#the incessant need to yap... :(

[iholli]

living my best life with the new content (deleted scenes getting animated) but this part really gave my brain an itch that I've kinda thought about before and just haven't had reason to scratch at,,,

I think Blitzwing really dislikes getting dirty (or being in a space that could get him dirty), when it's unnecessary? I mean, he'll do it, he doesn't mind or care on a mission or during a fight, but he doesn't enjoy it, and don't expect him to get grease on his frame otherwise.

like, any time he's in a situation where he's getting dirty or scuffed and it's not in a fight, Hothead or Random are usually the dominant response, quickly finding something else to focus on. Icy only responds to complain, because he certainly likes to complain. he gets kind of bitchy about it! (I get it. I don't like unnecessary dirt either. I didn't authorize that. I mean this affectionately, I enjoy when he's bitchy.)

I imagine if he willingly got into a mess (for fun, or cannibalism, or both) it would be fine, but eugh, he wasn't planning on Autobot gunk or Earth grime, no thank you.

[lurkstyle]

he’s driving me CRAZY LEAVE ME ALONE

the basement is so clean and orderly. like he has a lot of stuff but it’s all in its little places, the floor is clean, he’s got a cute little setup with a rug and chairs. His handwriting is lovely.

His clothes look clean even though they’re worn, his hair is never greasy, he does his makeup well from what i’ve seen.

His teeth are gorgeous, his hands (hhrmhfhgbgg) are so pretty and well kept. i never understood people thinking he’s disgusting in a hygiene sense because AS THE EVIDENCE SHOWS 🤓 he is not. His whole shtick is being pretty for the devil, i imagine he keeps everything so nice like you do when you have guests over. i think he smells like laundry and an antique store. that’s my man.

[who-let-a-bird-in]

Brutalia send post.

No but seriously i finally decided to write a post about why the song werewolf by Fiona Apple fits Brutalia (Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul) so well. The song Werewolf is basically about being in a relationship where in short: it doesn't work out. It's about looking back and realizing that nothing was one persons fault, each of the people talked about in the song contributed to the problems in the relationship but weren't able to see that until it was over.

Fiona Apple spends the first and second verses of the song "likening" her ex-partner to different things and then going back to admit that she contributed to it as well, before she ends it with the repatition of the lyric "Nothing wrong when a song ends in a minor key" which is a reference to the fact that a minor key is often used to create tension in a song, so leaving off on that minor key at least to me represents letting a relationship go instead of staying trying to force things to work.

Specific lyrics:

"I could liken you to a werewolf the way you left me for dead but I admit, that I provided a full moon." That line in particular works for them because in large Bruce would not be who or what he is without Talia. In both the good and bad aspects, a werwolf wouldn't be able to become a werewolf without the moon. She provided him with the means to become who he is, even if it hurt them both in the process. It also adds to the fact that he is often the one who leaves her or critisizes her when the relationship is starting to fall apart.

"But you were such a super guy 'Til the second you get a whiff of me" Generally speaking, Bruce is a well liked and regarded character. Talia on the other hand is constantly demonized. I've seen people go so far as to say that when Talia is around Bruce's writing suffers from it (which isn't true.)

"The lava of a volcano shot up hot from under the sea, one thing leads to another and you made an island of me" In arguing with each other, she is more alone. Because on so many ocasions Talia being with Bruce is a point of contention between her and Ra's, but her relationship with her father is a point of contention between her and Bruce. So in the end in striving for a relationship with Bruce, if said relationship doesn't work out, Talia would be alone because she wouldn't have him, or her father and anyone connected to him.

"But we can still support each other, all we gotta do is avoid each other" This is just what modern Brutalia is, it's the two of them agreeing that they don't work together, they both love Damian and want to support him and each other, but a relationship between the two of them just isn't seen as something that could be a reality

I could keep going but this post is already really long, so I leave you with this

(From urban legends #20, also side note that run is pretty good I recommend it the Batwoman stuff is great)

also if anyone wants more of the dc as fiona apple songs pls lmk just give me characters so I can yap

[ferronite]

I literally did a little draw among your seven little creatures and chose two at random for this ask game jfjjdkskfkdk good luck.

4, 9 and 10 for Selene and Liv.

oooh that's an interesting pair~

We'll do two answers for each - one for their original selves and one for the current iterations!

4. How would they describe each other if asked? Physically? In personality?

In their initial appearance... it would not be positive at all lmao. Sel would describe Liv as being "weak of both body and mind". Unthreatening appearance that isn't suitable for what she's been doing, and a weak will and inability to see the world past her own ideals of "good' and "evil". Liv would describe Sel as some combination of "evil", "scary", "arrogant", "morally corrupt" and other stuff along those lines.

Currently they're on much friendlier terms! Sel still would describe Liv as physically weak to some extent but as having an admirable drive to help others and being tougher than people give her credit for. Liv would still describe Sel as threatening, but also as being incredibly loyal and a good friend :)

9. What is one quality they have in common?

Same in all iterations: the drive to achieve their goals and to stay true to their beliefs when confronted.

10. What is one major difference between them?

Could just do one but we're doing both versions for the hell of it. Initial one (minus the obvious murder thing) would be... probably their views on the world/their missions? Sel was very much an "ends justify the means" type of person, whilst Liv still wanted to do the right thing at all times, to the point of feeling bad any time she was forced to fight someone.

Current iteration? Hmmm. Probably their ways of caring for people. Liv's very... clingy, for lack of a better word. Constantly checking in on people, telling them that smth is dangerous, that kinda thing. Sel's a lot more hands-off, preferring to just... keep an eye on people, only stepping in if they think it's necessary.

[blueberry-obsessed]

My need for accuracy in writing sucks because what do you mean I'm knee-deep in research of two specific tennis tournaments that have to fill the court-type, date, month, and country requirements?

[ningtual]

it's very fascinating, so many of you thought my moon is in aquarius... do i give off aqua vibes 👁👄👁

[sergeanthatredbignaturals]

My back hurts 🔥🔥🔥

[starmocha]

Apple of My Eye [Caleb + Son ★ 2k words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] A silly morning making breakfast together. A/N: ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ MY BOY DAD CALEB SHENANIGAN IS STARTING YAY. I’ve been yapping about this since November lmao Tag list: @lavlynyan @miudle @alfredosaws @solifloris @nezuswritingdesk @valkyyriia @natimiles @yourlocalcatscammer @callilypso @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme @goddessnyx216 @qyuin @asiaticapple 【 request to be added 】

Caleb had always thought the best day of his life was marrying the girl he had been in love with for nearly their whole lives.

He was wrong.

It turned out it was actually the day she gave birth to his son and made him a father.

Before that, it had always been him and her against the world, his hand in hers from then until eternity. From the moment he had first held his son in his arms, his shocked face staring down at the little baby cradled in his arms, unable to fathom that this was his child he had with her. However, the moment his son’s tiny hand grasped his finger, holding on tight with all of his strength, Caleb knew he could never imagine a life without his little co-pilot.

The sun wasn’t out yet, but Caleb had already begun to stir from sleep, completely conditioned to waking up early for as long as he could remember. However, there was one other person in this household who was adamant about being the first to wake up.

Caleb remained in bed, laying on his stomach facedown, his cheek pressed to his pillow as he lounged lazily, hearing from down the hallways the rushed soft pitter-patters of little feet on hardwood floor. He could hear his bedroom door creaking. It was never closed completely, always left opened slightly ajar so his son could come in whenever he needed to.

The little boy peeked in before pushing the door opened further and proceeded to toddle his way to his father’s bed. He attempted to climb up, the sounds of his incessant grunting and whining nearly made Caleb burst out laughing, but he managed to quickly compose himself, remaining as still as possible in bed to not rouse suspicion from his son.

The little boy continued to try to climb, his small hands unable to grasp the mattress and pull himself up. He whined in frustration before crying out, “Help! Daddy, help!”

Caleb stifled his laughter. He pretended to still be asleep.

“SOS! SOS! Daddy, SOS!”

This finally broke him.

Caleb rolled over onto his back, his arm clutching his stomach as he shook and laughed hard to the point his sides were hurting.

“Daddy!”

“Okay, okay,” he answered as more laughter unwittingly escaped. “Distressed signal received, my little co-pilot.”

With a gentle curl of his finger, he manipulated his Evol, the gravity around his son lightened and suddenly the little boy floated up giggling and kicking his feet in delight. He was lured closer to his father before dropping into Caleb’s waiting arms.

The little boy was still in a light blue onesie with little yellow airplanes all over, the soft fabric of his sleepwear brushed against Caleb.

Caleb peered down gently into a pair of identical violet eyes. His son really had taken after him in all aspects from physical appearance to his personality and even mannerism. Sometimes, Caleb couldn’t help but teased his wife about how her genes didn’t even try, their son a perfect replica of him.

The only difference Caleb saw was the sweet innocence of a child still remained in his two-year-old, and he was determined to safeguard that for as long as he could, wishing his son to always be bright-eyed and happy.

“Daddy?”

It was like looking into a mirror.

“Hm?”

“I miss Mommy…”

Definitely a copy of him.

Caleb hugged his son a little tighter, sympathizing with the child completely.

“I miss her, too,” he said, “but she is away helping other small children like you affected by a wanderer attack.”

The boy pouted, not completely understanding his father’s explanation. He didn’t know why he had to share his mommy, but he wanted her home with him again. He raised his head, his cheek puffing in frustration as his eyebrows furrowed in serious contemplation. “Can we make Mommy not go next time?”

“Huh?”

“I want her to stay with me…”

“Selfish little rascal, aren’t you?” Caleb teased. “We can try, but she would probably be disappointed in you.”

“Disap… Disap…” The boy’s brows furrowed even more as he struggled to repeat that odd word his father had just said.

“She would be unhappy with you,” Caleb explained gently.

The toddler immediately looked guilty, his pout disappeared the moment he heard his father’s explanation. “I don’t want her to be unhappy…”

“Then be a brave good little boy for her,” Caleb said, his hand smoothing his son’s disheveled hair back. He continued in a soothing tone, “Can you do that for her?”

“Yes!”

Caleb smiled, amused by the determination in his son’s eyes. He settled more comfortably in bed with the toddler laying on his chest. “Okay, let’s sleep for a while longer,” he said, letting a yawn slipped through. “Daddy will make breakfast for the two of us in a bit…”

“But I’m not…” the little boy yawned as his father rubbed his small back gently. He nuzzled his face against his father’s chest. “…sle…epy…”

“I know,” Caleb responded agreeably, his own eyes closing at the same time as his son’s. In minutes, the room was filled with the sound of gentle snoring, both father and son slipping back to dreamland in the dark, cool room.

About an hour and a half later, Caleb and his son were both fully awake. After washing up, they both headed for the kitchen with the little boy sitting on his father’s shoulders, his small hands grasping Caleb’s hair as if they were reins as he “steered” his father into the direction of their destination.

“Are we ready for landing, my co-pilot?” Caleb asked, his eyes darting up to check.

“Ready!”

Caleb smiled and used his Evol to lift his son into the air, always delighting in the little boy’s sweet giggles. “Alright,” he said, “You are cleared for landing.”

Caleb’s smile widened as his son squealed happily as he guided the boy to float gently down, letting his feet lightly touch the kitchen countertop. He steadied the boy and helped him sit down. “And how was your flight today, sir?”

“Good, Daddy!”

He laughed and leaned down, his forehead touching his son’s. “Okay, let’s get breakfast ready, buddy,” he said, “I don’t know about you, but Daddy is so hungry, he’s probably gonna end up eating his plate, too.”

“Your plate?” the boy repeated, astonished, making a face at him. “Daddy is so silly…!”

“Silly, am I?” he countered back in mock-surprise. “No, not sillier than you?”

“Yes, sillier!”

“I dunno,” he repeated, heading to the fridge to retrieve some ingredients. He set on the counter a couple of eggs, green onions, tomatoes, and a container of shredded cheddar cheese. “Who’s the silly little boy who dunked his cotton candy into water and watched it melt away after being told not to do it?”

The boy pouted and shook his head vehemently. “No, no, no, Daddy is sillier!”

“Yeah?” Caleb asked, grabbing a small cutting board and a knife from a drawer. He proceeded to finely minced the green onions and diced the tomatoes. “Sillier than a certain little boy who didn’t want to come inside for naptime, because he was too busy holding a leaf to shade his new frog friend he found outside?”

“Daddy is sillier!” he cried out in response to his father’s teasing.

“Okay, okay,” Caleb laughed, relenting, “Daddy is sillier than you.”

He leaned over and pecked his son’s cheek. “But I don’t see it as a bad thing, do you?”

He gazed down into identical violet eyes, seeing the same mirth reflected back to his. Caleb grabbed the eggs he had set to the side, bringing them over to his son along with a medium-sized bowl. “Okay, can you crack these eggs for Daddy?”

His son grinned and nodded enthusiastically, carefully grabbing the egg Caleb handed to him. He followed his father’s instruction and carefully cracked the egg on the side of the bowl and with Caleb’s guidance, he broke the egg.

“Good job, buddy,” Caleb praised, smiling softly as he could see the little boy brimming with pride. “Three more eggs to go.”

After the last egg was cracked, the toddler held up his small hands to his father, frowning as he said softly, “Daddy… my hands are yucky…”

Caleb chuckled in amusement and picked up his son to carry him over to the kitchen sink. “Not a problem,” he said, turning on the faucet, and holding his son close to the running water so the boy could wash his hands. He set the boy back over to the counter. “All good now, partner?”

“All good!” the boy cheered. “Daddy, Daddy, I can do it!”

“Hm? You want to beat the eggs?”

His son nodded eagerly.

“Okay,” Caleb said, handing the boy a pair of chopsticks. He chuckled as his son gripped them firmly in his small fist. “Just like how you usually see me do it. That’s it. Keep going, we want to break all of the yolks and have everything mixed evenly.”

He added in the earlier vegetables he had chopped along with a generous helping of shredded cheese. He urged his son to continue mixing. He could see the toddler was quickly tired out by the task. “Little buddy, permission to take over?”

“Granted!”

“Thank you, sir!” Caleb responded and took the pair of chopsticks from his son. He heated up a frying pan with oil over low heat as he vigorously beat the eggs. Once it was mixed to his liking, Caleb slowly poured the beaten egg mixture into the fry pan, hearing it sizzled gently. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his son trying to stand up and tutted disapprovingly. “No, buddy. No standing while I’m over here. It will be over soon.”

The boy pouted and sat back down obediently. He still tried to peer and watch his father make their breakfast.

Caleb moved the egg around slowly, letting it cook gently while he turned to place some sandwich slices into a toaster. It wasn’t long before everything came together and he dished everything out onto two plates: one adult-sized and one child plate, shaped like an apple with three divided segments.

They both sat down to eat together and Caleb smiled again as he watched his son happily eat his scrambled eggs and cutup pieces of toast.

“Is it yummy?” he asked, taking a bite of his own.

The boy nodded brightly. “Daddy’s food is always yummy!”

“Well, thank you, buddy,” he quipped. “Much appreciated. What should we have for lunch later then?”

“Daddy’s chicken.”

“And dinner?”

“Chicken…”

Caleb laughed. “2 AM snack?”

“Chicken!”

“I can make so many things,” Caleb said with an amused smile with faux exasperation in his tone, “Don’t you want to try other things, too?”

“Okay, Daddy,” the little boy answered, easily swayed by his father’s persuasion. He added innocently, “But I also like Daddy’s chicken…”

Caleb smiled and leaned over, his cheek nuzzling against his son’s before giving the toddler a quick peck. “I know you do,” he said lightheartedly, continuing with a laugh, “Your mother made me make it for her for six months straight while you were in her tummy.”

The boy smiled, not quite understanding his father’s quip. Instead, he grabbed his father’s face and blew a wet kiss against Caleb’s cheek, giggling nonstop.

“You little rascal,” Caleb said with feigned irritation.

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you.”

The boy smiled back cheekily and Caleb couldn’t help but wondered if he had ever smiled or laughed as much as he seemed to ever since his son was born. His eyes widened a little when his son grabbed his hand, the vast difference in size clear as day.

“Daddy’s my best friend.”

Caleb breathed in quickly before he sighed happily. He smiled back.

“You’re mine, too,” he responded as he leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his son’s temple. “So happy you came into my life, my little co-pilot.”

[mejaemin]

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so bossy - johnny suh

wc: 1k summary: deny it all you want, sass him all you want, but you’re definitely johnny’s girl. warnings: blood/injuries, flirty + bad boy!johnny, nerdy ish reader, neighbors to ??? (implied neighbors to lovers) lmk if anything is missing! an: this is sooo rushed but i wanted 2 post it before posting my 600 follower event !!! i hope you all likey 😛

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you’re nose deep in a textbook at a time where your eyes really should be shut when a knock sounds at your door. you simply raise the volume of your speaker, study playlist filling the room as you choose to ignore the outside world and civilization. it works for a while too, and you just about get back into the groove until a rattling sound starts tapping against your window.

you lower the music, squinting to look at what it could be, and groan, loud enough for the person at your window to hear. making your way over, you begrudgingly open the window. you don’t even get a chance to let him in, his heavy body shaking the fire escape (and your entire living room) as he tumbles through the window and hits the floor with a groan.

“get up.” your tone is sharp. “you’re getting dirt, and.. blood, all over my floor.” he mumbles a damn under his breath, and you ignore him, continuing your nagging, “and did you need to use the fire escape? you live in the same building. just use the elevator like a normal person.“

“sorry pretty, don’t want any losers following me home, now do i?” johnny says, voice a little raspy, probably from yelling. he sits down on your kitchen counter, and you’re so ready to yell at him for it until you see just how much he winces when he hops uo there.

after pulling the ever-growing first aid from your bathroom, you make your way to where he’s sitting. even while sitting down, you still have to crane your neck to look at him. with a warm, wet cloth, you begin wiping at the blood on his lips and cheeks. there’s countless spots on his face and jaw that are swollen, split open by whoever he got caught up with.

your finger dips into some ointment, rubbing it over all the sidewalk burns and cuts. he’s actually quite compliant throughout the process, staying silent like you always beg him to be when this happens.

“you’re being oddly good. it’s weird.” you say, hoping to mask your bashfulness when you begin running your finger over his lip, covering it in ointment where the skin is broken.

he smirks, “i’ve already-“ without thinking, you speak over him, murmuring about how he’ll split it open again, grabbing his face to stop his smile. he continues despite you talking, fighting back a laugh at your sudden touchy nature. “-pissed you off enough, haven’t i? can’t hurt to be a little nice.”

“that’s a first.” you say, ignoring anything else he says while trying not to be squeamish as you place butterfly bandages over his skin, standing on your tiptoes to do so. under the dimmed lights of your kitchen, his gaze is hard on your eyes, your cheeks so flushed they match the color of his wounds.

you finish up, throwing away your trash and putting your first aid kit away. it’s a miracle, really, how you managed to push through it with his incessant yapping and flirting, but it’s done. when you come back from putting everything away, he’s still there, having moved to the couch, laying down with his arm covering his eyes.

“are you staying?” you ask, scoffing when you see that he still has his shoes on, ripping them off his feet and bringing them to your front door.

he sits up, his smile full of surprise and flirtatious intent. “oh, so i have a choice now? what’s gotten into you, sweetheart?”

you roll your eyes, pushing his legs off the arm of your couch to sit on it. “if you don’t answer my question, i’ll do it for you.” elbows propped on your knees, you tuck a hair behind your ear, keeping your eyes down.

“i’ll stay, then. ‘s too much work to walk home.” he groans, obnoxiously loud, stretching as he sinks into your couch cushions.

“you live like two doors down, john, don’t be ridiculous,” you call out from down the hallway, reaching into your hall closet for a spare blanket, and a pillow from your bed for him to sleep with. without much care, you throw them in his direction, a grunt sounding when they hit his body.

“aww, i can’t stay in your bed?” he fake pouts, laughing when you give him the most disgusted look while standing over him.

“you stink. and you’re dirty. and bloody.” you say, arms crossed, hugging your cardigan to yourself.

he sits upright, patting the spot next to him. you sit down, the gap between you big enough to keep you comfortable, but still awkward. he leans back, truly making himself comfortable (as if he hadn’t already) by manspreading. he turns to you, appearance lazy and tired, yet full of teasing and romantic energy.

“that wasn’t a no, was it?” he teases, leaning in close. he’s not even trying anything, simply invading your space to get a rise out of you. your eyes widen, leaning back for every inch he gets closer. the inside of your body is on fire, getting even worse when you accidentally look down at his lips. and of course, he notices, his sly grin only getting bigger.

“i-” you sigh, your head falling into your hands. he leans in even closer, arm falling around your back. you shake your head, kicking your feet in a fit of nerves, or who knows what even.

“you’re always so bossy, but you don’t have much to say now, hm?” you peek through your fingers and see him right next to you, at face level, and flinch. he smiles, leaning back in his seat like he had before.

“g- go to sleep, john..” you say, getting up and walking to your bedroom. his eyes follow you the whole time, only shutting when you disappear behind the door. for the rest of the night, your minds are both hooked on the knowledge that no matter how bossy you may be with him, he’s had you wrapped around his finger since the first time you patched him up.

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nct 🏷️ @chenlezip @coquettejunnie

[slytherinshua]

SHUT YOUR PRETTY MOUTH

genre. fluff. warnings. eric's yapping abt furry stuff 😟 reader hates on furries. slight make out. not proofread pairing. eric x fem!reader. wc. 951. request. no. a/n. @hursheys i hope this fulfills your eric delusions ☝️ i kinda hate the ending but whatever we're gonna roll with it. net. @deoboyznet

“So then he was like ‘well that’s totally furry behaviour’, and, obviously, I took offense to that. Cause, like, hello that’s absurd! I’m not a furry. I just bark occasionally—”

You were all too familiar with Eric’s chronic insomnia. Much like a toddler, if he didn’t do enough during the day to exhaust his endless energy, he could easily stay up all night with no sense of time or how tired other people (you) were. You closed your eyes, still half-listening to your boyfriend’s rambling, although you had lost the context of it a long time ago. If you were lucky, you might even be able to fall asleep to his yapping…

As if.

“So I was like, ‘dude, I have a girlfriend, why would you even suggest that’!? They went without me— good riddance— and I blocked them too, so there’s no need to worry. Maybe this is what Kevin meant when he warned me to stop hanging out with random people I meet on the streets. But, I met you on the streets too, so I can’t trust anything Kevin says anymore. Imagine if I hadn’t stopped to get your number at the crosswalk? My life would be so boring now!” Eric continued animatedly, drumming his fingers against the pillow that rested in his lap, picking out the rhythm to one of The Boyz’s songs.

“And I might actually be able to get some sleep…” You interjected with a tired whisper, rolling on your side to face your boyfriend. You opened your eyes with a pointed glare, and Eric’s let out a small “oh”.

“Right. Sorry, baby. You should sleep.” He said quickly, plopping down next to you and planting a quick kiss to your forehead. He was quiet for around 3 minutes, before you heard a small whisper close to your face.

“You don’t ever regret taking my number, do you?” You opened one eye to find Eric staring at you, his eyes wide like a puppy’s. 

“No, I don’t regret it.” You said truthfully, a yawn coming in at the end of your response. Eric smiled slightly, his brain telling him that he should let you finally sleep, but it seemed his mouth had other ideas.

“What if I was a furry? Would you still date me?” You had to hold back a laugh at the question, assuming that it was a reference to his earlier rambling. Although you couldn’t recall how the full conversation had gone, you were pretty sure that even if you did, it wouldn’t help you understand Eric’s brain.

“Who said you weren’t already?” You asked sarcastically, earning a pout from the boy that was almost impossible to resist kissing. 

“What if instead of talking to you I just barked in response?” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, silently judging his train of thought that was getting increasingly more unhinged with every minute that went by. You being extremely tired didn’t help with your patience for his incessant questions. You loved your boyfriend, you really did. But sometimes you just wanted him to shut up and let you sleep.

“What if instead of walking—”

Eric thankfully was not able to finish his sentence, which you could only assume had something to do with crawling on all fours or galloping around like a pony, because you had finally given in to your thoughts and shut up his rambling with your lips. He was shocked at first, frozen in place from your sudden movement. But kissing you was as natural as breathing to him, so he quickly found his rhythm, pulling you closer by your waist and kissing you deeply. 

“Was that a yes?” Came Eric’s first words when you broke off for air. 

“If you mean breaking up if you became a furry, then definitely yes. Now shut your pretty mouth.” You stated clearly before crashing your lips onto his again, giving him no opportunity to protest.

It was surprising how easy it was to get lost in the kiss even when you were exhausted. With Eric eagerly leading, it was simple enough to just let him do most of the work. You tangled your fingers in his blonde hair as he squeezed your waist, letting his tongue slip past your lips gently. 

It seemed your kissing idea worked wonders to exhaust your boyfriend’s energy, as when he broke it off and fell back onto the pillow, he wrapped you up in his arms and let his eyes fall close. You could feel his heart racing, your ear resting over his chest. His cheeks were flushed a pretty pink colour and his lips slightly swollen from the prolonged kiss. As his heartbeat slowed to a regular speed, you naturally matched your breathing with it, and the repetition lulled you to sleep quickly.

Eric held you tightly in his arms, listening to your steady breathing. He was tired, but his mind still raced with thoughts. Rather than meaningless questions he loved to throw at you, they all shifted to thoughts of you. He didn’t deserve your patience at the best of times, and was forever thankful that you truly loved him for himself. 

He knew he could be overbearing and exhausting at times, but he tried his best to balance it with the soft romantic moments that you and him both loved. You were quite similar to each other, the more Eric thought about. Although you were definitely more subdued, which balanced his exuberant energy quite well.

He sniffed, not having realized until now that his eyes had welled up with tears from his thoughts. He sheepishly blinked them away and held you a little closer in his arms, falling into his dreamland with you.

↳ the boyz taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @blossominghunnie,, @cosmicwintr,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,,

@lecheugo,, @seunghancore,, @heavenfilm,, @recordsfilm,, @bananabubble,,

@talking-saxy,, @cupidslovearrows,, @hursheys,, @gong-fourz

[sinning-23]

Backseat Pillow Princess

Hey y'all! I like to call this game, "Guess what I saw and cant stop fucking thinking about?" Take this because I need them both carnally and I'm sure you do too!

Enjoy :D

Warnings: violence, blood, swearing, the reader is annoying and Logan pretends to hate it in a way that seems like he actually does, they should have fucked but uhhh they didn't, lots of tension, pt.2 coming soon hopefully?

PT.2 UP NOW

"Bae i love youuu, you my everythinggg~"

"Can she shut the fuck up"

"I'm your main bitchhhh, fuck a wedding ringggg~"

"Only if you ask her nicely,"

"Nah, I like when he's mean."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me"

The nonstop back-and-forth bickering had been going on for about 2 and a half hours now and the man the myth the legend, Wolverine was getting dangerously tired of it, unfortunately. Your shitty renditions of Sexyy Red matched with Deadpools incessant yapping was becoming too much to bear.

But little did he know, that was exactly your plan.

"Are we there yetttt" You whine from the backseat, sprawled out with your arm over your face.

It had been what felt like days (despite it only being a couple hours as previously mentioned) you'd been driving and the fact that you were in a small space filled with touch-starved testosterone(Wade and Logan) wasn't helping your case.

"If you shut up it'll go faster," Logan grumbles, Wade's chatting only worsening.

"No, it won't, you're just being mean! What's a sexy, super talented, immortal.. sorta, girl like myself supposed to do?" You whine again, an idea soon popping into your head.

If there was anything you loved more than seeing how far you could push this crotchety son of a bitch, it was stirring the pot.

Knowing the idiot riding passenger, a slip-up was inevitable and all it would take was the right pressure applied from yours truly.

"Hey Wade, wanna ask Wolvie what he's gonna do when he gets back? To his own timeline that is." You hum, resting your elbows on the middle console and your chin in your palms.

Ah yes, the fantasy your sick little brain conjured up was almost to fruition. All they needed were a few nudges and you'd all be at each other's throats with as much violent, sexual tension you could dream of.

"Yeah, what will you do if the TVA can fix your timeline?"

Bingo

You lean back, preparing for the absolute bloodbath that's bound to take place as the tension skyrockets.

Now up until this point, you'd be trying your damndest to get into Wolverine's pants, call it 'something you needed to scratch off your bucket list'. Anyway, from the "Mad Max"(as Wade put it) esque part of the void all the way here, you made your fair share of passes.

Unfortunately, all were shot down with a snark comment, the unsheathing of those gorgeous adamantium claws, or a growl...all of which only further fueled your desire. What could you say you liked a challenge?

"What did you say?"

You lean forward, making eye contact with Wade, his head shaking as if to say "No don't don't don't" but you were never good with social cues.

"He said 'IF' sweetheart." You retort, practically kicking your feet as the look in Logan's eyes grows wild, that growl barely bubbling in his throat as he and Wade converse back and forth.

"You shut the fuck up." He seethes, though directed at you his eyes stay focused on Wade.

You fight the urge to say 'make me" but you soon become quiet when Logan really starts to read your buddy in red. Oh, this fucker was definitely projecting...

"And you," He's got an accusatory, gloved finger pointing at the center of your face.

"You got some unresolved daddy issues or something? I don't know what hole or holes you're trying to fill but I can sure as shit tell you the harder you try to get under my skin the more it makes me wanna rip yours off that pretty-looking face." He growls, your heart practically beating out of your chest.

"Now I suggest each of you shut your goddamn mouths until we are where we need to be."

It's silent for a second again and you can feel the bridge about to break...anyyy second now.

"I'm gonna fight you now."

Three...

Logan chuckles, amused at the fact that Wade would even suggest he could getaway with something like that

Two..

And mid-sentence, Wade's fists make contact with Logan's nose.

One.

You scoot back, the car shaking as Wades head makes contact with hr car door and then the radio, each smack of his skull changing the station.

“Omg nooo don’t kill each other you’re both so hot and sexy and cool, nooo.” You yelp, your false concerned pleas falling on deaf ears.

And once the blood from each blow splatters against your face, you feel a bit opted to join in. Besides, he hurt your feelings, he deserved a little ass-kicking.

Question, when three seemingly frustrated and regenerative assholes get into a car fight with tensions, sexual or otherwise, that have been building for about 2 days now, what happens?

You slip past the pair of claws that just barely nick your side as you shove the driver's seat forward, effectively trapping Logan for a moment.

"You did this on purpose! You honry fuck!" Wade shouts, using his elbow to crack your skull and shoved you right back into your spot behind them before you can respond. Logan pushed the seat back again, now trapping you as his claws stabbed through the cushion, impalling you through the back of the seat.

"FUCK! This isn't how this was supposed to pan out in my head!" You yelp, gasping when the claws leave you feeling the worst kind of empty.

"I didn't even do anything he's the one that lied!" You seethe, using the heel of your boot to kick Wade's side in, the crack of bones bringing you much satisfaction.

"IT WAS AN EDUCATED WISH!" He defends, unloading about 3 bullets into your sternum before kicking Logan out the winsheild, glass falling inside and out.

You take a gulp of air, digging the bullet out before locking your arm around Wade's neck and the passenger seat headrest.

"You red-clad cunt! I was supposed to rizz him up, fuck him, and ride off into the sunset with my rugged fucking mountain of a man and you RUINED IT!" You shout, releasing Wade when six separate knives dig right back into you.

Taking the chance, you throw the back of your head at his face before pulling his claws from out your sides and kicking Wade's chest in. Looks like legs were your strong suit today!

"You said you didn't wanna fill any holes, yet here we are!" You growl in frustration, turning back around to shove your boot heel into this man's rock-hard chest.

He only grabs your ankle, pulling you forward, once again skewered by his claws. Your position is less than ideal, any other angle would for sure look l like you were on the receiving end of some damn good strokes.

And there it is, that stupid bloodied grin he gives while he watches your eyes squeeze shut and your head tilt back. A light, yet pained swear left your bloodied lips and the gasp that leaves your lungs when his claws retracted was just as erotic as you'd imagine.

"Would've been better off fucking at this point huh?" You joke, seeing Wade creep up behind the backseat door.

"Maybe." He responds a bit coy, the tension only dying down for a fraction of a second before you're at each other's throats again.

With your help, Wade is right back in the car, and the three of you are now waiting for the next move. Logan's up against the dash, Wade is heaving against the backseat by your side, the two of you manspreading with a dangerously hungry look directed at the man in yellow.

"This is pointless. We're gonna be here for hours regenerating and fucking each other up, but damn if it isn't fun." you chuckle, letting your head lull back against the completely destroyed headrest.

"So what do you suggest, 'sweetheart'," Logan growls, using your little pet name from earlier.

"Oh I think you know very well what I suggest, but I'm starting to believe you just can get it up can you peepaw?" You insult, Logan's face contorting in a sneer.

There's another silence, your gaze locked with Logan's as you both teeter on the edge of regular frustration and the urge to rip each other's clothes off. This fuckers love language was definitely acts of playful violence...if playful meant an absolute bloodbath in this stupid-ass honda odyssey.

"I feel like there's some underlying tension here that I definitely wanna be a part of.

"You shut the fuck up" You speak simultaneously, Wade doing just that.

"So what'll it be, bub. Fuck me or fight me?" You mock, seeing that smile right back on his face.

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

You would like to say that the remainder of the day, into the night, all the way into the wee hours of the morning were spent furiously love-making in the bloody and battered Honda, but that would only be half the truth.

The moonlight had shone so brightly down on the three of you, each movement calculated, as you continued to punch, stab, pick and damn near fuck each other in the enclosed space.

At one point your hands were pinned to the dented dashboard, Logan slotted between your legs, Wade right behind your oddly bent body....accept Wade's gun was at the small of your back and Logan had his hand wrapped tightly around your throat as your legs squeezed as tight as possible.

And at another, you'd been hovering above Logan, hands at his chest while Wade had a fistful of your hair, his grip lethal... a-although your hands were only at his chest cause you were double-fisting two knives that you had wedged to the hilt into each to his pectorals...and Wade was also pulling your hair to get a better angle at your chest since he deemed it was "only fair" considering you were going the same to the man beneath you.

It had only gotten worse, your comments ranging from rude to just plain nasty, and the farther along you went in the night....strangely enough, the better everything felt. The slight accidental/intentional grind of your hips against Logans, or the way you just so happened to fall back into Wade's chest, your bodies pressed so close together you could feel each breath you both took.

"Oh you just don't know when to quit, do you honey?" Logan grumbles, throwing you off him, your positions quickly switch.

"Not in my vocabulary sweetheart." You shoot back, gasping when Wade grips your hair again.

"Yeah, thought you were seeing the pattern ready peanut, she's hard to break." He chuckles, a filthy smile making its way over your bloodied face.

You were practically sandwiched, Wade behind you, his chest to your back, and your legs just barely make room for Logan who was kneeling one leg on the backseat, the other slightly off the edge.

"This is a little unfair don't you think? Feels like I'm about to get tag-teamed." You joke, the moonlight illuminating the current position just enough.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? You're sick." Logan scoffs, only feeding into your slight delusions.

"Yeah, I might be sick but you're a hypocrite, You want it too, don't you? I know for sure Wade does, 'cause that's definitely not his gun on my ass." You shoot back, body and brain stirring from the hours of activities.

He doesn't say anything, just tightens he grip he has on your hips.

“Cmonnn, we had our nice,” you glance over at the destroyed radio, your hopes of trying to get the time seemingly crushed.

“We’ll say 9 hours give or take, we’ve already been fighting and none of us are really satisfied.”

You can feel Wade adjust, his hands now secure at your shoulders, massaging the small of your neck with his thumbs.

“We all know what’s gonna solve that and we can put this whole debacle behind us.” You coax, your hips rolling a bit to meet his and he turn his head, jaw working as if he was seriously considering the offer.

And with a finally huff what really sounded more like a growl of last restrained, he’s on you.

——————————————————————-

YES IM MAKING A PART TWO YES THERE WILL BE SMUT BECAUSE WTF YALL. UHHH HOPE YOU ENJOY LMK IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED I. THE NEXT PART!

[madschiavelique]

𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐊 : 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏 — 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

✦﹒ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : Eris comes over to spend the holidays with you, and drags jayce and viktor in tarot readings. Some bad news linger in the air, but nez beginnings are blooming.

✦﹒ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : lots of dialogue. like a lot. and an enourmous amount of tarot yapping, some angst, and some fluff to close it all

✦﹒ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 12,4k

✦﹒ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : i hate having like zero perception of my own writing ARGH i hope this is good. gosh this is so long. but hey first writing post of 2025 yey!!!

✦﹒ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐘 : the lovely @yaffles-world

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓．．𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 ．．𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓．．𝐌𝐘 𝐊𝐎-𝐅𝐈

Piltover under the snow had a profoundly different atmosphere to its usual gilt. The domes and roofs covered in thick snow gave the impression that all the clouds in the sky had fallen on the town, covering it in a smooth, white mantle. It seemed silent, as if frozen in time.

As you emerged from the dormitory building, wrapped in your scarf up to your nose, you were greeted by the incessant waltz of snowflakes falling from the sky. They tumbled like white feathers - like all the angels in the skies had removed their leaves like the trees, simply guided by the wind towards an unknown destination. But it didn't matter - they were flying, simply free.

Your boots crunched in the snow as you set off towards the bridge to find Eris. The day had come for you to pick her up, and as agreed you were going to meet her at the usual bridge linking the two cities.

The town was all decked out with garlands and lights criss-crossing from buildings to buildings, apparently firmly preventing any colour other than gold from running through its streets. The carcasses of trees stripped of their foliage were lit up again, the majority of passers-by had their gloved hands around a cup of hot chocolate, and children were running after each other with snowballs in their hands ready to fire at their friends.

Still, there were fewer people than usual, the majority staying at home in the comfort and warmth of a well-insulated fireplace. You didn't need to wonder what it was like in Zaun - you had spent enough winters there that you didn't miss it.

The lack of heat in the promenade level wasn't too bad, although it would have been useful to have good chimneys or radiators that didn't break every other day. Some of the holes in the roofs led to leaks, but despite a few power cuts, it was possible to live normally.

Surprisingly, the sump level was the least worst. The constant heat from the machines brought a little warmth back to the bowels of the city, and this time the most hard-pressed workers found themselves in a new level of comfort.

As for the entresol level, it was a terrible in-between. Too far away from the big energy machines, and receiving the freezing snows in certain crevices falling from the top, the entresol level was poorly housed, at least in your memories. Who knows - perhaps public heaters filled with flammable resources had been introduced to prevent anyone from being absent from the streets.

When you reached the bridge, it was almost deserted, apart from the unfortunate enforcers chosen on this day to ensure customs and passage between each town. With your hands shoved into your pockets, you waited for your friend to appear in the distance. 

It was always preferable for you to be present and to set up a meeting point like this, just in case the enforcers wanted to cause problems for nothing when looking for papers and for you to confirm that she was with you.

Sky would no doubt have liked to come and meet your friend. You had already spoken to her about your soul sister, and she would have greatly appreciated seeing her. But Sky was already on the other side, spending her holidays with her family on the Promenade level. You hoped she wouldn't have any problems, no leaks, no power cuts.

At last you saw your friend's face, wearing a cap almost as black as her hair, as she made her way painfully towards the enforcers. Mechanically, she took out her papers, her fingertips peeking out of her mittens as she passed them to the officer before quickly stuffing them back into her pocket to keep out the cold. She exchanged an annoyed glance with you as the man made sure everything was in order, earning you a chuckle as she puffed out her cheeks before sighing heavily. He finally handed her her papers, and she gave him a polite but cold smile before moving towards you.

"It's like they take their time on purpose," she breathed, before taking you in her arms.

You hugged her back, despite the thickness of the coats that separated you with difficulty. "You're too pretty for the Piltover standards, they have to double-check if you're real."

With a tired laugh, she backed away from you, squeezing your shoulders and examining you for a moment. "Have you been doing something to your skin or is it just the perfect air of the city that does that?"

You brought your gloved hands to your cheeks, not really having changed your routine. "I'll have to look at what was in that champagne they served at the masquerade."

She raised her eyebrows, then frowned. "Masquerade?"

"Let's walk home," you said as you started to move forward, "I'll tell you on the way."

"You seem to be having a whole lot of fun without me around, young lady. I envy you," sighed Eris. "I don't get many highlights in my days."

"Am I not the highlight of your day?’"

"As long as we aren't in a warm place, you're not."

"Ouch!" you said falsely offended, bringing your hand to your chest. "This vexes me."

"I'm sure you'll overcome this affront." She pressed her shoulder against yours. "Tell me about what I missed. Since when do you go to masquerades?"

You sighed, a wisp of steam rising into the sky as you finally reached the end of the bridge. "After the exams, our dear Jayce Talis asked us to come with him to a masquerade because he was terrified of it."

"Us? Did Sky come with you?" Eris repeated, arching an eyebrow. 

You shook your head, as if it was really ridiculous. "If only it had been Sky," you turned to her. "The Emperor himself has honoured us with his presence."

"Are things always this thorny with him?" She questioned.

You shrugged. "I don't know."

"You? Not knowing? That's a first," Eris chuckled.

"It's just... I don't know," you sighed, taking a turn with Eris. "There's change everywhere and I still have to get used to it - change in my relationships, in my mind." You let your shoulders drop. "Maybe I also need a change of scenery."

"Buy a plant," sighed Eris at the sight of the stairs you were about to climb.

"Won't be needed," you sneered. "Turns out we're going to Demacia once the holidays are over, apparently."

"Demacia?" Eris exclaimed, "I'll need to make you a list of things to bring me back."

"Do I need to take a second suitcase if I'm going to bring everything back?" you asked.

"You'll need to pack a second suitcase so I can sneak in and come with you."

"How should I explain this to security?"

She shrugged, pressing her lips forward in a pout. "They'll just pass me off as a national treasure."

You chuckled, Eris smiling back before resuming.

"But weren't your exams supposed to be after the holidays?"

"That's the thing, I've already taken them."

She looked at you deeply confused.

"I know," you confirmed by the look on her face, "had a near death experience. Overworked myself."

"Nobody's surprised so far," Eris confirmed.

"Underslept," you went on.

"As always."

"Under ate."

Eris turned to you. "This is actually starting to border on dangerous."

"So I ended up very ill, passed out and spent a feverish night during which..."

You thought back to that morning, remembering the sunlight streaming through Viktor's hair, his fingers resting on your forehead before returning to his temple, his insistence that you get some rest.

"Which?" asked Eris, awaiting the end of your sentence.

You swallowed, sniffling as your nose began to get damp from the cold. "During which Viktor stayed by my side to make sure I was okay."

She arched an eyebrow, a naughty little smile playing on her lips.

"And..." she said, her tone a little playful as you sensed what she was about to say, "are you sure the dislike is mutual?"

You sighed almost brutally. "Not you too."

"Who else theorises my way?"

"Who else but Selene?"

"Ah, the wisest woman alive," she exhaled. "Is he here during the holidays, Vik-tor?"

She deliberately lengthened the pronunciation of his name, making you roll your eyes. "Apparently, yes. Jayce and him are staying over in their apartment."

"Great - sounds like the perfect plan for us to meet them."

"You want to meet the number one cause that got me to almost shake hands with death?"

"He is also the number one cause that pulled you out of this situation which I suppose you got yourself into all on your own." She had a point, and you half-closed your mouth, but she just took the wind out of your sails. "Your clit has millions of nerve endings but it's still less sensitive than your ego."

Shocked by the stupidity of her sentence, you laughed nervously, her joining you in a fit of laughter.

"I'll know what to write in my presentation on Zaun's slang."

"I hope you'll give me proper credit."

"Of course I do. I just hope the teacher marking us doesn't put ‘verbal drip’ in the margin. I'd risk 15 years of psychotherapy just to be able to cherish the hope of recovering from that."

"The famous paper you're sharing with the charming Viktor."

"You call him charming when you haven't even seen him."

"What, isn't he charming?"

You thought back to the masquerade, his dark hair with strands falling lightly over his mask, his amber eyes highlighted with kohl piercing you as he sketched a smile that raised the mole on his cheek.

"I suppose by most standards he's not bad."

"Not bad. I suppose I'll see for myself."

"I will use your vocal cords as floss," you breathed once more as you continued on your way.

"Use one of Talis' hair instead, I'm sure it'll be cleaner than anything from Zaun."

"Leave Jayce out of this, poor guy has had enough of our constant bickering with Viktor for his entire life."

"You're already acting like an old couple," quipped Eris.

"I wish you the mumps," you grumbled, "but speaking of couples, Jayce is apparently dating none other than Mel Medarda."

She turned to you. "The counsellor?" She asked in confirmation.

"Yup, met her at the masquerade."

"How is she? Apart from breathtakingly gorgeous and perfect?" questioned Eris.

"I don't like saying bad things about people, but she's actually nice," you replied. 

"Hmm," she hummed. "Did you know that if given access to it, butterflies will happily drink blood?"

You turned to her, the change in conversation seeming strange. "Really."

"Yes," she continued, "they won't bite or harm other creatures to get it though. They are solely taking advantage of whatever foods are available in their environment. So most of those up above aren't too far off. Their beauty and supposed simplicity isn't everything, especially in a world as gilded and polished as Piltover's." Her eyes went to the golden tower of the council. "Do you think she's a butterfly?"

You now understood her reasoning. Sometimes you didn't always understand what she was trying to get across, unpredictable as she was. "I don't think she's much of a butterfly, I see her more like a dove in a golden cage."

"I don't have the material to be one of these birds, but if I was a bird..." began Eris, and you felt a déjà vu of conversation emerge following the end of your masquerade evening.

"What, you wish you could fly?"

"I know who I'd shit on."

You huffed. "Got a target in mind?"

"Not for now, but I guess you got yours?" She kept teasing you, and you knew you'd never get to the bottom of it.

"Apparently not any more, we're currently on a truce."

"A truce," she nodded once, dramatically. 

"What does it consist of?"

"Fewer problems, more help, more opportunities, and..." you thought for a moment about Viktor's coat still lying in your dressing room, "less cold."

"Less cold?" she repeated.

"Mhm," you hummed as you finally reached the dormitory area.

"I think I'm going to like this Viktor," she confirmed.

"What, are you going to fall for his charms?"

"I'll leave this task to you, dearest trouble."

Eris had put her things in the bedroom, occupying Sky's bed, which would be free until the last weekend of the holidays. She knew the flat. During the times you'd had it to yourself when you weren't sharing it with anyone, she'd come and sleep there whenever she had the chance.

You couldn't count the number of times you'd both laughed there, the stupid things you'd done, or the number of heart-to-heart chats you'd had at three in the morning.

Despite Eris's many complaints, you took her to see Emmeline, who took her in her arms and, like a distant relative who talks about having changed our nappies when you were babies, kept telling her how she had changed.

With a few sweets offered, you returned to the dormitories, enjoying them while chatting about everything and anything. Her eyes inevitably fell on your tarot cards.

"Did you draw one every day?" she asked, stuffing another marzipan sweet into her mouth.

You swallowed your own mouthful, sucking the excess sugar off your fingers. "Apart from the few days I was too busy to study to do so, yeah."

She grabbed another sweet. "Did you do your reading this morning?"

"I thought that with you here we could get a better and proper reading, to see what I learned?"

"Oh you're a master of the art now?"

"I wouldn't go that far."

She wiped her fingers in a final gesture. "Let's go into the hall by the fireplace. Not that I don't like the flat, but being by a nice fire in a big armchair is much nicer."

And so, taking with you your own card deck, you headed down the hall. 

Most of the students had left to return to their families, leaving the building virtually deserted, to your delight. All the armchairs and sofas were free, and it was only natural that you should sit down on the two sofas facing each other by the fire.

Eris placed the box and the small booklet of your deck on the varnished wooden coffee table separating the both of you, keeping the cards in her bare fingers covered with a few tattoos along their length. They weren't her only tattoos, of course. She had a few on her arms, ink under the skin being almost unavoidable in Zaun. They were covered, though, by the long sleeves of the jumper you'd lent her when she arrived.

It felt good to abandon the academy uniform for a moment and dress without restraint. Oversized shirts, oversized hoodies and oversized pants were the watchwords for your holiday clothes, in contrast to the Academy vest that clung to your body all the time.

"A general reading?" she questioned, knocking on the back and front of the deck.

"I guess," you breathed as you leaned over, elbow on your knees, "I just hope I don't end up with another tower again."

"Wasn't it for the best though?"

You thought back over the last few months, the constant torment hadn't been pleasant at all, but the achievements you'd made were undoubtedly a real step forward.

"Yeah," you half admitted.

Eris huffed, knowing full well that you wouldn't fully concede this fact even if it were scientifically proven. In a perfect, expert gesture, she spread out the line of cards.

"Just three cards right?"

"Just three cards - for now at least."

Just like two months ago, you repeated your gestures, letting your hand float over the cards like a storm cloud looking for the highest point to strike with its thunderbolt. Once the three cards had been drawn, Eris folded the clean cards back into a perfectly straight deck.

"Let's see what we're working with."

She turned over the first card. Four of Swords. The card was covered in grey, a surprise considering the rest of her deck's twins always sported a variety of colours.

"Good start," commented Eris, before moving on to the second card.

Two of Wands, a man in a carmine cloak, was looking into the distance.

"Adds up," she confirmed before finally reaching the last card.

The Lovers.

Your eyes met Eris's, pressing her lips and eyes hard shut as she tried to stop herself from laughing.

"Whatever you're about to say, don't," you decided.

She had to take a deep breath to refocus and stop herself from giggling.

"I'm not the one who pulled the cards," she almost coughed as she grabbed the deck and looked at the shadow card. "Interesting."

"How interesting?"

She turned the deck towards you. "Interesting."

The Empress reigned under it.

You swallowed, thinking back to the Emperor card drawn for Viktor, your eyes drifting inevitably to the lovers card.

"Much more positive than our last draw, if I may say so."

You say nothing, simply sighing as you place one of your hands in the palm of the other. "Just start it."

She cleared her throat, putting the deck down again and letting the Empress reign over the top of the deck. She picked up the Four of Swords card.

"That's pretty much in line with what's been going on lately, and by that I mean relaxing."

"So I'm just... resting?"

"Not just resting, you're resting like a hero. Not everyone has their recumbent in a church. I take it the exams went well all things considered?"

"First place," you replied.

She pressed her lips into an inverted smile and shook her head. "So mediocre, I expected better than you."

You smiled at her sarcasm - you missed her teasing.

"In any case, you left a part of yourself there that was no longer useful, because to have a recumbent on your grave you have to be dead."

You thought back to the death card you'd drawn and Sky had read to you. The reaper had done his work so that with his sickle the weeds were cut down and new healthy plants grew there.

"In the stained glass window," she continued, "you can see two figures, one kneeling before the other. It's easy to see from this card that, through stability, it's peace that we're looking for - especially after experiencing pain - as opposed to the anguish of not being sure, of not even knowing if tomorrow there won't have been something that will have made us see everything differently."

The champagne hadn't betrayed you by making you agree to things you would otherwise have thought you'd never have said yes to.

"It was a situation of stagnation that you cut out," Eris pointed out, "values inoculated by parents or other authority figures that you had no use in following any longer, that you took on yourself without questioning them."

"So basically I was stupid?"

"Why are you saying this in the past tense?"

You giggled, "Shut up."

She smiled, continuing her explanation. "It was mostly a refusal to reconsider things; resentment or refusal to give a second chance. You stayed in that place that didn't suit you because you were already there, it was something you knew and there's nothing more reassuring than things you know - even if they hurt you." She reassured following your question. "It's a card that represents retirement, isolation, sleep and illness. An excellent moment of respite during which you can contemplate the past, learn from it and make peace with what you've been through."

‘’Right, enough about my past,” you sighed, realising that the cards were obviously well aware of what had happened. "What about my future?"

"You're skipping a step here," she said as she put the card back down, taking the Two of Wands, "because before your future, there's your present."

"It's just a transition between past and future - present doesn't exist, there are only 2 times."

"There are four times," Eris pointed out. "Past," her fingers pointed at the Four of Swords as if she had a pistol, "present," she pressed them against the Two of Wands, "future," her fingers reached for the title of the Lovers, and just as you thought she'd be pointing at the Empress, she pointed one hand at the it while the other aimed her fingers at you, "and forever. It's a time too often forgotten since it's the only time we live entirely, but it truly exists."

You sighed, nodding at her lesson as she picked up the Two of Wands card.

"After the four, whose monotonous stability has taken us out of repetitive circles, the two is an encounter, but not just any encounter."

"Am I going to meet someone again?" You huffed, the prospect not thrilling you any more than that.

"Not necessarily. As you probably know from the tarot's classification of colours, the wands represent desire, the swords rule the realm of the mind, the cups are the emotions, and since there's nothing left in us after those three, what's left is the material, which is governed by the pentacles. What can desire encounter? Nothing but the world, against which it will have to measure itself if it wants to achieve."

"So I'm going to conquer Demacia, am I?" You leaned back, looking at the card. "That's still in the future, not the present."

"That's because Meeting plus Desire equals evaluation. You're evaluating in the present what's going to happen."

You understood the intriguing twists and turns of the multi-card tarot reading more and more. It was completely different from the simple one-card readings you used to do for yourself.

"The first thing desire does as it develops is confront reality." She brought both hands towards her, all her fingers together as she pointed at her shoulders. "I have my desire, I realise there's the world, so I wonder how I'm going to combine the two. It's evaluation time."

It was when Eris was working on the cards that you realised just how professional and educational she was. She was patient in spite of your useless remarks and knotted the lines of the cards together to make a clear and precise explanation.

"Behind the battlements," she continued, pointing to the symbols, "the man dominates the landscape: planning requires height and perspective. The globe in his hand," she pointed to the drawings one by one, "reminds us that the world belongs to him if he manages to combine his desire with reality. The village facing the ocean gives the idea of openness; the strategy in place allows us to open up our horizons. The blooming basin that appears in the niche recalls the roses and lilies of the fool. Where the latter is in the thick of the action, the man on the Two of Wands is still observing. But in both cases, it's the same thing - which is it?"

You looked at the card, going over what Eris had explained to you. "Apply your will to the world."

She snapped her finger, pointing it at you. "Exactly. The whole point of these cards is that," she took the two cards in each of her hands to show them to you so that they faced each other, "where we've abandoned patterns that no longer interest us and that we followed blindly with the Four of Swords, the Two of Wands reminds us that now that a new world is open to us - it would be a good idea to evaluate it before you can forge your true will and apply it to the world around you."

She put the cards back down straight as she crossed her legs. "It's the evaluation of a project, a partner, an opportunity - gathering information, studying feasibility, a skills assessment to observe and ask ourselves if it's really what we want, and if it really corresponds to the expression of the need."

"Do the cards tell you all that?"

"I'm the card whisperer, haven't you confirmed that?" She designated her body, sweeping the air from her shoulders to her thigh.

"You do your readings to all your customers like this?"

"You're a very special client, I have to adapt to my audience," she said as she straightened, her eyes returning to the card. "It's also all about planning and preparing for a big trip - I hope Demacia will have a strong enough stomach to digest you. In any case, you're asking yourself a lot of questions. Is it really what I want? Is it really possible to get what I want, given the circumstances and the means at my disposal?"

Were you ready to accept Viktor as a friend in your life? The last few months had worn you down so much that you were sincerely wondering how things were going to go. Would it be the same bickering every day? Would it be different? You still didn't know where you stood on the question - the card was right.

"Now," she rubbed her hands excitedly, "the future." She took the card in her hand, raising it to your eyes. "What do you see?"

You bent down, looking at the illustration. An angel filling the sky, a crown of leaves encircling its head, its carmine wings reaching down to a woman on the left and a man on the right, both naked. Your eyes returned to Eris', a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Please don't tell me it's about me and Viktor getting naked," you lamented, your tone almost plaintive and asking for pity. Why did it always have to be about him?

She stretched her lips. "I'm not saying you and Viktor are going to get naked, but I definitely wanted to hear you say it."

You rolled your eyes, resting your chin on your palm.

"The lovers' card isn't necessarily to be taken literally - I thought with your immense sense of deduction you'd have come to that conclusion." She turned the card towards her. "The Lovers card is a card of choice. In the Original Tarot, it represents an arrowed angel over a man, hesitating between two women, one young and seductive and the other older and rather severe. It sometimes shows the crossroads between vice and virtue, with the idea that one should obviously choose virtue." She shrugged, rolling her eyes. "Only, if you had to have virtue, it would be by discipline, so the Cupid on the old card would have no place there. The Tarot should help to better understand who we are; therefore, the card of choice should teach me how to make the right choice for myself, not for moral teachers."

She turned the card back to you. "The central character in the old cards hesitates because he has as many reasons to go one way as the other. It's easy to imagine that the older woman is wiser than the younger one, but the younger one is kinder than the older one..." she swung the card between her fingers like a pendulum. "But the older one is more experienced... and so on. So the message is clear: when it comes to making the right choice for me, reason isn't going to help me. Choosing your career on purely objective criteria is the best way to make yourself unhappy, because it's choosing what anyone should do, when you're not just anyone."

She held the card out to you like a mirror, the varnish on the thick glazed paper gleaming in the firelight.

"How do I make the right choice for me?" you asked, your eyes moving from the card to find hers.

“By turning to the only thing at your disposal that isn't commonplace - your sensibility,” she smiled. "When it comes to the choices that matter, reason can only lose us. So, you have an essential tool for the journey ahead of you," she says, her free fingers resting on the Two of Wands. "To make the right choice, your reason knows it's useless on its own, so it turns to your sensibility, because it's connected to something higher, something that's never wrong."

Your eyes drifted over the silhouette of the man and woman.

"This is the path to harmony. We mustn't forget that it's just as valuable as the path to glory, although we're only bombarded with examples of the latter, because to be known, you have to surpass the others."

Your first place seemed more bitter than the sweetness it had brought you when you learned of your victory. Your cheeks warmed as you thought of all the comments your little family Eris and Selene made had suggested.

"And the lovers' card has no sentimental connection?"

She offered you a benevolent smile. "It's the card of love as the most obvious cry of affection. The card of mutual attraction, of the sentimental relationship, of the soul mate - becoming one. A balanced love relationship where one matchs the other, where the partners are complementary and in tune with each other as opposed to love at first sight which can leave us in shock like a certain arcane number sixteen you know all too well, burning sexuality like that of the wands and their insatiable desire, or illusory relationships."

The man and woman on the lovers' card weren't necessarily just opposites, they were mirrors of each other.

"It's a bit scary," you admitted.

"The veracity of the cards?"

"That, and..." you pointed quickly at the card, "them."

"Love is either sought after as the solution to all problems, or shunned like the plague. It's neither. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Yeah well," you sighed, "can't help but be scared of something I never experienced."

You hadn't really had time to dwell on love affairs, so much so that to this day you tu didn't have a single ex to your name. You had been so determined to achieve academic perfection that you had pushed any potential distraction out of your way. And now, with the possibility of a breakthrough on the horizon, you were terrified.

If love struck, would you be able to fight back?

"Let's not close any doors to the future," pointed Eris, laying down the lovers' card, “especially with a card like the one we have for the globality of this reading.”

She picked up the Empress card, presenting it to you again as if you were the artist's inspiration for this illustration.

"The Empress is the card of creation and fertility."

You recoiled slightly in surprise. "Please don't tell me that by some misfortune I'm going to get pregnant."

"It's not necessarily fertility in the literal sense, although that's part of it in certain specific cases," she cackled as her attention returned to the card. "It's the card of generation from within yourself. You have to have depth if you want to create, because to create is to bring something out of yourself. If the creative process is so mysterious, it's because it takes place in our deepest recesses. She is depicted in a sensual pose, creation being a matter of love and pleasure, as much in the flesh as in the intellect, because ideas germinate in the mind that conceives them."

You looked at the cards again, frowning.

"I see you're beginning to understand."

"So," you tried to summarise, "taking a step back from the situation and creating my own convictions is going to lead me to... fuck my way up to the top?"

Eris bobbed her head like one of those spring-loaded dolls, rolling her eyes at the sky. "Among other things." She put the card down, pointing as she had before at each symbol. "Three is a creation number, given that if you put 1+1 and turn off the light, it's through their power of generation, sexual, that they will become 3 by creating a child." She moved her finger. "The ball-shaped sceptre represents the total domination of the Empress of the Earth. Her crown extends her reign over the entire cycle of the year. The stars are six-pointed, the triangle forwards and backwards: her power is both material and nature, spiritual and intelligence," she explained, her hands weighing the words out like a balance.

Your eyes drifted back to the Two of Wands, resting on the globe the man held.

"The eagle on the shield of the Original Tarot represents intelligence; this bird flies high and has a piercing gaze. However, its wing is still in its infancy. Its creativity has no other purpose than itself, so it can fly off in all directions without producing anything usable. The Emperor's eagle, on the other hand, will be complete because it will have added what the Empress lacks in order to master the whole process of the material world."

She exchanged a look with you. "She represents the creation of harmony from disordered elements so that the matter develops freely, like building a system or a plan. It's also femininity in full bloom, sensual, self-confident, seductive," she winked at you in an exaggerated way that made you smile. "It's about building a relationship for mutual development, but not only that." She moistened her lips. "It's what you create out of yourself, the protector, the one who cares, who develops, who accompanies. The one who helps a company, a group or a project to grow."

She straightened up after this listing. "Something is born, brought into being, cultivated or made to believe: a vocation - possibilities. It's Abundance, and being ready to share its wealth with others, out of pleasure and love." She turned her eyes for a moment to the fire in the fireplace. "A simple ‘want’ is not enough to move the fixtures that business creation requires, nor is a desire rooted in selfishness or hatred, like doing something only to break someone else."

She described a loose, descriptive movement over the cards with her arm. "So the Empress represents the power of generation, naked creativity, cool. But there's something missing," she smiled, "someone who's very creative can give birth to a whole bunch of great ideas... without ever achieving anything, because they go off in all directions." She turned to the deck and the card the Empress was covering. "You need structure and discipline for that."

She grabbed the card, bringing it close to the Empress's, and your lips parted in shock. 

“The Emperor will bring them both to us.”

The Emperor's card was there, its presence unchanged, its meaning weighing on your warming heart. She placed the last two cards on the table with an air of satisfaction. You looked at the deck for a moment, the cards interlocking. You took the Empress's card in your hand, hovering over every detail of ink and colour on it.

Was it really you? This charismatic, strong-willed being? Could you really become this, this abundant being?

"Wow," you breathed, setting the card down on the table as Eris picked up her sisters to put them away again and you slumped back on the sofa. "That's something."

"Yup," Eris confirmed.

You bit the inside of your cheek for a moment as your eyes drifted towards the fire, thinking about the huge bag of information and truths that Eris had just dumped on your thoughts and that you were probably going to be thinking about for a very long time. And yet one name kept lingering in your mind.

"Say," you asked, your eyes returning to her, "why do you all think that Viktor and I could be... something?"

She giggled, leaving the deck on the table before resting her elbow on the arm of the sofa and resting her cheek on her fist. "You're asking me that as my first question after this reading?"

You sighed, your knee jerking repeatedly as you lowered your eyes to the floor. "Just... answer the question."

She knew there were certain limits to bickering. "Well," she began, "from what I've been hearing from you, you truly respect him, as in the name at the top of your 'list of respect'. He practically saved your life when you were fighting against your own stubbornness, and..." she seemed to search for words for a moment. "I get the impression that he's the person you make the most effort to be accepted by in your entourage."

"And... on a deeper level?"

"On a deeper level, in my humble opinion as the heart sister and friend you've known the longest in your life, I get the impression that, subconsciously, you're seeking his approval. Because now that he's given you a taste of what it was like to lose on your own ground and made you realise how much it was destroying you, you're grateful to him even if you refuse to admit it, to others and to yourself." She watched you for a moment, circling you under her skilful, sharp gaze. "I think he's the first one who's reached your level, and managed to keep up with you without ever tiring, always trying to bring out the parts of you that you don't show to others. And that scares you," she shook her head, "but I honestly think the fact that he's come into your life is the best thing that's happened to you in a long time."

That's what you liked about Eris, her honesty. She didn't care about hurting people's feelings or exposing them raw to the eyes of all, time was too short for pointless little lies, and she realised the truth of that very early on.

And you weren't offended, but you felt stripped bare by her words. That was probably what frightened you, finding yourself and the truth shining through for everyone to see. That was probably why the lovers were undressed. They saw each other stripped of all lies, hearts open as they created harmony.

Only two people knew you completely - the two members of your family. But that you could find someone who wasn't part of this circle and who saw all these things in you and accepted them no matter what, to lead you towards the best? It was new, and there's nothing more terrifying than the new. But surely, that was the lesson of the cards.

Yet your train of thought was interrupted when two figures you recognised all too well entered the hall.

"I think," you croaked, Eris following your gaze and turning towards them.

Jayce and Viktor, in casual clothes, were approaching you.

Eris turned back to you, shocked and shaking her head. "Is that what you call not bad?!" she almost shouted in her whisper.

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your hands. "I said by most standards!"

"I'm going to end up having heart attacks if your judgement's this poor."

"Hey there!" called Jayce as he approached. "Didn't think I'd find you here."

He wore a charming smile, dressed in a chunky cream hoodie and brown jogging bottoms. You'd already described to Eris what Jayce looked like, bringing back one of the class photos from your year so she could really see him.

Viktor, on the other hand, was wearing a brown turtleneck covered by a black cardigan, as were his wide pleated plaid trousers. He was frowning, his eyes shifting from you to Eris in confusion.

Eris turned to you, waiting for you to make the introductions.

"Jayce, Viktor," you pointed at Eris, "this is Eris. My sister."

"Pleased to meet you, Jayce," the latter smiled, extending his hand to shake hers as Eris stood up.

"Eris," she replied as Jayce gave way to his sidekick.

"Viktor," he said, squeezing her hand.

"I know," Eris smiled proudly as she turned her gaze back to you, "I've heard a lot about you."

You pressed your tongue lightly against the inside of your mouth as you laughed tiredly. Of course, now that he was here, she was going to be as playful as could be.

"Really?" said Viktor, surprised as he turned to you.

"Absolutely," Eris replied.

"You never mentioned Eris was your sister," Jayce remarked.

"Best friend, sister, it's the same thing to me," you answered simply.

"Is that a Tarot deck I see here?" remarked Viktor.

Jayce riveted his eyes on the object. "You guys were playing?" he asked curiously.

"Eris was giving me a reading for the times ahead and other advice," you corrected.

"I'm a professional reader," she confirmed, "that's my job."

"How does that work?" asked Jayce, his eyes lighting up with the excitement of discovering something new.

"I can do a reading for you if it's okay with your schedule?" she suggested.

"Oh, we're just here to read and chat by the fire, nothing will be disturbed," Viktor assured her, resting his eyes on yours.

"All right then, let's go," she said, grabbing the deck. 

Without missing a beat, Jayce took his place on the sofa where Eris was sitting. Viktor exchanged a glance with you, and you shrugged your shoulders and pointed to the seat next to you. Eris's words echoed as the leather slumped not far from you and Viktor placed his cane against the table.

"Alright, let me explain," began Eris as she rolled up her sleeves to reveal her tattoos. 

Jayce seemed blown away by them, and you could feel his lips burning with the famous ‘did these hurt?’ which he never dared to say.

"I'm going to shuffle the cards so they're well mixed, then I'm going to...’’

But the conversation slowly faded into the background when Viktor spoke to you.

"I didn't think you'd dress like this on the daily," his voice was low, obviously not wishing to disturb the explanation to Jayce who seemed far too excited for this activity.

"What, you thought I slept in my uniform or something?" you questioned back.

He shrugged. "A bit."

You couldn't help but crack a smile before redirecting your gaze to Eris, looking at you both with a knowing glance.

Your smile faded as you straightened up, curious to see what Jayce would come up with.

"So all I have to do is take three cards?" he asked again.

"Yes," confirmed Eris.

"And can I show them or not?"

"Jayce, it's not a magic trick," informed Viktor.

Jayce turned to you, apparently waiting for your opinion too.

"Just pick three cards Jayce, the ones that call to you the most," you replied, resting your cheek on your fist.

"How do I know if they're calling me?" he questioned.

Viktor was already bringing his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as Eris explained again. "Just take the cards you wish to take."

He straightened. "There are no traps are there?"

You and Viktor sighed in unison as you just urged him to take his damned cards.

"Alright, alright fine," sighed the latter, raising his hands in the air, "left hand, right?" he asked to Eris.

"Yes," confirmed the witch.

"Right - off I go."

You exchanged glances with Viktor, both of you rolling your eyes as Jayce finally picked up his first card.

"Where do you want me to put it?"

"Anywhere," laughed Eris. "Jayce, you can't make any mistakes with tarot, you know that, right?"

‘’Right,‘’ he nodded, placing the first card in front of him above the card line.

The ace of Pentacle arrived on the table.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Jayce asked immediately.

"That depends on what you draw next," laughed Eris, “just keep pulling.’’

Jayce then drew the eight of pentacles, immediately turning to Eris to gauge her reaction as she looked at him with eyes that said ‘you know what I'm going to say’.

He then drew his last card, the nine of cups.

"Okay," smiled Eris as she picked up the rest of the cards and gathered them into a compact pile, turning it over and smiling at Jayce.

"Is it good?" He asked, turning to you and Viktor.

"It's horrible," you breathed.

His face decomposed. "Is it?"

"No, I just said that to tease you, you've got a good game," you turned to Eris, “right?"

She giggled, uncovering the sun like shadow card.

"It's splendid, my dears."

Joy returned to Jayce's face like a dog presented with a bone. Viktor propped his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers as he watched the set.

"Well," began Eris, clearing her throat, "I'm going to proceed as I usually do with my dear inexterminable microbe here and make a simple reading. One card for the past," she rested her fingers on the Ace of Pentacles, “one for the present,” on the Eight of Pentacles, “one for the future,” on the Nine of Cups, “and one card that will give the overall colour to the spread and potentially give us some advice.”

"Okay," Jayce replied, eager to hear what she had to say.

"First of all, we have the Ace of Pentacles. The Ace is used to place us in the field we're going to work in; for this one it's the material field, and this one is fraught with possibilities."

She took the card in her hand and turned to an angle where you could all see the card. 

"The divine hand emerging from the clouds reminds us that the material realm, like the others, is a given; it's up to us to do something with it. A garden of lilies is traversed by an alley that passes under an arch, flowered with roses and leading to the mountains. Thought is born of matter and, in any case, you can't rise without the necessary material foundations. As for the pentacle, it's a sign of protection - upright, it's a representation of man with his head, or spirituality and consciousness, at the top and his two feet at the bottom, anchored in the earth. That's the attitude you need if you want to prosper in and with the world."

"Am I in the right inclination?" asked Jayce.

"Absolutely," reassured Eris. "Now that we know all these elements, how can this help us? Well, the Ace of Pentacles represents a material opportunity, something to be developed in the concrete domain. It's the birth of a new interest or a new energy in the material and financial spheres. Didn't you have a career change last summer or something like that?"

‘’Yes,‘’ Jayce exclaimed, ‘’how do you know?" He turned to you. "Did you talk to her about it?"

"Talked about what?" you said with a shrug. "I'd only told her about the explosion in your flat and my concerns about your trial, that's all."

He seemed to soften at the word "concern".

"In any case," continued Eris, "the Ace of Pentacles often represents a job offer and the possibility of professional advancement. It's synonymous with a new project, and sometimes an influx of money from an unforeseen or unexpected source.”

You thought back to the few bills he had given you without any difficulty so that you could purchase a dress.

"That's incredible," he mumbled, all surprised, "don't you think, Vik?"

"Yes," he admitted, "but I'm waiting to see the whole result.’ 

"Let's move on to the present, the Eight of Pentacles," she put down the Ace to take the next card. "We remain in the realm of the material and following the financial influx that the Ace of Pentacles was able to bring, there is the expression of the free with the eight and the lemniscate for its infinity. We have the talent, the materials, the knowledge and the ability to concentrate, so we can produce without hindrance."

Jayce seemed to be hanging on her every word, while Viktor seemed increasingly interested and methodically observant.

Eris's slender finger traced along the card. “The Pentacles are neatly lined up on the fully-covered beam and spill out onto the floor, and the craftsman has so many of them that he doesn't know where to put them. The bench can be seen as a representation of the skills he can rely on. The small village behind could mean that the craftsman can devote himself freely to his work because he knows that the other members of society will provide for his other needs." She turned to Jayce. "I suppose living here in such a small flat can't be very practical for carrying out your projects - is your apartment still being refurbished?"

Jayce looked at her with wide eyes, turning to Viktor who maintained an inflexible phlegm, but you knew him well enough by now to recognise that he was intrigued by this discussion.

"How do you know that-"

"I don't know anything," smiled Eris, "I just read the cards and follow my intuition which, luckily, is rarely wrong."

"Well, that's just it," Jayce breathed, turning to you, "I got the go-ahead yesterday to move back into the flat."

You straightened. "You're moving out?"

"We're moving out," Viktor corrected.

The news, strangely enough, fell on you like a weight. Your eyes darted back and forth between Viktor and Jayce.

"When are you leaving?" you asked.

"Tomorrow morning," Jayce replied. "We finished packing up a few things today. We were going to come and see you later to tell you the news but," he smiled, "you were already here."

You turned to Viktor, who lowered his eyes. 'Just here to read and chat by the fire,' as he'd said. Why hadn't he just said they wanted to talk to you? Why did he change the subject?

You should have been relieved, to finally be rid of him on a daily basis, but you couldn't. 

"What about the future?" asked Jayce as he turned back to the deck. "What's announced?"

You tried to digest the information as quickly as he had, but it was simply impossible. You forced yourself to, letting Eris resume her explanation as your heart seemed to weigh its weight down your throat.

"The Nine of Cups is pure and simple satisfaction. The Nine is the very last single-digit number, so it's an achievement. But the Nine is still an accomplishment in the weakest sense of the word, because it shows us what it's like when you see something through to the end - you don't go beyond anything, you just achieve it and that's all there is to it. For cups, it's 'filling the feeling of lack to the end, to the point of satisfaction’." She pinched the card between her two fingers, twisting it back and forth. "It's wish fulfillment, getting what you want. It's not having to ask anymore, it's one partner always there for the other no matter what, and the other counting on it."

Eris's eyes moved from Viktor to Jayce with a gentle glance.

"And the sun assures us of this with its warm presence. It brings self-confidence, the ability to assert oneself with kindness and to share happiness and the joy of life." She put the card down again, bringing the reading to a close. “I don't know what you're working on, but I hope it's something good for the world.”

Jayce exchanged a knowing smile with Viktor, who always returned it with mischief in his eyes.

"Well, that's really surprising!" Jayce exclaimed. "It's so right... I didn't know you could deduce all those things from cards."

"There's nothing random about arcane blades," asserted Eris. She turned to Viktor. "Would you like one too?"

He seemed taken by surprise, parting his lips and lifting his chin with his hands as his eyes moved from Jayce, to Eris, to you.

"I," he cleared his throat, "I don't know if this thing is really for me."

Viktor? Hesitating? That was definitely new.

"What," you chuckled as you turned to him, "scared the cards are going to be bad?"

"I'm not particularly fond of the idea that they could be right and doom me to think that I am doomed." Viktor explained. "What if they are bad?"

"What if they're not?" you suggested with a shrugged smile.

He considered you for a moment. "Haven't you ever regretted one of the readings Miss Eris here made for you?" 

You sighed heavily. "It's sometimes painful," you returned Eris's gaze for a moment, she wore an infectious smirk that wasted no time in stretching your own lips to the side, "I have a very distinct one in mind that I deeply disliked. But..." you looked back at Viktor, "the cards were right, and for the better. Believe me."

He remained motionless for a moment, finally nodding.

"Alright," he nodded, turning to Eris who was already shuffling the cards. 

She made a perfect line of cards, and Viktor moved his left hand forward to take his first card.

The Ace of Swords. 

Viktor drew a second, and you frowned.

The Knight of Pentacles. Your tarot was a real player when it came to pulling out cards apparently.

"Him again," you breathed.

"What do you mean again?" questioned Eris.

"I'll explain some other time."

"And the last one?" asked Eris as Viktor picked up another card.

Page of Cups.

Having two aces as first cards for both acolytes was interesting.

"Intriguing," admitted Eris as she collected the cards into a single deck to observe the shadow card.

Her eyes landed on you, stunned. You could feel what was about to happen.

"No," you breathed, "not him."

"Yes," confirmed Eris, "him."

Eris then held up the Emperor's card, and you brought your fingers up to pinch the bridge of your nose.

"That bad?" inquired Viktor, surprised.

"No, it's not bad," you laughed to yourself for a moment, turning your gaze to his. "The cards are just very playful, that's all."

Eris set the deck down on the table, the Emperor facing Viktor.

"I suppose you met this Emperor in another reading?" he suggested.

You moistened your lips, tilting your head to the side. "Not just that."

Eris laughed with her nose, catching herself as she straightened up.

"One day," you said to Viktor, "I'll explain the whys and wherefores, don't worry."

He nodded weakly, turning to Eris. He seemed a little nervous, and you were discovering this phenomenon in him. He could be tense, but nervous?

"To begin with, then, the Ace of Swords, like the Ace of Pentacles, is a possibility, a spark that hasn't yet produced anything, but which puts us in the right field. The crown indicates that intelligence is the queen faculty. The palm on the right and the laurel branch on the left are symbols of victory."

Viktor like victory, of course.

"Intelligence is the highest of our faculties, enabling us to rise to the highest heights; it is what makes us a thinking creature. As for the mountains, they represent elevation, the sometimes arid and cold summits of thought. It's a card that represents intelligence and the fact that you can count on it in any situation."

Viktor turned to you, smiling. "You'd rather have that card for yourself than for me, wouldn't you?"

You chuckled. "Maybe once, but now I'm leaving it to you."

He seemed surprised by your answer for a moment, pressing his lips together for a second as he turned back to Eris who was changing cards.

"Now it's the Knight of Pentacles' turn. He represents reliability. He's down to earth, he does what needs to be done without question. This is the card of routine. In terms of symbols, on his helmet and in the horse's ears, there are oak leaves to remind us of what is rooted, powerful and takes time. The soil has furrows in it, so it's about being rooted to the earth, about regular, long, cyclical work like farming, where you have to show stamina and well-applied physical strength.’

"My perfect picture, I am the very definition of athleticism while my colleague Jayce Talis the skinny watches me do my thing in my corner," Viktor joked as he retrieved his cane in hand.

"Don't put the blame on me," interjected Jayce, "I offered to train at least your upper body when you sometimes come with me to the forge."

Viktor rolled his eyes, waiting for the rest of what Eris had to say.

"In any case, the Knight of Pentacles is the definition of moving slowly but surely, with methods that may not be original, but are tried and tested. It's a knight slow to anger who won't take the first step without being reassured of the other's intentions. If there is to be a meeting, it must take time to develop into a solid friendship before it is possible to move on to something more."

Viktor seemed to be playing with his cane, but was listening carefully to what Eris had to say. You remembered the day you read the information on the Knight of Pentacles' card. Physical and sensual. You began to blame the fire in the fireplace for the heat that was rising in your cheeks.

"Now let's move on to our last blade, the Page of Cups." She picked up the card in question. "The Page of Cups discovers, so in the emotional frame of the Cups, he discovers an idea. We welcome new information; we examine a way of thinking or a way of relating facts, of news that affects us."

Again she began to point to the various symbols one by one as you bent to see them better.

"The little fish swimming in the cup, to which the Page gives a sympathetic ear, represents the little voice of intuition, that elusive mystery that lives in our depths and sometimes comes to speak to us. The water lily flowers on his shirt can refer to sleep and the messages of dreams, as well as to the sacred nature of sensitivity that takes root in the depths. On all the cut figures, the water represents the changing and fluid nature of emotions, as well as their depth."

She placed the card on the table. "This is the card of announcement, of wonder, of joy, of something that touches. I should point out that it's still a card that's recognised as being very romantic, but not only that. It's the card of love, but it's also the card of a new friendship, the one that makes you discover that you really care about someone."

You bit the inside of your lips, the heat spreading from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, which you covered with your hand, a ghostly memory of Viktor's breath washing over you.

"At last," Eris grasped the Emperor's card, "the card of stability and anchoring that is the Emperor represents you here."

"Me? The Emperor?" repeated Viktor, pointing his finger at himself.

"Yes," you said under your breath.

He turned to you for a moment, and you knew full well that when he found the time to discuss it with you, he wouldn't miss the opportunity.

"The Emperor completes the Empress's teaching by introducing the idea of rule, law and structure. Discipline doesn't mean giving in to the first distraction. He is a man who teaches us to take responsibility without deviating, to defend our principles without failing, to be obedient without letting ourselves be influenced. That's where his authority comes from,this lucid examination - it's the foundation that makes us sure, and allows us to act without wavering." She then placed the card back on the deck, closing the reading.

You had a feeling that Viktor wouldn't be the only one thinking about this reading. The cards reflected each other so perfectly it was impressive.

"Any questions?" Eris asked simply as she gathered up the cards and put them back in the box.

"How long have you been practising," Jayce asked, turning to her.

"I'd say... seven years?" she said, turning to you to make sure she was right.

"And a half," you added as she handed you the box of your tarot.

"Is this yours?" asked Viktor.

"Yes, I draw one every morning to see what the day has in store or for advice," you explained.

Viktor turned to Eris and said, "Where do you practise?"

"In one of the streets on the entresol level." 

"Could I have the address?"

She seemed as surprised as you, glancing at you then back to Viktor. "An interest in spirituality?"

He exchanged a look with you. "Now, yes."

After giving her shop address to Viktor, he and Jayce excused themselves and left to make sure all the boxes and other luggage were ready for the next day's departure.

You and Eris were back upstairs, you preparing the evening meal while she rushed to the shower to warm up from the absence of the fire she already missed so much.

You couldn't stop thinking about Viktor, about the changes, the ideas swarming around in your mind without ever finding respite or giving you any. You felt that the fact that he would no longer be in the building tomorrow gave you the impression that his absence would force you to think only of him.

But another subject was about to hit you, bitter, fearsome.

Eris stepped out of the shower, droplets of water beading from her hair and running down her tattooed arms. She crossed her arms seriously, pressing her shoulder against the doorframe as she crossed her leg.

"Do you remember my letter, when I mentioned there was something I needed to talk to you about?"

You stirred the forest pan over the stove, not looking away from the task as you expected mere gossip in the rising streets of Zaun. "Mhm?"

She sighed, watching you sternly.

"The child disappearances have started up again."

You froze in your tracks, the sound of the hood and the oil cooking the vegetables fading into a distant blur of sound.

You turned to Eris, almost trying to get her to repeat what she'd just said, as if she'd just resurrected an entire graveyard. "What?"

"Not just in Zaun," she continued, just as austerely, "I've had customers from Piltover. It's starting here too. It's very small and tiny as a disappearance compared to Zaun, but it's still there."

"Are you absolutely sure?" you asked, registering this information almost robotically.

She nodded. "When Renata Glasc came into my shop and I performed her reading, she said his name."

You huffed, as if someone had just punched you in the stomach and expelled all the air your lungs held.

"Is the situation under hand?"

"Glasc is on it from what I know." 

You huffed with difficulty. "Could you um..." you felt your throat tighten, "could you continue cooking? I think I need a shower.

She smiled at you, a thin, empathetic one. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you," you barely managed to say before moving towards the bathroom and carefully closing the door behind you.

Silently, with hasty movements as if all your clothes were ten times too hot on your skin, you got rid of each layer at record speed and turned on the water.

Your whole body was shaking like a leaf, your breath coming fast as you passed under the hot spray. Your eyes clouded over in a blur of tears, your whole face tensing, your brow furrowing as your nose scrunched up and your lips curled. You drew a huge, rapid, jerky breath, anger and despair contorting every feature of your face until your forehead ached as your hands ran over them as if trying to erase it, to dilute it under the shower water until everything was smooth and clean and you were pure again.

Your back jolted despite the warmth of the water running down your spine, the sobs attacking you as you placed one hand on the wall to keep yourself upright while the second pressed against your mouth to prevent any sound escaping from the prison bars of your fingers.

You only gave yourself a few moments to cry before letting the salt on your cheeks be washed away by the clear water of Piltover and turning off the shower. You didn't want to abuse it, even if all the drops it could have spilled down your body would never have been enough to bring the rain that would wash away the past.

Today had been too full changes, of emotions, of movements and unpredictable things that weighed on your mind like an elephant.

When you got out of the shower, Eris had already prepared the table and served your two plates.

"You know," she said with her mouth full, raising her fork in the air, "it's a bit hard to tell how you and Viktor stand."

You were still relieved at Eris's understanding. She had seen you cry very little over the years, the habit of choosing the excuse of the shower to have a moment when your sensitivity could take over and go beyond the limit of your eyes having come early in your friendship. And when you came back, she always had a different subject to discuss to take your mind off things.

With a tired smile, you took the chair opposite her and sat down.

"What do you mean?"

She took care to chew her mouthful to the end, winding her index finger in the air to ask you to wait. "Well," she finally swallowed, "I saw you staring at each other. I just can't be certain if it was sexual tension or murderous rage."

You let out a small laugh, your eyes still stinging from your tears and wrinkling with admiration for her.

The evening continued on a variety of topics, with countless teases about Viktor, who seemed to be burning a hole in her lip.

And when you both went to bed to find respite, the walk in the cold having knocked Eris out with sleep, yours didn't come. The cards all came back into your head like emblematic figures from a distant story, a fairy tale with final lessons for little children.

You thought of the Empress and the Emperor. You thought of yourself, of Viktor.

The same warm palpitations in your heart and stomach returned as you thought of him. You brought one to the one, the second to the other, like a stethoscope trying to discern any worries or disturbances.

It was warm and sweet - it was a hope that sprang up in your soul and filled you completely.

Did the Empress have a metaphorical womb pregnant with a budding love, ready to grow?

You thought back to Eris's words.

I think he's the first one who's reached your level, and managed to keep up with you without ever tiring, always trying to bring out the parts of you that you don't show to others.

Was it the warmth that sprang up deep inside you, like a candle in the darkness of a cavern containing thousands of crystals ready to sparkle, that he brought out?

When morning came, you had given up on the idea of sleeping and sat on your windowsill to watch the sun emerge in the distance.

You had thought for so long in the silence of this room that the inside of your body was a constant echo of thoughts reverberating against the walls of your skin and every corner of your mind. The sun was the first to say hello, and you smiled at it as it caressed your cheek with its warmth.

You'd fought with it so much that it had made your cheeks red. And you wanted to catch him, to hold him close to your chest so that he could feel the warmth of your heart, so much so that the night fell away. And now that you'd got to know the moon thanks to him, you told yourself that you'd just put everything out like a poor cigarette. But we're talking about the moon, and the sun, that's not nothing.

His reality had made the wheat grow, and the truth had made men eat, but reality was coming towards you little by little with a flag, staggering.

Down below, approaching the building in the soft silence of the morning and the waking city, a van pulled up.

The day was here, and you wanted to bury it in a suitcase to let the night stay a little longer, to keep the moonlight on your skin and in the glow of your eyes.

Your gaze turned away from the truck for a moment, back to the dressing room. The coat.

In the greatest of hasty silences, you pulled on a heavy jumper, trotting on tiptoe to the dressing room to pick up the coat that still had his smell on it. You gently turned the key to the apartment, moving from the silence of the bedroom to that of the corridor bathed in half-light. 

You hurried down the stairs, praying that the van hadn't left, that they hadn't left, and that you'd be able to say ‘see you soon’.

When you got downstairs, Viktor was standing in front of the entrance, just beyond the door, outside, with his back to you.

You inhaled, trying to hide your miserable gasping breath deep in your chest.

You were moving forward, feeling cold. The coat could have given you that warmth, but you didn't put it on. Your hand came to rest on the handle of the golden door, and you pushed it open despite the trembling you presumed to be due to the fatigue of a sleepless night.

Viktor turned and his eyes fell on you. His expression wasn't wide with surprise, and his eyebrows weren't furrowed, but you could feel a flicker of regret on his face that was swept away as soon as he realised it was you.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the stillness of the morning making you both feel as if the whole town would wake up at once if you spoke.

"Hey," you managed to say softly.

He gave a surprised little smile. "Hey."

You breathed in, swallowing as you tried to work out if all the ideas you'd been fed about him wanted to come back through your throat.

"So uh," you jerked your chin towards the van, "you're all set to go?”

Miserable small talk.

Viktor looked at you calmly. “The removal man is still inside picking up the rest of the boxes."

"Oh," you nodded, "Jayce isn't with you?"

"He's gone to the flat to settle the last few things that needed his attention."

His eyes never left you, his face a peaceful, unchanged emotion. It feels like a dream, you thought, but it's not, and that's probably the most reassuring thing about it.

You tightened your grip on the coat slightly, and finally let the breath you'd been holding expel itself from your lungs.

"You're fierce as my rival," you admitted, "but I think I prefer you better when you're not."

Viktor remained motionless for a moment, the light breeze in the air combing a few strands of his hair. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, barely rising.

"What good is a truce if we're not rivals anymore, then?" he asked.

"The truce can just turn into a deal," you suggested almost hastily, "a friends' deal."

He smiled at last, and your stomach warmed in the dead of winter.

"Friends," he repeated as if testing the taste the word had in his mouth, "I like the sound of that."

You smiled back, and relief washed over you.

He changed the grip on his cane, straightening up. "Any clauses you want to add to the truce, Miss?"

You couldn't help asking. "Why do you call me Miss all the time?"

His eyes remained serenely in yours, silently letting a moment pass.

"I can't say yet. Someday, maybe," he replied as if he'd just come back from somewhere else.

You nodded. "Alright." You straightened your back and cleared your throat before raising your eyebrows. "I just have one clause then."

"Go on," he nodded, curious.

A satisfied smirk spread across your face. "All your coffees are free if you come by the Brown Bitt, so you better come often with such an offer."

He laughed softly, his eyes dropping to his shoes for a moment before returning to yours.

"I'd be a fool to refuse such a discount."

"Well," you shrugged, "there is some kind of dignity being the first fool of the academy."

"Last time I checked," he said, raising an eyebrow, "you're the first of the Academy."

"Last time I checked with Eris, one and two together make the three of creativity." You smiled. "What did Heimerdinger say again? About us joining our forces for the presentation."

Viktor sighed, starting to recite. "There's no need to point out that you two are the sharpest elements of this class - you're well enough aware of that, as is the rest of the school certainly. None of the fellow teachers in this establishment seem to have brought to the table, however, a possibility which seems to me to be the most interesting for both of you."

"Teamwork," you both pronounced, nodding and smiling.

"You remember it so vividly," you grinned, impressed.

He nodded. "Eh, better have a sharp memory and wit to follow with Heimerdinger, if you can't race."

Your lips parted, remembering a little too well the first day we worked together. "Please tell me Jayce never heard of this."

"I recite your words to him every night before sleeping like a prayer," he sneered.

Another moment of silence passed, both your breaths billowing in the air.

"When we’re all settled," he finally said, "come to the flat."

You clasped your hands together. "Is that a challenge?"

"No," he chuckled, "just an invitation."

“As long as you don't organise masquerades in Jayce's apartment every other night, I will."

"Nah," he admitted as the wrinkles in his nose crinkled for a moment, "we keep that outside our explosive apartment."

It was refreshing to be able to listen to Viktor's comments and not find annoyance in them, just laughter.

"Speaking of masquerades," you realised as you handed him his perfectly smooth coat, "I took care of it."

His leather-gloved fingers closed over the dark fabric.

"I'm sure you did," he said, his eyes moving from the fabric to yours.

Behind you, you heard the distinct sound of castors on the floor of the hall, and turned towards the man dragging a trolley with a few boxes piled on it.

"All clean," he warned as he passed you both and began to stack the boxes in the back of the vehicle.

He quickly closed the boot and climbed into the front seat next to the steering wheel.

"See you to the demacia boarding airship?" asked Viktor.

You smiled. "Don't be late."

He gave you one last smile.

"No chance."

✦﹒ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

✦﹒ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr @potatointhedirt @atrocioushaircut @ren-ni @schrodingersraven @urmommt @enoojnij @stilinskisensation @emlovesya @soupsaurus @luvreadingfics @the-valars-sapphire @solbringer @adorabluesposts @pxszels @nerolovesseongjiyuk @cyberwears @cryptidcut @seohaepeachyun @danielsbackupglasses @2hiigh2cry @16novvs @cicadastoner @patchs-cuiosity-corner @w41k3r-94290 @minniiv @roku907 @lumilarity @peachy-writings @disturbyn

[mayasaurusss]

Okay okay listen, Jackie thought for you because my last one was about Lucy!

Maybe Jackie who’s cheating on Jeff with reader?

Because, here’s the thing, sex with Jeff is just not doing it for her. Sure, he’s trying to be sweet and is too eager to be any good but none of that is working for Jackie. She needs someone else.

And that someone happens to be you!! 🫵

Maybe she’s getting ready for date night with Jeff, mentally preparing herself to fake another orgasm, then go home and get the job done herself.

Today is different though because today, while she’s getting dressed and doing her makeup, there’s you. She invited you over after school to have a distraction from what’s yet to come (Or rather what’s not. Surely, it’s not gonna be Jackie.)

Long story short: While Jackie did want you around, she’s fed up with all your rambling and yapping while she’s just trying to get ready in peace. And what better way to shut you up than by stuffing your mouth? At least like this she won’t have to fake it. At least like this Jackie’s stamina will be appreciated, because she could go for hours with you, using your mouth first before watching you ride her OR bending you over her desk to fuck you from behind? Letting all her anger and (sexual) frustration out on you?

It’s way too late for me to think and write properly so I hope you can make some sense out of this.

-🌿

Friday night date

Contents: afab Jackie, gn reader (an instance of afab genitalia, but can be read as both), smut, strap referred as 'cock'.

A/N: Finally done! Sorry for all the delay 🌿anon, but life happened. I had to add a little romance at the end because I'm a sucker for it😅. Enjoy!!

'Another Friday night thrown in the trash'.

That's what Jackie thinks, every time, when the weekend rolls by and she has to busy herself with Jeff's less than fancy lovemaking. She doesn't usually let off the side of herself that resents Jeff's inadequacies too out in the open, but before and after she lets him touch her, she can't help herself.

It's not like she hates Jeff, or even dislikes him as a person, but it just doesn't click with him. He doesn't notice though, too shallow to hear how fakefully exaggerated her moans are, or how wet she is not.

And when she comes back home, she is cranky to say the least. Her fingers don't do the job and leave her unsatisfied, chasing the phantom of an orgasm, only to be left needy and wanting.

Regardless, tonight, she busys herself with you.

You, one of her best friends in the world, sitting next to her while she prepares herself for her date night.

They're going to the movies, or whatever. Jackie can already feel the ghost of Jeff's fingers inside of her, doing the opposite of what pleasure does.

What she expects from you is just mindless chit chatting, gossipping and things like that; you know, what friends usually do. Instead, she finds herself having to delicately apply mascara on her eyelashes while you ramble on and on about your latest interest. "Do you know that some animals-" oh my God. Now, while Jackie did want you around, your incessant rambling is only bothering her, and you're filling her head with it.

The situation is only making her more and more nervous: the date, your yapping and the prospect of another night, wasted on a man that can't even make her cum properly-.

Just as you're about to finish your incredibly detailed report on animals, or some shit, Jackie cannot take it anymore, and settles for walking over your place on her bed and kissing you, smudging her lips on yours, spreading the colours that tinted them just seconds ago around.

You are taken back by this, eyes open wide as Jackie deepens the kiss more and more by the second. Your best friend is on your lap, kissing you. That's a first. Between kisses, you manage to slip away from her grasp, your voice so small that's barely audible.

"Jackie... I-" she takes you back before you can answer, her lips already on you, her heavy sighs falling from her.

"Just shut up" she says, subtly grinding her hips back onto yours. Jackie has never felt so good in her entire life: this is how it's supposed to be. She takes your hand, making it trace her body beneath her clothes, finally settling it just above her crotch.

She's hot, no, she's boiling, you think, her laboured breath ghosting over your lips as she pulls back. "I need it, please. Just for tonight. I really need it".

And you'll give it to her.

Jackie pushes you on the bed, straddling your hips while her lips explore the skin of your neck. This time, she's the one who slips her hand beneath your clothes, but unlike Jeff, she takes her time in feeling you underneath the fabric of your panties.

And when you quiver under her, your voice breaking just as you speak her name, something in her snaps, burning her skin. She's so wet it's embarassing.

But she can let herself feel a little, right? She can be herself with you, right? So Jackie straddles your chest, the weight of her short lived as she settles to rest next to your face. She pleads "I need it" and looks at you with such adoration; how can you think of denying her another second? Your fingers ghost on the naked skin of her thigh, goosebumps following your touch, exposing her to you, finally.

Oh. She's being just like Jeff. She's so so eager: she wants to savor you, for you to taste her, to do what she pleases and to make you feel good. And it's too much.

She lowers herself onto you, finally, weak as you adjust her position and reach for her, burying yourself where she most needs you. Jackie is helpless, her fingers barely able to hold onto your locks as she rocks herself on your tongue.

You are so, so good to her, she repeats in a mantra, sweat rolling down her skin with each movement of her hips, an electric feeling spreading through her body.

Wow, this feels so good. Is this how sex is supposed to feel like? It didn't feel like this when she touched herself, and it certainly didn't feel like this with Jeff.

If that's true, she's glad her very first, true time, is with you.

Jackie doesn't last long at all, heat rising from the depths of her stomach, reaching that peak, and then cumming, staining her sheet and your lips. You feel Jackie's weight all over you, her body half sprawled on the bed with her pussy still pressed on your face.

With her body as soft as warm butter, Jackie lifts herself up from you and you watch in awe as her once perfectly combed blonde hair now falls on either side of her head, like curtains of golden silk.

Her brain is a blank space, where only her pleasure exists. Oh, this feels so good. Why has she never allowed herself to feel like this? Why hadn't she done this earlier?

Jackie is tired, incredibly so, but there's an itch she needs to scratch. Maybe she'd like to try something else tonight.

She deserves it, after all. Her legs are wobbly as she lifts herself from your face and walks to her closet, finding the strap on she uses to bring herself to orgasm when her fingers aren't enough. She wants to see you ride her, she wants to kiss you everywhere, push her hips into yours as Jeff never did with her, wants to see your face as you cum.

You're surprised when you see her adjusting a harness to her hips, instead of yours.

You always took Jackie as somebody who likes to be taken care of, despite her mean girl persona, not the other way around. She's changed now, her eyes practically devouring you as she walks towards the bed.

"You think you can get this ready for me?" she asks you, her lips tightening with that smug smirk she's so known for, and it makes your heart beat faster than ever.

Could you have ever known that Jackie Taylor, the captain of the Yellowjackets, the most popular girl at school, your best friend, could have ever had this version of her beneath the surface?

Allured by her siren voice, you inch towards the tip of the dildo, getting it ready for you. Once it's wet enough, Jackie settles on the bed, behind you, spreading her legs while her eyes bore holes in your skin.

"Come on, I won't bite" oh you wish she did. You straddle her hips, just where you need her the most, your wetness rolling down the silicone dick.

Her fingers come down to touch you, finally making you ready for her. The intrusion is hard to bear, alien, but you sink down until you're meeting Jackie's hips. You expect Jackie to be sweet to you, to kiss you and guide you through it; instead, while you rest and try to fit her better inside you, she scoffs, looking at where you two are connected and gives a small trust upwards, making you whine loudly: "So? Will you hurry up?" she asks you with an almost mean sneer on her face.

She's impatient. She just wants to see you fuck yourself on her cock. Can you do that already, or will you just stay impaled there until tomorrow comes? You seem to be too dumb to understand her, and Jackie can already feel her patience wavering. So, she takes your backside in her hands, lifts you just up enough to give her space to fuck you.

You try to follow her movements, gaining enough energy to finally ride her. Shit, how can it feel so good?

The sounds you make are embarrassing, but so so sweet to Jackie. This is what she has dreamt of this whole time: to have you in her arms, not to be held by his, to feel your weight pressing down on her, to finally take you properly, to have the real experience.

But in her mind, she comes back to Jeff, and to the terrible night she has ahead. She wishes she didn't have to go, to have you all night long, with you in her arms, bouncing on her cock while moaning her name over and over again.

A building sense of anger fuels her, his face flashing on yours in her mind.

Why are you going so fucking slow?

"Come on, can't you go faster?" you can feel Jackie's anger dripping from every word, behind her movements and in the bruising touch of her fingers. You'd love to please her, but your legs can only help you so far.

"No..." she shoves you down the bed before you can even realize that, now straddling you from behind.

"I'll just- I'll just do it myself" she spews, but the stutter in her voice tells you that she too is near her end. With her hand, she pushes your upper body down by the nape of your neck, pushing your ass more towards her.

Her voice is raspy and breathy, while yours is barely able to escape your throath; only a whine does, which promptly earns you an annoyed "Oh, don't be such a baby. Just take it" by your friend, who is currently focused on piercing through you with her cock.

All that you can think of is to cum, to have Jackie's hands on your throat as you scream for her to move faster. That last image in particular makes a spark of fire lit up in your guts.

You take her hands from their position on the bed and place them on your neck, looking at her pleadingly as you sigh a "Please...", possession filling every inch of Jackie's veins. She chokes you, putting her anger and her neediness behind her touch; she's not all that strong, but it certainly does the job.

You feel so fucking full, so hot and so loved, spark of white blooming beneath your eyelids right before you come, making a mess of the sheet below you. Jackie doesn't slow down, fucking you through your orgasm, up until the point where all that comes from you are troathy whines and hitched gasps.

Just a little bit later, she follows you, the view of you, so perfect, too much for her.

The room is silent except for your heavy breaths, muffled on the bed. The realization of what she has done is heavy on Jackie's shoulders: great, she fucked her best friend the night of her date. That's great. Amazing, even. But no matter how guilty she feels, there's freedom in what she has done tonight: she might not even care if Jeff finds out. Tonight, she has proven to herself that she can feel good too. And that hurtful beating of her heart? Well, that's just a happy accident. Maybe she discovered more than her pleasure tonight: how good it felt to have you under her, whining and moaning her name. It felt right.

"Shouldn't you go and meet your date?" she can hear your bothered, barely veiled sadness, and all she wants to do is to remain here with you until morning comes. She steals a glance to the sky outside her window, listens for any rumbling of a car engine. It's early. She nuzzles her nose in the crevice of your neck, taking in the smell of your skin, "He can wait a while".

[banj0possum]

Sweet Hero Of Mine

Yandere! Antihero x GN! Hero! Reader

im back little stinkers <333

Edit!! Nsfw mentions removed! Replaced with..Elias being a dork ?

CW: Stalking, Creep behavior, Suggestive talk about reader, slight masochism

🪲 Elias was never into the whole Superhero thing.

🪲 He hated the constant swarming of reporters and fans screaming for his attention. He didn't want to be treated like a celebrity; he just wants to fight crime where people refuse to help.

🪲 That's why he avoided ever displaying himself like that. He preferred to stay in the shadows and kept his deeds out of the picture, but there are always rats scurrying around ready for another big scoop.

🪲 He could only scoff amusingly as he sees his little escapade last night being reported on tv with a blurry photo of him on the rooftops with the words "Mysterious Vigilante Strikes Again!"

🪲 He can admit, seeing them being so absorbed in what he does is pretty entertaining, he can feel his ego go up a bit.

🪲 Soon enough he gets tired of the incessant yap of interviewees talking about him and reaches for the remote.

🪲 His body freezes though when the reporter mentions some 'new hero' and he turns back to the TV.

🪲 His eyes are blessed with the cutest sight of a person dressed in a hero outfit with a logo on their chest. Their warm smile seems to radiate happiness as they talk to the reporter. Is this the new hero they've been talking about recently?

🪲 They ask for their opinion on the vigilante situation and he almost melts over their soft voice.

🪲 "I believe this guy has good intentions. Which is great and all but if it's endangering people and their properties, I think it's time they think about how running around and punching people in a suit isn't being heroic, it's being obnoxious!"

🪲 There goes his ego..

🪲 And perhaps his clean pants..

🪲 He starts researching all about this new hero. Who do they think they are?! This little brat has to be taught a lesson!

🪲 He stalks your social media, every fan account, every news atricl about your deeds, everything.

🪲 For for blackmail of course! Maybe he can find some dirt on you..in this fan account that makes thirst edits of you..

🪲 Soon enough he starts tracking you and your appearances. Every fight with a villain or any burning building with people that need saving, he's there with a high-grade camera that can snap all the rips and tears in your suit...for blackmail!

🪲 He's real happy that he wore a trench coat to your most recent battle or else everyone would have probably seen his growing boner whenever you throw a punch that connected to your opponent.

🪲 He's combing through the photos he took of you and shivers over your sweaty form and aggressive face.

🪲 He imagines meeting you, perhaps having a battle of his own, being pinned down by you, having your arms grappling and squeezing on his body. Perhaps you'd even say something degrading to him with that sweet voice of yours..

🪲 So that's what he does.

🪲 You were doing some last-minute night patrols after a long day of crime fighting and interviews when you hear a deep gravelly voice behind you.

🪲 "Hey there hero~"

🪲 You look back and see a large muscular man in a suit that looked like the armor of some insect.

🪲 "Huh, didn't expect to meet you here vigilante!" I joke.

🪲 "Oh please, call me Beetle~" He smirks as he walks closer to you. God you're even cuter in person..

🪲 "Well, Beetle, you are aware that you're kinda sorta wanted for a lotta stuff right?"

🪲 "Is it worse than the shit those pieces of scum done? Unlike youre pretty little ass I'm actually gettin bad guys off the streets.~" He teases, putting a hand on the wall and leaning close to your face. He's trying not to swoon over your stern face.

🪲 "Unlike you, I'm keeping people safe! Although I do commend your...unique sense of justice.."

🪲 *internal squealing*

🪲 He's a little surprised that you're so nice, unlike some other douchey heroes he knows.

🪲 He lets out a chuckle "That's new..Thanks goody-two-shoes.."

🪲 You give him a teasing face "Hey I'm not that much of an angel!"

🪲 "Oh~? Well o me you are, sweet hero of mine~"

🪲 You two become quick friends, even having missions together.

🪲 His obsession got worse from there.

🪲 Riding in your superhero vehicle, he rarely looks anywhere but at you driving, explaining to him the mission that he barely cares about other than the fact that it's an excuse to be with you.

🪲 Every time you take his hand to lead him somewhere, he makes sure to burn the feeling into his mind. Oftentimes he's the one doing whatever it takes to have physical contact with you, but it's way better whenever you initiate it.

🪲 You love taking pictures together. Of course he never smiles when you take one but when he's back at home, he's staring at it with the biggest, goofiest grin.

🪲 He loves taking pictures too, only he prefers ones with you and you alone. Sometimes it would be things you like so he wouldn't forget.

🪲 You blush, flattered over him remembering your favorite drink.

🪲 He'd memorize anything you say and put it in a top secret file named "My Love"

🪲 Oh my god please degrade him jokingly.

🪲 Bully him, push him around, be playfully rough with him!! Sure it's all in good fun but he's feeding his guilty pleasure whenever you treat him like shit while also being so sweet to him.

🪲 Pull him down suddenly by his suit's collar whenever you want to whisper something to him or show him something, he loves it. Although be warned, he might moan a little..

🪲 He's crazy for you, insane even, bonkers almost!!

🪲 He comes home seeing you in a superhero gala at one of the fanciest buildings in the city.

🪲 The bone-breaking grip on his beer bottle almost cracks the bottle when he sees you being accompanied by some other hero.

🪲 They're being all close with you and making you laugh, he can feel his jealousy rise within his body at the sight of your adorable smile, one that wasn't because of his jokes, his company!

🪲 Maybe it's about time he gives this superhero thing a try..

[unnerving-presence]

Hello! I absolutely love your writing it's so much fun. Could I please request any three killers of your choosing who has the reader, s/o or not either way would still be funny, over their shoulder and on the way to a hook and they just yell out "Can I get a please before you treat me like a common whore?"

i feel bad whenever i get asked to choose the killers because then i will most definitely just make them the killers i’m interested in at the moment 😭

𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹

Chucky:

Gives you a big laugh and argues that you already are a whore (affectionate) and that he doesn’t need to say please to begin with. It cancels out. PEMDAS or something..

He doesn’t take most of what you say super seriously anyways and quickly puts you on a hook, telling you he’ll take you on a nice date after all this. He’ll figure something out.

“You still pretty much called me a whore” “Yeah, yeah. You know I would never mean it that way, sweetheart”

Next time you’re in a trial with him he’ll mockingly ask you if he has to say please before doing anything involving killing you.

He still has yet to set up that date..

Pyramid Head:

Given what he represents he partially wants to take you up on that offer. That much is clear when his usual hand on your ass holds you tighter to his shoulder ever so slightly while he carries you. He’s genuinely thinking about it, something he doesn’t really do when you try to bargain with him during trials.

Give him a couple hooks and he might make a decision.. or just stare at you for a second as his way of telling you that you won’t be getting an answer. He’s needlessly complicated at times..

..Which is why you would’ve never expected him to listen to you a couple days later. however long that is in The Entity’s realm. To be fair, your trials lately have been laughably short and he knows you’d probably appreciate some not so TLC before he puts you on a meat hook.

Tarhos Kovács:

He didn’t think of you as some of the ‘workers’ he would see in Italy but he supposes he occasionally treats you as one in the heat of intimacy. Clearly you speak jokingly, but he finds the proposition amusing nonetheless.

He’ll scoff at your words in which he’s met with your fists relentlessly beating on his armored back, doing virtually nothing to him. He feels you should know by now that no matter how attractive he thinks you are that he won’t treat you differently during trials but he knows you won’t really be giving up on your acts of resistance any time soon. It’s a bit cute to see you try anyways. Makes him chuckle.

Don’t worry, he treats you much better outside of trials. At least he actually listens to your complaints.. but instead of putting you on a meat hook he tends to solve your incessant yapping with exactly what you asked for in the first place, minus the ‘saying please’ part..

[recitedemise]

Gale doesn't know about his history toward distrust. Likewise, however, Charles doesn't know about his need for more. As it were, they're both lovers of the arts, both primly put together like a soft Monet. They've learned what qualities to wear, donning all manner of smiles that would sway a room, and certainly, his hunger for company would be a sore before the eyes. Dare he say it, the intensity of its portrait would scare him, too. Truth is, Gale, eager, longs more than anything for what's achingly honest. He would wonder half-heartedly to the color of deprivation. (Brown.) With laughter, Gale's eyes boast the color of rained in earth.

"Please. One needn't know the difference between an optical binary and a binary star to be a proper admirer or our skies," he returns. "Besides, you don't strike me as someone who will content yourself with staying firmly terrestrial. I like to think I've studied the stars some decades enough to spot a twinkle in one's eye. All those boundaries you can push are sure to be cosmic."

How nice. Evidently — a great mercy, sure enough — even a year of isolation couldn't dull his charm. Unfortunately, however, whatever reprieve that'd afforded goes rotting with a gasp. My god. Of course he knows him. Of course he would. Quietly, a great flurry of dread begins frothing in his marrow as the seat farther down sinks like his heart. "Charles. The pleasure is entirely mine, I assure you. As to myself, I dearly hope you'd heard all good things. Academics are known for their gossip, unfortunately." His fall from grace was legendary. "With mouths much like their thoughts, they often run."

he's somewhat disarmed, admittedly, by gale's amicability. charles hails from a metier of reticence, where such openness would either be scoffed at or taken advantage of. part of him bristles at it, quick to mistrust a hand that is offered so readily. what intentions might this not-quite-stranger hide behind his smile? couldn't be that he's simply interested in conversation, could it? at the same time, charles can recognise his own paranoia for what it is. if there were any shady goings-on attached to this most inconspicous figure, charles would have uncovered them by now.

                   so why not let himself be disarmed? to a point, at least. gale makes it remarkably easy. no time lost, no hitch acknowledged. charlie manages a smile that doesn't come off as even half as stiff as he currently feels. ❝ i'd wager i enjoy the nightsky as much as anyone. my knowledge of astronomy is very limited. not my area of expertise. certainly not like i suspect it is yours. ❞

                   here, he's starting to show his hand some. this is where he cannot help but sound a little apologetic. ❝ i know who you are. superficially speaking. ❞ belatedly, he realises this might come across as more ominous than intended. best not to reveal too soon that his area of expertise consists mostly of rigorous research. what he may consider friendly interest might very well be considered cyberstalking by most. ❝ what i mean is: i work in research, too. the world of academia is very small. ❞ too vague an explanation. instead of lingering uncomfortably, he decides to follow gale's unspoken invitation and takes a seat, with a respectable distance left between them. if gale is gracious enough to extend a hand to him, charles might as well accept it. ❝ charles. pleasure to formally meet you. ❞