None of her attractive features are visible in the baggy clothes she's wearing. For a moment, he wonders if that's how her people dress their women but then he remembers the dress she wore when they first met. Actually, where did that dress go? He should keep an eye out for it.

Katsuki sighs and hands y/n the peeled apple slices he cut for her. Y/n happily grabs the plate and starts munching on one of the apple slices.

“Katsuki, you in there?”, he hears Kirishima call from outside the tent.

“Yes, what do you want?”, he calls back grumpily.

After a short moment of silence, Kirishima calls: “Can I come in or are you indecent?”.

Katsuki can feel the blood rising to his face as he gets up from the bed.

“Shut up shitty-face! Come in and tell me what you want!”, he yells back.

Swiftly, Kirishima enters the tent. His eyes fall onto y/n who gives him a small wave.

“The missus is happy, it seems?”, he asks his friend and leader who only gives him a low grumble in return. Kirishima sighs and shakes his head.

“Look, I know you're the leader and everything but let me give you some advice: Spending time with the mate is all good and well. Y/n having a baby would sure be good news to the tribe, but...”, Kirishima starts and Katsuki throws a mean glace his way.

“... but you also should show your face around the settlement. People are starting to question where their boss is.”, Kirishima finishes.

“What are you telling me, Kirishima? That I'm neglecting my role as chief?”, Katsuki barks back.

Kirishima gives him a blank look.

“Yes, Katsuki, that's what I'm saying.”, he answers his friend. Katsuki growls at that and turns around to y/n who almost finished her apple.

“The men talk.”, Kirishima informs him.

“They always do. What do I care about?”, Katsuki answers.

“They talk about you. That you neglect your duties. That this foreign woman bewitched you. That the course we're steering isn't for the good of the people.”, Kirishima says carefully.

“What course?”, Katsuki snaps at him. Kirishima holds his sharp gaze.

“They say that you're in over your head. They think you're afraid and therefore you restrict the tribe's movements. Some even express that the plan of focusing on women probably won't work considering that your own mate almost passed.”, Kirishima explains matter-of-factly.

At that, Katsuki grinds his teeth. Kirishima is loyal, so he's sure the man is telling the truth. But who do these men think they are? They've never led a whole tribe, let alone trying to save one from extinction.

“Fine”, Katsuki says, “Then let's give them something real to talk about.”

~*~*~*~

Y/n watches Katsuki put on his armor. He's been on edge all morning and she doesn't dare to question him about what's going on. He won't understand anyway which will probably put him into an even more sore mood.

Suddenly, Mitsuki enters the tent. She's holding a bowl with a blue paste inside.

“You're a fool.”, she tells his son.

“What?”, he snaps at her while sitting down at the edge of the bed securing a dagger to his side.

“You can't tell me that you think this is a good idea.”, she says but Katsuki only scoffs.

“I'm sure you heard what they say. They start to think I'm an unfit leader. I guess it's time to remind them why I've become their leader in the first place.”, he tells her as he gestures for his mother to

come closer.

Mitsuki only sighs and looks disapprovingly at her son. Then, she steps closer and starts painting stripes and other patterns onto his face and body. Y/n watches intently. She notices that the patterns are different than the ones that were put onto her when she was shown off to the tribe.

“You know I shouldn't be doing this.”, Mitsuki comments.

Katsuki doesn't answer.

“Painting you for war is your mate's task.”, she tells him and Katsuki scoffs again.

“She'll learn in time.”, he replies.

Mitsuki throws a glance at y/n.

“If you say so.”

~*~*~*~

After Mitsuki finishes painting Katsuki's body, she leaves the tent. Katsuki takes a moment to ready himself. Once they leave the tent, it will be all high energy until he returns.

He turns to y/n who is watching him intently. When he doesn't say anything, she tilts her head

questioningly.

Katsuki pats her head and gets up. He grabs his sword and secures it to his belt.

Suddenly, they hear drums outside of the tent.

“The drums of war are calling us.”, Katsuki tells y/n, “Time for us to go.”

He gestures for y/n to get up and follow him outside. Y/n does so without complaining.

Outside, it seems as if the whole tribe is on the street. Y/n sees all men wearing similar paint on their faces as Katsuki. Also, they're all heavily armed.

Y/n looks around alarmed. What's going on? Are they being attacked?

Suddenly she spots Kirishima in the crowd. He's wearing a dim expression. Kirishima makes his way over to Katsuki and y/n.

Y/n oggles at the swirling red patterns that were drawn around Kirishima's armor. Katsuki elbows her roughly and she quickly adverts her gaze.

When Kirishima reaches them, he only says: “You're a fool, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, I've been told so today already.”, Katsuki grumbles.

“I'm not sure if organizing a raid in Todoroki territory is a smart way of securing the loyalty of your subjects.”, Kirishima points out.

“They need to be reminded that I can easily kill them if I have to. The best way of reminding them is to wring a few necks of Todoroki soldiers.”, Katsuki tells him.

Kirishima gives him a long stare.

“I'm sure that's the best way to make your men believe in your leadership skills.”, Kirishima says sarcastically.

A blonde man passes them and gives Katsuki a clap on the back. Y/n remembers that she had seen him before on the day that they arrived at the settlement.

“We're gonna blast these suckers!”, the man whoops and disappears in the crowd again.

“Denki seems to agree.”, Katsuki notes and Kirishima sighs.

“Denki's an idiot. He'd pick a fight with a bear naked and still think he could win.”, Kirishima complains, but Katsuki only shrugs.

“Do you really think we'll have to fight Todoroki soldiers?”, he asks his chief. Katsuki nods.

“Considering the scouts report and the rising military presence even in the outskirts of the kingdom, we need to be prepared to fight trained soldiers with swords instead of scared farmers with pitchforks.”, Katsuki points out.

Now it's Kirishima's turn to sigh.

“Well, your plan for this raid better be good. I'd really hate to die because our chief's a fool.”, Kirishima replies and starts walking. Katsuki gestures y/n to follow him.

Y/n notes how the entire tribe is walking in the same direction. She didn't know that many people lived in the settlement. There are mostly men and some elderly people. However, she also spots some women here and there. When she tries to smile at them, they quickly avert their gaze.

Katsuki tucks at her arm and pulls her forward. Only then she notices where they are going. Towards the gorge where the dragons live.

The dragons are lined up infront of the gorge. Y/n spots Katsuki's dragon almost immediately. The red one is a lot bigger than all the other dragons, even the mean-looking black ones. At least the green one's not here, y/n thinks and shudders.

She watches as some of the men say goodbye to their loved ones and then heave themselves up on their dragons. She sees a man kissing a woman who looks just out of place like herself. She doesn't seem to enjoy the kiss.

“Y/n”, she hears Katsuki say and she turns to him.

Katsuki is staring sternly in the dragon's direction before turning around to meet her gaze.

“I'll bring glory to you and our tribe.”, he tells her. He doesn't know why he does. It's not like she'd get it.

Softly, he traces the side of her face. Y/n looks up to him with big eyes. He grips her hips and pulls her hips against his.

“I'll come back to ya.”, he promises while running his hand through her hair. Y/n steadies her stance by putting her hands on his chest. Katsuki runs his hand up and down her back before placing it in her hair again. Slowly, he pulls her face towards his and kisses her deeply. Y/n's frozen for a moment, but then she kisses him back carefully.

Eventually, Katsuki pulls back. He places a last kiss on her forehead. Y/n watches Katsuki striding over to his dragon and mounting it. The men cheer.

With a mighty gust of wind, Katsuki and his dragon rise to the sky. Y/n watches as the men follow him. The swarm of dragons set off east and the drums are pounded until the dragons look like tiny ants in the sky.

Y/n turns around and watches the remaining people retreat to the settlement. She's a bit unsure what to do next. Most likely, she can return to Katsuki's tent. But then what? Katsuki and Kirishima are gone and it's not like Nadia will be of any help. Speaking of which, y/n hasn't seen Nadia around anywhere. Did she not come to send off her husband? Probably not, y/n concludes.

Suddenly, a cold, strong hand wraps itself around her arm. Y/n whips her head upwards and is met with a pair of ruby eyes. For a moment, she thinks that Katsuki has returned for her. Of course, that's not the case. It's the woman that Katsuki argued with.

Great, y/n thinks, from all the people helping me out, it just has to be her.

Mitsuki yanks her arm and y/n stumbles after her. They walk back into the settlement in silence.

Mitsuki takes her back to her tent. Inside, her ladies-in-waiting are working on a variety of tasks. Mitsuki points her toward an ancient-looking woman who is sewing. Y/n walks over timidly and the old woman pats at a cushion beside her while talking. Obviously, y/n doesn't understand her but when she hands y/n a torn shirt, a needle and yarn, y/n understands that she wants her to help sewing.

Y/n isn't a great seamstress but she's repaired enough clothes to know what she's doing. Her family never had much money, so she's used to repairing things over and over again. Also, it's kind of a meditative task.

For the next few hours, y/n keeps sewing one clothing piece after another while listening to the chattering of the old woman. She has no clue what the woman is going on about, but she doesn't seem to be unsatisfied with y/n work. Maybe she's just trying to make conversation, y/n thinks. Y/n decides that she likes the old woman.

Eventually, the pile of clothes that needed mending is worked through. The old woman puts the clothes into a basket and with a few words to y/n, she's walking outside the tent. For a moment, y/n thinks about following her. However, the woman gave no indication that y/n should follow her.

Maybe I was just supposed to help out with the clothes, y/n thinks. She turns around looking for Mitsuki. Maybe the woman has a new task for y/n, but the woman cannot be found anywhere. None of the other women are paying attention to y/n, so y/n takes a moment to observe them.

There are two older women peeling potatoes. The women are engrossed in a loud conversation. A young girl is sitting next to them cutting the peeled potatoes into thinner slices. She looks timid and doesn't chirp into the older women's conversation.

Best not to bug these two, y/n decides.

On the other side of the tent, there are two other women around Mitsuki's age, sharpening knives. The one with the blonde hair and the black streaks looks kind of brutish. Y/n contemplates approaching them since her father showed her how to sharpen knives before. Before she can decide against it, she forces herself to approach the women.

The women look up when y/n approaches them. They ask her something but y/n doesn't know how to respond, so she only points at the knives. The women exchange a glance but then make some space for y/n. The woman with the blonde hair starts showing y/n how to sharpen the knife, but y/n already knows the procedure, so she simply takes one of the knives and starts sharpening it. The women watch her for a good minute before deciding that y/n doesn't need any help.

The three of them work in silence which y/n appreciates after the old woman has talked her ear off. Also sharpening knives is a more demanding task than mending clothes. Y/n has to concentrate so that she won't slip and cut herself.

She's so deep in concentration that she doesn't notice Mitsuki entering the tent again and approaching them.

Y/n continues her work and when she thinks the knife is sharp enough, she lifts it against the light to inspect the edge of it. When she lets down the knife again, she notices Mitsuki standing next to her.

A shiver runs down her spine. Gods damn it! How did I not notice her?, y/n thinks.

Mitsuki takes the knife from her and inspects it. The other two women and y/n watch her intently. Eventually, Mitsuki lowers the knife and nods. The blonde woman claps her back. Mitsuki barks an order towards the women and they go back to work. Mitsuki swirls around and leaves the tent again.

I guess that's as much approval as I will get from her, y/n thinks taking the next knife.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[It's been so long, I don't know who of you even is still reading this story. So, I'm probably going to reset the tag list.

Please comment beneath this update if you'd still like to be tagged in future chapters. If you don't tell me to continue to tag you, I won't.

You're new here and want to be tagged? Please also comment beneath the latest update.]

Tag list: @graviewaviee @cosmicbreathe @tsukikoxo @nnubee @witchbishsblog @elajede @bsallergy @frxcless @berryvioo @eyesforbkg @shamelesjaroflaffytaffy @pastelbaby1111 @iamlizardgod @plvt0fvtvre @hello-peanutdoodle-blog @kookiemyfeelsposts @sweetblueworm @54fangirl @sakurarr1122 @rv19 @leeliyah @king-dynamight @confused-smol-fan @xmaudx @waterstarz @pinkwhiskerglitter @adeline96 @zoom1374 @fingui @giuli-in-earth @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @futuristicallykawaiiturtle @tragedyofabrokensoul @dynakats @rebel-loves-anime @cloudxluv @itsssyagurll @sunshineandwitchery @cloudxluv @hollykanuki @atouchofmidnight @nutellaenjoyer @musicbecky @miacitocco @cassouandco @penguinlovestowrite @sleepykittycx @bakugouswh0r3 @xxjesshuxx @helenamaximoff @ssssssws-world @k1tk4tkatsuki @gh0stgirl333 @anon-mouse223 @bexxs @i-am-ms-rebel-heart @wannabeisekai @spragaraga @faemagic88 @kolakoke @faetoraa @cax-per @willy-the-witch @stardream14 @jiyuu-da @mintytalesblog @sparklyoperaroadpie @musicbecky @maria-patricia @mistermemister @katsukismrs @l0kisbitch @bakukiriswife @rebel-loves-anime @drink-water-456

[Please comment beneath the last update if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

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adieutristana · 2 days ago

Note

Could you do a second part of the request for Sevica's niece x Jinx? I would love to know what happened with Reader and Powder

Please 💞

of course! thank you for the request <3

i’m no longer quarantined (yaaaay!) but that means back to regular posting pace, sorry :( hope u guys enjoyed 4 fics in half a week.

this is a part 2 to this fic! this will be the final part of this story, i hope it's not obvious but i was struggling with the direction

characters included; jinx, powder (act iii au), sevika (familial), ekko (platonic)

summary; you and powder make amends, though you know that you have to get back to your universe.

tags/warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, s2 spoilers, mentions of drinking and smoking, powder majority of the story, angsty in the beginning, jinx at the end, brief arguing, universe hopping or whatever that's called, happy bonus at the end

men dni.

"all done,"

you smile, putting your hands out behind powder in a grand gesture that says 'ta-da.' pink ribbons adorn azure locks, carefully woven into both of her twin braids. a nod to the pink streak through her hair, and frankly- she looks beautiful. you don't want to stroke your ego, but you did a damn good job.

tension still hangs in the air, but seems to slowly slip with every second that passes. powder's jealousy is on the backburner for now as she looks over her hair in the mirror, her eyes curious. the sight is bittersweet. she looks happy, enamored with her new hair. a smile is tugging at the corners of powder's glossed lips, and those blue eyes are looking up at yours with such merriness. the braiding seemed to do the trick.

though the twin braids bring you back to jinx, your jinx. it's a delicate balance, a sort of tug-of-war in your mind. on one hand, this powder looks genuinely happy. she isn't the broken down girl you know and love. her cheeks are fuller, her skin has more color to it, she's taller, her smiles are more frequent, and they're real. the version of you whose body you're occupying clearly loves her, and she clearly loves this alternate you in return.

you love her back, at least you think you do. this is still jinx, just... less tortured. or rather, jinx is the distortion of powder. it's confusing, really, and you don't think you can spend too much time thinking about it before your brain starts to hurt.

you could grow used to this, if you allowed yourself to. but you knew you couldn't, not when jinx was waiting on you. probably worrying herself absolutely sick. you'd promised your girlfriend you'd be back soon, a few hours tops. but it'd been much longer than that by now, the next morning having come and gone.

you knew jinx and how she thought. she'd probably fully convinced herself by now that you were gone. that you'd disappeared into the lanes or maybe even piltover to find yourself someone better, just to leave her to wither. no matter how many times you swore to the girl that you would never, the insecurities still lingered in the back of her mind. they were likely at the forefront now.

"damn, i look... good," powder starts, pulling you out of your daze. she lets out a light chuckle, a mix of a gasp and laugh. "never thought i'd see you play hairstylist, but you did pretty great."

you give a gentle smile in return, situating yourself behind powder in the mirror and draping your arms around her waist. you place your chin on her shoulder her smile widens and she gives a satisfied 'hmm' sound, powder's head leading to the side against yours. a picture-perfect couple if you've ever seen one.

but it isn't real. at least, this iteration isn't. part of you wishes it was, wishes that you had something with the powder you knew as a little girl. in a zaun better than you could've ever imagined. you wished so badly that this is who powder became in your world, instead of jinx; as much as you loved her. but no matter. 'no use in dwelling,' your aunt would tell you in times like these.

though you knew that wasn't the case, and the other part of you felt that this was wrong. even though you're in her place, you're not the one powder loves- not really. a different version of her, sure, but you can't help feeling like you're lying to powder.

yet, what are you supposed to do? tell her the truth, that you'd somehow ended up in a parallel universe where things were remarkably better than the one you'd come from? that the version of her you knew and loved had been mistreated and neglected for much of her teenage years, only to go on to become a pyromaniac? that zaun had somehow moved backwards?

you nuzzle closer to powder's touch, the scent of strawberry shampoo and fruity perfume filling your senses. you supposed you could keep this charade going for a little longer, at least until you figured out how to return to your home universe.

the way powder is looking at you through your shared reflection and smiling, so at peace, you know that this isn't all bad. you may not be the one powder knows, but you can act the part. you can make her happy. you can indulge for a little bit.

"somethin' on your mind, babe?"

she asks, her smile unwavering. you shake your head in response, your grip around her waist tightening the slightest bit.

"no, just looking at you." you hum. "you look beautiful right now, you know."

"oh yeah? what about the rest of the time?"

powder reaches behind her to playfully poke your side, earning a short giggle from you. you shake your head in mock resignation, giving an amused huff.

"you look great all the time. i just happen to think i enhanced that beauty a bit."

you chuckle. powder rolls her eyes, her smile never faltering.

"miss humble over here. braided my hair once, and now her ego's off the charts."

she jests. you're quickly coming to recognize these playful jabs as a way the girl shows affection. it's not far off from jinx at all. but still, this moment of holding powder from behind, feeling the quiet warmth of her body against yours and seeing that smile in the mirror. you wish that you could freeze this moment in time, frame it even. capture it so that it never slips away from you. though again, you know this won't last. it can't.

✧.*

"any developments?"

"we've got... something."

ekko offers, his tone more resigned than you'd hope to hear right now. you let out an exasperated sigh, your gaze falling to the ground of the dank alleyway. though you raise your hand and wave off, a gesture to urge your friend to continue.

"heimerdinger and i are trying to work on a time machine. something that can rewind time a little, maybe even bring us back."

he says, though he sounds uncertain. you can't say you blame him, necessarily. this entire situation is so confusing.

"when will it be done?"

you ask, eyes wide and looking into his as a sort of silent plea. a heavy sigh escapes ekko, and he slowly shakes his head.

"i don't know. i'm sorry, just... these things take time."

"i don't have time." you plead. "jinx is probably back home, already convinced that i up and left. hell, she's probably figuring out some kind of revenge plot while we're talking."

any other time, those words would be a joke, but now your tone is anything but joking. you know deep in you that jinx is a wreck right now, even if you're not physically with her. not to mention your aunt, not to mention the way of life that you're used to.

"i'm sure she is. and the firelights probably aren't doing much better."

it's true, they're most likely not. no hextech here, no firelights, no jinx, no shimmer ravaging the streets. from the outside looking in, you two would be seen as idiots to have something so good, and want to throw it away for the fucked-up place you'd come from. but jinx was too important to you, ekko's work too important to him. you pause. you'd been sleeping at powder's, but with the absence of the tree and bases in this version of zaun, you couldn't help but worry for your friend.

"where are you staying, by the way?"

"on campus at the academy. the dorms are pretty nice, actually. there's a kitchen, laundry room, and lounge in the building, so i'm all set."

you nod slowly. you should've figured, with him being one of the academy's most esteemed inventors in this world. but still, it was nice to hear that he wasn't just sleeping on benzo's couch.

"you're staying with powder?"

"nope. i'm an apartment owner here, apparently."

"no shit," he breathes out, a bewildered expression on the boy's face. neither of you could've imagined having your own space in zaun of all places, so to know that it was possible.. wow.

silence hangs in the air for a moment, and you're not sure what else could be used to fill it. what else is there to talk about, really? the impending sense of dread both of you have, or the lingering anxiety that you'll be trapped in this reality forever?

"just... keep me updated, okay?" you sigh. "i just want to get back and tell jinx that everything is okay. no matter how nice all of this is."

"when we make progress, you'll be the first to know. we're getting somewhere, i promise. it's in the beginning stages, but i can't do anything when i don't have the means yet." he pauses. "you understand."

you do understand. you don't necessarily have room to not understand right now. he still looks uncertain, but he's giving you a gentle smile in an attempt to reassure you. it doesn't do much for your nerves necessarily, but it's a kind gesture regardless. now all there is to do is wait. gods, you hated waiting, but what other choice did you have?

you quickly exchange addresses in the case of developments or an emergency, before parting.

✧.*

powder had told you to meet her at her hideout, instead of her apartment. that's something that hadn't changed, at least. even in this universe, powder had found and made use of the wind turbine structure you'd see jinx turn into her home. it was different, of course, there were railings around the metal blades.

the decorations were easier on the eyes, much more inviting. although it was still very true to her usual chaotic manner, with messy decorations strewn across the space. her signature crude drawings decorate her dresser, her desk, old makeup palettes scattered around anywhere that'll house them.

but the most striking difference was the altar set up on one of the platforms, dedicated to vi. her big sister, who you'd seen alive and well just days prior. only in passing, but still. your girlfriend's relationship with her sister was strained at best, a near-fatality at worst. but something told you that if jinx knew her sister was gone in a parallel universe, if she was gone in your universe, she'd be utterly destroyed.

but not powder. powder was still fragile, you could see it in the way her jaw clenched at certain words, the way her eyes flitted when she got in her head. but powder could handle it. she didn't let it consume her, like jinx did. she didn't necessarily have a choice when it came to her state, but it was still an interesting contrast.

"hey, you!" powder beams, throwing her arms around you from behind. she presses a flurry of rushed kisses your jawline and cheek, then ending with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "took ya long enough! what's with the hold up?"

"sorry, babe. just got a little sidetracked."

you hum, leaning into the touch. you turn around in powder's embrace, looking into those sapphire eyes that could make anyone weak. you capture the girl's lips in a chaste, yet sweet kiss. a fleeting moment, but you put all of the affection that you can into it.

"sidetracked? with what?" she asks. "you're always the focused one."

you purse your lips, and you try to think of a good excuse. you were with ekko is where you where, but you can't tell powder that. not after the outburst she'd had just a day prior. but what if she found out anyways? wouldn't it be better for her to find out from you directly, rather than being told by a bystander?

you'll tell her the truth. she knows you and him are just friends. she knows that.

"i was talking to ekko."

you mutter, and powder's expression immediately hardens. like a switch being flipped, her smile falters, and her grip around you loosens.

"oh."

"powder, we were just talking." you plead, your hand running through your hair.

"yeah. just talking, i know."

she says, although it's clear that she's not fully convinced. she shakes her head, a deep exhale escaping her.

"talking about what, though?"

she asks, and your heart nearly drops. you can't lie to her, not while she's in this state. you've seen it. jinx slips into it more often than you can bear- trying to hold herself together whilst her emotions are threatening to bubble to the surface and explode.

you'd sound like a mad woman if you told her the truth. but what other choice did you have?

"look, pow," you start. "i'm gonna sound batshit crazy when i tell you this. but you have to listen to me."

your tone is stern, a 'no-bullshit' air about you. powder nods slowly in agreement, and waits silently for you to continue.

"i'm not... from here," you begin.

"huh? you've always been in zaun."

she's tilting her head in that confused way, and it's adorable- but you have to focus.

"no, no. i know that," you say, scrambling to find the right words. "i mean... this world. i came from a parallel universe or whatever they call it, and i have no idea how to get back. it's the same with ekko. everything is the same here, but different."

you sigh, pausing to catch your breath as you ramble on. powder's eyebrows are furrowed, yet she doesn't interrupt you. she's listening intently. that's a good start, you suppose.

"i mean, zaun is somewhere livable. people whose corpses i've seen are standing right in front of me, and there's none of that fucked-up tech there is where i come from. and you're different. you're happy, and you're healthy. the version of you that i know is someone i don't think you'd recognize."

your shoulders slump, and you're growing more restless as you talk. it's a word-vomit of sorts. you know you probably sound out of your damn mind to the girl in front of you, but you just can't stop now that you've started.

"and i love her. i really do. and i love you, but it feels like i'm lying to you, because i'm not the me that you love. i'm just in her body right now, and i'm trying to figure out how to give it back."

it’s odd, baring your feelings like this to a girl you simultaneously know like the back of your hand and don’t know at all. if powder was looking at you before, she’s looking through you now.

“…please say something.”

you breathe out. powder presses her lips into a thin line, her gaze finally parting from yours.

“say i believe all of this. say it’s true, and you’re not making up some crazy story to shut me up. if i asked ekko what you were talking about, would he have the same story?”

“yes, powder. he would.”

she lets out a heavy sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. powder’s expression is unreadable at best, though she doesn’t seem angry. just… confused. shocked. in disbelief, maybe even denial. though before you can say much more, there’s a knock at powder’s door.

“i’ll get it,” she mutters, turning over her shoulder. she makes her way to the door slowly, turning the knob and opening it to ekko of all people.

“what are you doing here?”

“here for your girlfriend.” he says, hoping that’ll suffice. you’d told him that powder was jealous and he’d need to tread lightly, hopefully placing emphasis on the word ‘girlfriend’ would leave a good impression on her. “we just need a minute to talk. i’ll give her right back, i swear.”

powder pauses for a moment, scanning over his expression for any hints of deception or trickery. but as usual, there is none. just someone who wants to have a conversation with her girlfriend, even though that certain someone is one she’s been wary of. she sighs.

“babe, ekko’s here for you!”

she calls out. you make your way to your feet, striding towards the door while your friend comes into view. his demeanor doesn't give anything away, but he typically doesn't just... show up at people's doors. not the ekko you know. so this must be something important. powder steps aside, allowing ekko into the hideout and turns around.

"i'll be here when you're done," she says, glancing over her shoulder before returning to her desk.

ekko gives one more cautious look to the girl, before turning his attention to you.

"right."

you purse your lips, anticipating his next words.

"we've got something. it wasn't easy doing it, and it won't be easy to get back, but we can do it now." he says, his sentences rushed. "we can do it whenever you're ready- now, if you want."

you quirk an eyebrow.

"now?"

"only if you want to."

you shake your head slowly, wordlessly, crossing your arms in contemplation. you'd definitely prefer to get back to jinx as soon as possible, but now you're having second thoughts. god, after all that you'd done and thought about this entire time, now you're having second thoughts? you confuse yourself, you think. but none of this situation makes much sense to begin with.

"i... yeah. sure." you pause, drawing a sharp breath in. "but what happens to the other me? like, the one that's here?"

ekko's eyebrows knit together, and he takes a moment to consider your question. mentally going over everything that he'd gathered, and everything heimerdinger had told him.

"i think we'd go back to how we were- our other selves, i mean. it was just.. us in their bodies for a while, but they'll go back to normal. they should, anyways."

"what if they don't?"

"listen. do you wanna go back, or not?"

god damn, he's right. this is what you've both been wanting from the start, and while you worry for your other self, you have to put this first.

but still. powder. you barely know this version of her, but you know that she's a good person. a smart girl who loves and gives. she deserves to be happy, she deserves the version of you that she knows and loves so dearly. you can only hope that she'll return to powder after you're gone.

"...yeah. let's do it." you murmur. "but i want to say goodbye to powder first."

he nods, and tilts his head in the girl's direction as if to cue you to go on. you manage a weak smile in his direction, before walking over to powder. your heart's beat in your chest is akin to a war drum, ringing in your ears and making your hands shake.

"hey, pow." you sigh, prompting her to turn her head towards you from... drafting blueprints? what exactly is she doing?- doesn't matter right now. "i'm going back. to where i came from, i mean. i'll be gone for a little bit, but.. everything will go back to normal. you'll have your girlfriend back, your real girlfriend, and i'll be in a place i know."

her blue eyes flit downwards, and she frowns. but still, she manages to slowly nod in acknowledgement.

"okay."

is all that she can manage, and she sounds defeated. it breaks your heart, seeing her like this. you step forward, cautiously wrapping your arms around the girl's shoulders in a gentle embrace.

"everything will be okay." you whisper, feeling her arms encircle your waist. "you deserve to be happy, powder."

✧.*

you're back.

oh, shit, you're back.

you spring to your feet, having been planted smack in the middle of a busy zaun street. passersby speed past you, vendors are loudly shouting to advertise their products, and loud music can be heard in the distance.

all that occupies your mind in this moment is jinx, jinx, jinx. anything else- the fact that it feels like you haven't eaten in days, your muscles are sore from whatever the hell that time machine had done to you, or the fact that you feel like you may collapse at any moment from exhaustion are of no significance to you. you have to find you, you have to see her and know that she's okay, tell her that you're okay.

your first stop is jinx's hideout. she's almost always there, running around while tinkering with some new weapon or conspiring her next big job. but as soon as the door swings open, a deafening silence hits you. one that's uncharacteristic for your girlfriend, the only time she's ever quiet is when she's sleeping- and she doesn't get much of that.

you scramble through the different platforms, looking under large structures- lifting up blankets, looking in her cot, her beat-up couches, but there's no trace of the girl.

so you make your way to the lanes, where you figure jinx may be causing destruction. all you find is shimmer dealers and street rats scrounging for scraps.

your last hope is the last drop. jinx doesn't tend to venture much. she wouldn't be in piltover for anything right now, she doesn't walk through zaun's streets to window shop or sightsee. she sticks to her areas of interest, occasionally venturing out to tag walls, fight, or look for materials. if she wasn't there, you couldn't begin to think of where she would be. you didn't want to think of that.

you push the heavy door of the tavern open, immediately struck with the smell of liquor and stench of smoke, the sound of patrons chatting away and playing card games in the company of friends.

you scan the bar counter, the tables, the bits of the kitchen you can see, but she isn't here either. you can hardly believe what you're seeing. nine times out of ten, jinx is somewhere within the confines of these locations you've searched, but it's as if she's vanished.

however, you do see a familiar face- that of your aunt. tucked away in a dark corner of the bar at a small wooden table, filling out a stack of paperwork.

"sevika."

you start, a brow quirked and your arms crossed.

"not even an 'aunt' at beginning?" sevika jests, not looking up from the papers in front of her. she's scribbling something away, likely to do with the late silco's businesses, but no matter. you don't have time to ask what she's up to, and frankly you don't care either.

"where is she?" you demand, taking a seat across from the woman. "i've looked in the hideout, the lanes, and now here, but she's nowhere."

"where were you?" sevika bites back. the flips to another page, the pen scratching against paper almost obnoxiously. you wince at her tone, slowly shrinking into yourself- though you can't exactly explain that to her.

"that's a long story. a lot happened."

you sigh, bracing your elbows on the wood before you.

"spare me no details," she says, sarcasm lacing her words. "she's worried sick. jinx was asking me all yesterday and the night before where you were, what you were doing, because she'd heard nothing from you. but i didn't know anything, and i still don't. you're grown now, and you can handle yourself. but as your aunt, i'm supposed to know these things. by the way," she pauses, her gaze lifting to meet yours.

"walking out on a girl like jinx isn't a good idea. she's not in a good way."

"i didn't walk out on her, auntie."

she huffs, placing her pen down on the stack before her. she's got an eyebrow raised in that way she does so often, but there's still a softness to her gaze. you're family. while she's not particularly happy with you right now, especially since she's the one who has to take care of jinx in your absence, she's still forgiving.

"i don't have a clue where she could be right now, kid. but she'll be back at that hideout of hers soon enough. i'd just wait."

it's not the answer you'd like to hear; you've got a one-track mind focused solely on jinx right now. but it'll suffice. she's right, she always does eventually return there.

"...thanks, auntie sev."

"yeah, yeah. i've got work to do. go be with your girlfriend."

she concedes, making a 'shoo' motion with her prosthetic hand.

✧.*

you jump to your feet off of the torn plush couch the moment jinx steps into view in her hideout.

"jinx."

her head nearly snaps in your direction, and she runs over to you with alarming speed. she's always been a swift girl, but you don't know if you've ever seen her this urgent.

"baby? is that you?"

she breathes out, standing directly in front of you. wide magenta eyes look into yours, and you nearly begin crying on the spot. your arms throw around the girl's slender frame before you can think. you hold her tight to you, as if you're afraid that she'll disappear if you let go. usually it's her holding you like this, shaking like a leaf and struggling to keep it together, but there's a first for everything.

"yes, yes, it's me. i'm here."

"what happened? i... thought you left." her voice cracks on the last word, afraid and insecure.

"i would never. trust me. a lot happened, i'll explain later, just..."

there's a pause for a moment as you pull back slightly, before closing the distance to press your lips to jinx's. your lips move together in a slow, gentle, desperate rhythm, and you try to put all of your current feelings into them.

i missed you.

i'm sorry.

i'm never leaving.

i love you.

you slowly pull back, your eyes welling with tears threatening to spill at any moment.

"i didn't mean for any of this to happen, i promise you. i never meant to leave you, i told you i'd be back in a few hours and i wasn't." you whisper, a tear spilling and slipping down your cheek. your arms tighten around jinx, and you can tell from the way her breathing is growing labored. she's not upset, just so damn overwhelmed. "i love you, jinx, so much."

another chaste kiss to her lips to emphasize your words.

"are you okay?"

"i... yeah. i'm okay. i just didn't know if you were coming back." she trails off, voice raspy and weak. those words hit you like a punch to the gut, no matter the fact that you'd seen them coming. you hate seeing jinx so torn up, and you hate being the cause of that.

"i'll always come back, babe." you whisper, holding jinx's gaze. you slowly move your hands to rest atop her shoulders. "let's go do something."

"do what?"

"i don't know. anything," you say, your eyes hopeful. "i just need to be with you. i'll tell you everything, and we can do whatever you want. i just missed you."

jinx purses her lips for a moment, a little 'hmm' coming from her as she thinks over the possibilities. she thinks of things in her hideout, but she senses that you want to go out into the city right now. there's a lot of shops, but she's never been one to frequent them. an abandoned warehouse with fireworks.

"i know a place,"

she declares, taking your dominant hand from her shoulder and holding it in hers.

"shall we?"

✧.* bonus!

"oh, screw you!" powder giggles, flour dusting her cheeks.

"i didn't mean to!"

the alternative you is back in her body. she's got no memory of what happened the past two days, all she remembers is waking up in powder's arms to the sight of tears running down pale cheeks. you hadn't sustained any injuries, no scarring, but you were just... gone. you couldn't recount anything.

"it said put the flour in the mixing bowl, not on my face, you goof!"

you're together in your cramped kitchen trying to figure out a recipe, one of vander's that he'd written down for powder. strawberry shortcake, one of her childhood favorites that vander claims she used to beg him for. she vehemently denies this, and you go along with her whims, but you can't help inwardly laughing at the thought of a little powder begging her dad to bake for her.

"it was a mistake, pow! i swear!"

she rolls her eyes, but the hysterical giggles coming from her girlfriend tell you that she's not really angry. she shakes her head, taking the paper in her hands again to reread the instructions. she plucks a wooden spoon from one of your drawers, keeping her eyes focused on the paper.

"so it says to mix the dry ingredients, then we get started on wet."

"yeah, that's usually how it works when you bake things."

powder grunts, and a light smack lands on your shoulder, prompting another fit of laughter from you.

"my bad for not having experience with this! you said you were gonna make it, so we're making it."

you snort in response, gently taking the recipe from her hands and looking over it yourself. you set down the paper on the counter as she begins mixing the dry ingredients in the bowl- a pink and blue clay one that she'd made especially for you. it wasn't the ideal size for most of your baking endeavors, but you'd never tell your dear girlfriend that. it was perfect, because it was hers.

"i'm happy to make whatever you want, babe. just say the word." you hum, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek before striding to your fridge to retrieve a few wet ingredients.

"anything? anything, anything?"

she asks, looking back at you. her hand is still working.

"anything you want."

"i've heard macarons are really hard. would you make those for me?"

you chuckle lightly, placing a carton of eggs, milk, and strawberries on the counter.

"they wouldn't be pretty, i'm sure. but i'd make them for you."

powder lets out a happy squeal, before turning to you and stepping aside to show you her work.

"i think i'm done mixing." she smiles. "i didn't mess it up, did i?"

you shake your head lightly, a playful lilt to your tone whilst searching your overhead cupboards for a second bowl.

"you did great. it's just dry ingredients, not hard to mix those. the wet ingredients can get a bit tricky, though."

powder rolls her eyes and groans, prompting a laugh from you.

"it's not that bad. come on, let's get started on that. as soon as we're done, you'll have that strawberry shortcake."

#jinx x reader #powder x reader #arcane x reader #arcane x you #reader insert #sapphic #i am not proud of this one sorry

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spencewalterreid · 2 days ago

Text

Family Tree

Summary: Deeply religious 6-year-old Ethel Cain grapples with her turbulent home life with the help of her best friend, Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / Ethel Cain (p, young age)

Category: Angst, hurt/comfort. Some fluff.

Warnings: Discussions of child predators, suicide, allusion to molestation, brief sexual scene but not exactly smut, cigarettes, STRONG religion, allusions to physical abuse from a parental figure.

Word Count: 4.5k

Author's Note: Those of you that have been paying attention to my recent posts know I'm starting a new series: Preacher's Daughter. Essentially, a chronological account of Ethel Cain's life, with the addition of best friend Spencer Reid. First couple chapters are going to be strictly from Ethel's point of view, but once we get to Western Nights, it'll start flipping between Ethel's POV and Spencer's POV, which will be trying to solve the case of the adrenaline-fueled murders of Willoughby and Ethel as they traverse the west coast. I understand this probably won't be as popular as the Spencer-centered fics, but I hope you guys stay with me!! This was really fun to write and I have a feeling it will only get moreso <3 Please let me know what you think!! Leave as much feedback and as many suggestions as you please, they really help me out. Feedback from you guys is what keeps me going. With all that being said, enjoy the first chapter!

July 8, 1972

It gets hot in Alabama. Blistering, really. Ethel writhed in the grass, trying to find a spot that was still cool, damp from the morning dew. She’s lying under an oak tree in the yard in front of her father’s farm house, mud pressing itself into her white sundress. She’s drenched in sweat, which she thinks might be contributing to the ever-increasing dirt patch under her. The grass tickles the backs of her shoulders as she turns on her side toward the boy beside her, folding her hands under her head.

Spencer had been her best friend since she could remember. She met him when she was two, her mother would tell her. Back then, his hair was always combed back, the curls politely laying into one another. Now, eyes closed and a faint smile on his lips, his hair was wild, brown chunks across his forehead and the ground behind him. His arms were out next to him, fingers splayed against the soft greenery. He’s gotta be hot in that, she thinks, observing his short-sleeved button-up shirt and long, tan pants.

Hearing the shuffle of the grass, Spencer turns toward his companion and attempts to open his eyes, but quickly squeezes them shut again to shade himself from the sunlight with his left arm, then cautiously tries again. He succeeds, gaze landing on the gaunt girl.

“What are you thinking about?” Ethel asks, voice soft.

Spencer shuffles back into his previous position for the most part, but leaves an arm across the upper half of his face. “I dunno,” he sighs. “I’m thinking I don’t wanna get up tomorrow morning.”

Ethel frowns. “What do you mean? We have to. Church is tomorrow.”

“I know that,” he groans. “But I have school on Monday, and it sucks to cut the weekend short,” Spencer replies. “Just because you get to sleep in every day…”

“I don’t sleep in,” she counters with a pout, admiring the soft slope of his chin and the bristle of his shirt in the passive breeze. “Daddy gets me up every morning no later than 8.”

“I have to get up at 6,” he whines, “and my mom never wakes me up in the mornings.”

“That’s because she’s got the devil in her,” Ethel whispers solemnly. “His voice keeps her up at night, so it’s hard for her to wake up.”

Spencer turns over completely this time, still shielding himself with his hand, but looks hard at Ethel. He fights the urge to roll off of his shoulder which is now digging into the hard ground. “I wish you’d quit saying that.”

“Daddy says she’s got the devil in her,” Ethel repeats reasonably, nodding to herself. “It isn’t her fault, Spence, Lucifer can tempt anybody.” She reaches a hand out to touch his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she smiles. “I’ll keep praying for her, and-”

“Ethel!”

She snaps upward and Spencer quickly follows suit, catching sight of her father looming at the end of the porch, frightening and large, thick arms folded across his chest. “You have no right to be touching my daughter like that, boy,” he shouts, stomping down the steps and crossing the yard to the tree. Spencer scrambles up to his feet, glancing back at Ethel for a moment before her father’s firm hand is covering Spencer’s small bicep.

“He didn’t do anything, Daddy!” Ethel cries, standing up as well to try to pull Spencer back.

“It’s okay, E, I’ll-”

Her father shoves a hand against her chest, knocking her to the ground. “You mind your business, child, I’ll deal with you shortly,” he spits, glaring down at her before dragging Spencer behind him, across the street to his house.

***

July 9, 1972

The church is packed like a can of sardines. In a town like this one, everyone goes to church. It’s non-negotiable. Ethel sits in the second row back, twisting in her seat to try to get a look behind her. Spencer isn’t here yet. On any other day, Spencer would attend with the Cain family, but given her father’s impressive ability to hold a grudge, it didn’t surprise her when he failed to offer this morning. It’s 9:32, two minutes past the time Pastor Dan would start service.

“Quit ‘yer squirming,” Dad demands, a tight hand on her shoulder to pull her back down to her seat.

“Spencer is late,” she whispers, talking to herself more than her father.

Dad screws up his face in disgust, scoffing. “Don’t you worry yourself about that heathen. He’s where he belongs, with his filthy mother.”

“Please don’t talk about him like that,” she frowns. “He’s nice.”

“He’s a sinner,” Dad growls, “Now hush.”

Ethel folds her hands in her lap, defeated. Undoubtedly, she’s worried about her friend. She didn’t see him after his front door slammed behind him and her father yesterday afternoon. She assumes his mother was probably asleep, she usually was these days. Spencer said she hasn't been feeling well recently, but if she’s honest, Ethel can’t remember a time where his mother was feeling anything but lousy. She barely hears the words leaving the pastor’s mouth until her father pinches her harshly on the arm.

“Pay. Attention.”

She bites her lip and tries to listen.

“It is our duty as God’s children to take in those who need to hear the Word. Those who put themselves above the Lord, those who lie, those who cheat, those who commit adultery. Those who do not repent for their sins shall surely perish, Amen?”

A chorus of agreement amongst the crowd rings out. Ethel worries her bottom lip. Her father shoots her a pointed look, but says nothing.

“Romans 6:23,” he begins, spreading a bible across the podium in front of him. There’s an opaque rustling up and down the aisles of parishioners hunting for the verse. “‘For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.’ God expects us to sin, for we are all imperfect; however, when you admit this in the face of our Lord, you shall surely be forgiven. Amen?”

Again, a mindless repetition of the word. Ethel has never liked that part of church. Every Sunday, the same speech more or less, and she doubts anyone in the room thinks twice about it aside from herself. She doubts anyone in the room disagrees with anything he’s ever said. Like last week, when the sermon denounced all who lie, even when it is to save themselves. She recounts all the lies she’s told, or at least tries to. There are far too many to catalogue, even if she wrote them down each time. When Spencer threw a rock at her window a few weeks ago, scratching a nick into it when he tried to get her attention after her father kicked him out. She’d blamed it on a falling branch. Or when his mother called that morning, demanding he be sent home immediately, though he was at school at the time. Ethel insisted his mother was overseas and got confused about the time zones. When her father asked why his mother would need him home if that were the case, she didn’t have a good answer. She wore long sleeves for a long time after that, and that was the second time one of her sisters let her use makeup. When her father asked where the bruises had gone, another lie: you hadn’t left any in the first place.

Ethel is pulled out of her thoughts when the entire room falls silent at the creak of the door. She whips around in her seat, ignoring her father’s warning hand on her thigh. She grins when she sees her friend, but her face falls pretty quick after that. He’s wearing a sweater, and she’s worried about his warmth even if it is his Sunday best. He catches sight of her and tries to yank a smile onto his quickly-reddening cheeks, but fails miserably. He tugs his sleeves further down his hands.

Spencer is a small boy as it is, but he looks downright tiny swallowed up in his second-hand clothes. His oxford shoes pad dully against the old, scratchy carpet as he travels up the aisles. He sits in the pew behind Ethel, next to a stately old woman who immediately recoils and scoots as far away from him as she can. Ethel smiles at his proximity, and he offers a shy wave.

The pastor remains silent for another few seconds for emphasis before continuing. “You know, in all my years of preaching, there’s one thing I’ve noticed,” he says, closing his bible and leaning his elbows against the podium, left ankle crossed atop the right. “Those who do not attend church regularly are often the ones with something to hide.”

Spencer feels so hot he may catch on fire at any moment.

“I’ve seen people – heathens,” he looks at Spencer, then away just as quickly, “--show their face in the house of God knowing damn well that they are representing the Devil. Do you know what happens to those… individuals?” he continues haltingly, as if it were a tall order for him to refer to Ethel’s friend as a human being. Her stomach twists at the thought. “God strikes them down.” He opens his bible again, rifling through it. “Psalm 28:3: ‘Do not take me away with the wicked and with workers of iniquity, who speak peace to their neighbors, but evil is in their hearts.’” He slams it shut. “That means,” he presses on, and now Ethel thinks he’s purposely looking anywhere but their direction, “that those who lie to God’s children and worship their own false deity in private are not to be considered one of us. The Serpent is cunning, and will try to convince you his cause is just; do not be fooled. These… these creatures… will say anything to make you believe they are of God. Do not believe their lies.”

Ethel glances back toward Spencer, a look of apology in her eyes. Her father pops her in the back of the head. “Eyes forward,” he hisses. She obliges. Spencer sinks further into his pew, wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

***

The fresh breeze blowing through the valley the church house resides in isn’t as refreshing as Ethel hoped it would be as she shuffles out the door, accompanied by the other youths, the adults trailing a bit behind. As much as her father would abhor it, he can’t see her in the throng of people, and her hand finds Spencer’s as she falls into step next to him.

“Hey,” she whispers, squeezing encouragingly. He chances a glance at her.

“Hey back.” He looks sad. She tilts her head.

“What happened yesterday?” Ethel looks behind her subtly to make sure no one’s paying attention. She concludes they’re in the clear.

Spencer kicks a rock out of his way and lets go of Ethel’s hand, opting to shove his own into his pockets. “I’m just glad Mom wasn’t roused enough to hear it,” he says.

“I’m sorry.” She tilts her head down and forward to try to catch his eye under his thick curtain of hair, and notices for the first time a red-blue splotch of colour next to his nose. “I didn’t know he’d do that to you.”

“Really? You didn’t see that coming at all?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I’ve seen what he does to you. It was only a matter of time.”

Ethel sighs, pulling Spencer out of the crowd and to the side of the building, hidden by the shrubbery. “Daddy is nice to me,” she insists, a trying expression on her face. “He loves me.”

“I don’t believe you,” he replies, squinting his eyes. “Your dad loves you just about as much as God loves me.”

She doesn’t quite know what he means by that, so instead of saying anything actually reassuring, she says, “God loves you. He loves all of his children.”

Tears well up in Spencer’s eyes. He crosses his arms and slumps against the dirty panels on the side of the church. “Why, then? Why is he keeping my mom sick, why does he let your dad be mean to you?” He yanks his arms out of the position they were in, in favour of digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, roughly shaking the tears loose.

Sometimes words were futile, Ethel realizes, even if she hadn’t learned how to describe that to herself yet. Making the best choice she could think of, she takes a step forward and gathers her friend into her short arms. “I’ll pray for you,” she says into his ear. Spencer hesitates before placing his hands gingerly onto her back. He nods, even though he knows her prayers are redundant. If he’s a heathen, God probably wouldn’t even take a second glance at Ethel. No one who associates with someone like him is worth God’s time, probably.

“Thank you,” he says anyway. Sometimes you just need to let people think they believe in something. Even if they’re lying. Spencer has learned it makes people feel better to lie, they find it comforting, even if he hasn’t learned why yet.

***

December 13th, 1972

Ethel squints at the mirror, cross-legged on the carpet of her bedroom floor. She studies the red on her lips, garish if she’s honest, and tries to convince herself it makes her look pretty. She tilts her head this way and that, and considers if a different shirt might compliment it more.

At the sound of a knock on her door, she just about jumps out of her skin. “Um- Hang on!” she shouts, rubbing the back of her hand against her mouth to remove the lipstick. The door opens. “I said-” she looks up and sees her big sister, Joanna. “Oh.”

Joanna grins, pearly white teeth matching perfectly with her long, wavy blonde hair. Ethel always admired, maybe envied, her sisters. They were all beautiful. Slim, but not skinny like Ethel. They always looked happy, their joy contagious in its exuberance. They were kind, godly girls. All three of them. Joanna was the oldest, 19. She presses the door shut behind her.

“Oh, honey,” she coos, kneeling down on the carpet next to Ethel. “You can’t just wipe off red lipstick.” She gets on her hands and knees to lean past her little sister and pick up a box of Kleenex, pulling a couple tissues out before setting it down again. She wets it with her saliva. “Tighten your mouth,” she instructs, pulling her lips taut against her teeth. “Like this.”

Ethel complies, and Joanna sets to work pulling the pigment away from her skin as best as she can. “You really shouldn’t be using my makeup, you know,” Joanna chides. “If Dad saw this-”

“Please don’t tell Dad!” Ethel pulls away to sqeak, putting her hands up in surrender. “I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry, I won’t-”

Joanna puts a soothing hand on Ethel’s shoulder. “Hush. I’m not gonna tell Dad.”

Cautiously, Ethel returns to her previous position and her sister continues her work.

“All I’m saying, you could get yourself into a lot of trouble. You have a knack for that lately.” Satisfied with the result, or at least as satisfied as she was gonna get, Joanna crumples up the Kleenex tissues and conceals them between her palms. “You’re very pretty just as you are, you know that?” she leans in just a bit, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Very pretty.”

Ethel giggles. “Not as pretty as you,” she replies, dragging out the last vowel. Joanna smiles that perfect smile yet again, ruffling Ethel’s hair.

“I’m going to the store, do you want to come with me? I’m gonna get some ice cream,” she says with a wink. In a hurry, Ethel scrambles onto her feet, eager to get out of the house.

Passing through the living room, they’re stopped by the news on the TV.

“Earlier this evening, Dan Sanderson was found hanging in the front yard of his Nebraska home. The Sanderson family is not disclosing-”

The TV is shut off before it can continue. Ethel glances at the couch to investigate the loss, and notices her father for the first time since leaving her room. “Daddy?” she inquires, tears filling her eyes. “Isn’t that-”

“Pastor Dan,” Joanna interrupts, reaching for Ethel’s hand. “Oh, my God,” she gasps, pressing her free hand to her mouth.

Ethel sniffles, a hiccup bubbling in her throat. Dad exhales sharply, rubbing his face. “Church should be interesting,” he comments with a chuckle, before bringing a glass of whiskey to his lips. “Where are you girls going?”

“The store,” Joanna replies, voice distant and distracted.

“Leave Ethel here.”

The two glance at one another from behind the couch. Their father still hasn’t even bothered to spare them a well-meaning look.

“But-”

“No. I’m not asking. Be back in 20 minutes, Jo,” Dad demands, and knowing better than to argue, the older girl concedes.

“Yes, sir,” she sighs, letting go of Ethel’s hand. She leans down to kiss her younger sister’s head. “I’ll be back soon with some chocolate chip, okay?” Joanna asks, fingertips against Ethel’s cheek.

“Okay,” she nods.

Ethel stays put until a few moments after the door clicks shut, processing the death of the pastor. She’s never known anyone who was dead before.

Dad looks at her for the first time today, sitting up and poking his head over the couch. “Come here, darlin’.”

She crosses the room with tiny, shuffling steps, coming to stand next to the soft leather sofa. Dad takes her wrist, not unkindly, and pulls her toward him, and she has to get onto the furniture to comfortably follow his tugging. He nestles her under his arm, fingertips rolling the hem of her dress distractedly as he unpauses the TV.

“Do you want to watch cartoons?” he offers, knuckles against her lower thigh, just above her knee.

Ethel doesn’t reply, eyes glued to her father’s heavy, broad hand on her dress.

“I asked you a question.”

“Okay,” she says, for the second time in the last two minutes.

Satisfied, Dad lays his head back against the arm of the couch, and Ethel nestles herself into his side. They stay like that for a while, bold two-dimensional colours casting an uncomfortably blue glow over the room. Joanna comes home unceremoniously, puts the ice cream in the freezer, and trudges back to her bedroom. Ethel assumes the other two are probably also in their bedrooms. She realizes she hasn’t even spoken to them in a couple of days. They’ve been distant lately.

“Daddy?”

“Hm?”

When she looks up, she sees his eyes are closed and at some point, he’d finished his glass of whiskey; it’s sitting empty on the side table.

“Can I go see Spencer?”

Suffice it to say, Ethel does not leave her bedroom for the rest of the evening and the better half of the next day.

***

December 17, 1972

Dad took over for Pastor Dan the very Sunday after his death. Ethel wondered if they’d take a week off to mourn, but honestly, she should have known better. It was silly, in retrospect.

Her sisters actually happened to like Spencer, which was very lucky for Ethel. That meant while Dad was in front of the congregation, she got to sit next to her friend. They walked together today, a nice change of pace from driving with Dad. The only reason Dad let them go together was the promise that Joanna, Hope, and Allison would go with her. They were considerate enough to walk a good distance behind Ethel and Spencer.

The sermon made Ethel sick. The look on her father’s face as he talked about a father’s duties was… personal. He watched her and her sisters for most of it. She sank under his unforgiving stare as he spoke about protecting your brood, about keeping them close, and keeping them pure. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she liked that it made Spencer hold her hand.

***

March 23, 1980

“Aren’t you- worried- your dad- will come in?” the boy asks between presses of Ethel’s lips to his. She isn’t sure of his name (William? He said Will, she thinks?), and she’s less sure she cares.

Ethel shakes her head. “No,” she mumbles, hands firmly on the boy’s shoulders, knees on either side of his hips. “He’s out cold.”

She slides her grip down his biceps, then to his waist, and pulls the hem of his shirt up his abdomen. He obediently lifts his arms to allow her to yank it over his head, then makes quick work of removing her own top.

For a moment, she has the instinct to cover up. One of her biggest insecurities (aside from the evil, ungodly thoughts in her head) is how skinny she is. She’s all leg, skin and bone from head to toe. She tries to eat more, really she does, but she’s nauseous so often that it’s hard to keep it down. She wonders fleetingly why Dad hasn’t said anything about her continuously dwindling figure.

Her spiral is interrupted when the boy groans, going to grope her chest. He drags his thumb across a stick-n-poke tattoo, a cross just below her collarbone. Ethel’s stomach lurches, sending a rush to her head. I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be doing this. This is a sin. I can’t take this back. God will know I’m not a virgin. He’ll know I’m not pure anymore. What if Daddy can tell? What if he doesn’t love me anymore? What if he stops-

She groans when he rocks his hips into her, making his erection very apparent. In that moment, she really could not give a damn about her father – for that matter, either of her fathers.

***

March 29, 1980

“You sure you don’t want a puff?” Ethel offers, cigarette dangling from between her index and middle fingers. Spencer shakes his head, which is currently resting on his interlocked fingers, elbows bent out to the sides as he stares at the night sky.

She finally got Spencer to come over again for the first time in a long time, considering the last visit ended with Dad damn near strangling him in an alcohol-fueled stupor (which is becoming more and more common), insisting he “had the devil in him”.

“Suit yourself,” Ethel shrugs and takes another drag. “Do you ever think about having sex?” she asks bluntly, snuffing out the cigarette on a shingle and turning her head toward Spencer. He chokes on a breath, sitting up slightly to get a better look at her.

“What?”

“Don’t what me. Don’t act like you haven’t considered it,” she says, sitting up on her elbows. “I mean, seriously, Spence. Have you even had your first kiss?”

He deflects expertly. “Have you?”

Ethel holds a puff of air in her cheeks then blows it out sharply, laying back down and interlocking her fingers over her stomach. She considers telling him. For the last week, she hasn’t stopped thinking about her night with that boy. It felt nice to finally go all the way, felt nice to not walk away from a sexual encounter feeling positively filthy. To be able to call the shots for once, not worry about the stakes of your performance quality. Ultimately, she decides against it. “How’s college?” she asks bitterly.

“No, E, what were you gonna say?” Spencer sits up completely, crossing his ankles under his shins.

“Spence, drop it, please?” Her voice is soft, almost scared. It sounds like a prayer, breathy and secretive, like if she said it too loud, the request was sure not to be granted.

“What happened?” he matches her tone, sweet and calm, just as he always has been. Ethel thinks she’s never heard him raise his voice before, even minimally.

“I snuck a boy in,” she replies before she can stop herself. “We, uh. We did it.”

She wanted to use the word. The dirty one. She wanted to use the word she couldn’t use while that boy was inside her, no matter how hard he tried to get her to. She wanted to swear, really she did, but she couldn’t. Funny, the lines a 16-year-old-girl draws.

“How do you feel?” Spencer picks up her hand, toying with the couple of rings on her fingers.

“A little chilly, and the roof isn’t very comfy,�� she replies, wiggling to emphasize her point, but careful to keep her hand in his grip.

Spencer glares. “You know what I meant.”

Ethel sighs, deep in her chest. “I don’t know,” she replies. “I mean, I liked it. It felt good. I just…”

“You can’t stop thinking about him,” Spencer adds delicately, not managing to meet his friend’s eye.

“Yeah.” Ethel swallows thickly, dragging her fingertips of the hand Spencer has held captive against his palm.

Spencer shifts a bit to get closer and adjust his grip, commencing a massage on the back of her hand. “I’m always here with you. If it gets to be too much…”

“I know,” she whispers, voice cracking. She drops her chin to her chest. “Thanks.”

Ethel lets Spencer keep her hand but lays back against the roof, closing her eyes with a sigh at his nimble fingers working the muscles.

“He was pretty, you know? Real pretty. Sharp,” she says, and she imagines the pinched expression on Spencer’s face; eyebrows knit tightly, lips pursed. “I like him a lot, Spence. I think I could fall in love with him,” she continues with a dazed smile.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he says. “For that matter, you shouldn’t have even been having sex before you got married. It’ll be hard to go to confession when the preacher is your father.”

She knew he wasn’t judging her. It wasn’t unkind, the way he spoke to her. She’s grateful for that.

“I know,” she mutters, smile falling. “I just…” She opens her eyes to find Spencer watching her carefully with exactly the expression she expected. “I wanted to believe someone could find me beautiful.”

“I find you beautiful.”

She could cry at the sincerity, and almost does. She swallows the lump in her throat.

“Yeah, but not beautiful enough to make love to me, right?” Ethel scoffs, shaking her head.

Spencer stops his ministrations on her hand, laying it gently on his knee, still carefully clasped in his own. “Maybe,” he whispers, eyes downcast. Ethel perks up at this, sitting up and leaning on her elbows.

“Really? I mean, maybe I should just strip now,” she says with a grin. Spencer returns it.

Ethel lays back down, a giggle bubbling up in her throat. Spencer remains quiet and lets the smirk play against his mouth for a while.

“Are you getting cold?” he asks, rolling his shoulders.

“A little. Sleepy, for sure.”

Spencer stands up and pulls Ethel with him. Before ducking back in through the window, he stops her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Be careful with that boy, okay? Take it slow, keep your eggs in different baskets.”

Ethel rolls her eyes. “Screw off, virgin.”

Spencer goes home that night with a flurry in his stomach and an uncomfortable tension in his pants.

Tag List: @darkmatilda @lizzys-sunflower.

If you'd like to be added, let me know!

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chaifootsteps · 3 days ago

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Hello, Chai! A few weeks ago, I mentioned coming into your inbox to ask you several questions about your allegations and just getting your side of the story. I will be honest, when I read the call out(s) about you.

I overall thought “yeah, I don’t blame anyone for being uncomfortable regarding your interests.” I personally don’t think you are a zoophile especially with looking at your art and your likes.

1. Are you a proshipper (many think you are that’s why I’m asking)?

2. When I searched your name on Tumblr, I noticed a few people being disgusted and weirded out you found Valentino attractive and liked ValAngel, using it as a “gotcha moment” against you and I think that’s dumb. I personally don’t ship it but I do find the ship interesting. I never cared if adults shipped Valentino/Angel Dust.

3. Thoughts on this? Is this No NSFW outdated for the Dutch angel dragon community? If you have screenshots I would love to see them.

4. Thoughts on this?

5. Thoughts on this?

6. Anonymous user accused you of being creepy towards other critics and talking about non pro shipper’s abrasively. In my comment section you mentioned criticizing pro-shippers, do you have any screenshots of that.

7. Context behind this? The user who made this post mentioned you apologized to them.

(I’ll come back cuz with more stuff).

I don't blame anyone for being uncomfortable with my interests either! You like what you like and you don't like what you don't like, and I'm a die hard monsterfucker and horror aficionado with a very firm policy on fiction vs. reality. If that's not to anyone's comfort level, no hard feelings.

That said!

1. I don't call myself a proshipper anymore because proshipper means wildly different things to different people and I was tired of fighting for a term instead of the concept that people should be allowed to explore things they wouldn't be okay with in real life in the safety of their imaginations. That being the case, I've got people who call themselves antis in my audience and in my server. My blog's open to anyone and everyone who wants to be here and talk about these things.

2. Of course I used to like Valentino and ValAngel, it was a fascinating ship and some of the fandubs for Valentino were hot as hell! Shipping something doesn't necessarily mean I want them to be together forever, just that I found their dynamic worth exploring.

It used to be that everyone was unanimous in their agreement that Val was the scum of the earth, and ever since that's changed and the fandom has started blaming Angel for "being ungrateful," I've fallen out of love with them, but my problem still isn't with anyone who likes ValAngel -- it's with the way Viv herself treats the ship and the way she Trojan Horsed it into the show and belittled survivors who were uncomfortable.

3. This one's especially funny because I guarantee you the Viv standom, who never heard of Dutch Angel Dragons before they learned about mine, care more about this than the actual mods do. NSFW Dutches actually are disallowed, and it will get you banned from Dutch spaces, but that's all. My little group has actually talked to Ino herself about it; one of the rules of my Dutch Rebel server is that you're allowed to do whatever you like with your own character, but absolutely no NSFW of OCs whose owners have said they're not comfortable with that.

As for "they all have the intelligence of children!" that's ridiculous. The mods themselves have Dutches who curse, wield guns, and like Satellite, grapple with their war trauma. This differs from character to character depending on preference, and Satellite's a fully grown adult with the mind of a grown adult.

4. This one's a patented DJ Blitz Crazy Take! It's a South Park reference.

5. I maintain that "drawn CP" shouldn't be a term because CP is a real, absolutely reprehensible crime, which is why the word has such a gutpunch visceral effect. I think it's absolutely crucial that it keep that gutpunch effect; alarm fatigue is a real and extremely dangerous thing. Drawings of say, Gravity Falls characters, whatever your stance on that, are their own thing and we need to talk about them as their own thing.

6. Sure do! I know I've talked quite about about how the Twitter proship community is a completely different animal, and absolutely batshit insane. People were coming over with horror stories and because I'm mostly on tumblr, I had no idea.

I've also called out people for shipping ships I actually like in ways that I consider dangerous. One notable example is some rando who defended a ship by saying "14 is on the cusp of womanhood" and yeah, someone check that guy's hard drive, please.

7. Yeah, anyone claiming Andre and Stella's dynamic (read: making repeated sexual comments to your sibling, unwanted touching) is normal sibling banter raises ten kinds of alarm bells, but it wasn't my intention to genuinely freak this person out and I actually did apologize in private.

If you've got any more questions, feel free to send them and I'd be happy to answer!

#doodler16 #actual blog post #viv stuff

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gyuyoungg · 4 hours ago

Text

DIORAMA

Pairing: semi x female idol!reader

a/n: see the intro I posted earlier for better context :)) you can imagine yourself how you want to

You sat on a bench near a tree in hopes of covering yourself from the hot summer sun and took your headphones off for a quick moment. You were originally on a walk but due to being a k-pop idol, some crazy fans had spotted you and started chasing you. As you were trying to catch your breath someone sat down beside you on the other end of the bench. This caught you off guard and you immediately went into fight or flight mode in case the fans had caught up to you, but you notice the girls calm nature and conclude that she’s harmless.

“Man, this weather sucks.” The girl huffed as she crossed her arms in front of her chest with an amused grin playing on her lips.

“Finally someone who understands me.” You mumbled as you turned your head to look at her. She was wearing a pair of washed denim shorts and a graphic t-shirt along with some accessories, while you were just wearing a short white dress on a pair of baggy jeans.

“I like your outfit, it’s cute.” You said to her with a faint smile. You noticed that she hadn’t looked away from you since the moment she sat down, until now. She looked away, her grin slightly more visible than before. “Thank you, I like your outfit too.”

“Could I get your number, only if it’s okay of course.” You ask her nicely. She was clearly a little shocked by your question, but still took your phone from your hand and typed in her number.

You give her a warm smile as you stand back up, “I should get going before they find me…” you said softly as you opened your tote bag to take out your black cap.

“Before who finds you?” The girl questioned curiously with a frown. “Oh, im an idol.” You clarified as you adjusted the hat and scanned your surroundings for any possible danger. “It was nice to meet you.” You gave a small bow as you turned to leave.

But you never gave her your name…

—

“Okay let me get this straight, a kpop idol complimented your outfit, asked for your number, and didn’t give you her name…?” Thanos asked with a confused expression.

“Yes.” Se-mi groaned as she leaned her head on the wall behind her. The squad was currently sitting at a booth in a random coffee shop due to semi blowing up their phones. “Cmon, I bet Min-su can figure out who it is if you describe her.” Gyeong-su sighed, desperately trying to calm his friend down.

“Yeah, I’d probably be able to do that, what did she look like.” He asked. Se-mi gave a vague description of you, head in her hands as she tried to recall your face.

“Holy fucking shit.” Min-su whispered as his eyes widened in realisation, “the Hwang y/n asked for your number?”

“Wait fuck is she the hot chick from FEVER?” Nam-gyu cussed under his breath, “Yeah, they’re all hot. She makes solo music as well I think.” Min-su replied as he carefully side-eyed Se-mi in shock.

Se-mi didn’t know what she had gotten herself into, but things were about to get real messy.

#lesbian #squid game #x reader #wuh luh wuh #wlw #semi x reader #han semi #se mi squid game #se mi x reader

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ikeromantic · 9 hours ago

Note

A fic idea -

Harrison sees MC in a cute lingerie and things got spicy.

I have a soft spot for our minty boy. Approx. 900 words of fluff and spice!

The box appeared quite mysteriously, sometime between dinner and her bath. About the length of a shoe box, as deep as one of the library tomes. It sat atop her pillow, topped with a red bow. She wasn’t sure where it came from or what might be in it. Probably best to report it to Victor in case it was dangerous, but curiosity got the better of her.

She untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside lay some light green satin trimmed with white lace. It looked dainty and incredibly expensive. There was no card or anything inside, just the folded fabric. Her hand twitched toward it, drawn by the desire to see if it was as soft as it looked.

It was.

Buttery soft and light as angel feathers. She lifted it and the folds fell away, revealing the item to be a delicate chemise that looked to be exactly her size. Not that she could imagine wearing such a thing! The satin was so thin that she was sure every curve and line would show. Even if it didn’t, the position of the lace inset would brace her chest in a dangerously revealing way. And it was scandalously short.

She blushed, thinking about what she would look like wearing it. Her face went even hotter as her thoughts flashed to Harrison. The negligee reminded her of him. So similar to the color of his eyes, a minty green-blue. Cool and sweet. Would he like the way she looked wearing something like this?

The chemise was nothing like her usual clothing, even her nightgown was demure. She glanced at the white linen hanging on a peg beside her wardrobe. It was cute, ladylike, and appropriate. Words that couldn’t apply to this seductive little slip of satin and lace. She felt an urge to try it on. Just so she could see what it felt like to wear such a thing.

If the mysterious gift was dangerous, well, she’d already touched it. What more could happen if she wore it for just a moment? Just long enough to see how she looked. She’d put it on, look at herself in the mirror, and then take it off before anyone knew. Fold it back up, tie the ribbon around the box, and report the mystery to Victor. No harm done.

She slipped out of her day clothes and laid them on the back of her vanity chair. She even set aside her corselet and bloomers. Then she lifted the satin and lace, and slid it on, pulling it down over her breasts, belly, and hips. The chemise hugged her curves scandalously. The fabric was so thin it might be confused for paint. And the lace inset between her breasts was exactly as revealing as she’d feared. It drew the eye to the inner curves of her breast and the slight shadows of her areolas.

There was no way she could ever let anyone see her dressed like this. It was positively indecent. But lovely too. The negligee made her feel powerful, seductive.

“Whoa.” The breathy sound of surprise made her spin toward the door, now open. Harrison stood there, lips parted, eyes wide.

“H-harrison! I - I -” She covered her chest with her arms and scooted back until she bumped up against the hanging mirror.

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. His eyes were bright and hot. “You look,” he swallowed, “terrible.” The lie was so obvious, so blatant, in opposition to his entire demeanor, that she knew what he meant by it the moment the words left his mouth.

“So . . . you wouldn’t like me wearing something like this again? I should just take it off?”

Harrison smiled. “Yeah.” He closed the distance between them, stopping close enough that the fabric of his pants brushed her thighs. His hands landed on her shoulders, dragging slowly down her arms, then her sides, and came to rest at her hip.

She could feel the touch through the thin satin. His caress sent a cool, sweet shiver through her. The barrier between his hand and her skin made the almost-touch more electrifying. She pressed herself even closer, feeling bold and sexy and full of desire. “If you want it off, then take it off.”

A soft groan escaped his lips and he leaned forward to kiss her. His mouth was hot and hungry. His tongue teased her lips apart, invading with peppermint sweetness. Harrison’s hands slid further down, his fingers found the hem of the negligee and slid up beneath it. “I will,” he almost purred as he broke the kiss, “when I’m ready to.”

Hours later, the chemise was sweat soaked and lying in a mound of shed clothing on the floor. The lace inset was torn, victim to Harry’s questing lips and teeth. “I’ll get you a new one,” he’d promised before his mouth was occupied by her nipple.

The hem was frayed as well, victim to the friction of his pants against the more delicate cloth when he’d pulled her up onto him. Too impatient to be inside her. She hadn’t even noticed the threads pop and the fabric tear. Her attention had been . . . elsewhere. On the aching fullness as he pulled her hips down and thrust deep. On the feel of his clever fingers, playing her like an instrument of pleasure.

It seemed Harrison liked lingerie. And so did she. He never admitted the gift was from him, but with the Lying Fox, truth didn't need to be spoken to be understood.

#ikemen villains #ikevil Harrison #harrison gray #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #fluff #light spice

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cryingatwindermerepeaks · 14 hours ago

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Little!April - Supportive

Regressuary day 10 … prompt: Character A wants to wear diapers to help with their regression. Character B tries their best to be supportive. (@mcschnuggles)

Wanted to very very clearly start this off by saying this is ENTIRELY sfw and any interaction with this post that seems even remotely nsfw will be blocked immediately. I couldn’t care less what you do in your personal life but this is my safe space. Anyway, I know this can be a difficult topic in the agere community but I wanted to write something to help padded regressors feel more accepted within the community <3

Word count: 1132

—————————

Accidents weren’t really a problem with April, she was usually capable of getting herself to the bathroom on time when she was little but that’s more where the problem lay. Everytime the girl needed to use the restroom she’d immediately pull herself out of her regressed headspace and struggled to return to it later even when she really needed it. Leslie and Ben noticed very quickly that this frequently resulted in April being extra irritable for the rest of the day which no one needed. They tried to address the topic gently, making sure to approach April about their concerns while she was big and Andy was out.

“We just want to make your regression as safe for you as possible,” Ben explained gently.

“And we thought maybe some protection could help with that,” Leslie added. April’s face scrunched up and burnt red, her fists tightening around the soft blanket she was sitting under. The suggestion made her feel small and nervous even though Mummy and Dada had said they wanted to talk with big April. She couldn’t help it. “Oh baby, does it make you that upset to think about?” Leslie cooed gently, not wanting to make April uncomfortable. The younger girl whined, rubbing her fists at her eyes, the thought of crying right now was making her feel even more embarrassed. The problem was that she didn’t know if it made her upset, or if she was particularly opposed to the idea. In fact, a part of her did think it might be nice to try. It all just felt so different and new, April hated change. She stood up from the couch abruptly, stomping off to her bedroom and slamming the door. She didn’t mean to seem angry but her body felt like it was about to burst. She just needed some time to think.

Leslie and Ben were understandably worried about April but decided not to push her too far in case they made it worse. She stayed in her room all afternoon and eventually Andy returned from band practice. “Where’s ‘Pril?” He questioned, eager to play with the younger girl after he’d been out all day.

“She’s in the bedroom but she needs some space right now, ok?” Ben warned gently, looking up from the book he’d been reading on the couch.

“Why?” Andy questioned, April never needed space from him - from other people yes, but never Andy.

Leslie and Ben shared a look, “it’s not really our spot to tell you about it buddy,” Leslie explained. Andy crossed his arms with a frown, if it related to April it related to him.

He went off to their room, leaving Leslie and Ben worried on the couch. They decided April could handle herself if she wanted Andy to leave her alone and decided to go start making dinner - Calzones.

After a while April and Andy both emerged from the bedroom, hands intertwined and April standing slightly behind Andy with her pacifier in her mouth. They hovered in the entrance of the kitchen for a moment before Andy spoke up. “April’s gonna try diapers.” Both Leslie and Ben looked up in shock, they certainly hadn’t expected that. April whined and tugged on Andy’s hand, as if to remind him of something. “Oh right, and I’m going to try pull-ups.”

“That’s very kind of you kiddo,” Ben smiled softly.

Andy shrugged, wrapping April in a big bear hug. “It’ll make ‘Pril feel better and I have accidents too sometimes so I think it will be a good idea.”

***

The diapers and pull-ups arrived a few days later, April’s had little purple stars on the front and that made her feel a bit better, at least they were cute. It took a bit of gentle reassurance from Leslie, Ben and Andy, before April agreed to actually try them on. “What if I don’t like it?” She’d asked Leslie nervously, eyeing the package which Leslie had placed on the bed.

“Then we can take it off and you never have to try them again, ok?” April nodded. She was already feeling small and it made the idea of Ben and Leslie taking care of her like this comforting. Plus, the thought that Andy was just down the hall with Ben helping him put on a pull-up made her feel much less embarrassed. She grabbed onto her stuffed dog version of Champion and wordlessly lay down on the bed.

“You’re doing so well bub,” Leslie cooed as she helped April into the diaper. April blushed, keeping her eyes trained on the ceiling above her. She soothed the soft fur of her stuffie back and forth against her cheek to keep her calm. “Do you want a onesie?” April nodded eagerly, feeling incredibly small as Leslie changed her.

“Dino please,” she mumbled around her fingers which had made their way into her mouth. Leslie picked out April’s favorite green hooded dinosaur onesie and helped her into it. The fabric was so soft and the hood was good for hiding in.

“You’re all set baby dino,” she cooed. April sat up, suddenly too excited by the fact she was dressed up like a dinosaur to care about the diaper. She roared playfully, making Leslie smile and kiss her forehead. “Does it feel ok?”

“It’s ok mummy,” she shrugged, her tummy twisting anxiously at the thought of actually talking about it. Leslie sighed, recognising April’s hesitance.

“It’s ok not to like it, and it’s also ok if you do. It’s also ok if you decide not to use it or if you do.” she explained gently, tucking April’s hair behind her ears.

April squirmed, “I think I like it… feels safe,” she explained nervously. Leslie smiled,

“That’s all we wanted, baby. For you to feel safe.” April nodded and stood up, reaching out to hold onto the hem of Leslie’s shirt as they walked out to the living room. Andy was sat on the floor, playing with his toy cars in just a pull-up and Mouserat t-shirt. She immediately felt at ease realising she wasn’t alone.

“‘Pril! Wanna play racing cars?” He asked excitedly. A part of April wanted to stay holding on to Leslie because she felt smaller than usual and Mummy was so safe but at the same time she wanted to play with Andy. She took a deep breath, Ann always told her it was a good way to ground herself, and then let go of Leslie’s shirt so she could sit on the floor beside Andy. He pulled her into his lap as he often did when they were playing together. This felt safe, part of it was different and new but that didn’t necessarily mean it was scary and bad. And she definitely wasn’t alone so it would be ok.

#regressuary #little!april ludgate #little!andy dwyer #cg!leslie knope #cg!ben wyatt #agere dips #padded regressor #parks and recreation age regression #parks and rec agere

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seireitonin · 3 days ago

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Ugly

(A not so short part from my comic I’m writing called False Miracles (ft Sebastia and Toby.) Also an angsty part I can’t help myself sorry!

Also spoilers for the comic obviously

Sebastia is curled up in the corner, head resting on the wall. Another day, another fight. Ever since Toby “found her” in the cabin, they’ve been stationed together and fighting. Some days it’s about when they first met which was also the first time they physically fought. Other days, it’s about how annoying Toby finds her because of how untrusting and accusatory Sebastia is. She’s constantly accusing him of wanting to harm her, him backstabbing her, him doing horrible things to her.

Not that Sebastia can control it that much. Miracle is constantly in her head, feeding her these ideas about Toby and everyone else around her. But even if that wasn’t the case, Sebastia is anxious and unstable. Unable to remove herself from her traumatized survivor mindset. Never relaxing, never opening up. Especially to a man.

“Why are you such a bitch all the time?!” Toby glares at her. “We can’t go two hours without you accusing me of something or you breaking down completely!

“Don’t call me that! It’s not my fault I don’t trust you! I hardly even know you or your intentions! You expect me to just trust you, a killer, a dangerous man with open arms and mind?! I don’t think so!”

“We fought once! Since then i haven’t given you a single reason not to trust me! You’re always flinching and jumping if I even breathe around you! It’s so fucking annoying!”

“Once is all it takes! You buried your hatchet in my shoulder without a second thought! You think I can trust someone like that?! Trust a man like that?! That will hurt someone like it’s as easy as breathing air?!”

“I found you covered in other people’s blood…don’t think you’re better than me! Don’t sit there like you’re a saint!”

“No…I’m not like you. Don’t you ever…compare me to you.”

Sebastia stands up. She’s not confrontational. Far from it. However, Toby comparing them to each other….Sebastia takes being compared to a violent man an insult.

“I did what I had to do to survive. To live. You just do it because you’re mindless and violent!”

Toby let’s put a dry chuckle and starts laughing at her words. Like he finds this whole thing amusing, like he’s not taking her seriously.

“Funny. That’s exactly what I said when I killed my first person.”

Sebastia gasps.

Toby mocks his past mindset and Sebastias current one with his words “Oh, I’m not a bad person! I just did what I had to do to be free! I had to end this persons life to stop the torture they put me through! That doesn’t make me a bad person!”

He runs his hand through his hair, laughing and shaking his head and continues to speak.

“Is that how you’re justifying it? That how you sleep at night?”

He walks towards Sebastia, eyes wide, crazed and smiling. As if this conversation was bringing up memories that were too much for his mind to handle as well. He keeps walking towards her and she keeps backing up, looking at him with eyes full of fear, until her back hits a wall and she’s trapped between the wall and Toby.

“Guess what, Sebastia?” He looks directly into her eyes, a very serious and cold look on his face. More serious than Sebastia has ever seen him, even when they had their first physical fight.

“Every person you kill, regardless of whether they hurt you or not…is a person whose family is never gonna see them again. Every person you kill, leaves behind a pool of blood, guilty or innocent. Doesn’t matter. Every person you kill..weighs on you. Someone like you who tries to convince herself she’s…moral.”

He continued.

“Your reasons don’t really matter do they? You still killed. You’re a violent girl who did a violent thing and is trying to convince herself otherwise.”

“N-no that’s not…that’s not true!” Sebastia’s voice shook as she spoke, shock and fear plaguing it.

“Oh? No? You say don’t compare us…but you have a monster that puts voices in your head, telling you who to attack. Who to kill. What I have with Slenderman. You have with your “Miracle.” And you wanna sit there and say we’re nothing alike? You’re stupid and delusional.” Toby’s words drip with venom.

“You’re trying to fight Miracle off? Keep it suppressed?”

Toby talks like he’s experienced this first hand.

“How many more breakdowns? How many more violent urges? How many more words does it need to put inside your head? Till it breaks you down and you just give in?”

Toby whispers in Sebastia’s ear.

“And end up just like me?”

Sebastia stands there in shock and confusion, emotions of every kind swirling in her. Until she just can’t take it. She doesn’t know what to say or do.

“Kill him” Miracle spoke in her head. And that’s all the guidance she needed.

Miracles mouths bursts out of Sebastia’s head, splattering blood all over the walls, on Toby’s face, and down Sebastia’s. The sharp teeth and red eyes following.

Miracles mouths slam Toby on the wall.

“I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!”

Sebastia screams at him over and over with Miracles voice along side hers.

“Not long before you gave in huh?”

Sebastia not in her right mind just breaths heavily and glares, Miracle, wrapping around him, ready to rip him to pieces.

“Kill me and you know the consequences. Use your brain and not Miracles for once!” Toby yells at her, frustrated and angry but not scared.

“We gotta…stop…” Sebastia’s voice shook but she was telling Miracle to not kill Toby. “Need him….alive… can’t be…normal….without him…”

Sebastia starts to suppress Miracle, much to its disagreement.

Miracle reluctantly goes back to Sebastia and back inside her, Sebastia’s normal form returning as she sits on the bed, blood still trailing down her with a blank empty stare.

“I’m…”

Toby looks at her waiting to see what she’ll say.

“I’m sorry…Toby.”

Toby’s eyes widen a bit. Surprised. She has never ever apologized to him.

“I’m so sorry……” Sebastia puts her face in her hands letting out small sobs.

For the first time, Toby is shocked. Apologizing? Crying? What is this?

“You’re right…I’m a violent thing..an ugly, violent, thing!”

She can’t stop sobbing. Like the strength she’s had to uphold for months just crumbled at Toby’s words.

Toby has trouble feeling empathy. For anything or anyone. Usually his first reaction would be to laugh. But the sight of Sebastia crying brought something out of him. A distant memory he can’t place.

He sits beside her on the bed. Leaving room between them, knowing she doesn’t like to be touched by men.

“I never said ugly. I never said thing.”

He looks her, her head still in her pitch black hands.

“Yeah I definitely called you ugly in the past but I’m a dick so….take that with a grain of salt.” That was his way of apologizing.

“Uh…look…I…we’re traveling all this way to help you fix this right? Make you normal again? There’s still a chance you’re not like this forever. Unlike me. So…”

“What if I am? What if…I’m ugly forever?” Sebastia holds back sobs and looks at him to talk.

“Then if you have to stay with everyone…. if you really can’t go back…maybe me and you can finally learn to have a conversation without fighting. Plus you…you’re not ugly. I’ve seen some ugly stuff and…you’re just not that. Despite what I’ve said.”

Sebastia calms down eyes still a bit puffy, blood and tears staining her face.

They look at each other. Both of them have deep dark circles. Sebastia’s blood still staining Toby’s face.

“This…this is gonna sound…so weird….but…”

Toby looks at her and waits for her to finish.

“I wish I could hug you right now…”

Toby’s eyes widen just for a second. She’s full of surprises tonight. Neither of them being touched gently in months maybe for Toby, years, it didn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Yeah……me too.”

#creepypasta #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta characters #creepypasta fandom #seireitonin #creepypasta headcanon #crp #ticci toby #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby hc #ticcitoby #ticci toby x oc #sebastiacreepypasta #creepypastasebastia #false miracles comic #falsemiracles

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