#statuesque pt 2

[literary-dolly]

communication is key - pt.2

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k (yikes) warnings: implied sexual content, a little bit of angst, jason panics a tad

Clearly Jason didn't learn from leaving his comm behind in your apartment - not when he leaves you behind in the Cave.

Part I

“We really don’t have to go and see it, you know? Like it’s really not that cool, it’s actually just a cave.”

Jason’s words do nothing to deter you as you tug insistently at his hand in yours, digging your heels into the floorboards in a feeble attempt to drag him to… well, you’re not sure. Admittedly, it’s your first time in Wayne Manor, but you can’t imagine the entrance to the Batcave is in his childhood bedroom. Naturally, Jason doesn’t move an inch, just staring down at you with a playfully irked look and a sadistic twinkle in his eye.

“Jay, come on, you told me we can only stay here until 10,” you plead, eliciting nothing more than a quirk of his brow, “It’s 9 now! I want to have a proper look.”

You had been desperate to see the Manor, and it had taken months of begging on your hands and knees to get him to finally take you. Unsurprisingly, he was still set firmly on the fact that you would not be meeting his family, especially after your shenanigans on the comms, and that had served as his excuse for the 3 months since. You were nothing if not determined, however – it was part of what he loved so much about you in the first place.

You’d set it up perfectly. There wasn’t a length you hadn’t gone to in an attempt to get exactly what you wanted. Jason’s favourite meal cooked and ready on the table as soon as he got home from Dick’s after going over a case, a new special edition copy of Wuthering Heights stashed on the bookshelf, you’d worn the sweatpants and vest combination that you knew drove him crazy without coming across as trying too hard.

He'd not even made it through the front door before he said it, barely even batting an eye.

“Nice try, but I’m not taking you to the Manor.”

Your jaw had flung open. It was almost offensive, just how quickly he could see through your efforts.

It hadn’t been enough to phase you, however, and you were prepared to go to the extreme. Every advance he’d tried to make that evening, whether it be a delicate kiss behind your ear or a hand pawing at your hip, you’d ignored pointedly. It was modern torture, as he would skim a hand up and down your thigh on the couch and you could do nothing but stay statuesque, staring forward at the TV without any indication that you had even noticed. Fuck the stupid sweatpants and vest combination.

He'd been smug at the start, the corner of his lip twitching as he’d felt your entire body tense, desperate to not give in to his ministrations. Jason wasn’t famed for his patience however, and it wasn’t long until he was huffing and puffing and practically whining for you to pay attention to him. He’d finally given in when he’d grabbed a handful of your ass and you’d done nothing other than stare at him; he’d scrunched his face together and slammed it down against your shoulder in defeat.

“Fine, fine, I’ll take you to see the fuckin’ manor.”

It hadn’t taken long for things to get, ah, heated after that. Yes, technically, it was blackmail – but you couldn’t spend so much time around the notorious Red Hood and not pick up a few quirks here and there.

The Manor was more beautiful than you ever could’ve imagined from the photos, with its sprawling hallways, crafted arches and crooning gargoyles. It was plain to see that it was cared for meticulously, every room garnished with lavish decorations – but that it was also lived in, from the odd sock sticking out of someone’s bedroom door to the worn oak flooring from years of people’s feet trapsing back and forth. It’s almost difficult to imagine Jason spending such a significant part of his upbringing here, that the maze of twists and turns could ever be committed to memory.

He'd postponed as much as he could, claiming he was waiting for the perfect time, and finally it had arrived. Bruce was away on business, having taken Alfred to accompany him, and the rest were out of the house until patrol this evening – Dick was working, Steph and Cass had gone to the cinema, Tim and Duke were occupied with God knows what at Tim’s apartment, and Damian was with Jon. The Manor was completely empty when you’d arrived, just as Jason had anticipated.

Which is how you end up where you are now, dropping to your knees with hands clasped together, begging Jason to take you to the Batcave as he tries his best to remain stoic. In a flash, he crouches to hoist you upwards, prompting you to let out a scream as he jostles you over his shoulder, relenting, and grumbles softly as he marches towards an old Grandfather clock.

“I just don’t get it,” he sighs, fiddling with the face of the clock until you can hear a soft click, and feel a rush of frigid air that makes your hair stand on end. He sets you down steadily, offering his hand out once again for you to take.

“You don’t get it because it’s normal to you,” you huff, making a start towards the cavernous stairway, “Most people don’t have a giant, military grade bunker underneath their childhood home.”

Jason continues to protest as you make your way down, but you’re too awestruck to even acknowledge whatever his complaint may be. It’s positively sublime, with its craggy ceiling that stretches out into the blackness further than your eyes can make out. The various cars, bikes and even the Batmobile lay dormant in a circle in the corner, only exacerbating the giddy feeling growing in your stomach.

You almost slip over when you see the dinosaur.

Jason seems to tense behind you, “Be careful, it won’t recognise you, so you have to move really slowly. Its eyesight is pretty bad.”

You can feel the blood drain out of every limb as you turn to face Jason in absolute horror. It’s frantic, as your hands grapple to cling onto his jacket, feeling as though your brain has just been tossed into a blender. It seems like a major oversight, failing to mention the live dinosaur that guarded –

You can hear a low, breathy chuckle from above you.

“You’re a dick!” You practically scream, slamming your hands against his chest in an act of defiance. He doesn’t falter, obviously, and instead just allows his laughs to ring out louder as they echo around the cave.

“Aww baby,” he coos, and there’s a shit-eating grin lining his lips, “I didn’t think you were so gullible.”

You offer him little more than a deadpan look, “Of everything I’ve learnt since we’ve been together, a live dinosaur is not out of the realm of possibility.”

With a hefty sigh, Jason commences his tour, showing you round every nook and cranny of the place. It’s fascinating, the technology lying dormant underground that you’re fairly certain could change the world given the opportunity. It seems such a leap from your own life, almost incomprehensible, especially as Jason lists off different features of the Cave with a dry tone and the heavy implication that it doesn’t impress him much. You’re reminded once again of how far-removed Jason’s life is from your own when he leaves the bubble of your apartment, the altered world he occupies on a day-to-day basis.

You noticed that he skirts away from the corner where various suits stand displayed up against the walls; you know better than to question why.

Eventually, he comes to a halt in front of the computer, stretching his arms out and beckoning you in with an impatient huff. You oblige, happily, and Jason tucks his head atop yours. The two of you remain there for a few moments, basking in the silence and bliss of each other’s company. Despite being in such an alien environment, the thrumming of his heartbeat is enough to remind you that home carves out a place in the shape of Jason Todd, wherever you may be.

“We’ve still got half an hour to kill,” Jay hums, and you can hear the mischief creeping into his tone, “Want to watch videos of everyone failing dramatically on the Batcomputer?”

“I can’t believe it’s called the fucking Batcomputer.”

“So fucking stupid.”

Jason releases you to begin fiddling with the controls as you glance around awkwardly, still struggling to fully comprehend the surroundings.

As he cues the video up, starting with a thumbnail of Tim, well, screaming as he seems to be falling from the top of a building, Jason turns to look at you with a sharkish smirk, “I’m gonna go get us some snacks. Don’t touch anything.”

He disappears quickly up the steps, taking them two at a time, and you realise as soon as he’s gone that its easier said than done. You take the opportunity to leer over the giant keyboard, inspecting all of the various buttons and their vague, nonsensical organising system.

It’s all very serene until the bats start to shriek behind you.

It sends you lurching forward in a panic, arms stuck out in front of you out of instinct, a pathetic attempt to try and cushion your fall. The screech of metal on metal is almost instant as you make contact with various buttons, and you can see the metal shields beginning to lock down on the side of the cave that backs into the Manor. It’s fight or flight that kicks in, as you attempt to sprint your way up the stairs before the metal gate can crash down over the doorway. It’s futile really, there would be no point in a security system that gave the perpetrator plenty of time to get in or out.

Your phone begins to ring as soon as the juddering of metal silences.

“Baby – and I mean this with all the love in the world – what the fuck did you press?” Jason’s voice is stern and swift, and it’s enough to make your own catch in your throat a little. It’s clearly concern that marks his words, but it does little to lessen their severity.

“Jay, I don’t… I don’t know…” You huff out, frustrated, “The bats… they scared me and then… Am I gonna be trapped in here?” Your voice begins to wobble, and you can practically feel Jason softening through the screen.

“No, baby, it’s – fine. But Bruce is the only one with clearance to take the Cave out of lockdown. Shit. I’m gonna have to –”

“What the fuck was that?” A voice rings out behind you, causing you to jump embarrassingly high.

Jason’s fury is instantaneous, “No, no, there’s no fucking way. Absolutely not. Are you fucking kidding me?”

It’s only when you spin on your heel that you see them, pooling in from the other entrance to the Cave.

It’s every single one of Jason’s siblings, likely filing in for the nightly patrol.

Dick’s face is the only one that lights up in visible recognition, the others staring at you either like you’ve come from another planet, or that they’re ready to jump you for being some rogue civilian intruding on their lair.

Naturally, Dick is the one to approach you first, calling out your name in confusion, “What are you doing here? Where’s Jason?”

“Are you shitting me?”

“That’s her!”

“Wow, Jason’s punching, seriously.”

“I’m not incorrect in believing that is the name of Todd’s partner?”

“All of you,” Jason’s voice isn’t even on speaker, but it bellows through the phone loud and clear enough to silence everyone, “I am warning you. Fuck off. Leave her alone.”

Dick pays no mind to Jason’s words as he wraps you in a welcoming hug, almost lifting you off the ground with the sheer force of it. You can vaguely hear the incessant shouting echoing out from your phone, clutched in a hand that remains pinned at your sides, and it’s enough to spark laughter in the other Bats that seem to have planted themselves in the general vicinity.

“Is it alright if I speak to him?” Dick questions kindly, “I might be able to help with whatever has happened to get us all trapped in here.”

You hesitate slightly, not sure who you’d be betraying more if you handed your phone over: Dick by exposing him to the wrath of your boyfriend, or Jason by forcing him to talk to his brother. Eventually, you sigh, planting your phone in Dick’s open hand with a wince, mentally preparing yourself for the tirade that is sure to follow.

“Hellooo? Little Wing?”

Unintelligible shouting bleeds out of the phone, Dick lifting it away from his ear ever so slightly with a shudder.

“No, I didn’t steal it from her. She gave it to me.”

More shouting.

“Jay, can you just tell me what happened?”

That quietens Jason a little, and you can envision his icy, biting words.

“Shit. We’re gonna have to call Bruce.”

“I KNOW, DICKHEAD!” – you can hear that one. More rumbling follows.

“Okay, okay, I’m putting you on speaker.”

Dick pulls the phone down in front of him, pausing slightly to give the rest of the brood a sympathetic smile before he presses the button.

“I swear to God if any of you go anywhere near her. Don’t even talk to her. If I find out you looked at her – I promise you, you will not be able to run quick enough to get away.”

It’s Steph that marches forward with a huff, attempting to snatch the phone out of Dick’s hand, “Stop being such a bitch, Jason. You’re not going to kill us because we talked to your girlfriend.”

“We should have been allowed to interrogate her long ago, Todd, for security purposes, of course.” It’s Damian that pipes up next, seeming to appear out of the shadows to grasp at the phone Dick seems to be struggling to hold onto.

Within seconds, it turns into all out warfare. Every single one of them, bar Duke and Cass who stand off to the side offering you very understanding smiles, is wrapped in a tangle of flailing limbs – and you can still hear Jason yelling out from the phone itself, taking the time to threaten each of his siblings personally. It’s absolute unbridled chaos; you can barely make out who is where in the blur of colours scrapping around in a heap. It derails so quickly when you spot a hand that you suspect belongs to Damian sticking up proudly from amongst the rabble, phone clawed between his fingers. Tim sends a well-placed punch to the crook of his arm.

The phone falls. It shatters.

Before even a second can pass, you hear the ear-splitting clang from the top of the stairs, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Jason tore through the metal with his bare hands with the force of the impact. Seconds later, phones begin to ring in quick succession: first Dick, then Cass, then Tim… none of them answer. Dick is the only one to even glance down at his screen, typing out a quick text before shoving it back in his pocket.

You take the moment to stare longingly towards the doorway at the top of the stairs. In spite of the egregiousness of the situation, you can feel the worry for your boyfriend threatening to overflow in your throat. You know deep down he doesn’t believe that his siblings would ever do anything to harm you (even if it is out of fear for their own lives), but you know him, you know he must be terrified right now. And with your phone now a destroyed mess on the ground, there’s little you can do to soothe it. It makes your ribs feel as though they are collapsing in on your heart.

When you turn back to face the rest of the Bats, the grins that mark their faces are downright evil.

“So, what do you guys like, do together?” Steph pipes up from her place in the semi-circle, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

It’s, quite frankly, a strange set up; you sit in the chair at the Batcomputer as the rag-tag group of vigilantes are scattered across the floor around you, legs crossed and slumped over enraptured by your every word. It had been at least an hour since your interrogation had started by all other than Dick, who had stepped to the side initially to call in a few favours for the Gotham patrol while everyone was incapacitated. It had started with all the basic questions about you: where you’re from, what you do for work, your parents’ names, your blood type, your weapon of choice. You steel yourself, knowing that the prying into your relationship was now only just commencing.

“Uhm… what do you mean what do we do together?”

“Spar?”

“Firing range?”

“No, it’s probably intel collection, right?”

You have to hide behind your hands to stifle a giggle, “No, we don’t really do any of those things. We, well, we have dinner together most nights. We watch films together. We both get on with our work at the dining table, sometimes. Occasionally, when Jason has the night off, we’ll go out on a date –”

You’re cut off by the roaring laughter that seems to overcome every single person sat in front of you, even Dick fighting a small smile.

“That’s all so like, normal,” Tim steadies himself with a hand on the ground, “I didn’t think he was capable of normal.”

The questions flow thick and fast after that, a torrent of voices calling out constantly like a gaggle of school children.

“What’s his favourite meal?”

“Lasagna.”

“Where does he keep his suit?”

“Lock box. Under the bed.”

“What colour is his toothbrush?”

“Red, obviously.”

“What’s the address of your apartment?”

You falter slightly at that one, pausing to throw everyone a sheepish grin. It strikes you all at once, the honesty of their questions – how little they really know about their brother outside of his vigilantism. Dick is the only one who seems to nod in recognition, the only one who’s known Jason long enough to have had a glimpse between the crack in his armour.

“You guys don’t know where he lives? Aren’t you all detectives?” You question, not meaning to come across rude, just genuinely surprised.

A few of them bite out a laugh at that, a few of them glower at you, but it’s Dick that speaks for the group earnestly, “Jason has put a lot of effort in to ensure he can only be found when he wants to be. Trust me, it’s not through lack of trying.”

The silence lingers briefly, hanging heavy in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

“What do you do…” There’s a hesitation in Tim’s voice as it creeps out with all the wariness of someone reaching out to pet a rabid dog, “…when he gets, you know, angry? Aggressive?”

That throws you for a loop, and it takes you more than a few seconds to recollect yourself. It’s not that you didn’t know what Jason was capable of, you were under no illusion that the blood he came home stained with was the result of more than superficial spats. You know that he’s a deadly force to be reckoned with, that most consider him to be a hurricane striking through the land, as destructive as he is untameable. It wasn’t a part of him you would ever try to deny, not at the cost of removing such a big chunk of what made him the man that you love.

But, thus far, he had spared you from seeing it with your own eyes.

Sure, you had arguments, like every couple did. Angry words thrown back and forth to be regretted later on when you ultimately both skulked into bed together, tired of the hostility. On the few and far in-between occasions that it had gotten overly antagonistic, Jason would remove himself. Often without a word, he would pick himself up from wherever he was perched and walk out the front door. The first time he’d done it, you’d panicked, fearing that he was leaving you, but you’d soon realised that it was more akin to a self-sacrificing act of chivalry – the need to spare you from his wrath at his own expense.

“He doesn’t,” you start slowly, well aware of the eager eyes boring into every part of you, “He’s… that’s not who he is. Not to me.”

“And you accept the burden that accompanies a man like Todd?” There’s a snideness in Damian’s words that even in the past hour or so you’d come to realise were just a part of his nature, but it doesn’t stop the flash of red that clouds your vision.

“He’s not a burden,” you bite, relishing somewhat in the way they all seem to recoil in surprise, “Nothing about him is a burden. He’s the sum of many parts, and, yes, many of those parts are complicated, but that doesn’t make him a liability.”

The guilt settles in your stomach straight away, as you scan round at their dejected faces: yes, they could be cruel in their admonishments of Jason, his methods and who he is, but it strikes you like an arrow when you realise that they are a family. His family. They just want him to be a part of it.

They snap their heads up as you continue, clearly not expecting the words that follow, “He’s not perfect. But he’s healing – and it’s not an easy process. He’s hurt, and he’s scared but I know that he cares for you. It will take time, but he will come home if he believes that you will have him.”

It shocks you when Dick yanks you up out of the chair into an embrace, much more tender than the one he’d given you earlier. You could be wrong, but you’re fairly certain you can feel a wetness where his eyes meet your shoulder. He whispers in your ear, just low enough that only you can hear it, “Thank you. They needed to hear that. I think we’ve all needed to hear it for a while.”

When he pulls away, you turn around to stare at them all, shoulders hunched low as though they’re about to melt into superhero-shaped puddles on the floor. It breaks you to see them so miserable. Even though you’ve only known them for a few hours, they seem to have weaselled their way into the Jason shaped hole in your heart. You clasp your hands together, startling them from their various trances, and do your utmost to plaster an optimistic smile across your face.

“Right, well, Jason promised me some seriously epic fails, and I plan on cashing in on that if anyone wants to join me?”

It’s another hour until the telltale scraping of the metal barriers ascending into the ceiling echoes out across the Cave, causing everyone’s raucous giggles at CCTV footage of Bruce slipping in a puddle to soften to a murmur.

The thundering of Jason’s feet clambering down the stairs sends a jolt through your entire body, and you’re up on your feet by the time he crashes into you at breakneck speed. The feeling of his arms engulfing you is sickeningly familiar, even as you try to recover from having the wind knocked out of you. It’s hard not to get choked up as he whispers sweet nothings to you in his frantic low timbre, begging to know if you’re okay. You can only seem to respond by nodding or shaking your head into the crook of his neck. You’re not sure who the embrace is to comfort more – him or you.

You can feel the shadow that creeps up over both of you, and you’re startled but unsurprised when you lift your eyes up from Jason to meet those of Bruce Wayne, clad in a pristine business suit, staring down back at you. He doesn’t say anything, only offering an appreciative nod and a small smile. Unsure what to do, you nod back – both of you seeming to realise that an introduction between the two of you tonight would be far too much for Jason to handle. You focus your attention back to your boyfriend, who has turned to face his siblings with a blazing expression.

“I told you all. I warned you to stay away from her and you break her phone and –”

“We didn’t do anything!”

“It was an accident, Jay.”

“Maybe if your fat ass hadn’t gone to get snacks –”

Jason begins to lurch forward at that one, “I am going to hurt you so bad that you –”

You stop him with a delicate hand on his chest, prompting his face to snap down towards your own, “Jay, it’s okay. They asked me some questions. We watched some videos. They were lovely.”

“They didn’t make you uncomfortable? If they forced you to say anything, baby, I swear to God,” there’s a strain in his voice, and you can tell the evening has taken a toll on him. The way his fingers are twitching at his side, his lip rolling between his teeth; it feels as though you’re being hollowed, to see just how anxious the whole experience has left him.

“Sweetheart,” it’s barely audible, a promise shared just between the two of you, “It’s okay. I’m okay. You’re okay.”

Out of your peripheral, you can see the rest of the Bats beaming with pride at your defence of their actions as Bruce does the round to check on them. They’re clearly uninterested in whatever it is the man has to say to them, instead focussing in on the exchange between you and Jason. They look grateful, you think, and you find yourself hoping that it’s not too long before you get to see them again.

A British voice calls out from beside you, and you find yourself face to face with who could only be the infamous Alfred Pennyworth, pressing a soothing hand onto Jason’s shoulder. “Nobody would think it amiss if you went home for this evening, Master Jason, it seems that some home comfort would do you good in your current state.”

It seems to ease Jason a tad, as he rolls some of the tension out of his neck and shoulders. His gaze seems to linger on Bruce for a second too long, and Alfred picks up on it as you do.

“He knows you are thankful, but I shall pass it onto him, nonetheless. Go home, my boy.”

Wordlessly, you slip your hand into Jason’s and begin to guide him up the stairs. You pause at the top to offer a small wave to the rest of the family loitering below, and they all (even Damian) seem to return it fervently. Vaguely, you can make out Jason muttering some kind of profanity under his breath, but he makes no effort to make it particularly discernible.

By the time you make it to Jason’s old beamer parked out front, he seems to have settled a little, the weight that the Manor seems to place on his shoulders no longer leaving him buckled underneath it. You slip into the car without a sound, but he’s on you as soon as the slam of the door shutting rings out.

“Promise me,” it’s deadly serious as he says it, “Promise me they didn’t do anything.”

“I promise, Jay,” you stretch out a hand to cradle his jaw, relishing as he leans into the touch, “I actually had quite a nice time.”

His eyebrow quirks at that, and he scoffs, turning the key in the ignition, “I find that hard to believe.”

You move to rest your hand at the nape of his neck, curling your fingers into the short strands, “We can talk about it tomorrow, let’s just get home, yeah?”

He mumbles some kind of agreement before bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles as the car starts to move, “I love you, Princess.”

“I love you too, Jay,” you sigh, content, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as you lean back into the headrest, “Absolutely starving though. Waiter went to get snacks and didn’t come back for hours – the customer service was terrible.”

 “Is that right, is it?” You can feel the tension beginning to bleed out of him, his voice regaining some of its playful charm you adore so, “I heard the waiter was a little preoccupied.”

 “Oh, that’s true,” you pause with a grin, before adding, “I heard he fell down a manhole.”

The groan Jason lets out sounds almost painful, and he brings a hand up to pinch his brow, “Seriously? Of every video, they showed you that one.”

“First time I’ve seen you in action, I must say it was very impressive.”

“Are you going to keep chatting shit or put in the address for Bat Burger?” To most it would sound vicious, but you can hear the affection underpinning his words.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you think they have an option to avoid parked cars? You seem to enjoy crashing into them quite a lot.”

“This is why I never wanted you to fuckin’ meet them.”

The holy trinity of Jason Todd behaviour: crack a joke, have a panic attack, eat a burger

If you liked it, well, like it - a reblog is always appreciated. If you don't like it, leave me alone.

[peachy-writings]

PARADOX | Viktor AU Pt. 1

Summary: Reader receives the shock of their life when Viktor essentially materializes into their world, forever altering their version of reality as he tries to get back to his own.

Content Tags: Gender neutral reader with They/Them pronouns (no use of Y/N), Kinda follows S2 Pt. 2 canon, Angsty, Vi and Jayce deceased in this universe, Strangers to Friends?

Note: May become a series, or at least a 2-parter if people like it!

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Sulfur.

That tang has always sprinkled pockets of air in the Undercity, to the extent that those dwelling within barely take notice anymore. Therefore, when you do, it takes you by surprise. You glance around the room, troubled. Had the ventilation system halted? Or worse—had Piltover’s best decided to poison your already polluted oxygen with sewage, or something similarly offensive? And then a sharp, metallic singe punches you square in the nose. So sudden that your eyes squash shut, overwhelmed.

After taking a moment to reorient, you are shocked by the sight of a man scorched onto the coarse floorboards of your shabby homestead. Like a meteor had cannoned through the building, but a cursory glance upward reveals no such destruction.

Even more curious is the man’s appearance; he is a sinewy splat, draped in a white robe, crumpled on his side and perfectly pristine. Despite the edges of his garment and the surrounding space having been kissed with char. Mahogany tresses cover most of his pale face, shifting over sharp peaks as he stirs to consciousness. All the while, you are struck statuesque with bewilderment and a whisper of utter captivation.

How?

Who?

Why?

The stranger groans, a hand coming up to soothe his head that must be pounding from such a sudden entrance. Amber eyes blink open slowly into a squint. Confusion, then some kind of realization has his eyes widening when they meet your own. Your expression must match his as the two of you scrutinize one another, a pregnant pause scribbling the walls of your mind with even more questions that you cannot fathom one single answer to.

“Tell me…” He breaks the silence with an accent that tells you he is a Zaunite, in spite of such an odd appearance for this origin. “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” you reply softly, cautiously. And then your walls come up, as though your subconscious punches an internal panic button. No matter how otherworldly this materialization has been, this is still a stranger. “You better explain whatever the hell this is before I manually eject you from my home.”

A nimble hand reaches for the nearest weapon: a knife you’d left out on the counter to be washed. In his direct line of sight, you hold the flat of the blade against your thigh, posed to get rid of any threat quickly and efficiently.

“There is no need for that.” He says your name. Your real, given name. You almost don’t react since it’s been eons since the last time you’ve heard it said aloud. That hand at your side clenches the hilt of the blade—Not in anger, but petrification. “You don’t seem to know me in this timeline. I promise I am not here to hurt you, but to ask for your help. You are the only person I can trust.”

“How do you know my name, and what do you mean by in this timeline?” You take a step backward, bumping into the counter and jolting when the rough surface meets your clammy skin.

“I will answer all of your questions, but first,” he clears his throat. “May I have some water?”

Viktor is the name of your unexpected guest. This is the first thing you learn about him, after he drains two full glasses of water. The second piece of information you glean is that he is a scientist from another version of your world. A version in which you knew one another. In fact, the two of you were co-creators of a scientific breakthrough in his world with Jayce, another man you don’t know. Supposedly, this creation led him to end up here, on the other side of your dining table, looking as if he has been through hell and back.

While it is an interesting anecdote, you still do not trust that he isn’t someone sent by the heathens that haunt your past. How can you even believe something so utterly improbable? Does this man take you as a fool?

“If you are who you say you are, from where you say you’re from, how can I know that? How can I know what your intentions are? That little magic trick was impressive, but if you’re a minion of my father’s, I will find you out and you won’t be leaving in one piece.” You begin in an even tone, but work yourself up to a growl by the time the last words rattle from your mouth.

A small smile quirks the left side of his mouth upward. Fed up, you plant the tip of your knife into the table in the blink of an eye. “Your time is up.”

“Wait! I can prove it,” Viktor sputters, shock widening those gemlike eyes. “You cannot stand the way looking into deep water makes you feel. You have a need to protect those weaker than you, especially if they are children. And one of your dreams is to be able to ride in one of those fancy carriages the wealthy do, no matter how much you despise them.”

Your stomach churns, nauseous from the fact that all he said is true, even the truths that solely live in the back of your mind, never voiced to another soul. He explained himself perfectly— The how, the why, and the who— but you have great trouble comprehending that what he says could be— No, it is true. It has to be, right?

Is he attempting to disarm you so that he can kill you? No. The man could barely stand and make his way across the room to his chair. He is weak. He is begging you for help. And worst of all, he knows another you. That fact makes you feel as though you stand in front of him exposed. He has all of the power, even though you could take him out in seconds.

“What are your intentions?” You finally ask after a good few minutes trapped in lip nibbling thought.

“I am determined to get back to my world, with your help of course.” His tone is so annoyingly matter-of-fact, it brings out some of the bitterness you’ve been attempting to wrangle since he first said your name.

“And how am I supposed to help you? Clearly I’m no big scientist in this world!” Frustration is the way you naturally cope with all of this.

“That is fine, but you still harbor a love for inventing, do you not? Over there.” He points to a shelving unit on the other side of your living space. “That was your favorite creation: A simple device perhaps, but it works as a security system for the community, to warn children and the weak of impending danger. Your city would be left vulnerable without your work.”

That crude little contraption is, in fact, your proudest work. A vaguely cat-like creature that joins two wires when provoked, to make a noise the whole town can hear. To give the people enough of a warning to protect what they hold dear… If only there was someone in your hometown that had such a thought. Maybe you would have ended up in Piltover with your version of Viktor. Maybe things would have been different.

A deal is finally struck after hours of slow conversation. The two of you sit at that table until you can hear his stomach growl, and his expression screams exhaustion. Over a meal you almost burn in your distracted state, you agree to try to help him. But in exchange, he must answer all of your questions about the other version of yourself.

He agrees, of course, but not without a warning that some things are better left unknown. That flying too high does, in fact, come with grave consequences. You can only imagine the horrors those tired eyes have seen. A man beyond his years, steeped in tragedy, from a world that seems a whole lot better than yours. How so? You must know, even if it destroys you.

First thing on the agenda is to get Viktor equipped with a cane or crutch and some regular clothes. You learn of his disability and the impact growing up in the lower levels of Zaun has taken on his overall health. As he tells you more about his life, you wonder if the two of you could have been friends if you’d bumped into each other organically. Even though he has an irritating air of knowing what you do not, something about the way he looks at you makes you feel… odd. You mull this over as you browse the town market for the items on your shopping list.

Kids run between peoples legs, causing a man to fall on his ass and yell after them. They laugh and sprint faster with reckless abandon. A woman with a large basket of goods spins gracefully to save herself from the same fate, giggling as she adjusts her grip. The smells of the street food and perfumes and the people fill you with a sense of pride in your environment. A moment of peace amongst the absolute shitstorm that awaits you back home.

Last night, you were unable to get much rest with a virtual stranger on your couch. The lack of sleep as well as all that you’ve gleaned from the sudden appearance of Viktor has left you pensive. Your hand skates over the fabric of a plain shirt and you wonder what he usually wears, how he would look in something more familiar to you. It isn’t lost on you that this man is attractive, and his attentive attitude toward you leaves room to wonder just how close he was to the other you. You could see yourself falling for him, maybe in a different life. A fleeting thought that causes you to chuckle under your breath. There is no time for such thoughts, never has been.

A slightly banged up, but still fine-looking, cane catches your eye and you immediately inquire about it. It would cost nearly the rest of the coins in your pouch, the money you need to use for food. You stand dumbly in front of the grizzly man that runs the small shop off the top of beaten up tables, a hand on your chin as you go over your options. All the while, the man in front of you looks unamused at your indecision.

As he goes to spew some most likely unkind commentary, you hear a familiar voice bellow from behind you. “What’cha doing at the market? I never see you here.”

“Powder!” You chirp in surprise as your blue haired friend rounds you, peering curiously at the cane sat atop the table.

“What the hell do you need this for?” She considers the object, not paying any mind to the vendor as she holds it in front of one eye, mimicking peering through a telescope. “Some kind of sex thing, huh? Always knew you were a bit…” She makes an inappropriate gesture that shocks you into temporary silence.

“Whatever,” you disregard, gently prizing the item from her sly hands. You sigh as you roll it up and down your palms. There is no doubt it was made well, with consideration for anyone who may need it. “I was just trying to decide if it was worth the coins.”

“Ah, I see. Old man Harry’s marking up his goods again?” One pointed look from her has the aforementioned scrambling to explain himself, but she interrupts him. “How much did you get this for?”

“Well, you see, I- I didn’t buy it, so much as acquire it,” he splutters.

Powder hums. “And so you’re gonna make our people pay out the ass for some stolen goods?” She shakes her head, scolding him with a simple motion.

“Fine, I’ll lower the price.“ He chuckles nervously. “And tell Vander I say ‘Hi’.”

“With pleasure!” Powder remarks, her infectious smile beaming at him as she drops a small fraction of your coins into his open palm.

The two of you swiftly exit the area with all of your items stuffed into a rough, burlap pouch. The cane hangs safely from the strap, rhythmically thudding against your leg as you rush forward. Powder is hot on your heels, no matter how hard you try to lose her on the way home. She is relentless as always, too inquisitive for your own good.

Shit, she can’t see Viktor, you think. But there is no stopping her once a seed is planted in her head.

“You gotta tell me what all this is for, c’monnnnn,” she whines as you arrive at your doorstep.

“I’ll talk to you later, I just have a lot to do and it’s all so boring, you should just—“

With no consideration for your privacy, your friend bursts into the front door. Viktor is in plain view of the doorway, sitting on your grungy couch with a book poised in one hand. His eyes widen at the sudden invasion, taking in your embarrassment and then focusing solely on Powder.

“Ha! I knew it was a sex thing,” she exclaims, all the while you attempt to push her out of the door, talking over her in an attempt to distract from her brash exclamation.

“You.” Viktor’s voice is barely audible, but the iciness to it causes pause for both you and Powder. He scrambles for something, eventually landing on a glass vase that he holds as if to defend himself.

As you look between the two, it clicks that something must have happened between them in Viktor’s original world. Now is not the time for theorizing though. The energy in the room is building and you must get Powder out of here. A protective feeling overpowers you as Viktor glares at the girl.

“Jinx,” he spits at her, then he turns to you. “Why did you bring her here?”

“Whoa, okay. Chill out. What the hell did I do?” Powder’s hands fall onto her hips and her bottom lip pokes out in a provoking manner.

“She’s dangerous, get her away from me!”

“Wow, your boyfriend’s being rude—“

“He’s just a friend,” you grit out, nearly seething now. A harsh inhale through your nose. “Listen, Powder, I need you to leave. I’ll explain later, but things are complicated and I need some time. Please understand.”

She is silent for a moment before scoffing and quickly leaving, slamming the door behind her. A frustrated groan escapes you and your knuckles kiss the rough wall paneling.

Your gaze lands on Viktor. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” You throw the bag of clothes and the cane at his feet. The things you’d spent your hard earned coin on. “She’s not dangerous, she’s a nice fucking girl.”

“That girl is a terrorist in my world, responsible for countless deaths. Jinx—“

“Stop calling her that!” You scream, every muscle within you coiling up with rage. “She is the sweetest person I know. Do you know how much she’s gone through? How many times I’ve had to pick her back up after the guilt of her sister’s death nearly destroyed her?!”

You rant on about that day, about how early on Powder learned the value of life and kindness. When their little group showed up at The Last Drop without Vi, three kids in tears, all covered in soot, you made a promise to yourself and Vi that you would take care of her little sister. Claggor and Mylo were never remotely attentive to her, Vander and Silvio had their own things going on, and Ekko was just a child himself. It had to be you.

“… Violet. She is dead?”

Another sharp look from you wounds Viktor as you snap, “How do you know Vi?”

Viktor runs a hand over his face, appearing even more exhausted than you know him to look. “Things are so different here,” he whispers to the floorboards beneath his feet.

Heavy breaths turn calm as you watch him, clearly having a hard time adapting to this place. You can acknowledge that this must be like a weird dream to him. Hell, if you were in his place, in a timeline different than yours, you would most likely lose your mind. Two long breaths.

In.

And out.

“Listen. This is a whole lot to take in, for the both of us, but I think laying out a few ground rules and giving each other the benefit of the doubt would be very good for us. If we intend to get along and get you home.”

“Home.” Viktor nods slowly. “I think you are right.”

“Anyway,” you nudge the bag you tossed at him earlier with the toe of your boot. “I got you these.”

He notices the cane and gains the first genuine smile you’ve seen out of him, mumbling something about feeling like himself again. Quietly, you observe as he tests it out, getting used to its assistance after a few steps and then giving the object a little nod of approval.

He looks over to you with an unearned softness that irks you just a bit. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. Just some things to help you blend in and get around,” you brush off, scooping the bag up and handing it to him. “Get changed. We have a lot to do.”

When Viktor returns from getting freshened up, you find yourself taken aback. Replacing the man with scraggly tresses and a tattered robe, is a completely new person. He has tied up the top half of his shoulder length hair, and you notice the blond underlayer for the first time. The look softens his striking features, and accompanied by the casual style of clothing you picked out—a long sleeved yellow shirt tucked into some straight legged brown slacks—it looks as though he will fit in quite well now.

“Lookin’ good,” you comment offhandedly, looking him over and mentally patting yourself on the back.

You catch a faint redness painting his cheeks before he turns away from you, fiddling with the cane. An oddly nervous innervation wraps around him for a moment, and you choose to ignore whatever is going on with him. There is a mission you must complete. The sooner you finish it, the sooner you will be rid of this man.

“So, how do we get you back?”

What a simple question for something so complicated that it may nearly be impossible.

“We will have to go to Piltover and talk to Jayce. He is a friend, one of the only people who will understand this situation and be able to help us,” Viktor supplies after clearing his throat.

Simple enough. Although you hate going up there, you follow his lead, creating a plan and mapping out where exactly this Jayce guy lives so you can get in without raising too much suspicion. A quick meal, some supplies from a couple trusted merchants, and you’re off.

Viktor and you begin the journey through the undercity, to the elevator that will spit you out on the opposite side of the river from Piltover. It is silent from the moment you exit your place, until Viktor dares to cut the odd atmosphere.

“I may sound crazy, but I missed walking through these streets,” he muses offhandedly, eyes taking in every little detail on your path through Zaun’s city streets. As amusing as this is to watch, it is dangerous nonetheless.

“Don’t act like a tourist, unless you’d enjoy getting your ass kicked. Or worse.”

Almost as if on cue, the two of you round a corner and nearly bump into somebody. You are initially ready to square up, but then you spot a familiar head of choppy, blue hair.

“Powder, what are you doing this far out?” Your tone is scolding, but your hands grasp her forearms protectively, having stopped her from tumbling over.

You feel Viktor’s hand on your bicep, tugging you backward, away from Powder as if on instinct. It pisses you off just a bit, scratching at the just barely scabbed over wound that was the last interaction you all had. You must center yourself, remembering the agreement of peace that came into place right after all the theatrics. He should remember too, though. His hand falls from you when you move out of his grasp to the side, freeing your hands and standing between the two.

“I could ask you guys the same thing.” Powder’s arms cross over her chest, hip cocked out in a defiant, and admittedly petulant, stance.

“Uh, we were just going out,” you explain, half-honest.

“So you are together!” A shit eating grin causes your eyes to roll. “You should’ve just been honest from the start, instead of rudely kicking me out.” She punctuates the statement by sticking her tongue out in the direction of Viktor.

Quick on your feet, you decide to go along with this narrative. It’ll be easier to get out of this quickly without involving her in this mess. “Sorry, Powder. You know I’m not the most… open person, and Viktor here was just confused. He thought you were someone else. Isn’t that right, babe?”

“Mm. Yes, of course. I do apologize, Miss Powder,” Viktor quickly plays along.

Powder hums and accepts the shitty explanation in all her victory. She values being right over being alert.

“Well, where are you going? Somewhere fancy, I bet.”

“I can’t afford fancy, but—“ Viktor cuts you off.

“But, I want to show them some beautiful spots I’ve come across in the uppercuts. The sky is so beautiful there, when I first saw it I was in awe.”

It’s your turn to become struck off guard and Powder giggles excitedly.

“Oh, I see. Treat them well, or I will find you and kill you.” She says it in an overly matter-of-fact manner that is clearly humorous, but the way Viktor’s eyes narrow lets you know that he isn’t trusting of the girl at all.

It is true that the sky is beautiful in Piltover. The way the fluffy clouds dapple the rich blue backdrop is breathtaking. Yet there is no time for sight seeing. Viktor is leading you straight to your destination with the vigor of somebody who is late. You know he’s trying to get back to his timeline and all, but his urgency leaves you a little on edge.

Finally, you reach the outside of an apartment building and he stops dead in his tracks, focusing on a giant hole in the space where you can only assume a very nice penthouse used to lie. Viktor begins mumbling to himself, something about the explosion still happening but a something-core can’t exist here because— he stops and turns to you.

“Something is wrong here. We must make another stop, but first I would like to investigate.”

He suggests that you stay outside, but there’s no way in hell you’re doing that. You stick with him and end up in front of a gate at the base of a staircase within. Locked. Viktor curses in defeat after rattling the barred door. You scoff at his simplicity, grabbing a set of lock picking tools from your pocket and instructing him to keep watch. Upon seeing your rolodex of tools, he is baffled, but then a smile develops on his face. He is impressed.

Upstairs, you come upon a memorial outside the door the two of you seek out. Viktor freezes for a moment, closes his eyes and sighs. He places a hand atop the one already resting on his cane, the weight of this revelation leaving him physically laden. You inspect the display and spot the name Jayce Talis.

Realization instantly hits. The man with the answers is dead. More so, Viktor’s friend doesn’t exist here. Hesitantly, you place a hand on his shoulder and he squeezes his eyes shut harder, lips pressing together. A long silence before he turns to you.

Voice just above a whisper, eyes still cast downward, he says, “I hate to ask for more of you, but would you happen to have anything to add to the memorial? It would mean a great deal to me.”

You slowly nod, shucking off your bag and finding a pretty rock you collected on the way over here. You place it near an unlit candle on the polished floor, gentle and with care. The heaviness somehow extends to you and wraps around the both of you for the time that you spend in that hallway.

“We must continue,” Viktor finally says, gesturing to the door. You try the handle and find the wooden slab barely attached to its hinges. It swings open and then adjusts to its weight, hinges squeaking before it settles on the floor permanently.

Viktor waits outside for a moment, eyes cast downward, and you wait to go further until he joins you at the threshold. Fragments of a blue gem embedded in the wall are collected and placed in a stray vile you find on the floor. It is difficult to maneuver the place. It looks as though there was an explosion that blasted the hole through the outside wall.

Some effort to clean up afterward was made, but you notice some blood spatter on the floor and wall. Your skin crawls, and you wonder if this incident could be connected with Vi’s death. From the little Powder has filled you in about that day, you are able to spot connections within the little details here and there. Your heart sinks and you halt your imagination from going any further. As soon as you get what is needed, you rush to get out of there, Viktor in tow with the same sentiment.

That secondary destination Viktor spoke of is Piltover Academy. You ask many questions about why you’re here exactly, and Viktor feeds you continuously bland answers. All you can glean is that you seek a person that will be in the courtyard shortly. Viktor has memorized their schedule, so they must’ve been close in his world. You hope, for his sake, that they actually appear.

And they do. The person in question is a professor: Cecil Heimerdinger. You’ve heard of the Yordle inventor in passing, word of his contributions to Piltover reaching even the far sides of Zaun. Enough to know that he is a highly respected scientist, and you deduce that this is why Viktor was so insistent on finding him.

Viktor gets straight to the point, spilling his guts about traveling to another dimension and wanting to get back to his original timeline. He speaks of the crystal fragments you gathered, how they have the potential to create a machine capable of taking him back.

“This is very much feasible with the correct mechanics, I am quite impressed,” the professor remarks, a hand on his chin as he mentally scrutinizes the possibilities. His eyes then land on you. “And who is this friend?”

A pregnant pause. Viktor stares at you for an uncomfortably long time before speaking. “This is my only ally here, a co-creator of the technology I speak of… They were also my significant other in my original world.”

This is news to you, and the way Viktor tears his gaze away from you tells you that he didn’t want to divulge this information. But why? What difference would it have made in this whole affair? The unearned affectionate glances and his shyness around your compliments all make sense now.

“Oh, I see. How poetic that they should lend a kind hand to you here as well,” Heimerdinger muses.

Viktor hums, looking lost in thought. You remain silent, ruminative for the rest of this interaction. The Yordle agrees to lend one of the university’s labs to the two of you, with the condition that he oversees your work. He connects the explosion at the apartment with the gem fragments and notes the dangers of the operation. While he is wary of such a conquest, he seems almost tickled by the prospect.

An appointment is made for Viktor and you to return tomorrow. At that time, you’ll receive the keys to a lab and the consent to invent… A magical machine, you suppose. You just hope this endeavor doesn’t take too long. You have already grown tired of the friction Viktor is causing in your personal life.

On the long journey home, a thought you’ve had since you heard Viktor’s confession spills from your mouth before you can hold it back any longer. “If we were together in your world, why did you tell me you hadn’t seen me in a while when you—appeared here?”

“I don’t wish to discuss that at the moment. It has been a long day,” Viktor responds, voice rough with his exhaustion.

You let it lie, for now at least. He promised to tell you all that you ask, and you intend to hold him to it. A quiet meal and a few more words are exchanged before bed. Tomorrow, more answers await the two of you. You can’t help how heavy you feel after today, or what to think of Viktor’s unwillingness to divulge the truth about your other self. It must be more than a simple falling out, or a breakup.

What could have happened to the other you? Could he have hurt you? You don’t think so, but the guilt behind his eyes makes you uneasy. Once again, the night is restless with too many unanswered questions. You will get to the bottom of this, but will you regret it when you do?

Viktor’s haunting anecdote rings in your mind all night.

Some things are better left unknown.

• next chapter here

Viktor nation! It is done!!! Please leave me your thoughts, I would really appreciate it :) The huge, positive response to the preview post motivated me to get this done quicker than I thought I could. Anyway, thanks for reading, I appreciate every single one of you 💕

[germhammy]

“You can’t Hyde pt 2”

The Foundation: -laughing- This? This wimpy kid is who all of you are so afraid of?

Françoise: how dare you call my son a wimpy kid

Laurel: -holding Joseph Crackstone’s staff- if you know what’s best for you Mr Foundation you will stand down and step aside. Wednesday. Show yourself. And that bee boy too. We have a bone to pick with him

Wednesday stepped out into the street with Enid and Bianca flanking her

Wednesday: Eugene is back at the dorms with my brother. But Bianca is here, Laurel. She was a great help in destroying your undead ancestor

Wednesday/Goody: turned to dust. As will you and your Hyde and shapeshifter

Laurel laughed

Bianca: Wait what? And what’s going on with Wednesday?

Enid: Donovan Galpin isn’t who he appears to be. And Goody is possessing Wednesday or sharing her body I guess?

Bianca: so who’s the shapeshifter?

Wednesday: the two of you really haven’t figured it out? Mother. Father. Please join us.

Gomez and Morticia stepped out behind their daughter.

Wednesday: Laurel. You hate outcasts. How does it feel knowing your beloved brother was madly in love with one? My mother Morticia Addams neé Frump? And you. Donovan Galpin, or should I say Larissa Weems. How does it feel knowing the man you loved chose not you but my mother Morticia?

Donovan Galpin screamed and transitioned from the unimpressive form of the former Jericho sheriff into the tall statuesque Larissa Weems

Enid: Wednesday? You said she was dead? Poisoned by nightshade. And Thornhill? You killed her

Wednesday: Yes. Or so I thought that night. You were stringing me along all semester were you not, Larissa? You knew of Laurel Gates plot to raise Crackstone and destroy Nevermore. You never cared about us, the school or even Jericho. It was all a plot to get back at my mother and take my father away from her

Morticia: very clever Larissa

Gomez: and I must admire your dedication.

Bianca: holy shit. Wednesday? Weems accepted me as a student after I met with the board without hesitation. I had to use my siren power to get past them. But sirens are weak against shapeshifters. I didn’t know Weems was a shapeshifter at the time. What did you want with me?

Larissa: not you. Your mother. Or shall I say Morning Song. But your stepfather was busy sweeping her off her feet that I couldn’t get to her soon enough. By the time she finally showed up she wasn’t powerful enough

Bianca: there was a reason I had to siren myself past the board. Brandy Jane Benson was no more. I am Bianca Barclay. I am not my mother’s daughter. Gideon is not my father. Not do I consider him to be my stepfather

Larissa: it would have been so much less messy if she had come.

Wednesday: you intended to put me under a siren spell? That would have been interesting.

Morticia: Wednesday is immune to a siren’s call.

Bianca: she is?

Wednesday: yes I am. Have you tried to siren me, Bianca?

Bianca: -chuckling- No! I would not dare. You were not worth the trouble when I first met you. And I learned to know better than to even try as I got to know you. Now that I consider you an ally/friend? I respect you too much to do so.

Wednesday: Thank you. Respect is mutual. But yes. I am immune. Now is not the time to relate how my family knows this

Morticia: so you went through all this, Larissa? To get back at me? For ‘stealing’ Gomez from you?

Larissa: Gomez was mine until you slithered into his veins.

[bangchanyespls]

Phosphorescence

I started a fanfic today and I have no idea where it's going but please join me for the ride ~ ♡

I'm having surgery this week so I figure i need something to do so here we are :)

It is a Superpower AU with reader as the main character. I hope you like it 🙏🏼

TW for this chapter: apathy

Pt 2

You put your hands up, twisting them at the wrist to show the front and back of them. You keep your eyes on the man in front of you, ignoring the way your heart pounds in your chest, jaw clenching as you watch him look you up and down.

“I’m unarmed.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, a small twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

You roll your eyes, heat blooming in your face, scoffing. “Physically, obviously.”

He lowers his brow, face going blank as he drags his gaze up and down you, before drifting to the person beside you.

Felix follows your lead, gulping slightly as he shows he, too, was unarmed.

“Why, exactly, have you shown up here?” the man in front of you questions, looking at both of you as he folds his hands infront of himself.

You shift towards Felix, slightly infront of him in case anything goes awry. You will your heartbeat to slow down.

“We’re shields. Every team needs one.”

“Precisely.”

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“We only need one. Why would I take two?”

You grit your teeth as you answer, “You’ll have a replacement if I die.”

You can hear Felix’s sharp intake of breath from behind you but chose to ignore it as you maintain eye contact, refusing to back down.

He stares at you for a moment, before chuckling. “Alright. I’ll take you both.”

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

You wait in the room, finally seated. Felix continues to fidget nervously next to you while you continue to stare down Bang Chan, the leader of SKZ.

He's formidable; muscle visible even in the suit he's wearing. The way he holds himself commands respect, and you fight viciously against the urge to submit to him.

You trace your eyes across his face, heat rising to your cheeks as you come to terms that he is also dashingly handsome. Greek statuesque, plump lips, kind eyes when they weren’t burning into your soul.

He turns towards you, and you turn your face towards Felix, reaching a hand out to him that he gratefully clings to.

Bang Chan has no idea how you and Felix had found him, if you both were spies sent to infiltrate his gang. You had told him the truth; you were just trying to find a place for you and Felix. Somewhere that would keep both of you safe, but Felix mainly.

He had told you to wait for his colleague Hyunjin, and then we would be good to go if we were telling the truth.

A knock on the door signals an arrival, Felix and you both turning your heads to see who was entering.

A tall man walks in, lithe and light, footsteps barely making a sound as he walks over to Bang Chan, head held down as Bang Chan whispers something to him.

Felix’s gasp hits your ears before the sound of your heart beating wildly in your chest. The man has turned around with a smile, friendly and devilishly handsome. He approaches calmly, stopping two feet away as he takes his time looking at us.

“My name is Hyunjin. I’m going to ask you some questions individually.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer from either of us, focusing on Felix first.

“What’s your name?”

A blush climbs Felix’s neck before he answers, “Felix.”

A Cheshire grin makes its way onto Hyunjin’s face as a shiver travels up your spine. Felix is still focused on Hyunjin, barely blinking as he stares.

“You will answer honestly. What is your power?”

“Photo kinesis and force fields.”

“Who sent you here?”

Felix shakes his head, brows furrowing in confusion. “No one sent us. We found you on our own.”

Hyunjin spares a glance at you, before focusing back on Felix.

“What is your purpose of coming here?”

The confusion on Felix’s face gets deeper. “We want to stay with you guys. Help you out. Be safe.”

Hyunjin’s eyebrow raises slightly but he nods, looking over his shoulder at Bang Chan to see if he’s satisfied. He shrugs, boredom present on his face. He nods a head in your direction, and Hyunjin faces you this time.

“What is your name?”

“Y/N.”

The same Cheshire grin covers his face, and you feel a sticky like warmth coat you. It seems like it seeps through your skin, into your blood stream, you brain getting fuzzy like you’re drunk, or on drugs, then you're hit with a smell so delicious your mouth waters. Your eyes lock into Hyunjins’ and you realize HE smells delicious.

“You will answer honestly. What is your power?”

The answers out in the open before you can even stop it, falling out of your mouth with no restraint.

“Umbra kinesis and psychic shield.”

He tilts his head slightly at you, confusion crossing his face, eyes flickering between you and Felix.

“What’s the difference between your powers? You’re both shields are you not?”

You know deep down that you want to hold this answer close to the chest, but its stumbling out of your mouth so willingly.

“I control darkness. Felix controls light. In any capacity for us both. His force field is based on his physical strength. Mine is based on my mental strength. They're similar but completely different.”

The grin is back.

“Who sent you?”

“No one sent us, I found you.”

The grin shifts just slightly, enough for me to know he dislikes that.

“What is your purpose of coming here?"

“We needed somewhere to belong. A mutually beneficial arrangement.”

He nods his head slowly like he’s trying to see if he has any other questions. He looks back over his shoulder at Bang Chan, hand raised slightly in question. Bang Chan comes right behind him, eyes staring into your soul with a glint over his shoulder, whispering another question in his ear.

The grin is back, full force.

“Why should we take both of you?”

“You’d have a replacement for me if I die.”

Hyunjin’s shocked by the blunt answer, but covers it with a raise of his brow, Bang Chan still has that glint in his eye as he whispers another question in his ear. Hyunjins eyes flick over to Felix before settling back on you.

“You want us to use you, and keep him safe, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

Hyunjins brow scrunches, and he tilts his head towards chan, eyes not leaving you.

Another whispered question.

“And when you die, we can use him as our shield?”

“I won’t.”

Hyunjins nose scrunches as Bang Chans eyes light up while a more nefarious Cheshire grin crosses his face.

“You won’t what?”

“Die.”

♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧

Chan had been ecstatic with your answers, immediately calling Hyunjin off and inviting you and Felix into the gang, taking you to the house to introduce you to the rest of the group. He had them take turns, starting with Hyunjin.

Hyunjin – Mind control but you have to answer his question first, pheromone manipulation, and intuitive adaptation.

Next up had been Minho - Invisibility and teleportation both shareable, but with a three person limit.

Changbin had followed – Healing abilities: takes part of the injury away if able to, can speed up the healing process significantly, Summoning: of minions, in his own words, and deflection, naturally used with others powers, can consciously apply it to others, but has to remain focused.

Han Jisung - hemokinesis, along with muscle manipulation, and blood creation.

Seungmin - mind reading when he wants, probability manipulation, although he has to be able to see the situation to manipulate it, and photographic reflexes.

Jeongin - power absorption, with a limit of 5 powers at a time, along with deactivation and activation of powers for a 48 hour time limit.

Chan finally revealed his own - substance mimicry and gravity distortion.

Felix is quick to make friends with everyone, a ray of sunshine as Changbin had called him. Him and Han had made quick friends; the younger ones, seungmin and jeongin, following quickly.

You stayed to yourself and Felix alot at first, hyunjin being the one to stick around you the most when Chan wasn't making you show him what you were capable of.

Eventually the walls broke down from everyone, and you all meshed together; a group of friends, a gang of misfits, a powerful force to be fucked with.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[konigs-left-pec]

Worked Up

A/N: One of y'all (on the old blog 🥲) said you needed a pt.2 to Scent so here ya go.

Rating: E/MDNI (vaginal sex, shout-out to the missionary position, nothing too spicy.)

Summary: It's postpartum sex with König, babes!

It had been a long 6 weeks since your daughter was born - 6 weeks full of overwhelming emotion, sleepless nights, tears, and (regretfully) no sex.

You watched König longingly from the bed, heart warm and full as he cradled his little girl, large arms rocking her back to sleep in the peaceful sanctum of your bedroom as he whispered sweetly to her, lips pressed gently to her forehead. He was so lost in the German lullaby he was singing under his breath, swaying back and forth as he gently bounced her, that he didn't notice the hunger with which you were staring at him. Not just staring at him so much as trying to greedily consume him; your gaze grew more heated as you perused every inch of his form - from his strong back and broad shoulders (you wanted your legs draped over them as he moaned in your ear, rutting against you like he was starving for it) and all the way down to the curve of his ass and statuesque thighs (preferably digging your nails into his flesh as he loomed over you, hips flush between your thighs) - you stopped yourself with a muted oh my God as you realized that you were practically salivating like some feral dog as you ogled your husband. Sweet, not-so-innocent König completely unaware of your lustful thoughts and how your panties were uncomfortably soaked, an itch only he could scratch forming deep inside you. He cleared his throat suddenly in this unbearably authoritative way that demanded your attention and you met his eyes sheepishly, knowing you'd been seen.

"See something you like, meine liebe?"

He was smirking, but his eyes crinkled mirthfully before he turned to place the baby back in her bassinet, delicately soothing her with his hand on her chest as she finally gave herself over to sleep. With a deep breath he straightened to full height, stretching his neck and arms and your core actually tingled as his shirt rode up, absurdly excited at just a peek of his happy trail. God, you wanted to lick it... Right before he slid his stiff cock through your slick-

You wanted to wait longer, you really did, but how could you be expected to endure this kind of temptation? He was looking intently at you now, head cocked to the side, dark eyes undressing you as he moved closer to your side of the bed. Your brain was swimming in hormones and you shook your head, trying to pull yourself together to think with your brain instead of your traitorous pussy, which only wanted the pounding to end all poundings by the feel of it.

Out of all the activities you two had put on hold during your pregnancy, you had quite honestly missed plain old missionary sex the most. It seemed so simple, so silly, you couldn't quite articulate the yearning you had to feel your husband's weight on top of you - his safe, strong, warm body, braced over you with one hand supporting himself beside your head and the other feeding his cock into your weeping quim. You would turn your head to suck and nip at his wrist, running your tongue over the tendons and veins as he pistons in and out of-

"Are you sure you're ready, y/n? I can wait..."

"I can't."

His eyes grew impossibly darker at your boldness, that and a strangled groan was the only warning before he descended upon you, crawling over you as he pressed you back into the bed. You grabbed handfuls of his firm ass, hauling him closer to nestle in the cradle of your hips, gasping for breath beneath the insistent press of his weight above you as his open mouth worked along the column of your throat. Sliding your hands beneath the waistband of his sweats, you noticed with no small amount of pleasure that he had forgone boxers. Groping him you felt the muscles beneath your fingers tense and he rocked into you once, twice, smothering a grin against your cheek as you pushed further down to grab his cock and press him impatiently to your entrance. Despite the hesitation and fear, you were blessedly wet and he slid in slowly, easily despite the twinges of disuse in that tender muscle. He bottomed out and you released a breath you hadn't known you were holding, feeling him sitting heavy and slick in the hottest, deepest part of you.

"Oh...God...yesss..."

"Ja? So gut?" He paused to grind into you, needing to collect himself because you were never this vocal, typically gifting him quick breaths and rasping sighs as you climbed to the finish. His hands trapped your own over your head, thumbs rubbing absently over your wrists as you thrust back against him, shifting your legs wider so you take even more of him.

Thankfully he knew your body well enough after all these years and you nearly cried with relief as he briefly slowed his pace, hooking your knees over his arms and spreading you wide open. He slipped even deeper, bumping up against the door to your womb as that delicious ache began to build.

"I'm so close..." reaching down to touch your aching clit, you jolted under the intensity of it, coming almost immediately with a sharp cry and shock all over your face, judging from the cocky chuckle your husband failed to contain. The laughter died in his throat though as your own orgasm pushed him into his, pace speeding up as your slick channel spasmed around his cock; three rough thrusts later and he was exhaling harshly through his nose and spilling himself on your belly, his fist tight and sticky with your spend and his.

He fell heavily to your side, lying quietly with you as you both recovered your strength. He moved first, handing you one of the baby's burp rags to clean up. Boneless, you ineffectively sopped at the mess he had left behind. He was laughing to himself again under his breath, a deep rumbling that had you dragging your eyes up; up past his spent erection, still wet and twitching against his thigh; up to his generously muscles torso, still heaving (and dare you say glistening) a bit from your exertions; all the way up to his face - amused eyes, lidded heavily with desire and the biggest shit-eating grin you'd ever seen on him. He knew before you even opened your mouth.

"So when can you go again?"

[peeponastick]

Touch My Soul, Pt. 1

Uchiha Itachi x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.6K

Rating: This will be a NSFW 18+ multi-part fic. Part 1 doesn't have any outright explicit content tho. Part 2 here

cw/tw: SPOILERS, mentions of sexual harassment (Hidan is a skeevy perv), emotional turmoil, angst?, sexual tension (but nothing actually happens sorry to edge y’all), major eye contact, like way too much eye contact reader and itachi are basically eye fucking each other 90% of the fic, dramatic asf I can't help myself im sorry

Idk what im doing This is my first time writing and really being on tumblr in general, please let me know if I missed any tags or if you have any advice!! 

not canon at all (but SPOILERS!!!!) pls humor me, everyone in the Akatsuki is alive and led by Madara/Tobi

Synopsis: Madara, the elusive figurehead of the Akatsuki, is an ambitious yet paranoid man. That’s why he has you, as a security measure, given your secret jutsu that allows you to see into people’s souls to confirm their true intentions. When Itachi Uchiha shows up to join the Akatsuki, what will you see behind his obsidian eyes?

Exhausted. Another cross-country mission with pain in the ass Hidan was just what the doctor ordered for your repressed rage and depression living in basically a wet cave with the rest of these jerks. You tried your best, you really did, to not let any emotions slip through the cracks of your cold facade. Some of them had better qualities than others, but none of your fellow Akatsuki members were people you felt particularly amiable towards.

Most of them viewed you as Madara’s stone-cold right hand, his own personal weapon. He trusted you more than any other member, and that fact alone was enough to instill a certain kind of fear in the hearts of every other Akatsuki member. And you know what, good. The more you kept your distance, the better. 

Though your body ached with fatigue upon returning to headquarters, your senses immediately picked up a foreign energy hanging in the air– a presence. Not ominous per se, but definitely a palpable and strong chakra signature.

Leaving Hidan’s perverted requests to join him for some “one-on-one post-mission relaxation time” behind, you made your way to Madara, the chakra getting stronger the closer you got. 

There he was. 

Your breath hitched as your eyes set on a statuesque man standing across from Madara, his tousled, raven-black hair draped around his stunning face and strong shoulders. A lifetime of stress and hardship left evidence of weariness across his features, and yet his eyes still sparkled with a fierce softness, framed by a set of beautiful, thick lashes.

He was so... pretty. Your eyes dropped down to his lips, then his chest downward as you began to drink him in, feeling flushed with an unfamiliar warm tingling the longer you studied him.

He glanced at you with his penetrating eyes, your cheeks burned at being caught in your lustful admiration. Without a doubt, it was Itachi Uchiha standing next to Madara, a solemn look spread across his delicate face.

You’d seen him in the bingo book before, but all the talk you had heard didn’t compare to standing in the same room as him. It was intriguing, though, for someone with such a reputation, and clearly such immense power, his energy didn’t feel threatening or overbearing to you.

Madara raised a hand to Itachi, finally pulling your gaze away from him, before walking over to you. 

“I’m sure you’ve completed the tasks assigned to you, y/n, correct?” Madara asked rhetorically.

You had never failed him, it was important for you to maintain your position in his eyes. Your usual self would have made a sardonic remark about your disdain for working with Hidan again, how a pet rock would have been just as helpful with none of the sexual harassment. But, with the third party in the room, you simply nodded while maintaining your cold, detached demeanor.

“Good, I have another task for you then,” Madara commanded lowly in his deep, chilling voice, pointing his chin in Itachi’s direction.

“This is y/n,” Madara announced, gesturing in your direction as you followed him towards Itachi.

“She’ll just perform a little security check if you don’t mind, nothing personal. I am interested in your usefulness, but I just like to be sure of who I’m working with, I’m sure you can understand. After all, ‘clan killer’ doesn’t exactly have a trustworthy ring to it, now does it?” Madara taunted.

Itachi’s beautiful, brown eyes glinted with an undetectable emotion before connecting with yours, and again you began feeling the wave of heat washing over you.

What was this?! Some sort of jutsu he was using on you?? No.. my god, had it really been that long since you’d been attracted to someone? 

Snapping out of your embarrassing realization about your pitiful sex life, you cleared your throat as you pulled yourself together to perform your special jutsu. Your specialty was energy and emotions– detecting, reading, transmuting. This made you very handy to Madara, after all, knowing what’s inside someone’s soul makes it much easier to manipulate them and offer them what they want to hear, in exchange for whatever Madara wants or needs.

Your secret jutsu was something you dreaded performing. You were incredibly sensitive and receptive to energy, so oftentimes it would leave you completely drained and horrified— seeing all of the vile things people have done, let happen to others, things people buried and hid deep within themselves. It was a lot to witness and take in, and have to maintain your icy demeanor on top of that, lest Madara begin to question you. 

After weaving the hand signs, you hid the nerves buzzing in your body as you approached Itachi to place your hands on either side of his lean, muscular shoulders and touch your forehead to his. By the power of your jutsu, you were transported into Itachi’s soulscape, where you’d be able to confirm for Madara upon exiting, Itachi’s true intentions and trustworthiness as an Akatsuki member. 

Given what you had heard about Itachi, you braced yourself upon entering his soulscape, but were totally unprepared for what you saw.

Time stopped as you and Itachi stood under an endless blue sky painted with magnificent rolling waves of white clouds. The sound of rushing water caught your attention as you looked behind you to notice you were standing several paces away from the edge of a breathtaking waterfall. The cascading water plummeted down the carved earth into pools of emerald green.

Peace. You felt peace standing in this supposed monster’s soul? Itachi stood silent, his eyes intensely watching you as you began to take in more of your surroundings. You’d never seen or felt anything like this, this energy was so.. pure. 

Taking a moment to gather all the information flooding your senses, you turned to look at Itachi as tears pricked your eyes. Your heart broke as you began to fully understand and feel the weight of what he’d been through– what he’d been forced to do, and how much of a monster he believed he was because of it. You felt a gut-wrenching familiarity that ignited an inferno in your own soul, pulling you to him like a magnet and calling you to embrace him and never let go.

“Itachi, I-” you moved close to him, your mind racing as you tried to process the truth, “I’m so sorry, for everything you’ve been through.” You delicately placed a hand on his cheek while looking deep into his gorgeous eyes. His demeanor softened as the emotions overcame the both of you.

“Y-You know?” he hesitantly asked, almost too scared to believe you were seeing the real him and not judging or looking at him with disgust.

Your brows twinged with sadness as you nodded, “Everything,” you replied, tears streaming down your pink cheeks. 

He placed his large, warm palm over your hand as he searched your eyes for confirmation that this was really real and happening to him. He had always been expected to take on insurmountable tasks, things that made him question morality itself, all alone.

And yet, here you were, seeing him, understanding him, accepting him for who he truly was and not what he had done. The burden of his past finally being shared by an open heart, something he never could’ve imagined he deserved.

You reassured his fears without words, both of you lost in each other’s all-consuming gaze. You had never met before, and yet it felt like your souls had known each other many lifetimes. 

You were standing so close to him, the heat of his flushed skin radiated his intoxicating scent, smelling of old-growth forest and clean musk. Every nerve and fiber of your being was lit aflame as his eyes dropped down to your plump lips. His soulful eyes returned to yours as he moved his other hand to gently push a strand of your silky hair out of your face.

You were entranced by his beauty, slowly blinking as you held eye contact with him, fighting every urge to taste his lips that were mere inches away. He equally was mesmerized by your beauty, his eyes scanned all of your features, trying to take you all in and understand what this all meant, how you came to be the you standing here holding him.

“Who are you?” his deep, gravelly voice purred, a gentle smile lighting up his face. 

Panic overtook you as reality came crashing down, remembering that Madara was waiting in the real world for your answer. Though time operated much differently in your jutsu, Madara would certainly become suspicious if things took too long.

You placed your hands on either side of Itachi’s face as you held him close, a frantic look in your eyes.

“We’re out of time. Come to my room tonight, I’ll explain everything.” You hurriedly released the jutsu, and collected yourself so you could resume your emotionless facade so as to not draw suspicion. 

You turned to face Madara, immediately detecting his impatience, “He passed,” you confirmed, “Sorry for the delay, there was.. a lot there.”

Madara stood silent for a moment before releasing a booming laugh, “Yes, I suppose given our Itachi’s history there would be quite a lot to sift through, y/n.”

He turned to walk past Itachi and beckoned him to follow as he began to discuss his plans for the Akatsuki and, eventually, the world. You stood frozen, body still processing all of the huge waves of  emotions you’d experienced in your jutsu. A pit of anxiety began to form deep in your stomach knowing this fated meeting with Itachi meant it was finally time to begin your plan. To take down Madara and the Akatsuki from within. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

If you read this far, thank you so much I appreciate you!! I hope you liked my first fic ♡ᵎᵎᵎ

[lovingthewildlife]

Quiet pt 2

Fulgrim x oc

Mikael knew they should have expected to be disappointed with an arranged marriage. But if they were being truthful, they hadn't been disappointed at all until the previous night. Spending time with Fulgrim was.. easy. They came into each other's lives and fitted together neatly. Schedules adjusting as necessary to ensure that neither of them would have to give up the things that were important to them. Mikael had heard some rumors of other primarch's and their partners and they had worried that they might not be able to leave the estate to do things anymore.

But Fulgrim encouraged them to live as they did before, just as long as precautions were taken. When Fulgrim wasn't with them, they had a guard with them to ward off any potential assassins who wanted to get to Fulgrim through them. Mikael had made sure to thank him for the consideration. Now, they weren't sure if they had been enthusiastic enough with their words.

Looking through the small jewelery box they had brought over from the main bedroom, their fingers stroked the sides, grey eyes distant as their husband's words echoed in their thoughts. They were too quiet, apparently. Fulgrim thought that they had no interest in him, and that couldn't be further from the truth. They had just... gotten used to quieting themselves. Holding themself smaller than they were so as not to draw attention. They had been told by other partners before not to expect too much and they had simply assumed it would naturally be the same with Fulgrim.

He was an important man and he had things to do, so Mikael didn't want to make demands of him.

It hurt, to hear Fulgrim remind them that he could have anyone he wanted. That there were plenty of others who were jealous of their position. They honestly hadn't expected him to make that sort of comment. It was just crass and unnecessary.

Plucking out a pair of earrings their husband gave them when they were first introduced and betrothed, they touched the small onyx pieces before putting them on. Their shoulders tensed when they heard a knocking on the bedroom door. Getting up from the vanity, they moved over to open up the door and blinked at the sight of one of the Astartes waiting patiently for them.

"Lord Fulgrim wished for me to tell you that he is to be out until nightfall. Urgent business has come up. If you require anything, I am to be your guard and valet." The statuesque man informed them.

It was business. It was always business and it usually didn't make Mikael feel any lesser. For some reason it made them feel smaller now, however. Offering a small smile, they nodded and returned to the vanity without closing the door.

"Thank you. Your name is.. Requius?"

"That's right, my liege."

"I don't think that's necessary." Mikael laughed softly, barely a breath. "Your connection to our Lord Fulgrim likely makes you of higher standing than I am. Not to mention your diligence and strength show you to be a man of great honor."

"Your are the Lord Fulgrim's spouse. You are our liege." Requius said sternly. "When you were first wed he made it clear to us that we were to take a word from you to be as if it were his own."

Mikael paused in brushing their hair, their heart fluttering a little faster. They looked over their shoulder. "He never told me that."

"Perhaps he believed it to be implicit in your vows."

Mikael fiddled with their hair clip, fingers absently opening and closing the silver clasps as they considered this. Perhaps their husband was just as quiet with his devotion as they were?

"He -will- be home tonight?" Mikael hated that they sounded small and vulnerable, they didn't want to appear weak and needy. They wanted to be as strong as their husband if their word was supposed to be like his to the Astartes.

"That is what he relayed to me."

"Alright.. then I have some plans of my own to make." Mikael put their hair up with a twist of the wrist and fixed the silver clip around their tresses, plucking up an eyeliner and applying it to their water line. "Tell me everything you're allowed about my husband's business today, I want to make things ready for him tonight when he gets here."

Requius watched Mikael curiously as he recited off a censored version of what he was allowed to reveal to his Lord's spouse. They moved with efficiency, applying simple lines of make up and disappearing behind a folding screen to get dressed. The decorative paper showing a silhouette that could be the envy of any seducer.

When Mikael came out, their words stuttered, staring at the picture they made. They often wore silver because it complemented their skin tone, but now it was layered with a royal purple that was almost mouthwatering to see. Dark slacks clung to their legs like a second skin while the purple top billowed, occasionally giving peeks at their fit chest.

"Requius?" Mikael looked up at him oddly and the Astartes realized it was the second time he was being hailed.

"Yes, my apologies."

There was a soft smile that the prince was known for and Mikael's grey eyes seemed to shimmer before they looked down at themself. "Do you think Fulgrim will like this?"

"Yes." Requius responded quickly, firmly, nodding before pulling their eyes up to meet Mikael's own rather than eating them up in the unfamiliar colors.

"Good. I'm going down to the kitchens and getting something to eat, then I'll be doing some shopping. Hopefully won't take too long." Mikael's smile grew.

First | Next

[wherearethekidss]

Statuesque pt. 2

-F!reader/Saiki

-Yeah my bad guys

-When text is 'read like this' it is a characters thoughts

-When text is "read like this" Saiki is speaking through telepathy

-When text is "read like this" it is just normal speech (teehee)

I'm not gonna say much here, just a thank you to anyone who read the last part and put up with how lowkey boring it was! You all slay everyday and i love you sm !!! And apologies for the current length, i'll update it soon. I'll keep it 100, I'm j lazy asf and want to binge trash tv.

Enjoy

Word Count (currently smh)- 664

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

Y/N has fallen into the routine of arriving in her classroom quite early. She likes how quiet and empty it is in the morning.

Except... a certain someone seems to have caught on to how nice it is going to school early.

Y/N walks into her classroom, and is a little surprised to see a classmate is there before her. Y/N raises an eyebrow, a little disappointed that she won't be alone.

No matter, she realizes that she is being a little selfish. She can't be the only one who wants quiet in the morning. She smiles to herself and walks over and takes her seat.

She sets down her bag beside her and rests her chin in her hand, staring out the window and watching students walk around the campus.

As class starts, Y/N once again begins zoning out. Tapping her pen on her desk. She is only brought back from her trance when the teacher calls her name a second time.

"Oh shi-" Y/N says quietly as she turns in her teachers direction.

"Is that alright with you?" The teacher asks her, raising an eyebrow at her and awaiting her answer.

Y/N stares blankly at the teacher for a few seconds. "Yeah i-" She says, but doesn't want to admit she has no idea what the teacher is talking about. "It's fine" She says trying to play it off.

The teacher nods, "Then everyone has a partner." Y/N blinks and looks away from the teacher.

'what' Y/N thinks confused. 'oh wow, who am I partnered with...' she thinks after realizing what the teacher meant.

Saiki sighs, he doesn't want to do this project, and is even more annoyed that the teacher is making them partner up. He's even more annoyed about who his partner is, the last thing he wants is to have to converse anymore than necessary with this girl.

The bell rings and the class is dismissed. Y/N looks around the room and sees everybody is already in their pairs. She looks for anyone who could have been her partner.

Saiki rolls his eyes and walks in the direction of Y/N. He is dreading this.

Walking over to where Y/N is standing, he is interrupted by two of his friends acquaintances.

Y/N's eyes search the room for anyone lone person. Wait a minute- if she had a partner, wouldn't they walk over to her? She thinks it over, that must of been what the teacher was saying earlier. 'He probably was asking if I would be alright working alone!'

The logic seemed airtight, so Y/N gathered her stuff and walked out of the classroom.

Meanwhile, Saiki is trying to avoid interacting with anyone else, mainly just wanting to locate Y/N to get the project sorted. 'What a pain.' is all he can think when he looks over and sees Y/N has already left the classroom.

After dismissing the nuisances, he hurried out of the class, hoping to catch her before she leaves the school.

Y/N walks past the school's doors, making her way past the gate, when she hears someone say her name. The voice rings in her mind. She blinks a few times, a little confused, and turns around.

"Oh, hey. What's up?" is all she can say when she turns around and sees Saiki looking back at her.

"The project." Saiki says rolling his eyes.

Y/N tilts her head and smiles softly, "What about it?"

'good grief' Saiki thinks as he closes his eyes and sighs. "We're partners."

Y/N's eyes widen a little bit when he says that. 'oh my god' Her mind races. 'i really should have been paying attention...'

'yeah. you should have' saiki thinks in response to her thoughts.

"so- what do we-" Y/N cringes at her sudden inability to form words. "How do you want to separate the work, I mean." She says correcting herself.

[facelessstranger1867]

Account of a Siren Attack pt. 2

This is from my Victorian Alternate Fiction, and this the second part of a two-part story. If you haven't read the first account, I'd recommend doing so, as it provides a bit of context missed out in this one, and is generally a good primer for what's to come in this one. Full disclosure, this was originally going to be the Captain Ahab, before I realised that Moby Dick was written before 1867, so I changed him to be Captain Abraham Jackson. CW: Mind Control, Big things in the sea, Implied Violence, Near-Death experience (drowning), Victorian Pretention, Vengeance

Good Night, my Lady, I have come to tell you of an encounter I had with a Siren on Her Majesty’s Ship Athena. I have done many a terrible deed, but none quite as terrible as sailing us toward that damnable monster. I told many lies to get us in that position, but I beg that you believe what I am to tell you. Now, where should I begin? Shall I start with the disastrous expedition I have only recently returned from? The decades leading to it, where I prepared to meet that sea-hag once again? Perhaps I should start with my first encounter with the beast, the event that sparked my vengeful mission. What say you? 

“You knew of the Siren before the expedition?” Yes though, to be perfectly honest, that is putting it rather lightly. My first encounter was in 1846, as we were attempting to establish contact with our neighbouring countries. I was but a seaman at the time, and as we were on our way to Italy from a port in Cagliari (Capital of the island of Sardinia, near Italy), a great light appeared in the distance. At first, we assumed it to be a simple lighthouse but no, there was never a lighthouse in the stretch of Mediterranean between Cagliari and Italy. In fact, there has never been any land where this “lighthouse” was, I checked on an Atlas when I returned. However, as we sailed past it, I noticed that there was something eclipsing the light: the shape of a woman. As a chorus of angelic voices began to harmonise with the wind, I became enchanted: my will being broken in an instant like thin porcelain as the tenebrous lady, I realised, was as beautiful as a true goddess of the Sea: her features being so divinely statuesque as to set my heart aflame and to never wish it extinguished. I did not try to look away, though even if I tried, I am doubtless that I would not be able: fixated as I was upon the divinity. She made a movement of beckoning and all of us, bewitched by her harmony and her beauty, snapped into motion like puppets, bringing the ship closer. 

We tore apart the masts with our fervour, using them as oars or, more accurately, stilts upon the rocky seabed. As we got closer: the light becoming so bright as to blind us; the choir becoming so loud as to deafen us, I felt wet, fish-like hands covering my ears. Then, silence, and as the song was prevented from wrapping around my mind, the illusion of the goddess was broken. I looked away from the false idol, and saw… the truth: of what was happening; of what we were sailing towards; of what that thing really was.  

What we believed to be the Goddess of the Sea was, to my now-disillusioned eyes, a monster of unfathomable scale. I could say it was the size of a whale, but in all my years upon the Seven Seas, I have never seen a whale as large as that thing. It is difficult to describe just how enormous that leviathan was: the light was as tall as a lighthouse but from what I could see, its back was crooked and bent down. Furthermore, its body came from beneath the rocky beach it sat upon, meaning that the great beast I witnessed was merely part of a greater hall; oh Sun, it could have been the smallest part of a continental kraken. Anyways, as the ship crashed into the sharp boulders sticking out from the coastline with a great snapping of the wooden hull; the wet, fish-like hands that deafened me to the Siren’s call pulled me off the ship. From beneath the waves, I saw my confederates launch themselves from the wreckage to get closer to the leviathan; I saw strange fish-men wearing garb similar to the ancient Egyptians, wielding swords similar to those of antiquity I have since seen, emerge from behind the siren. Though I did not see what they did to those poor, doomed sailors, I do know that no-one else survived that particular attack: I can only hope their deaths were swift and painless. The salt got to my eyes and I shut them in pain, as I was dragged deeper into the depths, I felt my lungs begin to burn. I tried so hard to keep myself from drowning, though I know not why: there was no way for me to survive such a dire situation. It felt like hours, days, an eternity of fighting the freezing water from conquering my body for trespassing upon the depths but eventually, I let out the breath and attempted to breathe in.  

They never tell you how terrifying drowning really is: exposed in the water to whatever horrors dwell down there, suffocated as though buried alive without the comforting embrace of the earth. My lungs felt as though they were being pierced by a thousand icy needles, and every failed breath only added to the pain. The taste of salt flooded my nose and tongue, my eyes in agony, no noise could be heard except the sound of my own flailing limbs, rendered numb by the bitter chill of the Night’s Sea. It was only when consciousness finally fled me that the pain escaped me. As my faculties fled me, I dreamt. I saw creatures that were too fish-like to be human yet too human to be mere sea-beasts, wandering a shining city upon the seabed. There were markets that sold treasures, food and clothing; the guardians of this place wielding weapons and armour similar to those of Sparta. There were children swimming through the streets, playing some game or other, the rules of which I could not possibly comprehend. At its heart lay a tower, which I was taken within, and inside was the ruler of these strange aquatic humans: a king by the name of Nerites. He spoke to me, though I am ashamed to admit that I did not understand the words he spoke nor do I remember them; I have since been learning the language of Greek in case I should meet him again. I could not respond, with my throat still filled with seawater even in that dream of former glory, but I was granted a gift from the King Nerites: a conch shell that would allow me to breathe in that drowned, shimmering dream. 

Then, I awoke inside a cave mouth, my head still beneath the water and with a fresh pain in my throat. I was wearing strange spectacles that were so tightly woven about my head as to prevent my eyes from being blinded by the salt. Upon realising I could potentially see what had given this strange object to me, I spun around to see the same kind of fish-men, that I saw in the dream, swimming away with weird tools in their hands, tools that I could not ascertain the purpose of even with my restored sight. I took a breath in, and realised that I could, in fact, breathe underwater. The thing in my throat creates a lump that I am sure you’ve already noticed, however, it can miraculously let one breathe liquids and air as an amphibian. I can still eat and drink as I did before, and clearly can speak normally; not only that, but no scar was left upon my neck, meaning that it could not have been implanted via surgery. Curious, a device placed into my throat without surgery, which allows me to breathe both air and water whilst retaining all other functions. Curious indeed... 

“Captain? What happened after you awoke? How did you end up here, in England?” Oh, right, apologies for the diversion. After I woke up, I tried to find where the sky was, a task far more difficult in this eternal blackness. Eventually, I managed to make out the tiniest dot of light amidst that never-ending teal-black. Swimming towards it, praying that it was not that vile sea-witch pretending to be of the divine, I tried desperately to keep my mind focused on the task: to try and ignore the deaths of my crewmates, some of whom I knew all too well. Perhaps ignore is not the right word, perhaps leave the memory for a later date is more accurate. As I broke the surface, some sailors of a nearby ship, HMS Porcupine, began yelling and throwing rope to me. I climbed aboard and learned that the ship was returning from Italy, the mission to establish contact having been successful; only a few hours away from England. I told them my story of our trip to Italy from Cagliari; of the Siren that doomed all but me; the dream of a shining city beneath the waves: the rest of the trip was very quiet. I know not why we were there, perhaps Captain Corelli was never on that particular mission and took the ship simply to hunt down that blasphemous being beyond anything in the natural world, as I have. These are the things that cause me concern as I plan my next voyage, for despite this potential cycle of vengeance and death, still does my heart burn to see that sea-witch impaled upon my harpoon. 

Once I returned to England, departing HMS Porcupine, I remained in the Navy for nearly 20 years. I performed as many assignments and duties it took until finally, finally, I was promoted to the rank of Captain of my own ship, HMS Athena. This is what I had been waiting for, for now I could take my very own crew to hunt down the Siren that tormented me every night that sleep did not come. However, unlike the captain that brought me to meet that creature for the first time, I realised that I needed my crew to be more loyal to me: more prepared for the horror that awaited us on the Island that should not exist between Cagliari and Italy. So, I spent a year with them, performing the assignments given to us by the Grand Admiral, as well as performing small asides where we slew sea-beasts. This was to prepare them, both physically with armaments such as harpoons and cutlasses; but also mentally, I believed the less confused and more loyal the crew member, the less the Siren Song would affect them. I was wrong, of course, when we eventually entered its territory, all those without adequate protection were entranced by her song, its song.  

All this preparation, this decades-long plan to eradicate this scourge from the face of the earth, would all culminate in the expedition I just returned from. I told my men we were going to retrieve an artifact which would help rebuild the British Empire to its former glory: “The Land where Sun never sets.” heh, if only we knew the sorrow such a title would bring upon us now, a broken empire on an earth with no Sun. This was a lie. I shan’t waste your time with fanciful language. I deceived the crew that I had only relatively been acquainted with so that I could chase the demon that had killed my old crewmen to finally slay it. Speaking now, I realise how selfish that was; how foolish for me to think it would end differently. Alas, it has already ended in failure, I am merely here to recount how it ended as such. Anyways, before we sailed towards the vile thing, I ensured we had earplugs for each of our crew, as well as enough harpoons to impale an army, let alone a whale. We chartered the swiftest route and found that it would only take two days at most, if the winds were fair and, unfortunately for us, they were. Matter of fact, the whole trip was unnervingly easy, as though the Mediterranean itself wished to see the confrontation between I and that rotten leviathan; it certainly felt as though Neptune’s eyes were upon us.  

The first day of the Expedition went exactly as planned, we stopped at the port in Cagliari, the same one that Captain Corelli had stopped at, and loaded the extra harpoons onto the boat in case we needed them. That Blood Moon we spent as a crew, in the cabin, there was an air of anticipation among us all. I think we all knew that something was going to happen, even the crew who I had deceived seemed to know that a life-altering event would occur. It was as we were on our way to the Island that should not have been there, which I have taken the liberty to name Cetus after the sea monster from Roman myth, that one of the crew on watch reported seeing a Galleon with an unknown flag. In the dark of the Evernight, I merely presumed that it was an Italian ship but as we neared Cetus, it became clear that it belonged to no Navy. It began to approach our ship and I told my men to ready their weapons just in case they had ill intentions. As we neared each other, I shouted to them, demanding to know why they were approaching: they did not respond, at least, not with words.  

It was then, as they fired their cannons, forcing us closer to the Siren that I came to two conclusions: 1. That only those deafened to the song of the Siren would be unaffected, loyalty to your country would mean very little when confronted by that which you believe to be divine. And 2. A monster such as that, which leaves only shipwrecks and all their treasure behind on the rocky shore, would make for a pirate’s greatest weapon. I tried to order my men to turn around, but by then, a bright light appeared directly ahead of us; that moved far too much to be a lighthouse; that was all too familiar to me. I had only barely managed to get my earplugs in before the song began. Once again, it snared all my crew in an instant and they began to tear apart the ship to draw us closer to that sea-witch. At that moment, I had to choose between allowing us to draw closer so that I might finally slay the vile beast; or abandon ship. I chose the former and armed myself with a whale iron, fastening it to what remained of the mast. The plan was originally to attach the harpoons to the ship and pull it away from the rocky shore, to Cagliari where we would kill it if it hadn’t already died during the trip. The light became blinding as I rushed towards the bow of the HMS Athena, my weapon poised to strike directly at the foul creature. Then, at the moment of reckoning; that piercing vengeance that had been nearly 2 decades in the making: my footing slipped, or perhaps, to think on what I remember, I was grabbed by something, and I tumbled into the sea. Once again, I was beneath the waves but this time, thanks to the earplugs I had in, I could not hear the dying cries of doomed men as they threw themselves, of their own stolen volition, onto the rocky shore. The water was black with stygian blood and sanguine darkness, but the light of the Siren was luminous enough for me to see the corpses floating on the gentle waves. Unlike my first attempt, I did not attempt to resist the things bringing me to the depths, as a great depression washed over me as I realised that, even if I lived to see that thing dead, I would need to spend even more decades in another vengeful haze. It would still hold sway over me, were it not for what I learned at the shining city in the lightless depths, a city I would learn was named R’lyeh from those that escorted me there.  

I struggle to remember the beginning of this particular visit, as though it were an elysian dream and I, its dreamer. I remember the brightly lit citadel, and its strange guards of shifting, turquoise electrum. I remember my confused terror at what lay at the centre of the building I was in, though not what it was that caused me such distress. I remember entering a bizarre chamber, like a casket but made of glass and filled with a liquid of a colour unlike any seen on earth. After entering the chamber and letting it fill with that bizarre substance, I was in R’lyeh once again.  

As I had learned the language of Greek, I was able to understand their speech, at least, partially. For, just like English and its many protracted ancestors such as the one displayed in the works of Geoffrey Chaucer, the language spoken by Modern Greeks is not identical to that of Ancient Greeks. It was, thankfully, not so different as for me to be unable to get a grasp on what these sea-people were. I got the chance to speak to one of the guards standing post near the Market, asking the name of the city and where exactly it was. They told me it was named R’lyeh after the “1 loyal manic fashioner” and that it was a place inside of a dream created by a god that created both them and humanity. I felt a great dread then, the sort only felt when your beliefs on the truth of reality are shattered; what you believed to be absolute truths are proven false with such banality as to seem common knowledge. I wanted to ask more about this Deus Ex Machina, but was swiftly escorted by soldiers dressed in much more opulent armour to the throne room of the king whose name I learned was Nerites. He bid me remain silent, as before, and then he did something I did not expect. He told me, in perfect English albeit with a thick accent, his name and title, Son of Nereus the Old, and that this attempt will not be the last attempt to kill that enormous creature of the Rocky Shore. I wished to ask more but he raised his hand and continued. Nerites, who had seemingly vast knowledge on the true nature of this world, told me of the siren’s true nature, that it was created by six demi-gods, the Mad Shapers, driven mad by the Blood Moon that had granted them the gift. Inside the creature, was all of the Atlanteans’ pettiness, spitefulness and desire for vengeance; whenever someone goes to slay it in a vengeful crusade, it grows stronger. By this point, I felt my mind begin to shut down in confusion and dread. I began to awake in my casket, but did not regret being silent, for I had learned what I must do to kill that rotten Leviathan.   

I tried to swim all the way to the surface but was so exhausted that all I could do was sleep and pray that I would wake up near home. I remember not my dream, and when I awoke, I was on the shore of Bournemouth, around a month ago. From there, I returned to London, my home, where I found a letter of discharge from the Navy. Accidentally or not, my actions had led to the deaths of all aboard but me and 1 crewmate, and that could not be tolerated under her Royal Majesty. This news has upset me greatly, the Navy had been my sole devotion besides revenge, and to learn that I was so easily tossed aside... Returning to my original point, I have begun to formulate a new plan on how I will rid the ocean of that sea-hag once and for all.  

“How do you plan to do that, Captain?” I am going to put together a fleet of my own, though not of soldiers; whalers rarely feel that call to vengeance as they pursue their mark and, with preparation, should also be able to resist the song of the beast. After that, I will sail back to Cetus to finally down the mighty monster. That is all I have to say, though there is one thing I would like you to tell me: did anyone else from that doomed voyage come to state their piece? 

“Yes, Sean Murphy, he told me that he hopes you do not attempt to hunt down the Siren.” Oh? Well, I’m afraid he has little say in the matter, I have dug this grave for so long that I have no choice but to fill it with that Sea-Witch's corpse; lest my life mean nothing at all. Is he still in the Navy? He always seemed the loyal type to me.  

“I am afraid not, matter of fact, he’s retired from sailing altogether to live a peaceful life in New Avalon. Not everyone responds to that sort of nightmare with zealous fury.” Perhaps not... Thank you, my Lady, I wish you a Good Night. Hopefully Neptune will bless us with success and I can return to tell you of victory, rather than catastrophe.  

[crepe-of-wrath]

Benefits Package Pt. 2 (Alucard x Fem Reader)

Very, very short, and still a bit of a tease--I'm genuinely sorry for that, but I wanted to post something b/c I feel guilty about my lack of Alucard writing this week and the tumblr world has been so kind in how it responded to the first one.

continued from here; 18+ only, lots of references to fem reader's breasts (adulation and touching)

You had never understood the appeal of ice cubes on skin until you felt Alucard's unexpectedly pliant lips press into your chest.

When he brushed the cup of your bra aside to expose your entire breast, you let out a little cry and your legs twitched a little--the sensation of the satin over your nipple, something you had never paid any mind to before--was suddenly unbearable.

He laughed and, although it was a self-satisfied laugh, the haughty confidence, combined with its profoundly deep timbre, was incredibly hot. Instead of gently uncovering your other breast, Alucard tore the bra off like it was tissue paper and started sucking and caressing you with his tongue as your whimpers and trembling intensified. He paused for a moment, then looked at you with monstrous, lustful intent.

"Are you sensitive...."

Slowly, he inclined his head, just so his long (!!!) tongue could lick over one breast.

And then the other.

"...little human?"

He ignored your broken Yes, continuing to lavish attention on your chest. You swore his hair was changing lengths just so the ends could tickle you and make you see sparks. You had read about the possibility of it being this sensitive, feeling this good, but you'd never really believed it. Just like you'd never believed in a lot of things before you took this job.

The last thing you remember being able to think was that oh God he was going to make you come while he still had his clothes on, just from touching your breasts.

Maybe you were about to be ashamed because of your desperation--that seemed like something you would think in a situation like this--but a great snap of thought-smashing ecstasy took you instead.

*

You didn't know how long you had been out of it, but Alucard was still hovering over you, studying you.

Maybe he wanted...an evaluation? It was surprisingly hard for you to speak, though you finally said, "Than...thank you, Alucard. That was...lovely."

You were overcome by the oddest need to reassure him, so you smiled as hard as you could.

His response to your compliments was...unexpected. He finished unbuttoning his shirt with lightning speed as the red of his eyes seemed to flare along with his nostrils. When he was finished, he used one hand to cast his clothing aside, revealing a body just as marble-statuesque as your fantasies, and the other hand to press you back into the mattress with great force, sending yet another a jolt through your center.

He got closer, letting his teeth--his fangs--trace up your neck, and whispered in your ear.

"Little human, my orders are to satiate you. We are not done."

Oh.

[peachy-writings]

PARADOX [Preview] Viktor x Reader AU

Full one shot here (~_^)

Summary: Reader receives the shock of their life when Viktor essentially materializes into their world, forever altering their version of reality as he tries to get back to his own.

Content Tags: Gender neutral reader with They/Them pronouns (no use of Y/N), Kinda follows S2 Pt. 2 canon, Angsty, Strangers to Friends?

Sulfur.

That tang has always sprinkled pockets of air in the Undercity, to the extent that those dwelling within barely take notice anymore. Therefore, when you do, it takes you by surprise. You glance around the room, troubled. Had the ventilation system halted? Or worse—had Piltover’s best decided to poison your already polluted oxygen with sewage, or something similarly offensive? And then a sharp, metallic singe punches you square in the nose. So sudden that your eyes squash shut, overwhelmed.

After taking a moment to reorient, you are shocked by the sight of a man scorched onto the coarse floorboards of your shabby homestead. Like a meteor had cannoned through the building, but a cursory glance upward reveals no such destruction.

Even more curious is the man’s appearance; he is a sinewy splat, draped in a white robe, crumpled on his side and perfectly pristine. Despite the edges of his garment and the surrounding space having been kissed with char. Mahogany tresses cover most of his pale face, shifting over sharp peaks as he stirs to consciousness. All the while, you are struck statuesque with bewilderment and a whisper of utter captivation.

How?

Who?

Why?

The stranger groans, a hand coming up to soothe his head that must be pounding from such a sudden entrance. Amber eyes blink open slowly into a squint. Confusion, then some kind of realization has his eyes widening when they meet your own. Your expression must match his as the two of you scrutinize one another, a pregnant pause scribbling the walls of your mind with even more questions that you cannot fathom one single answer to.

“Tell me…” He breaks the silence with an accent that tells you he is a Zaunite, in spite of such an odd appearance for this origin. “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” you reply softly, cautiously. And then your walls come up, as though your subconscious punches an internal panic button. No matter how otherworldly this materialization has been, this is still a stranger. “You better explain whatever the hell this is before I manually eject you from my home.”

A nimble hand reaches for the nearest weapon: a knife you’d left out on the counter to be washed. In his direct line of sight, you hold the flat of the blade against your thigh, posed to get rid of any threat quickly and efficiently.

“There is no need for that.” He says your name. Your real, given name. You almost don’t react since it’s been eons since the last time you’ve heard it said aloud. That hand at your side clenches the hilt of the blade—Not in anger, but petrification. “You don’t seem to know me in this timeline. I promise I am not here to hurt you, but to ask for your help. You are the only person I can trust.”

“How do you know my name, and what do you mean by in this timeline?” You take a step backward, bumping into the counter and jolting when the rough surface meets your clammy skin.

“I will answer all of your questions, but first,” he clears his throat. “May I have some water?”

Viktor nation, please let me know what you think! I’m still working on the full one shot and should have it out by the end of next week.

[utterlyinevitable]

kisses shared under an umbrella for E&O please 🙏

Major

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Odette Hall) Rating: Teen+ Summary: His phones rings and it’s a major step in their relationship. Trope: Fluff; Domestic

A/N: from the kisses edition pt. 2 list

__________________

A mid-Sunday morning like any other; Ethan and Odette are strolling down the block completely sated from brunch and all smiles. The rain falls down lighter than earlier, yet heavy enough for them to forgo their run and move straight on to a hearty breakfast with a view of Back Bay and a mimosa, or two. 

Ethan’s holding the umbrella high above them both. Ode’s arm folded into his like the a missing piece of the puzzle, their sides pressed together and steps in perfect harmony.  

His phone rings in his jacket pocket - the sound loud and vibrant, a contrast to the grating pings of his emergency ringtone. His expression says it all. Odette wordlessly takes the umbrella and moves to stand aside on the sidewalk, her lightly made up face the picture of terse apprehension. 

Ethan is all perfected stoicism during the longest three-minute conversation she’s ever endured. Cars passing by, tires hitting puddles, and people weaving around them all drown out the person on the receiving end - all Ode has to go on it Ethan’s lack of reactions. Barely any words leave his tightly pulled lips. Just mhm, herm and a whole lot of grumbles. He’s beautiful and so model-esque with his back against a light stones of the building contrasting with the blues of his attire. And he’s looking at her blankly, and it’s absolutely infuriating that he won’t give her a hint. She’s shuffling in her boots and trying to keep the umbrella over his statuesque body. 

Finally he says, “Yes, thank you”. 

The phone makes its way back into his pocket in slow motion. Ode is on the tips of her toes, impatiently rocking back and forth - she needs to know. Her sage eyes are watching him carefully - intently - pulling as many unasked answers from him. 

Odette caught the corners of his mouth perking, thin lips stretching then curling into a bright smile. The blue and greens of his eyes sparkling, rivaling the glimmer of sunlight on waves from their favorite spot in all of greater Boston.   

Two imperviable nods of his head and she’s in his arms, feet dangling above ground as he holds her at eye level. The umbrella all but forgotten, cast aside in their unbridled joy. Odette’s arms are around his neck and he’s trying not to swing her around but Ethan doesn’t care - for once he’s okay with standing out in the crowd. 

Ethan kisses her softly and peppers a few on her cheek for good measure. In between her joyous giggles he speaks;  

“We bought a house.”  

_____________________

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics 

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[ecrivant]

on intimacy pt. 1 | levi ackerman

(levi ackerman x reader)

as the trauma of soldierhood begins to weigh on you, you turn to levi for comfort.  a quiet exploration of damage and the intimacy shared by two.  read pt. 2 here.

a.n. – stop me if you’ve heard this one before: a fanfic where the reader has a tender encounter with levi in his office.  i think i’m on the brink of discovering a writing trope no one has ever used before!  don’t worry, we explore the incertitude and conflation of platonic and romantic intimacy, i swear i’m different, and i swear this is a character study and not just wish fulfilment.  

touch is the reader’s love language.  

word count: 1.9k

Ferric miasma hangs in the air, low to the earth, a gauzy tulle of dawn fog.  Beneath it, terra inked with sanguine dew.  You stand above your parents’ mangled corpses, still.  Blood roars in your ears, your face pulsates, hyperaware. You hear your eyes dart between your mother’s slack jaw, ripped from the cheek, and your father’s deranged expression, one eye hanging from the socket by a tendinous cord. Freckled complexions washed in red.  Lifeless amputees, limbless, silent, barely even there.  

An immense umbra engulfs you; you have no feeling as you’re lifted into the air, ascending towards an obscure ether, pulled away from the statuesque corpses that lie beneath, overlooking a perverted vignette, figures composed in beguiling agony, a foreground washed in vermilion.  A feverish vise clutches your unmoving form, and soured iron permeates your nostrils as teeth crush your skull—you hear the sickening crunch of bone, the pulping of your brain as it seeps between fractures, but you feel nothing at all.  

You woke with a heave in the dark of the barracks, unclenching your teeth and forcing your jaw apart.  You searched in the dark until eyes find the dawn light.  Everything was still; no one had stirred at your outburst.  Why dream of them now? Your index and middle fingers wrapped around your wrist, feeling rapid palpitations, matched with an inbound throbbing behind your eyes.  You focused on a gouge in the wall opposite and listened to the steady breathing of your teammates, slowing your pulse, grounding yourself.  

An ambient hum hung in the air: the world’s low, ceaseless murmur.  In the white noise, you heard remnants of a familiar melody—something quiet your mother used to sing to you, something formless and only heard in that vague void between wakefulness and sleep.  Knowing it wasn’t there yet still listening intently, you grasped onto the wispy tones, and found yourself lost in nothing, and allowed yourself to fall into a dreamless sleep.  Your mind produced no images, yet you sensed an incoming danger that left you restless.  

You came to with Mikasa gently shaking your shoulder.  Her expectant gaze hung above you.  

“Training starts in ten minutes.”  Said with gentle urgency.  

You were inexplicably struck still, as if the thought of getting out of bed was paralyzing.  You sat up but didn’t move further.

“Don’t wait up.”

You felt a hand in yours as Mikasa kneeled, quietly examining you.  Her concerned eyes would be too much; you kept your gaze in your lap. She ran her thumb over your hand, as if to ask if you were okay.  No response, and her hand slipped out of yours.  She drifted towards the door.  

“I’ll tell Captain Levi.”

—

A lifeless automaton, you eventually found yourself on the field just as everyone began warming up, feeling Levi’s eyes on your face as you wordlessly slipped into the drill.  

“I expect punctuality at all times, not just when you feel like it.”  Like a knife.

Steel eyes, annoyed.  Concerned.  You let the reprimand linger as dull shame settled in your chest.

“Yes, sir.”  You apologized with your gaze.  

—

Your tailbone struck the ground hard, birthing a shockwave that emanated through your spine.  You made no moves to get up.  Your respiration had ceased, and you fought against your sternum for breath. Hands gripped at loose soil, desperate for tangibility.  

Eren began to gloat but cut himself off when you didn’t respond to his outreached hand.  

“Hey, what’s with you?”  He kneeled as he spoke, leveling himself with your gaze.  

You swallowed hard, tasting tears.  Panicked. The thought of death lorded over you, taunting, ready to crush you underfoot.  

“I—I don’t know.”

You were vaguely aware of Eren calling for Mikasa, strong hands lifting you, bodies supporting your dead weight.  The infirmary, hazy voices, ‘trauma,’ disembodied grey eyes, nervous observation. Void, melting away, drifting.  

Your sleep was restless, filled with ravaged bodies, flayed flesh.  As you finally awoke, you watched the glistening sinew creep up the walls, branded into your vision.  Wordless, fearful babbling.

A strong hand pressed into your shoulder, pushing you back onto the mattress.  Levi stood above you, expressionless, eyes roaming over your face. His hand remained until your expression calmed.  The croak of your voice, your uncontrolled panic—you were humiliated.  Eyes looking anywhere but him.

“I’m sorry, Captain.”

He scoffed.

“Stop thinking.”  He let go of your shoulder and held out a glass of water, bringing it to your lips to drink.  A worthless invalid.

He stayed with you for hours.  Neither spoke.  At one point he asked if you wanted him to leave—you admitted you didn’t.  

Your hand rested on the edge of the bed, and he grabbed it without thinking.  In spite of yourself, your face flushed at the contact.  His touch was comfort, an unspoken assurance.  When the nurse came to check on you, his grip stayed firm.  

You were released the next day to a group of concerned teammates.  Levi ordered them to stand down, but the words of your superior were no match for their worry.  Despite insisting you were fine, they treaded lightly, on eggshells.  Eren led you to the dining hall, a plate already prepared and sitting at the table with Mikasa and Armin.  

“Please treat me like I’m normal.”  Spoken with a hollow smile, a slapdash attempt at humor, normalcy.  

Flushed, Armin rushed to insist you were normal; Eren denied any special treatment; Mikasa watched you carefully, as if she were afraid a heavy gaze would break you.  You did feel the weight of her gaze, this time meeting her eyes, and you felt your chest swell.  Her concern cut through you, warming your face.  You tried to calm the rest of your friends down, but things began to escalate when Connie and Sasha joined in, mentioning they were glad you weren’t mentally ‘fucked up,’ to which Jean shushed them.  Glares and overlapping, apologetic rambling overwhelmed you.  You were grateful for their concern but only in doses.

Levi eyed your antics from his seat, recognizing your discomfort.  He crossed the room in long strides, silencing the table with his arrival.

“Can I speak to you in my office?”  His words were deadpan, but his eyes held no malice.  You nodded, grateful he read you, and followed him out of the room.

—

“You’re not to train for the rest of the week.”

You couldn’t suppress your shock, which quickly turns to shame.

“Captain, I’m sorry.  I won’t let my emotions interfere—”

Levi rolled his eyes, cutting you short.  You shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what to say.

“It’s not punishment. Believe it or not, I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing.”  Deadpan. You had assumed you would have acclimated to his way of speaking, but it still gave you pause.  You couldn’t help you felt patronized by him.

You stood in front of his desk, looking at his cheeks, his forehead, feigning eye contact.  His gaze bore into you.  

“You’re not a special case. This has happened before.”  Again, that equivocal, Levi-specific dialect. Did he mean to comfort you?  You stayed silent, implicitly encouraging him to explain.  

“It just—it happens when a soldier isn’t,” he paused, breaking eye contact, choosing his words carefully, “hardened.”  

He returned his gaze to you.

“It doesn’t mean you’re weak, brat.  You’re just still sensitive.”

You processed his words.

“How do you become strong?”

His eyebrows raised, fractionally.  He set his jaw, his neutral expression returning.

“I just said this doesn’t mean you’re weak.  You are strong.”

“I mean, how do I avoid more of these episodes?”  You didn’t mean to raise your voice—you despised the desperation that slipped through.

“Just watch more people die.”  He eyed your reaction, taking in your surprise.  

“I don’t mean to be callous: it’s just a matter of exposure.  Each death you see or cause or cannot prevent carves at your insides until you’re… hollow. And you have to let it happen.”

You were silenced, winded by a realization of a reality of unceasing cruelty.  It was something you had always known, but to be faced with it so explicitly? You felt eviscerated.  

“Many die before they reach that point—empathetic and afraid.”  

Your knees threatened to buckle—Levi was quick to rise and support you.  He apologized for going too far.  

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

You insisted it was not his fault.  He only spoke a truth you were simply not ready to face.  Levi led you over to his desk chair and you shakily sat.  He stood before you, unmoving, before walking away, giving you space—moments later, deciding against it, he turned at the heel and returned, kneeling in front of you.  He grabbed your hands, and you felt his breath on your face.  Meeting his gaze, you saw an uncharacteristic softness, iris wavering.  You wondered if he liked speaking to you, holding you.  You wondered what would happen if you placed a chaste kiss on his lips.  Levi’s smell struck you—it was familiar, nostalgic; it reminded you of home.  Of a past, forgotten.  Of the sunshine streaming through your grandmother’s kitchen window, the smell of your father’s tobacco pipe, your mother’s vanilla perfume.  You couldn’t remember the last time you imagined any of them alive, rather than lifeless viscera.  

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, retreating as fast as you had advanced.  It was chaste, demure, and you watched Levi remain motionless, wide-eyed.  Red shame crept up your neck into your face, but you instead focused on his shock—what was the last thing that truly surprised your captain?

Your captain—captain.

Reality set in and your eyes widened in horror.  Impulse driven by an entirely constructed, drunken, nostalgic familiarity.  You felt more faint than you had in days.  It wasn’t even an especially passionate moment, more awkward and quiet and, frankly, underwhelming.  Maybe that was what made a first kiss special: the unique mundanity of it.  You wished you could revel in the indistinctness of the moment—but instead, you fearfully eyed Levi, half-embarrassed, half-angry that you would so blatantly and thoughtlessly overstep that boundary.  You retraced your thoughts: had you ever been captivated by Levi, or were you caught up in the moment of comfort he offered you?  The intimacy of familiarity, amity?  Maybe a bit of both.  

You watched as he finally recovered, defaulting to his normal expression.  He didn’t have a tell, except for the deep red that tinged the tips of his ears.  He pulled away, returning to his standing position and cutting you off before you had the chance to speak.  

“Don’t apologize.  You didn’t do anything wrong.”  He spoke firmly, softly.  Idiosyncratically Levi.

Emboldened by some deep irrationality, you spoke, not shying away from his gaze: “It felt nice, sir.”

He was silent again, short-circuited by your boldness.  You hung, suspended, in the tension of the room.  He eventually confirmed your statement, agreeing.  

“It did.”  Bewildering for the both of you.

You insisted you needed to go back to your room and try to get some sleep, a cumbrous mess of meaning and filler words, and Levi didn’t stop you.  There was no declaration of love, nor did he beg you to stay the night with him.  You stood up and left, and as you shut the door, you looked back and caught a smile break through Levi’s look of consternation.

— 

haha!  part 1 of 2!  i know we’re all horny and want levi to just ravage us, but i honestly think he wouldn’t know what to do with intimacy and physical touch and i will die on this hill if i have to!  anyway, feedback and constructive criticism is always appreciated!

[dysphorie]

Ok so i was tagged by @acidtonguez @exquisiteagony and @skin--slave to do THIS so. Just know you brought it on yourself

rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips.

Feel free to ask about anything you want, but some of these are collabs so the info i can give on those is limited. Also yes, these are ALL literally being worked on at some point, frequently, even if it's just a sentence here and there. My life is hell, and i brought it on myself

Steff&zort - Jim'n'Chris are in hotel room

ATLAS AND STEFF FUCK SHIT UP

VICARIOUS pt 3

CALLOW

SOLAT CHAPTER 7

JIM TRAIN FIC

(Something something) prison fic

Prison fic ch 1

ALKALINE

LTOC CH 3

UNREQUITED

DRAIN YOU

MICK X JOEY (yes yes I know 🙄)

NEVERMIND

HEART TO BREAK

STATUESQUE

HORRIBLE THING

TLAOKAS CH 2

LIMBO

FIREFLIES

THINGS YOU SAID UNDER THE STARS AND IN THE GRASS

JIM COREY FIRST TIME THING

COLOURBLIND

SICKFIC

SMILE LIKE A RIFLE

HE'S NOT THAT KIND OF GIRL

IT'S A LOT

THE THINGS WE CAN'T STOP

THE OLDEST PROFESSION IN THE WORLD

RED FLAG

I aint tagging anycunt, I'd be here all day 😂😂 if you see this and wanna do it, please do!!

[thebiasrekkers]

No Words, pt 10

Pairing: Taehyung x Jeongguk x OC [ft.  Namjoon x OC]

Type: Series

Chapter Rating: M

Genre: Idol, Poly, Interracial, Tall Female, Smut, Angst, Fluff [if you squint]

Warning: Vivian - again. Jealous Exes. Vivian. Strong Kookie.

A/N - I am just a vessel. I’m going to keep reminding myself that in the coming weeks. I’m just a housing battery for words. Here comes the party pooper.

—

You can never run out of things that can go wrong - Murphy’s Law

—

2 hours later.

There were so many people, all of them a little loose with the alcohol in their systems. People that had been reported to have hated each other? They were more than happy to see each other in a more private setting. They wished each other well in all of their endeavors. The CEO’s all chuckled, holding conversation off to the side. Discussing how the landscape has changed now that the global spotlight was now in South Korea.

They watched like proud parents over the gathering of the talent and technicians that kept their businesses afloat.

And there were plenty of eyes on those very technicians. Their program started with Big Hit, sure. But, Big Hit wasn’t the only company in Seoul. So they were spread amongst other places - and were not allowed to fraternize. Because they couldn’t risk trade secrets, now could they?

This media-free media event gave students a chance to catch up with classmates.

There was no shortage of production assistants bragging about who has the best staff. There was also no shortage of production directors attempting to, jokingly, pilfer students into their ‘camp’.

Everyone knew to take these with a grain of salt, to laugh it off. Everyone that is except - Vivian.

She was a dazzling sight in a white dress that accentuated her figure. Her hair pulled back into a slick ponytail. She boosted her height in a pair of almost 4-inch heels. She tossed her head back on a nearly coy laugh. Her fingers were dainty as they clasped a forearm here and there.

A flute of something bubbly between her fingers.

“Oh, stop! Please! I couldn’t possibly fathom moving elsewhere. I’m so in tune with my classmates now.” Her brow furrowed as she shook her fist to make a point. “Our synergy as a team means so much to me."

They were eating out of the palm of her hand.

Tasha narrowed her eyes with a shake of her head. "Look at her. It’s like she’s asking for someone to make her an offer."

Namjoon offered an airy sigh as he looked over his shoulder. "That girl is going to be more trouble than she’s worth.” The rest of the boys turned a gaze to Vivian, working for the crowd. Different responses all ended in haphazard shrugs as they spoke to the students next to them.

“We’ll be leaving soon anyway, right?” She finally spoke up after two students started getting studio technical with Yoongi and Hoseok. “These heels are killing me, and I want something that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg to consume."

Everybody laughed. Jungkook slid over to her right side, staring down the length of her arm? Oh, no, no. He was admiring the way that dress fell over her backside. "Noona, did I tell you that you look nice tonight?” She forgot that his voice could be as deep as the Mariana trench - just like Taehyung.

That low murmur spoke against her shoulder left goosebumps.

“More than a few times tonight, Gguk-ah.” A brow lofted toward his amused grin.

“Just making sure. Can I get you to sing another song with me tonight?” Her expression lightened as she nodded.

“You know what? I’d be honored. Just make me look good in front of the new kids, yea?” She whispered in mock conspiracy. Tasha rolled her eyes as she lingered close to Namjoon.

“Maybe we can do a three-part harmony?” Came the depth of Taehyung’s voice.

“Maybe we can behave ourselves tonight?” She spoke through a smile with clenched teeth.

Vivian let her gaze roll over to her group, and she couldn’t help but bristle. She didn’t realize someone else was looking in that direction too. Someone in that gathered group of hers had a keen eye on her camp.

“Excuse me. Vivian, right?” The male asked quietly. She turned and flashed a brilliant smile to the gentleman in question.

“That’s me!” She made a slightly silly face with a laugh.

“Do you think…” He turned to the Big Hit group and back to her, “…you could introduce me to your camp?” He looked hopeful as Vivian kept her expression schooled.

Turning back to the bane of her existence and back to the male towering over her. “O-of course, come on.” She hastily linked their arms, walking him over.

Namjoon flicked his wrist as he downed his champagne, “Alright, everyone. Do your last bit of networking. We’re out of here in fifteen minutes.” He adjusts his necktie.

“Oh no,” Tasha mutters at his side.

Namjoon dips a glance down as he follows her line of sight. His sigh is heavy, almost weary, as Vivian approaches. “Jagi, don’t let her spoil our fun tonight.” He leans down to whisper; a quick inhalation of her scent soothes his nerves.

When she doesn’t remove her stare, he nudges her gently. There is something akin to horror on her face as she turns to the trio across from them. They are dripping heat and tension, unknowingly shifting people around them. Their connection was magnetic and evident to those who truly looked.

Tasha bites her lip and turns to Namjoon. “She’s done more than ruin our fun, Namjoon-ah. She’s about to bring the party to a screeching halt.”

Taehyung and Jungkook were busy trading witty barbs, arguing who got to sing with her first. She actually couldn’t help laughing at the colorful language and idioms.

She turned to Tasha as they met each other’s gaze. Her head tilted as Tasha seemed to lose a layer of color. Like something shocked her beyond all belief. Her head tilted the other way as the world seemed to slow down.

Vivian’s overly-cheerful voice disrupted all conversations. She sounded saccharine sweet as she spoke again, something about introducing someone? It wasn’t until she heard the name? Or was it the voice?

Or was it the way she was suddenly yanked from between Taehyung and Jungkook? The familiarity of the hand at the small of her back? Her gaze lifted to the face that had her eyes ready to explode from her head.

“Hello, beautiful. It’s been a long time.” A pair of hazel eyes glittered with mirth as her body pulled flush to his. Vivian’s sneer was hidden as she stepped out of the way.

“Oh, they look good together!” Vivian snapped a photo as she backed up toward Taehyung and Jungkook. “See? So statuesque."

They did look at the picture. Then they lifted their gazes.

She was at a loss for words as his hand framed her face. "I’ve missed you. You never returned my calls.” She narrowed her eyes as she stiffened in his embrace.

“That’s normally what happens when two people break up, Peyton.” Her teeth seemed to snap as she spoke.

“That was years ago, we were young. Come on, you should let me introduce you to my camp! I didn’t realize it was you that everyone had been talking about. I’d have looked you up sooner.” Peyton offered her that dazzling smile. The one that she used to weather her temper for.

But now?

“God, you’re still an asshole.” She removed his hand from around her waist. Only to find another one replacing it. There was a rapid blink as Jungkook lifted her a few inches off the ground spinning her back into their presence. “Kookie, really!?” The Maknae did that irritated sniff, before turning to Peyton. “Sorry, we were just leaving. We happen to like our production team as it is.” Taehyung clapped his hands to accentuate that statement.

“Ah, ok! Everyone is here. Let’s all get to the cars.” He waved his hands, turning everyone toward the nearby exit. Peyton frowned, jamming his hands into his pockets. Vivian moved back over to him, sliding a piece of paper into his hands. “In case you change your mind about who you want in your camp.” She winked and followed behind.

Oh, he had changed his mind, alright.

It changed the moment he saw Jungkook and Taehyung with their arms around his Ex as they exited the building.

[livlaughlfc]

fwb with Ben but you fall in love with him and you don't know what to do so you distance yourself from him

Hello! Sorry I made you wait so long agh! School’s about to start, so things have been really hectic. I wasn’t sure what kind of ending you wanted and made it quite angsty, but please let me know if you’d like a pt 2 with a happy ending! I hope you like it :) 

Tangled, Knotted, and No-Strings-Attached 

It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, just plain old no-strings-attached sex, but my, did the universe have other plans. 

You and Ben had been friends for a few years, but to say you had always thought Ben was attractive would be an understatement. You thought he was as good as men could get. He was handsome, my god was he handsome. You were amazed as to how a man could not just have the perfect face, but also such a statuesque physique. Likewise, he had always thought you were beautiful, as perfect as humans could be, with your brilliant eyes and loving smile. This tension didn’t go unnoticed by anyone; even a rock could have sensed the sexual tension between you two. 

So one movie night when you and Ben were cuddled on the sofa, movie long over, you both naturally took things to the next level. One thing led to another, and you had become friends with something a little more attached. 

It was the best sex you had ever had, and likewise, he thought you were magic. You agreed it wouldn’t be exclusive, but soon, no one else could compare, and you were eventually both unspokenly exclusively having sex with one another –– in other words, your biggest nightmare had come true. 

Ben wasn’t just a handsome man; he was the perfect man. You couldn’t name a single desirable thing the man lacked. He had a stable job, a steady income, good taste in music and clothes, and most importantly, he was kind, always putting others before himself. You went into this whole friends with benefits relationship thinking you could keep your feelings in check –– have mind-blowing sex a few times, find a better man, and move on –– but the feelings you thought you had complete control over turned into a puddle of love. 

When things turned exclusive, you couldn’t help but think it was a sign of something more. Maybe he wanted to take things to the next level again and maybe be something more than your friend with benefits. Your overwhelming feelings and his ambiguous cues left you torn. Do you tell him the truth, but at what cost? The risk calling your whole relationship off? 

One night, another movie night, with the movie still playing in the background, Ben had snuck his hand around your waist, and it crept down lower... and lower.. and lower... 

“Ben, stop.” you said, interrupting his advances. You sat up and separated yourself from him. 

“What is it? Are you just not in the mood?”

“No, it’s just,” it’s now or never you thought to yourself as you mustered the courage to continue, “I can’t do this- this whole friends with benefits thing anymore” you said as he stood there with wide eyes. 

"Is there something wrong?” He asked with the most genuinely concerned eyes. Why was he making this so hard?

“No,” you sighed, “I can’t be friends with benefits because I want to be more than friends,” you said hesitantly. The band aid had been ripped off now, and there was no going back. “I love you, Ben. I know we agreed that this would be no-strings-attached, but my god, are there so many strings now. All tangled and knotted and all over the place!” 

“Um, Y/N, really?” he coughed up. You looked at his shell-shocked face, and knew he didn’t reciprocate your feelings. It was never meant to be. He was about to say something when you opened your mouth first. 

“Uh, you know what? Sorry I said anything. I’m sorry I even brought it up.” you said as you brushed past him and tried to make your way out of his place. He was about to follow you when you stopped in your tracks to stop him: “Save me some face, and don’t follow me. Just forget it. Forget this whole thing. Forget me.” 

You stood outside his door and stood still as tears cascaded your face and your sobs took over your body. It was all over now. You could never face him again after how you had just embarrassed yourself.  You told Ben how you felt, and it had cost you everything.