#because i suck at drawing machines | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mayasaurusss · 8 months ago

Note

Hello, I really liked the way you write about Jinx, can you please write about how femme! the reader and Isha fall into a trap and as a result, while protecting Isha, the reader is injured and Jinx goes into her killer mode (you don’t have to write if you don’t want to) you can just write aftercare if you want

A helping hand

A/N: and here it's finally done! I could have made this oneshot quicker and shorter but then I got chaught up in writing it... and I woke up eight days later with this in my drafts😂. I don't ususally like how I handle stories, but I think that this one turned out pretty good. As mentioned in another post, it's very heavily plot driven and it's a wopping eleven pages worth of writing. My grammar, as always, might not be the top gamma. I hope you guys will enjoy it! Also this was mixed with something someone suggested on ao3!

Contains: female reader, violence, murder, mentions of saliva and vomiting, hurt and comfort, very heavily plot driven, happy ending with a happy family. Lenght: 6k/ 11 pages.

The limited air inside the vent makes you choke on your breath, chemicals and smoke filling your lungs and hollowing your brain. A loud sound echoes inside the metal hull, alerting every one of your senses. "Isha! Be careful!" you whisper-yell at the kid, who's crouching in front of you, placing her hat back on.

She just huffs in response, rolling her eyes before continuing her tour inside Zaun's vents. Isha has not been too fond of you since you entered her life; one reason could be that she thought she had to compete with you for Jinx's attention. The other reason, maybe, is that you were from topside. Piltover, The City of Progress. The city who exploited and hurt the poor citizens of the Undercity. Avid hands commanding from atop marble skyscrapers, grinning smiles sucking away the air of the lanes.

It's no wonder you're not Isha's favorite; Sevika too seemed to have a disdain for you, either because of your privileged position or for the way Jinx was distracted and dreamy when you were near.

To ingratiate yourself into Isha's favours and to make it at least somewhat pleasant for both of you to be near each other, you agreed to follow her in a walk through the lanes.

Jinx had invited you into her own private lair, after much convincing on her part. One day, she just swept you up and brought you down with her, making you walk through fissures, alleys and neon lit streets.

"You should have a tour of The Lanes, y'know, to learn how life's like down here" a flicker of a spark reflecting in her goggles as she made some of her obscure machine-thingies. "So give me one" you said, prompting Jinx to hum in thought. "I am busy today, and Sev' is too. Besides, I don't think you'll enjoy each other's company" she glanced at Isha, who was drawing Stinkmaw on her notebook. "You'll just have to settle for Isha" the kid propped her head up at the mention of her name, already looking with stars in her eyes at Jinx, not aware of your previous conversation. "What do you say Isha? Want to have fun with your new friend? Give her a tour of the Undercity?", Isha sized you from head to toe with a snarl on her lips, eyes moving between you and Jinx while her face became more and more agitated. "Come on, she's not that boring" Jinx moved back to her work, sparks flying and lit up her face, "I should know". Your face grew hot with her words, remembering what happened between you two just weeks prior. Isha gave a disgusted 'ew', before Jinx turned her head to watch the kid, a shadow of anger in her eyes. "No excuses! Come on, just go around a bit, become friends!".

"Jinx I, I don't think this is a wise idea. I mean, Isha is just a kid: what if something happens? I-" Jinx interrupted you, her voice almost lost between the screeching sounds of metal scraps flickering sparks between each other. "You'll both be fine. Isha is a smart kid, she'll get out of any situation. As for you..." she turned to you, a teasing glint in her eyes, "...will you be able to keep up with her?".

'No, not at all' you answer to her mental image, struggling to keep your pace behind Isha. The kid is fast inside these tunnels, and your body is not accustomed to their narrow spaces and to the flow of smoke and waste. The metal feels light and shaky under your weight, giving you the impression that at the slightest of pressure, you will sink beneath and break your ribs into the concrete of just another of Zaun's alleys. You steady on, carefully applying your weight where each border of the metal tubes meet, following the shadow of Isha.

After what feels like ages, you finally spot the end of a tunnel, light shining on the dirty buildings giving it a green hue. Isha crawls towards it, leaving you behind in the dusty tunnels, prompting you to follow her quickly. The kid has already jumped in the street below, adjusting her hat on, turning her back to you while she begins to walk away. You take in a deep breath, calculating the height of your jump, before falling messily on the concrete.

"Ack, shit" Isha gives you a dirty look, "What?". She just rolls her eyes, before continuing on, not waiting for you. The Undercity is just what you expected: crowds of people fill it's street, smoking and squaring you up; sellers shout to lure in buyers, presenting their merch of metal husks, hundreds of different flavours of tobacco and pieces of meat that you'd rather not know from what they came from. At the far corners, gang groups threaten and push against each other, their blades glinting with a malicious look. The streets are lit by bright neon signs, filled with all possible smells and gasses, overcrowded to the point that you're short of breath. Distantly, you can hear the sound of machinery evermoving, of water and air and of shipments departing from shore. The city itself beats and pumps, like a living heart.

Everything is suffocating; too loud, too much. And what's worse is, everyone knows that you don't belong. Their eyes are envious, angry, a dangerous hate barely hidden beneath their scleras. Hell, Isha, the kid who is known to have a kind heart, can barely hide it. For a moment, too caught up in your mind and it's worries, you miss Isha turning around, entering a dark hallway. You follow her blue locks until you're far from people, now only surrounded by high walls and some couples making out in a corner. On one wall there are signs of damage: claws and dents and what looks to be a... strange green goop staining the bricks, along with scraps of metal of an exoskeleton.

You find Isha sitting at the corner where the street opens, back against the wall. You are not too sure what she is doing: after all, she has proved to be rather uninterested in you. What you don't realize, not at first anyway, is that she had run through the crowd into the alley to lure you away from that noisy hell so you'd have time to get used to it. Sliding down next to her, your clothes drag down the dirt and dust of years behind them. Silence feels heavy above your head, the distant sounds of the crowd the only thing keeping you at least a bit sane.

Isha has found a pastime in rolling the hem of her hat on the ground, trying to make a perfect spin with it. The sounds of metal against concrete screech inside the hallway, attracting more than just one pair of eyes. You can feel Isha's reluctance to begin so close to you, probably thinking to herself that it was a mistake waiting for you. When the silence feels too heavy, then you finally speak. "Isha...listen" the hat spinning stops abruptly, it's hem catched between Isha's thumb and index finger. "I know you don't like me" she's surprised that you decided to face the problem right away; it's not something your people are known for. "You've made it all too clear these past days. I know you are wary of me; I know the Undercity is wary of us". The kid's eyes are now on you, studying, squaring you up, detecting any lies that you may hide under your sweet words.

"But... I am not my city. I know what you have been through and I am..." you falter for a moment, thinking that you're starting to sound a little too guilty and invested in this, and that she may recognize this as insincere. "What I meant to say is... I would like to be your friend, if you want to".

Isha doesn't answer you right away, but you see a small smile spread on her lips. You breathe a sigh of relief at successfully bringing down her walls.

She jumps back up, extending her hand to yours, palm open and a curious smile on her face. You take it, careful to not push your weight down on her before you too stand up.

"Come on, let's go home. This is good enough of a tour for me today", you take Isha's hand, ready to walk back to Jinx's, before something clutters inside the hallways, spreading its dull, hollow metal sound everywhere. The sound gets closer and closer, the item of its origin stopping its course at your feet. It's a cylinder shaped, stubby looking object; drawn on its surface are what you recognize to be Jinx's drawings, imitating a grinning gaping mouth of some evil creature. The red light you are so familiar with, the one which with Jinx blows her enemies to bits, is off.

"Well, look what we have here. The runt of that crazed bitch and Piltover's finest trash". From under the fuming tubes, a tall, scruffy looking man shows up. His hair is in a buzz cut style, thin muscles tightly attached to his bones, making him look starved and unkept. Black tattooed run over his forehead and cheeks, giving his sulken eyes even more of a crazed look. His goons all show up after him, exiting from their hidden spots. "What do you want?" you try to sound though, but the wavering of your voice only gives away your fears. Isha hides behind you, clutching tightly at the fabric of your pants.

"Oh we don't want anything from you. But you see..." he reaches to fish something out of his pants. You see it before he shows it: the hem of a knife. He slides the blade out of its sheath, glimmering dangerously in the dark. "...that darling bitch of yours took something from us. Well, to be honest, someone. Someone very dear to our group" you look in between you and Isha, then at the distance between you and the goons, trying to think of an escape.

"What do you mean? How do you know Jin-" he laughs creepily, a little too high for your tastes, echoing between the walls. "How do I know Jinx? Everyone knows Jinx!" he gesticulates with the knife still in his hand, dangerously close to hitting himself in the eye with it. He inspects the blade with something dark inside his thoughts, dulling the colour out of his eyes. With a creepy and disturbing smile on his lips, he runs his finger along the line, blood trickling down its shape. He seems to take a sick kind of pleasure from seeing red staining the metal. "I gotta give it to her though, she really aimed high: fucking someone from Piltover is something none of us would dirty ourselves trying to".

A vein under your skin pumps blood into your brain faster, giving you the prospect of an annoying headache, "Watch that tone-". "Never thought that that small, smart runt would become what she is today. Powder really outdid herself", you don't miss the cruel smirk which paints his lips, enjoying infecting your relationship with Jinx. "Powder?" the name doesn't ring a bell, and you're left with the man's ominous eyes peering into your heart, telling you that 'you don't know anything'.

"Oh look, trust runs so deep between you two that you don't even know her real name! Did you really think a parent could ever name their child 'Jinx'?" the rest of his group laughs and mocks you like their leader is, like a hoard of sheep follows their shepard. "I don't need to know her name. If there is a reason why Po- Jinx is keeping her real name a secret from me, I am not gonna pry it open from her" you can feel your heart pump blood faster into your veins, that small headache becoming stronger and stronger as anger takes hold of your actions. "Mhm? Just like she kept her family's deaths a secret?" those words feel heavy when he speaks them, clearly holding some truth behind them. You try to remain calm but anger and fear are affecting your judgment. "W-What? What the fuck are you talking about?" their ugly laughs fill your ears, only aiding in alimenting the fire at your heart. "After our little...fight, he changed. He started to hang out with the wrong people, doing the wrong things..." slowly, ever so slowly, all of them start to circle around you. One, two, four, six of them, sporting grinning smiles, stalking you like hyenas.

"But he would have been the same has always, even if he had become dumber than he was. He would have been alive too, at this moment, if Vander hadn't intervened". None of what this man is saying makes sense to you. He's talking to you, but his words are meant for others: for his friends, for Isha, for Jinx. You, once again, are reminded that you're not welcome here. In their eyes, hate and hunger swirl, creating a whirlwind that sucks away at your courage, "Just...what do you want from me?!".

"Jinx and that sister of hers took our friend from us. Our boss. Now-" with mastered precision, he makes the blade jump from his hands, now it's tip pointing towards the ground. Something that you can only describe as burning hatred and killing intent paints his features, before he screams a rallying cry, "It's our turn taking everything from her!".

That is enough for the whole lot of them to pounce. One moment, and they are all on you; punching, kicking, twisting your hair in their grasp, snarling and mocking. In the confusion you lose Isha, not being able to distinguish her blue locks in between all that green and grey. For a split second, after they consume their gloves on you, no one is holding you down. You take the occasion to slip away from their grasps, falling backwards into the opening street. You take a second to choose what to do, and as you run towards the crowd once again, following where you assume Isha went, a feeling of anger rises in your stomach. The sound of the busy street echoes, a distant reminder that you have a life to return to, but something tugs at your heart to look at them in the eyes. Blood pumps fast in your veins, alerting every muscle, every bone, every fiber that danger is near, you need to go, but your heart, brain, the pride you take in begin still alive overtakes your judgment. You stop to look at them, the prospect of a challenge in your eyes, of saying 'Look at me!' and incite them to follow 'I am still alive!'.

They look like ravenous beasts, hunched backs and gleaming eyes, angry snarls on their faces, hate coursing through their veins. The leader of the group, the scruffy looking one, fishes something from his back and places it on the bottom of his face: it's a mask, made with grey metal and sprayed with fake golden accents to give it a more classy look. On the side there's a circular opening with a single point in the centre. He takes a syringe and inserts it in the hole, pushing the top down and filling the hollow cavities of the mask with purple gasses. He takes in a deep breath, eyes rolling backwards, before his body goes through a strange change, twitching and moving like he had been shocked. When he looks back at you his eyes are a deep, neon pink, the same shade of colour that paints Jinx's eyes. He moves towards you, pushing and snarling at his friends like a dog with rabies, breaking their bones on the walls, before, with all the air in his lungs, screams, "I'm going to enjoy skinning that piltie's clean skin away from your body!".

You don't make it far before, with an uncanny precision, he throws his blade towards you like a spear, metal sinking inside of your left side, dangerously close to your kidney. A gasp leaves your body before you fall on the floor, blood oozing from the wound. Hundred of needles pierce at your flesh, blood paints the concrete and your mind fuses with the flesh of your brain. Then it all stops; you're back in the alley, cold spreading from the wound throughout your body, followed by a unbearable heat. The blade is snatched from your side, an ear shattering scream erupting from your throat. He is on top of you, already inching the knife to the base of your neck, planning to stab you there, wanting to see the life leaving your body in the most gruesome way possible. "I can't wait to see the look on your girlfriend when I am going to bring her the eyes of her most loved!".

"Bye bye, piltie" you brace yourself for your end; you can almost already feel the knife lodged in your throat, but nothing happens. You hear the sound of a metal hulk resonating in the hallway, before he is knocked down by something thrown with force against his face. You recognize it to be the exoskeleton of the arm you saw before, lying around. The rod which was the building foundation for its making has been thrown on the man's ugly bat-like nose, making him bleed red.

Isha stands behind you, still in launching position, before she runs over to you and tries to help you up. When you do, white behind your eyelids blinds you, pain making your head spin. He gets up again, an animalistic wild look in his eyes. He moves again, muscles hardened with purple veins running along them, drool falling down the space between the mask and his skin. Before he can assault you again, Isha throws something at him: the bomb he himself kicked before, the one Jinx had made, moves through the air, soon to be the second object to hit his ugly face today. He recognizes the object and pales when he sees a red light zipping faster and faster, its grinning mouth inching closer to him.

A colorful light shines on the walls, paint of blue and pink shades falling down like rain; sparks of fire following the natural course of an explosion, fading out of existence a moment later. You run with Isha, hand in hand, away from this horrid place. This time, you don't look back.

A trickle of sweat falls down Jinx's temple while her eyes are focused on connecting two tubes of plastic together. Electricity flows through them, sending sparks flying dangerously close to her skin, before they are connected by the metal snaps on each of their ends. Jinx smiles as her creation takes its first movements, loudly clapping two copper coloured, round, small discs together, before stopping once again. Her fingers twist the key positioned on its back and the mechanic monkey comes to life once again. When her work is finally done, she puts it next to the other one she made hours prior.

The one meant for Isha is coloured with golden accents and decorated with graffitis all over. When turned on, it quickly smashes the plates against each other and plays an off-tune punk song if the button on its right leg is pushed; its eyes are golden, mimicking Isha's own. The one meant for you is far softer than the first: soft shades of pastel mix together with Jinx's characteristic pink, swirling your colours together. Instead of plates, it has a small, roughly knitted red heart in its hands. The left eye shines bright pink, while the other mirror's yours. There are no graffiti on it, except for a small heart on its chest, one near 'your' eye and a 'Jinx' on its left side.

She can't wait to see the look on your eyes when you will see it. She could never quite well express affection like other people do, so giving you gifts was what she did best. Just as she dreams of your face, she hears quick, loud steps coming closer and closer to her. "If you are Caitlyin, I appreciate your obsession with me, but I am in the middle of-" she recognizes Isha's laboured breaths and your pained groans before she can finish the phrase. And when she turns around, her face pales and her blood freezes. Isha has a panicked look to her face, one that she had never seen before; and you? Sweat falls with heavy tears down your face, the shade of your skin so much paler than it usually is, making you look almost dead. Your hand is tightly clutched on your side, where your hand is stained with...blood?

In a fraction of a second, Jinx is on you, hands checking at every curve of your body, focusing on places you might be hurt, while she asks question upon question, filling the air with a sense of urgency. You can only describe the look in her eyes as pure dread. If you didn't groan with pain every few seconds, you'd think Jinx was the one to have gotten hurt. The next few minutes are a whirlpool of movements and colours, making you spill your lunch on the floor. Soft fabric meets your back, suddenly naked with only your bra to cover your chest. Blood oozes faster out of you and you can feel your conscience leaving. Nothing else besides the red on your skin and the blurred shades of blue and brown exists for you.

"...ont worry, I al... got m... sis...er out of ...ble". When after wetting your wound with water, Jinx presses gauze on your body, you are suddenly brought back to life, violently. It feels like someone is crushing with all their might on you, despite Jinx applying the right pressure to the wound. If someone were to walk in right now hearing your screams, they'd think you were begin murdered. After what finally feels like an eternity, you are lying again on her bed, almost lifelessly. You don't have time to answer Jinx's questions, before you fall into a deep slumber.

Half an hour passes by, and the world seems sealed in a bubble of silence. Nothing moves. nothing makes noise, nothing happens. The only thing that does make noise are the voices in Jinx's head, screaming loudly at her for having let you go alone. 'You should have been there', 'See what happens when you let people into your life?', 'She is hurt. She might die. It's your fault'.

Their loud screams are enough to make one go crazy, but despite how confused she is, Jinx finds a will in herself to speak, to silence them. With her hand, she nudges Isha, getting her attention, and mouths "What happened?".

Isha doesn't answer. Her eyes burn holes into the metal of the helix, bottom lip tightly sealed under her teeth, before something in her breaks. She rushes in Jinx's arms, hiding herself into her chest, crying until the tears are gone and her throat is raw. They stay together, tangled into one another, for a while, until their bodies are cold. "Isha, what happened?" Jinx repeats.

Isha gets up, running over Jinx's desk and returns with two different coloured pencils. On the ground she draws a scene: you and her, hand in hand, with frowning faces; behind you six grinning figures, one taller than the rest. Green splattered on the ground and high walls. Jinx recognizes this place immediatley; she's been there just a couple of weeks prior.

Walking to her desk, she grabs her trusted gun and more than a dozen of bullets. A deep, hateful scowl paints her features, eyes shining brighter than usual.

Tonight, the undercity shines and roars with fervor. Its lights shine bright and the shouts of its inhabitants brings it to life, beating strong, like the heart of a dragon. The city seems to sway in tandem with Jinx's white cape, almost bending to her will but also shielding her, hiding her in its crowds. This is home. This is all Jinx has ever known and ever will. She knows it's streets like the palm of her hand: where to leave her mark, the highest places she can reach from which she can put a bullet in between her enemies eyes, which vents and tunnels will take her back home.

She knows exactly where you had been hurt, and if her predictions are correct, they're waiting for her there. And she's gonna give them what they want. The allway is far too serene to be one of the city's main ways out to the perimeter where steel factories and shipments are. It's uncharacteristically quiet, and by Zaun's rules, that means danger.

Jinx steps on the green gooey substance, observing the dripping of your blood leading to the city's main street, and anger boils inside her at that view. The square is empty, except for a series of tubes and a pitfall to its left. Just as she thought, she begins to hear steps coming into her direction. They had been expecting her.

"If you weren't trying, and failing, to ambush me, I'd say you have a crush" the man behind her simply scoffs, his breath coming out ragged and metallic from under his mask.

Jinx turns around to see a tall man, breathing through what she recognizes to be a mask that henchmens of shady organizations wore to enhance their physical abilities. After a moment, she recognizes blood staining the man's pale skin, half of his left hand blown off, rudimental replaced with a metal prosthesis at the last minute. She can ignore that just fine, but the exposed muscle of his left cheek makes her want to puke. "Wow, and you're even more grotesque than I thought" a cruel anger swirls inside her eyes, her lips curling up in a snarl. "What? Were you so anxious to try to kill me that you couldn't even let your wounds heal?" he laughs at her words, men closing in on her much like they did hours prior to you.

"We were waiting for you, Powder" the mention of that name pangs at her heart. Subtly, she touches the top of her gun, ready to draw it at the first sign of danger. "I figured. How do you know my name?" "A man can know much...if he is in the right place, at the right time" he falls silent when Jinx laughs at his words, anger making a vein in his head pop. "Damn. I thought you were pathetic already, but this whole 'supervillain' talk only makes you seem more of an ass than you already are" much like Jinx, he grabs the death of his knife. At the sign, his men form a half circle around the blue haired criminal, directly closing the only way out. "You won't talk all that shit after I sink my blade in your throat" she can't help but feel compassion for these poor bastards. Faintly, she can already feel their blood falling on her skin while putting bullets between their eyes. "I would like to see you try" she changes her body stance, right side facing them while she takes out her gun with her left hand, making a show of placing the bullets in. Unlike what she thought, they do not follow her; instead, the leader seems relaxed as ever. His dark eyes reflect hers and for a second Jinx can see a dangerous, maniacal glint in them and a cruel grin on his lips.

"Oh I did try, and succeeded, with your little piltie bitch-girlfriend" her breathing stops, heart missing a beat, and time seems to stop for a moment, before it all starts to spin again, faster and faster as she gets angrier and angrier. "You should have heard her screams. The sweetest I've ever heard" she imagines you, clutching at your side, tears in your eyes and spit falling off your mouth; begging for him to leave you alone, to let you go. His features are lost under a black veil and painted over with a red open mouthed smile and tight eyes, not unlike the monsters that she has to fight with every night, as he raises the crimson blade and-.

"Don't you fucking dare" her throath feels raw when she speaks, almost as if she's spewing pure black hatred with each word. "Or what? What are you going to do?" 'He thinks he's the shit, huh?', she thinks, loading the storage to the brim and finally raising the barrel of her gun to aim on his forehead. "I am going to enjoy blowing your brains out"

'No one hurts the people I love'.

The next few seconds are a blur of colours and movement. Her body moves before her mind can understand what is going on. She ducks under something coming at her, kicking at the figure and sending them flying a few feet away from her. Someone pulls at her braids and she yelps, momentarily confused; in a fraction of a second, she blows their hand off, crouching and punching in the face a second figure. The blood on the ground, spilling from the screaming man gives everything a shape again and she's back to the alley. Three men are down, two unconscious and one debilitated. The remaining ones look at her up and down, before the leader nudges them, kicking their shins.

One of them takes a metal rod from his side and swings wildly at Jinx, paying no attention to where he hits. She dodges him with no effort and when he stops momentarily to rest his arm, she knocks his weapon from his hands and hits him in the neck with it, white replacing the colour of his eyes. The other, after seeing the bodies of who used to be his companions, runs away, leaving his leader behind; but before he can make it far, a bullet runs fast through his chest and he falls to the floor, lifeless.

He is the last one standing. "Heh, you call yourself a leader, but you couldn't even save your men". His teeth grind harshly against each other, sending jolts of pain through his mouth, "Shut the fuck up".

But Jinx doesn't. No, she's going to enjoy torturing the life out of this fucker like he did to you. "You didn't even lift a finger. I didn't know Zaun could have such a coward walking through its streets".

He finally snaps, spit flowing out of his mouth as he screams, staining the mask inside "I said shut up!". He breathes in the chemical Jinx is so familiar with, huffing purple clouds out of the mask with a metallic sound. Once again, he feels the rush of the substance in his lungs, blood circling small purple bubbles throughout the body, strengthening his muscles and blanking his mind. But this time, his body starts to twitch and shake, slipping out of his control.

The heart beats faster, the lungs lose their air and move erratically, blood flows freely through his body and bones morph, stretching and breaking and strengthening. His muscles cannot be sustained by the bones anymore, and he falls to the floor. The space inside his ribcage feels tighter, his lungs can only provide so much until finally, his body stops changing and he can stand up, much taller than Jinx now.

The blue haired criminal looks incredibly unimpressed with her opponent's new shape, her eyes studying his moments and planning the next few seconds. That grotesque creature lunges, pushing his whole weight on the top of his body, falling messily when Jinx dodges him. She ducks under a clawed swing, rolling through the space between his legs; then, while he is confused and looking for her, aims at his neck.

The bullet lodges itself into the skin, remaining snugly fit between flesh. The scream that leaves him could have woken up the dead. His nails dig into his neck, trying desperately to yank the bullet out, but to no avail. He turns and turns, like a cat chasing its tail, before dizziness gets to him and he falls to the floor, spilling saliva all over the concrete. When he looks around once again, he is face to face with Jinx's gun, staring at the black hole of the barrel. "You made a mistake crossing me, today. Let this be a lesson" she tilts the gun until it's flat against his forehead. He is not capable of forming words anymore, they die at the base of his throath, leaving only emptiness behind. For a moment, she can see in his eyes something that resembled her, many years ago: a scared animal, one that does not understand what their fate will be. But when her mind reminds her of how viciously he attacked you, and how you are lying in her bed, with no assurance that you'll wake up, anger bubbles once again behind her eyes, clouding her thoughts.

"I'm sorry" is all that he hears, before his body falls to the floor, life leaving his eyes.

Her heart feels cold, as well as her body and mind. Jinx, in her own kind of weird way, is already trying to make peace with the fact that, once she comes back home, you might be gone. All too often in her life she had to come to terms with the death of her loved ones, and all too often, she was directly involved with their demise. She can already picture it: you on the bed, blood staining your clothes and the mattress, Isha on her knees, crying her heart out. She, coming home, seeing your dead body lying on what used to be your little shared creek, shielded by the world, falling to her knees and her heart finally giving out to pain, soon to follow you.

From the crack inside the wall, she can spot the helix of her home, the one she'll soon walk over to reach you. She tries to move, but to no avail: her body doesn't let her. Her muscles are reduced to mush, her legs feel like lead and her heart heaves on her rib cage so much that she had to bend down, clutching at her chest to try and ignore that pain. She could stay here forever, stalling time to this single minute, winding it back over and over and over again, all for the purpose of pretending she's still with you, back in your apartment in Piltover, laying naked on the bed with serene smiles on your faces.

But she can't. Even if she could stop time, right here and now, what could she do? Nothing would change. You'd still be dead, she'd still be heartbroken, the bed would still be cold on your side.

She slips inside the crevice, body molding to its shape, before she is face to face with the entrance to her home. She's so lost in her dread and fear that, for a moment, she doesn't hear the sound of laughter from the inside. When her mind recognized the sound, the pitch of the voice she so longed to hear, tears prickled at her eyes and hope filled her heart. She rushes towards the sound, almost tripping down the helix and falling to her death.

There you are. Laying on the bed, laughing weakly as Isha gesticulates and shouts loudly, imitating some sort of monster. Every little light inside her home has been placed near you, probably by Isha, and lifts your figure with a myriad of colorful shades. You look like a living painting to her.

You can't even process seeing her when she's already on you, touching you everywhere, checking your pulse, grabbing onto your legs to assure herself, to make sure that you...

"Are you... really alive?". You could crumble right here and now under those tearful eyes of hers, so soft and beautiful, looking almost powder blue. You stretch your arms to reach down to her, hugging her close to you; "I am, I am". Jinx takes a moment to process your hug and your words; and when she does, when she's certain that you are alive, that you are okay, her walls crumble away.

She pulls you down towards her, wanting to reciprocate the hug, but impatience gets the better of her and instead pulls herself on the bed, halfway reaching you. Her head rests on your belly, tears staining your clothes when she feels your hand on her back. "I thought-! I thought you-" her words die in her throath when she feels your fingers cupping at her cheek, pulling her to rest on her knees and look into your eyes. "I know, I know. I am okay".

Tears fall freely down her cheeks once again, her bottom lip wavering before she takes refuge in your body, hiding her tears on your lap. "I am so glad! I am so glad...".

Once her tears dry, she pushes herself to look at you, eyes puffy and red. "You are okay" she says, and you're about to assure her once again, but something tells you that she's really talking to herself. She climbs on the bed with you, quickly resting her head on your chest. You can't help but smile at her, ready to cuddle together when you realize you've let someone out of the picture. Isha looks at you both with those big eyes of her, pouting. She knows exactly how to push your buttons.

"Come on kid, get in" come Jinx's words, quickly followed by Isha tangling herself in between your bodies and closing her eyes, sleep already overtaking her. "Man, she sure takes a lot of space" you chuckle, placing your hand on Isha's head and stroking her locks between your fingers, hearing a small contented sigh from her. "Yeah, but she deserves it". A heavy silence fills the space, one that you usually pair up with tranquillity, but who you quickly realize is loud for your lover. "Jinx... I am okay" stopping them from screaming in her ears is hard, but when you are with her, they vanish off of existence. Your voice brings her back to reality, as well as reminding her that you have gotten hurt. Letting herself relax after the storm is something she's not used to. "I know" but she can try.

Starting this conversation will be a pain, you think to yourself, but you need to tell her.

"...He told me your real name, Jinx. And, what you did". Quick snapping sounds, mixed with hushed voices and distant screams fill her head in a second, getting louder by the second. She doesn't find in herself the strength to answer, too tired from the day's events; but nevertheless, listens. She leans on the bed, eyes dark and attentive. The scent of your skin fills her nose and she braces herself for your next words. "But...I don't care".

What?

"I don't know what you've been through, but... I don't need to know. You will tell me if you want to". It all stops. Every sound, every shout or whisper, every heartbeat or pulse of electricity. It seems, for a moment, that all becomes white and quiet, before the world starts to spin again. You feel her strong fingers push you more towards her, one cold hand under your clothes, right where your wound is. "Thank you toots, that means a lot".

Less than twenty seconds of silence later, she's already pestering you with her worries again, "Does it hurt? Do I need to give you som-" you interrupt her, taking her hand in yours. Normally, you would be a little annoyed by her continuous train of words, but she needs to be reassured. She needs to hear it from you, how many times it takes. "I am okay. I just need you here with me".

That seems enough to let her finally bear down her worries and she quickly rests on the bed, eyelids heavy and a yawn in her throath. "...I made you a monkey...gift" she slurrs over her words, already slipping in and out of conciousness. "Oh really?". "Yeah...". You too are about to follow her shortly, and before you let sleep overtake you, you reach behind and place a kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight Jinx" she smiles, catching your lips in a quick peck and pushing her nose in the crevice of your shoulders; "Goodnight toots".

Bonus ----------------

When Sevika came home that night, after her usual gambling and drinking out in Zaun's bar, she certainly did not expect to find the messily tangled body of limbs that were you, Jinx and Isha.

As quietly as she possibly can, she takes the chair Jinx sits on while doing her evil scientist machineries and sits next to your bed. Placing a cigar in between your lips and lights it, blowing the smoke away in the opposite direction. She looks back at the bed, multiple coloured lights shading your peacefully sleeping figures. She stays silent for a moment, before she crouches on her knees and shakes the tip of the cigar, firing crumbling pieces of tobacco down on the floor. "They do look pretty cute".

#jinx arcane x reader #arcane x reader #jinx x reader #arcane x you #arcane x female reader #jinx x fem!reader #no smut #violence tw #fluff

872 notes · View notes

hypnotic-wine-dove · 18 days ago

Text

Generative AI has no right to be in HelPol spaces .ᐟ.ᐟ

I can say honestly that I have used generative AI in the past. I have never used ChatGPT but to say I haven’t at all would be disingenuous.

Me and my partner found a website that generated memes (awfully) and found it funny. This was about early 2024, it was a one time thing, and it hasn’t been touched since. (This Meme Does Not Exist) — I acknowledge that a year ago we probably should’ve known, I’m not sure why we didn’t think about it, we truly didn’t know.

I have also looked at Google’s AI for a quick answer before scrolling down or even closing the tab entirely. I feel so guilty about my contribution, more so that I did that at the same time I started practicing paganism, but I want to say I apologise and will not knowingly use, post, or spread AI going forward. Especially for Google, I will think about looking past the AI overview no matter how “easy” it will be to get an answer. (I mention this later)

Since last year, AI has exploded, with people encouraging it to people giving all they got to remove it. I learned very quickly how harmful AI is not only for the environment but for creators. AI is generative PURELY because it takes from others, it can never make something of its own. Talk of AI is everywhere on the internet by now, there aren’t many excuses to not have at least heard something about its negative impact.

Before I left school, I saw my peers boast openly about how they used ChatGPT and even had a teacher of mine encourage it. I found it shocking. This isn’t a matter of struggling with school work and assignments, this is not being able to think for yourselves. Find your teacher, find a tutor, find a textbook, find online resources. That’s the issue. As said earlier, it’s easy and fast. People want answers? Want something funny? Boom. It’s there. That’s how people get sucked into it.

Back to HelPol spaces

Using AI to write posts about Hellenic Polytheism straight up rips off actual academic authors !! and other Tumblr users. Using AI to generate ��art” of the gods takes from actual artists who put work and effort in, unlike you. I’ve seen so many beautiful drawings from those in the HelPol community, some that are heartfelt, amusing, or captured how I see a deity.

AI is empty, void, and cold. It doesn’t and will never have the imperfections or the lines done by the human mind. It doesn’t have the soul and determination to create.

AI takes away the freedom for a creator to post their works. If you practice Hellenic polytheism, do you not think this goes against gods of art? Of music? Of poetry? Any kind of medium. Think of what the gods stand for too: nature, animals, the world.

(I speak to those using AI who are also HelPol, but you absolutely do not need to be religious to want to protect the rights of creators and the Earth)

Please talk about the gods, create for the gods even if it isn’t pro-level art. Please write for the gods even if it’s a small drabble that has spelling mistakes and grammar issues. Do your best. But don’t turn to AI because it’ll be quick, or you’re struggling, or because you think it’ll get you pumping out a lot of posts for likes.

AI doesn’t come from a brain, or a heart, it is a machine that takes and spits out what it learned from human beings. People that put in time to write what they did, time to draw what they did.

Think for yourselves. Don’t let the machine do it for you.

@pixilatedwitchery and @dancing-with-maenads list of HelPol (and general pagan) accounts that use AI — here

#helpol #hellenic pagan #hellenic polytheism #hellenic polytheistic #hellenic deities #hellenic community #anti ai #anti artificial intelligence #anti art theft #dividers by icyporcelain #🌙#📢

246 notes · View notes

dark-lord-of-awesomeness · 3 months ago

Note

Infects you with brain worms. Infects you with brain worms. Cmon. Cmon you know you want to write Vampire Bat Stan being afraid of heights and climbing his brother. Cmon you know you want to write Ford using a toothbrush to do the brushie brushie on a sleepy Bat Stan. Bat is only one letter away from cat cMON YOU KNIW YOU COULD. INFECTS YOU WITH BRAIN WORMS INFECTS YOU WITH BRAIN WORMS

I'll do it, but only because i really want to and I heard its your birthday. And I was half tempted anyway.

Someday my tags will get by unseen. Someday.

"So how's this supposed to work," Stan asked, standing in Fords vampire death lab, "Because if it involves yelling anything, I'm out."

"As far as I can tell there's no incantation," Ford said, "All the vampire's I've seen transform just do it."

"Maybe think bat thoughts!" Fiddleford yelled, still on the other side of the lab and in his 'safety bubble' which he'd set up shortly after Stan had been dragged into this whole mess. Since it was only a matter of time before the hunger became too much and Stan lost it, they'd put up several safety precautions so that Fiddleford hopefully wouldn't be his first target. Ford was determined to 'contain' him when that time came, but Stan had exchanged enough glances with Emma-May and Fiddleford to know that they wouldn't hesitate to put him in his permanint grave.

But for now, there was a ring of garlic around Fiddleford, as well as a several silver chains cross-crossed around him. It made Stan hurt just by looking at it, so he tried not to. Stan and Ford were on the other side, in the little area near the door Ford had set up so that Stan had somewhere to hang out down here that didn't make his skin want to crawl off, and kept him out of sight if any townsfolk happened to sneak down here for whatever reason.

Since Stan had dedicated himself to their cause and promised to help either clear out the other vampires surrounding the place or find a way to help the townsfolk outlast them, he'd been working on his 'vampire powers' that Ford said he should have but no one had bothered to tell him about.

Too busy being 'mysterious' and 'edgy' probably.

"What does that mean? Bat thoughts." Stan muttered, "I'm not flapping my hands, if that's what your saying."

"You shouldn't have to," Ford said. His brother was standing a few feet away, somewhat less garlicy than usual and silver lined coat hanging on a nearby chair so he wouldn't burn Stan while he was down here. Stan thought it was stupid, but Ford was dead set on it after they'd brushed arms once and Stan's arm had been seared.

"Like I said," Ford continued, "all the vampires have gone from one form to the other without doing any kind of verbal incantation or movement. Some have done it from standing, others running, jumping, and in one particular case, cartwheel."

Stan groaned, then rubbed his face. That was less than helpful. All of those vampires were probably dead and the secret of tranformation gone with them. And it wasn't like Stan could stick his head out and yell out to the crowd.

"Alright," he shook out his hands, then narrowed his eyes, "Bat thoughts. Just gotta think like a bat... what do bats think about?"

"Blood sucking, i reckon." Fiddleford called out, and Stan shot him a glare. The man ignored him, tinkering away at whatever vampire killing machine he was working on now.

"Maybe think about the act of changing form," Ford said, drawing his attention, "the freedom of movement a smaller form provides, or escape."

"Escape, huh?" Stan could get behind that. Escaping was practically his... blood and blood? Neck and blood? There wasn't a good vampire play on bread on butter, only having one food source.

Whatever.

Stan tried to focus on being smaller, less noticeable, just a small, regular guy. Nothing to see here, just your run of the mill, more natural blood sucker.

Ford let out a gasp, and Stan yelled as the ground disappeared from under him. Quickly opening his eyes, he saw the cold hard floor fast approaching, and tried to bring his arms up to catch himself. Instead two giant black sails jerked down, and he was catapulted back up. All the noise in the room seemed twice as loud, and disorienting him and making it even harder to focus on what he was doing.

"You did it Stanley!" Ford cheered. Stan would have loved to join him, if he wasn't waving his arms around and screaming. Despite now looking like a bat, he didn't fell any kind of natural instinctive way to flap his wings to actually fly like one, and seeing the ground so far below him wasn't helping.

Before he managed to slam himself into a wall or the floor, he was grabbed out the air by a pair of disgusting smelling hands. His entire body fit into the palm of one of them, but his giant wings spilled over the sides. He pulled them in, struggling to figure out how to move everything, then hooked his thumbs around the nearest fingers.

"Hmm. Ford said, suddenly much larger and louder than before, "I didn't realize flying wouldn't come naturally. Something to practice."

"Practice-smactice!" Stan hissed, thankfully still able to talk, "This sucks! In a non-vampire, terrible way! I'm tiny! Why would I ever want to do this?"

"To escape notice, or flee," Ford said, holding his hands up and way to far off the ground, "Now off you go."

Ford jerked his hands up and let go, but Stan wasn't having it. Turning into a bat seemed cool in theory, but actually doing it not so much. The ground seemed twice as terrifying at this size, and his arms were already tired from his mad flapping earlier. Stan clamped his thumbs around Ford's sleeve, then kicked his legs until he found a finger and held on tight.

This felt much more natural than flapping his arms around. He tightened his grip when Ford grunted and started waving his arm, but even as a bat Stan was much stronger than him now, he wasn't coming off unless he wanted to.

"Come now Stanley," Ford said, bringing in his other hand to try and pry him off, "You won't get any better if you don't try."

"Too bad," Stan hissed, holding tighter, "Its not happening. Lets just move onto less horrible, more useful vampire powers."

Ford sighed, but he did stop prying at Stan and instead just held his arm out, "Very well. Change back and we'll move on. You might be able to turn into mist, and there's a few others that might be worth trying."

Stan nodded, then tried to think of... not human, vampire thoughts? His thoughts hadn't really changed much the last year, just got more annoyed by how much unlife was one downside after another, and trying to ignore the gaping pit in his stomach and how dry his throat was all the time.

Regardless, he thought his thoughts, trying to will himself back.

"Stanley," Ford said, giving him an unimpressed look as he continued to hang off his arm, "We can't move on until your back to your original form."

"I know!" Stan replied, using his thumbs to crawl higher up Fords arm so his feet weren't holding Ford's fingers and were instead clutching his sleeve, "I'm trying! Its just that I'm-" Stan smirked, "-winging it here."

Bingo. Fords face twitched as he snorted, then he coughed into his other hand when Fiddleford sighed.

"But seriously," Stan said, squinting at the ground that was still way too far away, "I'm not sure what kind of thoughts scream 'turn back into a vampire'."

"Blood sucking!" Fiddleford yelled, and Stan leaned over so he could glare at him again.

"Not helping!" he called out, then yelled when Ford moved his arms. The one he wasn't holding went up to rub at Ford's chin, while the one Stan was clutching to for dear life crosed under it, squishing him into Fords chest.

From here, he could really hear Fords steady heart beat, strong and powerful, full of delicious untouched blood. He could also smell all the garlic, making him gag and burning his nose as he struggled to free himself from Fords arms.

"Hmm," Ford said, oblivious to Stan's struggles, "Well if escape turns you into a bat, then maybe attack? Try thinking aggressive thoughts."

"Believe me," Stan wheezed, garlic making him dizzy, "I'm thinkin' all kinds of painful thoughts."

Ford finally seemed to realize that maybe holding him so close to his garlic aura was doing more harm than good, and he muttered an apology as he stuck his arm back out. Stan took a few deep breaths, trying to clear his head. The garlic smell didn't go away, but it wasn't as bad as before.

"Ugh," Stan coughed, then climbed further up Fords arm so he wouldn't get squished at any unexpected arm movements, "Why'd I want to do this again? You look awful from this angle."

"I believe you said something about wanting to" Stan yelped as Fords arms came up to make quotation marks, making him loose his balance and slide so he was hanging upside down, "'one up those stuck up assholes' by using your shared power set against them. I'm not sure why we started with turning into a bat. It just seemed the right course of action."

"Well," Stan muttered, using his wing thumbs to hook onto Fords shoulder and swing up, "next time I suggest something that involves my feet leaving the ground, remind me of this."

The garlic smell got worse the closer he was to Fords neck, but he'd take it over being swung around like a handbag while Ford talked. He eyed his brothers chest, then wiggled so he could climb down and hang down by his stomach.

"What are you doing," Ford asked, holding a hand out behind him. Hopefully to catch him if he fell, and not to squish him.

"Trying not to get flung off," Stan said, hooking a thumb into the shirt and grabbing it with his weird little legs, "Your whole face makes me want to pass out, so i'm gonna-" another smirk, "-hang out down here."

Stan was bounced slightly by the force of Ford's chuckle. The smell wasn't as bad down here, and the sounds of Fords stomach gurgling and his lungs working helped drown out his heart beat. He jumped when something touched his back, then bent his head backwards to see Fords hand, supporting his weight.

"I see," Stan grunted as Ford started moving, making the shirt and therefore Stan swing slightly, "I'll try to review my notes and accounts of some previous encounters, see if I can find a common trait for you to focus on."

"Sure, sure. Whatever," Stan said, pressing his head into the fabric of Fords shirt, focusing on the sounds of his brother's living body. It was different, being so close, louder.

Warmer.

Stan hadn't felt warm in ages. The closest he'd gotten was not-cold or burning. The heat of the sun was agony, the press of other vampires nothing but more cold corpses. Not even staying down south helped, the air cooling with the setting sun before Stan could enjoy it.

The last time he'd been warm had been the last time he'd lost it, ripping into Rico's men and stealing the warmth from their rapidly cooling bodies.

This wasn't anything like then. It was steady, constant. Not stolen, just the heat of his brother, soaking into him. The pangs of his hunger didn't go away, but it felt soothed, and the dryness of his throat wasn't nearly as demanding.

Stan shoved his face into Fords stomach, pressed his ear as close to his skin as he could, and listened to every beat, every whoosh, ever creak and groan. All the evidence of life he'd forgotten.

All the things he missed. All the proof that being a vampire really was its own form of hell.

"Stanley?" Ford asked, an hour or so later. There wasn't much detail on the hows and whys of vampiric abilities, but he'd gone through what he could fine, along with his own written accounts of the various vampires he'd taken care of since starting down this dark and- well it was lonely at first, but it was hard to claim the title with Fiddleford tinkering several feet away and Emma-May upstairs patrolling, along with all the townsfolk taking shelter in his house.

And the vampire, who was all but snuggling into Ford's stomach. He'd fallen silent some time ago after Ford had grabbed his books and sat down at his hastily cleared desk. He'd thought Stan was focusing on turning back into his original form, but a quick glance showed the half lidded eyes and Stan's wings slumped against him.

His brother made a high-pitched chittering sound, then nuzzled his squished bat face further into Fords shirt. The thumbs clutching the fabric pulled, then slowly eased.

"Stanley," Ford said again, smiling softly. Stan chittered again, sounding annoyed, then kicked his legs until he could grab on a little higher and push his face further into Fords shirt. Ford chuckled, then frowned.

Stan looked innocent and harmless now, but he'd seen blood crazed vampires before, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Stan lost whatever control he had. He'd been making preparations to try and contain and neutralize Stan when that happened, but the thought of what could happen if it didn't work- If Ford was forced to put down his own brother-

It sickened him. Stan shouldn't have to suffer something so terrible.

His thoughts were interrupted by another chitter, and a small eye squinted up at him. Ford chuckled again, then looked around his desk. It was risky putting his hands so close to Stan's head when he was half asleep like this, and the last thing he needed was to be turned by his own sluggish brother. He rummaged around some nearby drawers, then pulled a toothbrush out with a small 'aha'.

He'd stuck a pack down here when people had complained about his smell in the bathroom upstairs, and had resigned himself to doing his morning preparations down here. He made sure to grab a clean one, then looked back down at Stan's squinty, fuzzy head.

He really did look like a bat, down to his squished nose, large ears, and sharp teeth. The only hint that he was more than he appeared was how the fur around his neck was thicker, slightly curled, and gave the impression of a bat with a mullet.

That, and the stillness of his chest, the strength in his tiny digits, the paleness of his wings, and how cold he was. Like a corpse.

Ford brought the bristles of the tooth brush to the bat-mullet, gently brushing it down. Stan's eye narrowed, then closed, and he let out another chitter before settling down. Ford was tempted to pet him, but there was no telling how tempted Stan would be, so the toothbrush would have to do.

"If you get bit," Fiddleford called out, after a few minutes, "I'm not gonna stop Emma-May from staking you."

"I'll be fine," Ford reassured him, "I'm wearing another layer underneath my shirt, his teeth wouldn't be able to pierce it at his normal size."

Fiddleford humphed, and Ford shook his head, going back to brushing Stan's head. He'd have to make the bars of the containment unit smaller, now that Stan knew how to do this. Maybe a silver mesh, so that Stan couldn't slip through the larger bars.

Then... well, Ford was a scientist first, hunter second. If anyone could figure out how to cure a vampire, it was him.

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #stan pines #ford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #vampire stan #vampire hunter ford #happy birthday!#Enjoy!

205 notes · View notes

bratreligion · 3 months ago

Text

LOOK WHAT YOU DID FEATURING CONNIE SPRINGER | CHAPTER ONE

“and i’m feeling something new, i can’t explain it, heart racin’. and it only beats for you, i can’t resist. oh, look what you did.”

SYNOPSIS after three or so years of living the single life, you run into famous music producer, connie springer who would later change your life forever.

CHAPTER ONE wc 3k smth ngl im lazy, no content warnings needed i think, haven’t been here in a minute i hope yall like it because i’ve never done a series before! :D

it was a quiet saturday, the soft, consistent chatter of season two of the vampire diaries mindlessly sounded from your tv, its purpose being background noise for the evening. as you wiggled your left toes under the led lights of your gel dryer, you finished cleaning up the edges of the polish on your right toes. it was the last thing you had planned to do for the day after running yourself a hot bubble bath, enveloping yourself in the soothing embrace of lavender infused body oils, and gently massaging the silky blend down your thighs and calves. as the week ended, it didn't take much to indulge yourself and feel truly pampered. working full time as a makeup artist could be exhausting, but the money made it all worthwhile. Some nights, all it took was a bottle of wine to unwind.

a little ‘beep’ chirped from the machine, signaling the polish was dry. you smiled as you stretched your legs out, proudly admiring the design you managed to draw on your toes. going for something simple, an hour prior, you had drawn french tips on your toes, painting little pastel hearts every other toe, nothing too special, but certainly on brand for you. fingers tapping the polish a few times, you ensured the last coat was completely dry before slipping your legs off the bed, sinking your manicured feet into the soft, warm cushion of your baby blue care bear slippers, the cotton soothing the soles of your feet. ss the clock approached 5 pm, a gentle rumble in your stomach hinted that dinner was still a ways off. yet, the craving for a snack tugged at you. you started making your way toward your bedroom door, eager to rummage through the kitchen until the erratic buzzing of your phone vibrated through the floor.

you sighed dramatically, not the slightest bit surprised by reading the contact name attempting to reach you. you grasped the device, feigning annoyance as you answered the phone. your brows furrowed slightly, anticipating the exchange, knowing you loved it when ymir called. “man, what do you want?”

“yo, shut up, you’re not even doing anything.” ymir huffed, scowling. she was seated in her jeep wrangler, the blacked out interior and tinted windows all too familiar because she was constantly on the go. her dark brown curls framed her freckled face, diamonds dancing on the chain her girlfriend had bought her, sporting a new white designer hoodie from a brand you didn’t even know the name of. you had to admit, the girl could clean up nicely. “so, look, my cousin is co-hosting a block party on the north, and before you say you aren’t coming, i never said you had a choice. get dressed.”

you strolled over to your bed, falling back into the plushness of your mattress, rolling your eyes as you blew a raspberry. nine times out of ten, you only left the house because of ymir, her extroverted nature heavily differing from your meek self. while most friends in relationships abandoned you, ymir and her girlfriend were frequently coercing you into coming out of your condo, even snatching you out of your room from time to time. you knew what the deal was when she called. “‘mir, i told you last night that i don’t want to come out this weekend. besides, a block party sounds like too much, especially if eren’s hosting.”

ymir sucked her teeth, laughing in annoyance. “girl, i don’t wanna hear that. get up, it’ll be fun. you act like an old ass lady.” if anyone else had been on the phone, you would have hung up minutes ago. it had been some time since you had seen ymir, as your busy schedule had prevented you from taking too many personal days. the two of you had gone from seeing each other four times a week to once every other weekend. you chuckled as you shook your head, knowing your arguments fell on deaf ears when it came to her. besides, you did miss her.

you sat up, making your way over to your vanity, propping the phone against the mirror as you sat on the furry stool. “whatever, lil’ girl, are we matching today or what?”

she grinned, displaying her teal braces as she bounced in her seat, gripping the steering wheel. “hell yeah, i know you’ve got something orange and white. i’ll be there in thirty.”

time slipped away as you stood before the mirror, a radiant smile spreading across your face after your conversation with ymir. you couldn't help but admire yourself, feeling a rush of confidence as you took in your reflection. “pretty” wasn’t even the word to describe how you looked. you stood comfortably in your orange and white dunks, adjusting the light wash denim mini skirt you paired with a white, long sleeve bodysuit and an orange puffer. your braids dangled down your back, the curls in each braid making the style fuller. by the time you’d finished accessorizing with jewelry, ymir was outside, blasting the usual rap music you had grown used to.

you were familiar with the area the block party was in, having been on the north side for outings several times before. the street thrummed with life, a vibrant array of people coming and going, their laughter and conversations blending harmoniously with the pulse of music that flowed through the air. as you stepped out of the car, the smell of weed traveling with the cool september air engulfed your senses, and it didn’t smell like anything ymir had smoked on the ride there. as ymir led you around, she was greeted by at least ten people who asked who you were and why they had never seen you before. ymir ignored their questions. like her infamous cousin, she was well known. sometimes you thought that if you hadn’t met her in the eighth grade, you would’ve never crossed paths.

“yo, cuzzo!” ymir screeched, jogging towards eren, who pulled her into a hug as he dapped her up. you had known eren almost as long as ymir, and saying they were two peas in a pod would be an understatement. if they were not meant to be cousins, they would have been twins. not only did they share the same goofy, playful personalities, but they also looked alike. as much as it pained you to admit it, due to his player nature, eren always looked good. a gold chain rested on his black wife beater that appeared too tight for his muscled chest and his long, brown locks in his usual low bun. his smile was something of its own, sensual and overly sexy. eren was fine, no doubt about it, but you knew that regardless of all his flirting over the years, he was worse than ymir before she met her girlfriend. he was sex on legs–a walking red flag.

“what’s up, ‘mir!,” eren cheekily grinned, geeked to be around his cousin. his eyes shifted to you, doing his usual shameless eyeing at your figure and face, his smile turning devious. “oh, you brought, miss hollywood. come here, girl, where my hug at?”

giggling, you smacked your lips, striding towards eren and hugging him, squealing as he held you close. “hi, eren, nice to see you too.”

eren grinned at you. “i haven’t seen you in hellas, where you been?”

shifting in your shoes, you tilted your head to the side, playing coy. “working, man. you know i don’t get a break. these celebrities work the hell out of me.”

he threw his arm around you, biting down on his lower lip. “you work too hard, i’ve been telling you about that. forget them. call me when you wanna do a full beat.” his joke got a small laugh from your lips, but it was interrupted when a voice across the lot called his name, diverting his attention. you brushed off the interruption, leaning casually against eren’s car while sharing a laugh with ymir as she blew guava mango scented smoke from her geek bar into the atmosphere.

“man, he’s gonna feel like he won the election the day you let him giggle you out them victoria’s secret panties, i swear to god,” ymir mumbled, laughing harder as you swatted her leg. she leaned over, watching eren as he talked, and you, being just as nosy as she was, watched alongside her. next to him stood a man a few inches shorter, maybe standing at 5'9, modeling an overgrown silver toned blonde buzzcut. he wore a pair of black chrome hearts sunglasses on his lower nose bridge, but it did little work at hiding who he was underneath, his facial features all too familiar. you squinted as you scanned his outfit, which was a white jersey with pink and yellow lettering on his torso, paired with oversized jean shorts with ragged edges. the sight of his exclusive black and yellow louis vuitton sneakers left you speechless, recalling how you had seen the shoes before, but in person and not online.

you thought about the last time you’d done someone’s makeup for a big event around two weeks ago. you always wore a mask when you worked, regardless of how comfortable you were because most of the time, your client wasn't the only person in the room. that day, you’d done at least four looks, and the final one was for mikasa ackerman, a singer who had become a well known name in the alternative pop genre. it wasn’t the first time you’d done her makeup, however, things were different due to the presence of a certain music producer, constance ‘connie’ springer. it had been a long day, and as much as you wanted to fangirl in your head, you were too tired. you were used to being around people of all different statuses, so you didn’t pay him much mind as he and mikasa discussed the production details for her upcoming album. the last thing you remembered from that day was watching the shoes strut out the dressing room door, wishing you had a pair.

you gasped, your hand instantly finding ymir’s forearm, unintentionally digging your nails into the skin. she winced, slapping your hand, looking at you as if you were a mad woman. “girl, what the hell?”

“ymir, you didn’t tell me eren knew connie fucking springer?” you raised an eyebrow, ymir’s eyes nearly bursting out of their sockets as she looked closer at the figure by eren. connie springer, the producer behind most of the albums released in the past four years, each of which had spent a considerable amount of time on the charts, was standing next to eren, who wasn't famous for much besides his parties and his performance in bed. they were casually chatting as if their conversation were completely ordinary.

“no fuckin’ way.” she whispered. while ymir was in full fangirl mode, completely captivated by the realization that connie's producer tag graced almost all of her favorite tracks, each one now infused with an extra layer of excitement seeing the talent behind them, connie and eren were looking in the direction where you and ymir stood. eren looked back and forth between you and connie, but connie’s eyes set on you. you felt small under his gaze even though he was at least twelve feet away from you, and the pool of interest settling into his golden orbs wasn’t visible, but you could feel it. he removed his sunglasses, tucking them into his back pocket, and now, you were sure his attention was on you. he wore a smirk like no other as he took in each one of your unique features to the best of his ability, distance aside. you swallowed.

“yo, [♡], come here for a second!” eren shouted, his fingers making a motion, signaling for you. you froze, gripping that same spot on ymir’s arm. she stood by you in shock, yet a shit eating grin spread across her lips. she laughed, placing her hands on your shoulders, and pushing you in their direction. you wanted to move, not phased by the fact a famous person was in your vicinity, speaking with someone you had known for years, but more so in awe at the fact that they were likely–no, were, talking about you. it made you nervous and you never got nervous around people like him.

“go see what they want, scary ass!” she giggled, shoving you, earning a nasty scowl from you as you looked back.

you gave her the middle finger, the french tip acrylics on your nails making the gesture seem even more impactful. “you suck.”

a pit of nerves bubbled in your stomach as you made your way over to the pair, shoulders suddenly tense and your skirt riding higher with each step. attempting to look nonchalant, you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jacket, ignoring how sweaty they grew as connie’s gaze became more apparent with every inch you moved. you tried to relax, only focusing on eren as connie’s eyes drilled holes into your head, as if he was daring you to look at him, to give him that attention he was so used to receiving. if anything, your refusal, unfamiliar to him, was intriguing. eren struggled to suppress a grin, his vibrant green eyes flickering playfully between you and connie, a glint of mischief twinkling in his gaze. “[♡], this is my boy, connie. you know him, right?”

you looked everywhere but connie’s eyes, settling on his lips but not before giving eren a stern look, nowhere near amused by his antics. “yeah, of course. i’ve seen him while working a few times too.” voice soft and sweet.

the man spoke, sending chills down your back as if it was the first time you’d heard his raspy, colorful tone. you’d heard him talk before, but it was nothing compared to how attractive he sounded now, speaking with deep intention and curiosity with a few simple words. five words melted off his tongue like honey. “but i don’t know you.”

you giggled, concealing that it was more of a nervous laugh. you weren’t the tallest, standing at five feet and four inches, but his lean figure was suddenly taller than it was two weeks ago, towering over you. he was confident as always, just on the brink of cockiness but in a way that made him so, so fine. and his thick accent was a whole other thing. “oh, i wouldn't expect you to, i'm just a makeup artist. i usually wear my mask with my clients, anyway.” you said, clearing your throat.

he closed the distance between you, the air thickening as the space between you vanished. by now, eren had walked off, somewhere with ymir watching the scene unfold, the pair giggling like school girls. the way he was moving gave you no choice but to look up into his eyes. he was finer in person, but up close and personal he was just as handsome as everyone said he was. his lips were somewhat full, a tiny freckle underneath the minty layer of chapstick on his lips. it was as if he didn’t blink, those long brown lashes making his golden eyes more appealing. he was tan, but a faint blush had crept onto his cheeks, natural or due to the lack of space between you two.

“you’re real pretty, you know that, ma?” the sudden nickname and compliment made you smile, and if your skin wasn’t that lovely shade of brown, he would’ve noticed blood rushing to your cheeks. people constantly flirted with you. you were the epitome of beauty. still, you'd be lying if you said hearing the praise come from connie didn't make you feel some type of way. “i definitely would have noticed you earlier. what's your name? eren already told me but i think i'd rather hear you say it.”

you crossed your arms as you laughed, your eyes raking up and down connie’s handsome exterior. “It's [♡]. and, thank you, mr. springer.”

he sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “why you callin’ me that? you don’t gotta be formal wit’ me.”

you shrugged, giggling as you kicked the rocks on the ground. “excuse me for being polite, constance.”

he cringed at the mention of his birth given name, sliding his hands into his front pockets as he relaxed his posture. he looked at you as if you were a dream come true, still awestruck at how beautiful you were, his inner thoughts more telling. in the back of his mind, he made mental notes of little details about you, storing them in the file cabinet of his head. your edges were neat and intact under the hot sun, still swooped as if you had just done them. when you talked, your lips sparkled, the glitter in the lip gloss sparkling with every movement you made. he didn’t intend for his gaze to wander lower than your chin, but he noticed how your thighs wobbled when you walked towards him earlier. you were so damn pretty. “yeah, aight. so what’s up with you? i saw you over there lookin’ all fine, i had to ask ej about you.”

“what did you wanna know?”

“all about you, but only you can tell me all that.” connie sat against his car, a black ferrari with bright orange rims, legs spread.

“look, connie,” you started as you crossed your arms, shaking your head. he looked at you attentively, resisting how badly he wanted to pull you in by your hips and between his legs, “i don’t get involved with a lot of people. you’re cute and all, but you’re famous. i work with your crowd, but i know better than to get romantically involved with anyone. besides, thousands of girls around here would be begging to have you in the backseat of their cars if they knew you were here.”

it pained you to have to reject a man this fine, but it was no secret men in the industry were bad to fool around with. they were always unfaithful, liars, and ungrateful for whatever godsent woman they had in their lives, and you had always told yourself you’d never be one of those women getting dogged out and embarrassed. connie was about one of the finest men you’d ever met, but you had set limits for yourself. connie had never been in a relationship the entire time he was a star, avoiding paparazzi or nosy fans whenever he had a little fling. he was also raised better than his peers in the industry who thought of women as accessories, unbeknownst to you. that being said, the frown on his lips was unpleasant as you spoke. he didn’t want you to assume he was like the men who let their status get to their heads. he wanted you to know the connie he stayed faithful to his entire time in the spotlight.

“i understand, hermosa, i do, but that isn’t me. i’m not some entitled cabron that gets around. believe me, i have nothing but pure intentions with a lady like you.” while it sounded sweeter than a sugar code coming off of his tongue, it was the standard talk a guy gave you when he wanted to convince you he was different and not like the rest. you had heard all of the lines before. you betted your lashes slowly as you observed connie as he spoke, attempting to find sincerity underneath his words. truthfully, if he wasn’t so cute, you would’ve walked away after saying your peace, but something about the pout on his lips kept you right where you were. “let me know you, girl.”

you took a step closer, now in between his legs, a smile on your lips. you thought you’d be a fool to believe anything he was saying. he was connie springer, a millionaire, and you were supposed to trust he was interested in you, a mere makeup artist from a block party he happened to think was pretty? still, you couldn’t deny how alluring the whole ordeal was. “i wish i could tell you yes, i really do.”

connie smiled sadly, the diamonds that decorated his canines waving at you. you were just about the prettiest thing he had ever seen, he would’ve taken the rejection a bit harder if you hadn’t given him the time of day. “so what, i’m supposed to just forget about your fine ass?.” he licked his lips slowly, his voice almost seductive.

you paused to consider his question, suspecting that by the time he met another girl at the event, he would forget the encounter, and both of you would return to your separate lives. “that’s up to you.”

that same pink shade of blush from earlier crept back up to the apple of his cheeks. “fasho, then.”

“don't trip, you'll see me around." you began walking off, looking back at him one last time with those pretty eyes as if you’d never see him again before making your way back to ymir, not missing the way he eyed your behind in the denim skirt. "bye, connie.”

“bye, mami."

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #connie x black!reader #connie springer x black reader #connie springer #aot x black reader #˗ˏˋ✩´ˎ˗ nana productions!#♫★·˚ ༘ lwyd.

169 notes · View notes

lis-likes-fics · 6 months ago

Text

Sweet Tooth

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader Word Count: 1.7k words Prompt: Finger Sucking Warnings: NSFW, smut, finger sucking, magic use, oral (f!receiving), swearing, praise... A/N: Was gonna post this as a drabble but decided not to cuz I didn't like the format but anyway enjoy and thank you!

“Sweetheart!”

You glance back at her from the living room. Wanda's been in the kitchen all afternoon on some baking spree, and you've been helping taste test things all day. You've had her finger in your mouth maybe seven different times, and you're sure it's going to drive you crazy.

You stand, walking over to her as you chew on your gum. “Yeah?”

“Taste this for me. I wanna make butter pecan ice cream.” Her smile is endearing, white and gleaming as she looks up at you from her mixing bowl.

You smile, tossing your gum in the trash on the way to her. You wrap an arm around her waist as she dips her finger into the mixture, waiting for you to part your lips and let her in. You stare at her face as you suckle gently around her finger, her gaze locked on your mouth.

You hum, pulling off with a light smack and licking your lips. “It's good. I like that.”

She smiles gratefully, grabbing the new ice cream mixture she'd bought recently. “You okay? That's, like, your third piece of gum today.”

You rub her side, moving away to lean against the counter. “It's actually my fourth. I'm gonna get cancer.”

She snorts. “But you're okay?”

You nod, your smile widening as you agree gently. Her care makes you fond because she knows that you chew gum when you're stressed or anxious—you have an oral fixation that entices you to always carry around gum or candy, anything you can use to occupy your mouth when you need to. She's always been wonderful about it.

“I'm okay.” It's nice to be cared for like this. “Someone just has me a bit worked up because she keeps making me suck on her fingers, even though utensils exist.”

Again, Wanda snorts as she spoons the mixture into the ice cream machine. “Yeah, but that's no fun.”

You smile, wrapping your arm tighter around her front. You pull her over so she stands in front of you, turning her face to press a kiss to her lips. She smiles against your mouth, setting the spoon and bowl down in favor of cradling your face.

“You sure you're okay?” she whispers into your mouth.

You nod, humming lightly and kissing her again. “I'm perfect.” You kiss her again. She's wearing strawberry chapstick, it tastes really good as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. “You're so pretty, honey. You know that?”

The slightest giggle tints her words. “Thank you, baby.” Her fingertips brush along your cheek in calm adoration. “But I can't take all the praise, look at you. My pretty girl.”

She kisses you again, and you feel like you'll stop breathing if she does it any longer. Her tongue swipes along your bottom lip, and you sigh into her as you part your lips. You hold her by her hips with a smile, enjoying her closeness.

After a moment, you pull away to dip your head into the crook of her neck. She smells like heaven as you inhale her scent, letting it wash over you while your tongue darts out to taste her skin, suckling and nibbling love bites into her neck and shoulder.

Her hands travel to the back of your head and neck, holding you close as her eyes flutter shut and her breath passes in gentle sighs. You sigh, your gentle affection growing in hunger as you search her out.

“You're eager today, sweetheart,” she coos as you mouth at her shoulder. You only hum in response.

Wanda sets her hands on your hips. She hoists you up onto the counter, letting her hands cradle your face. “Open up, baby.”

You part your lips, and your eyes flutter when she traces your bottom lip with two fingers. Your tongue darts out instinctively, grazing the tips of her fingers and drawing a smile to her lips. When she pushes those fingers into your mouth, you hum as you suckle around them.

Your hands reach for her, settling on her waist and pulling her in between your legs. You sigh heavily as your tongue laps along her fingers. They still taste of sugar, so sweet and so comforting as you let her pump them slowly in and out of your mouth.

“There you go, sweetheart,” she murmurs. “That feel better? Just nod or shake your head.”

You nod emphatically, your hands raising up to grasp her wrist and keep her there. She curses under her breath at the way you suck on her fingers, eyes droopy and saliva gathering at the base of her fingers.

“Such a good girl, baby,” she coos again. “My girl just needed something to suck on, didn't she?”

Your sigh is a whimper around her fingers. You lick them in, more and more messy by the second as you feel yourself melting under her. She presses down on your tongue, strokes the flat of it with her fingertips. As she thrusts them in and out of your mouth, brushing against the back of your tongue, you can feel yourself dissolving.

You feel pressure on your clit, this strange, surreal tightening and stroking that you've come to recognize as Wanda's magic. Your hips jerk lightly, your stomach tensing. She smiles. You can see a red glow at your side out of the corner of your bleary eyes.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” she whispers. You nod again. The stroking spreads, traveling further inside until you feel it in a spot that makes you dizzy.

You mumble around her fingers. You can only imagine how you must look right now—drooling over her fingers, eyes droopy, humming and moaning and aching for more.

Your tongue explores the length of her fingers, licking at the skin stretched between them, gliding along the bottom, stroking along her knuckles as they brush back and forth between your lips.

You take hold of her waist, tapping her side likely. She removes her fingers from you, but the stroking at your clit continues. “What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you done?”

You shake your head, sliding off the counter and onto shaky legs. “No, just…” Your tongue feels heavy. You embrace her in a deep kiss rather than answer her, loving on all the parts of her that you can reach. You raise her shirt up as you move onto your knees, pressing eager lips to her belly and listening to her sigh.

“My good girl,” she purrs, tilting her head back and letting her eyes shut. You pull her shorts down her legs, helping her to step out of them.

You lick along her inner thighs, leaning her back against the fridge as you bring one leg over your shoulder. She sighs, stroking her hand through your hair.

When you lick between her folds, her hips tilt up toward your mouth. Your eyes shut and your breath blows against her as you tuck yourself between her legs. You lick and suck at her folds with as much enthusiasm as you had with her fingers. It feels good to taste her like this, to have your mouth on her and listen to her sigh and moan.

“Fuck, baby,” she whispers. “Right there.”

Her magic continues between your legs. It's warm and almost tingling, a gentle squeeze and lick that makes it hard to focus on everything going on around you.

Your tongue goes lazy at her clit, what was a practiced skill, now a messy and greedy mesh of tongue and lips and teeth. She holds onto you as her brows pinch together and her lips part to let out deep sighs and needy moans.

Your thighs quiver, and you can feel her magic becoming more insistent the closer she gets. “Good, honey. Just like that. Don't stop,” she whimpers, hips keening, searching for more of you.

Her words encourage you until you're pressing yourself so closely into her that she nearly yelps. “God, you're so eager, baby. You're gonna make me cum.” She curses again. You hold onto her hips, guiding them toward you and moaning into her as the magic grows and grows and grows. You keep loving on her, sucking on her clit and listening to her moan.

“Don’t stop, baby. Jus’ a little more.” Her folds flutter on your tongue as you lap at them. Her thighs tense on either side of your head.

When she unravels, her magic flares within you and sends you over the edge. Her legs tremble around you as she gasps, holding onto your hair and cupping your head as she grinds her hips into your face.

“Oh, God, baby,” she moans. “Good girl, baby! Right there. Fuck.”

You moan into her, feeling mushy as you cum with her. Your hands press into the plush of her thighs, eager to keep her right where she is. She continues to ride out her orgasm with you, shuddering and sighing as the sparks fly.

She has to push you away when she becomes over-sensitive. She gasps lightly, guiding you from her pussy and squeezing her eyes shut. “Oh, fuck. Okay, okay, okay.”

You catch your breath, heavy and deep as you try to steady yourself. You feel content, deeply satisfied as your tongue sits tiredly in your mouth. You look up at her with bleary eyes, smiling lazily. “Good? S’that good?”

She nods happily. “Yeah, baby. So good.” She takes your face in her hands, her fingers brushing your jaw as she bends down to kiss you. It's a nice kiss that you relish in, more calm and easy.

“Shit,” she sighs. “That took a lot out of me.”

You stand, cradling her face in your hands and pecking her lips again. “I'll finish this. You go lie down,” you coo. “I'll be there in a sec.”

“Are you sure? I can do it,” she whispers.

You kiss her again with a nod. “Go on.”

She smiles into yet another kiss, turning to do as you've said as she picks up her shorts and underwear on the way out of the kitchen. You finish moving the ice cream mixture into the machine and turn it on, washing some of the bigger dishes before going to join her.

She's already asleep when you find her in bed, curled up with a pillow. You smile lovingly before scooting in behind her, pulling her into your body and kissing her shoulder. “Love you,” you whisper against her neck.

She hums.

True Believer taglist:@activebliss @xxromanoffxx @thelastpyle @likefirenrain @babypink224221 @autisticbrie @alexxavicry @evabalexeeva @dumb-fawkin-bitch @hatterripper31 @kmc1989 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @notzammm @evansstan-akya @hiireadstuff @feyresqueen @patchesofwork @hc-geralt-23 Wanda’s Witchlings taglist: @mypoptartburnt @lucydiibi @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @daenerys713 @celestbarnes @kuatquae @crystalwrizz @red1culous @wannabe-fic-reader @imnotsaddude @lovelyy-moonlight @tessarqctt @fanreader @smromanoff @bubbles2300 Tag yourself here...

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #female reader #reader insert

204 notes · View notes