#Vi Et Animo (With Heart and Soul)

[girlwithadragonheart]

2 ~ The Fool

Vi Et Animo (With Heart and Soul)

Vander x Fem!Reader

Summary: Adapting to your new life will take some time. Luckily, you have a friend to help you out.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Kids asking intrusive questions, teasing, swearing, suggestive comments toward reader, I think that’s it

A/N: Kind of a transition chapter, I tried to make it as interesting as possible for everyone involved XD

Chapter 1 Masterlist Chapter 3

Your eyes grew unfocused as you read over a student’s essay. You’d been sitting there for what felt like days grading papers and planning assignments.You’d scarcely had time for a break lately. The starry blue cloth covering your desk almost seemed to glow as your eyes crossed.

You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face as you sat back for a moment, letting your eyes drift to the domed ceiling. Various constellations were carved into it, all aligning with the sky above. 

Absently, you shuffled your cards between your two hands, watching them glide through your fingers, the sound doing something to soothe your weary mind. You continued until a card flew from the deck, landing crooked on your desk face down. Glancing at it, you tilted your head, wondering what your spirit guides found so urgent that you needed to hear it right that moment. 

Setting your deck to the side, you let your fingers hover over the single card before carefully flipping it over.

The Fool.

New beginnings, freedom, spontaneity, adventure.

The Fool depicts a youth walking joyfully into the world. He is taking his first steps, and he is exuberant, joyful, excited. He carries nothing with him except a small sack, caring nothing for the possible dangers that lie in his path. Indeed, he is soon to encounter the first of these possible dangers, for if he takes just a step more, he will topple over the cliff that he is reaching.

The Fool is a warning to not be naive to risks and to be aware of the path you’re treading.

In its upright position, it was the bright start of a new journey. When reversed, it was a warning that you were stepping too far beyond your path and it would lead to potential disaster. 

It had landed sideways. Perfectly neutral. 

Both a warning and a premonition. Urging you to be sure-footed and take your time on this path.

The waters were cold and dark if you plummeted to the depths, but they could also embrace you in the serenity of their stillness—the weightlessness provided a steady release from the heaviness on your shoulders, if you let them.

An assured knock landed on your door, and when you looked up, Lest was in front of you. Her ear twitched as she regarded your drawing.

“The cards giving you a hard time again?” She grinned mischievously.

You sighed, leaning back and gesturing to the card in front of you. “What do you think?” You asked.

She leaned over your desk, eyes darting over the card and its position. “Did it land that way?” She questioned. You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest. “Interesting…”

“That’s it?” You deadpanned. 

“What do you want me to say?” She stood up straight, raising a brow as she crossed her arms, mimicking your position. 

You sighed, letting your eyes close as you laid your head back against your chair. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “Am I doing the right thing?” You opened your eyes to peer at her as she took a drag from her pipe, the purple smoke drifting through the air. Her presence always calmed you as did her insight.

“Have you asked them?” She nodded to your card deck. “They’re the only ones who could even come close to telling you.”

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

You rolled over, and the sheets were cool beside you. Your eyes fluttered, but you didn’t open them yet, wanting to enjoy your time in bed before getting ready for work. 

When your lids finally pried apart, you were in an unfamiliar room with air that made your lungs tight and no light filtering through the windows. You sat up, trying not to panic as your eyes flitted around the room.

There was a door across from you and a curtain to your left. You looked down at yourself, seeing a massively baggy t-shirt twisted around your frame from the way you had slept, undoubtedly. It smelled faintly of smoke and leather, and the previous days’ events came flooding back to you.

The exile. The thieves. The hunger. You clutched your stomach as it growled—nowhere near the severity it had been—and noticed how thin you had gotten just in a few days without any source of nutrients.

And out of nowhere, Vander had found you and brought you back to his bar-slash-home, fed you, cleaned you up, and tended your wounds before offering you a place to sleep. Fucking weird thing to happen out of nowhere, but listen, after the hell you had been through, you would take what you could get.

Slowly, you pulled yourself out of bed, remaking the blanket behind you before carefully heading downstairs. You ran a hand through your hair, praying it wasn’t as messy as it felt.

The first thing you noticed was the smell of fried eggs. The second thing was a head of blue hair and a head of pink hair, sitting at the bar. Vander was behind it with a hotplate cooking the eggs you smelled.

He looked up with a half smile as a stair creaked beneath you. You froze, being caught peeping and tucked yourself half behind the corner as both girls turned to you. The younger one—-Powder, if you remembered right—-regarded you with wide eyes, a more curious stare. Whereas her sister, Violet, scowled, looking past you and up the stairs.

Most of the time, you would pride yourself on your interactions with children, but you weren’t from here, and they weren’t from Piltover. You knew there was bound to be some kind of lapse between you.

“Breakfast?” Vander asked, calling back your attention from the little ones. 

You smiled sheepishly and nodded as you finally made your way down the stairs to join them at the bar. You took a seat at the end of the bar, pulling on Vander’s shirt to try and cover as much of you as it could. Which—-while not surprising—-was a lot.

Vander started dishing out food and introduced you to the girls. “She’s going to be staying with us for a while, alright? So no funny business.” He pointed the wooden spatula at them each, eyeing them carefully as though he could already see their plans.

You couldn’t help the small smile that spread on your lips watching him. He slid a plate to you and you nodded in thanks, glancing away as he sent you a wink. You looked at the girls as they dug into their food and cleared your throat. 

“If you guys have any questions, I’ll try to answer them,” you told them.

Vi looked at you with half an egg shoved in her mouth, practically scowling, while Powder’s eyes darted between you and Vander.

“Are you really from up there?” Powder asked with wide eyes.

You glanced at Vander, and he just shrugged and nodded. “Yes, I’m from Piltover,” you told her. “I was a teacher.”

“Why did you come here?” She asked. “Did you want to visit?” You wished it could be explained with such child-like innocence. The truth was far darker.

“Nobody comes here because they want to, Powder.” Vi rolled her eyes. “What did you do to get kicked?” She questioned.

“Violet—” Vander scolded.

“No, it’s alright,” you assured him. “She’s right.” There was a flash of surprise in Vi’s gaze before it was quickly covered up again. “There was an accident, and the council needed someone to blame. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Not quite a lie. Not quite the truth. You weren’t really sure what the truth was anymore.

“So Vander saved you?” She eyed you suspiciously. “Is that why you’re wearing his clothes?”

“Mine needed a wash,” you shrugged a shoulder, starting to cut into your eggs. Vander chuckled as he cleared his own plate.

“Do you have any cool stuff from Piltover?” Powder asked excitedly.

Your thumb absentmindedly rubs the place your ring used to be. “No, sadly I was mugged the second I stepped foot here.”

Vi scoffed. “Typical. You Piltovians all think you’re better than us, but you couldn’t even take care of your own stuff.”

“Yeah, silly me for letting those four guys take me out,” you shrugged. “Get all your facts straight before throwing around accusations.”

There was a suspicious sound of a laugh hidden by a cough coming from where Vander was sitting. Vi looked at you with shock and disgust as though you had just struck her. Powder looked between you and her sister as you started calmly eating your breakfast.

“Speaking of,” Vander said. “Your clothes are clean.” He took his plate to the sink behind him, setting it down. “Think you can handle this lot while I go get them?” he asked.

You looked at the girls before turning back to him. “I think we’ll be alright.”

Vander nodded and made his way down the stairs. Powder eyed you curiously. “Do you have a family? Do you miss them?” She asked.

“I…” You thought back to your life in the glorious upper city. All the pomp and circumstance. Your classroom. Your students. “I had my students,” you tell her. “Not a traditional family, I suppose.”

“You said you were a teacher,” Vi stated. “Wasn’t it boring?”

You laughed. “No, not at all. Sometimes, I suppose, but mostly? Every day was an adventure. You hear all kinds of things. I mean, think about it, I worked with other teachers and a bunch of kids.” You dragged a hand through your hair.

“You must know loads of stories!” Powder exclaimed. “Can you tell us one?”

You glanced over, seeing Vander coming back up the stairs with your folded clothes. “Maybe another time, kiddo,” you smiled.

Vander came over to you, setting your clothes on the bar. “There ya go. I couldn’t get every stain out, but I did my best.” He scooped up yours and the girls’ plates, moving to the sink. “I’ll get this cleaned up while you get dressed. We’ll open up the bar after,” he told you.

Vi led her younger sister downstairs as you picked up your clothes and headed the other way. “Thank you, Vander,” You said as you left.

“Anytime, lass,” he responded before you were out of earshot.

You took your clothes upstairs, shutting the door and pulling Vander’s shirt off. You folded it carefully and left it on the bed for him. Picking up your dress, you ran the fabric between your fingers. It was familiar, albeit still stained with some loose threads. But it was soft, and it was almost all you had from your earlier life.

Slowly, you brought the cloth to your face and took a deep breath, letting your eyes close. It smelled faintly of tobacco, but other than that had no scent. It didn’t smell like grime and body odor anymore. But it also didn’t smell like your detergent. It didn’t smell like your perfume. It didn’t smell like home anymore.

You took a heavy seat on the edge of the bed, feeling your eyes tear up. Home. That was no home anymore. You rubbed your eyes furiously; This was not the time for a breakdown. You inhaled deeply, though unsteady, until the rising tide of your emotions had receded back to the gently rocking waves of the sea.

You slipped your dress over your head, moving to the bathroom to adjust it in the mirror. Gently running your fingers through your hair, you parted it the way you liked, starting to twist the strands into dutch braids to keep it out of your face. You secured it carefully before pushing them back over your shoulders and tugging on your dress, feeling almost comfortable again. 

Your gaze drifted, settling on your tarot deck on that little bathroom shelf. Your hands braced the sink, fingers itching to reach out and do a reading. You missed the feeling of the cards between your fingers. You were used to shuffling them idly between your hands as a way to distract your mind.

But what’s the point?

With a sigh, you flicked off the bathroom light, letting the curtain drift closed behind you as you made to leave. When you opened the door, a pair of boots rested on the stair in front of you. You stared at them for a moment, remembering what Vander had said last night. These must be Vi’s extra pair.

You sat down in the doorway, pulling the boots on. They were a bit snug, but surprisingly comfortable and broken in. At the very least, they were warm and would keep your feet from getting trampled by customers. You had to remember to thank her when you next got the chance.

When you got downstairs, Vander had finished pulling the chairs off the tables and was behind the bar, organizing the drinks below. He looked up as you entered. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you responded.

He chuckled. “You’ll be fine. Just… remember where you’re at,” he said carefully.

“Worried they won’t understand me if I use big words?” You joked.

“Yeah, yeah, you know what I mean.” He rolled his eyes, though his smile gave him away as he turned on the neon lights outside. He tossed you a worn apron, and you quickly tied it around you as you mapped out the bar to learn where things were.

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

Not even an hour in, the place was teeming with patrons. Vander had insisted it wouldn’t be too busy—just a “light evening”---but the roar of voices, clatter of tankards, and the occasional crash from a dropped glass said otherwise. You did your best to keep your stress levels down, reminding yourself you didn’t have to be perfect, you just had to get the job done. Everything would be fine. Hopefully.

You were balancing a tray of empty mugs, weaving between the raucous tables and trying to avoid bumping anyone as you walked, when a man barked at you from across the bar. “Oi lass! When are we getting more drinks over here?!” the man questioned, slamming his metal tankard down on the wood of his table.

You flinched from the sudden noise, one of the mugs on your tray tipping precariously. Your breath caught in your throat as you shifted, hand darting out to catch it and place it back on the tray carefully. You glared at the man, cursing under your breath as you hurried back to the bar. You dumped your tray down with a huff, your patience starting to wear thin as Vander prepared their drinks.

“Do they always yell like that?” You asked, resting against the counter with one hip popped.

“Only when they’re sober,” Vander replied, watching the drinks he made.

Your brows dropped and you gave him a dry look. “Oh, so this is normal?”

“Welcome to the Undercity, Princess,” he said, his smirk widening. “You learn to let it roll off. Comes with the territory.”

You crossed your arms on the bar as you waited for him to finish. “Well, I’m letting it roll off alright. Right into my mental list of people I’ll ‘accidentally’ spill drinks on.”

Vander chuckled, setting the bottles back under the counter, and finally looking at you. “Not sure you’ve the patience for this line of work.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “And miss the chance to work under you? Never.”

His smirk turned into a full laugh as you started putting their drinks on your tray. “Careful, or I’ll start thinking you like it here.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, old man.”

He put a hand over his chest in mock hurt, winking at you as you walked away to serve the men their drinks. You balanced the tray carefully as you weaved through the crowd of tables again. You smiled as you reached their table, setting their drinks down in front of them. 

“Sorry for the wait boys,” you said as you tucked the tray under your arm. “Is there anything else I can get you for the moment?” You asked. 

The boy closest to you couldn’t be more than nineteen, though the rest looked to be in their thirties. “I know something you can get us, love,” The older man across from him said. “Or rather somethin’ you can take,” he elbowed the guy beside him, snickering. “Our boy Tommy here still has his virginity!” The table howled with laughter, but the young boy looked rather uncomfortable.

You fought the roll of your eyes, shooting an apologetic glance to Tommy before leaving, finding they were too engaged in their own joke to address you anymore. You found an empty table, clearing the drinks off it and balancing the tray in one hand as you wiped down the table with the other. 

You cast a final glance around the room checking for anyone who needed your attention before making your way behind the bar to wash some of the mugs that had started piling up. Vander was just serving drinks and talking to his customers. You vaguely wondered how many of them were regulars here and how long he had known them all. Regardless, he looked much to calm in this sea of faces and storm of demands.

As you set to washing the mugs, you spoke over your shoulder to him when he wasn’t engaged with someone else. “You make this look so easy. It’s almost offensive.”

Vander glanced over his shoulder, one hand still pouring a drink. “Years of practice, Princess. You’ll get there.”

You snorted, setting a mug on the drying rack. “If I don’t keel over first.”

“You’re holding up fine,” he said, passing the freshly poured drink to a customer and flashing a quick grin at you. “Though you missed a spot on that last mug.”

You froze mid-scrub, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re joking.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied smoothly, already moving to grab another mug for a refill.

You quickly grabbed the offending tankard off the rack and squinted at it. Spotless. “Looks clean to me,” you muttered before glancing back at Vander. “You just like messing with me, don’t you?”

Vander shrugged, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. “Keeps things interesting.”

You rolled your eyes and dunked another mug into the soapy water. “You’re lucky you’ve got charm, old man. Otherwise I’d dump this water over your head.”

He chuckled, sliding another drink across the counter. “If that’s the best you’ve got, I’m not worried.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you shot back, a small grin tugging at your lips despite yourself.

His teasing was cut short by another customer slamming a mug down, demanding a refill. Vander gave you a wink before turning back to the crowd, leaving you to pick up your tray and go see what trouble was in store this time.

“Dickhead,” you muttered under your breath.

You moved across the floor to one of the tables by the entrance, smiling at the man drinking alone. A flash of blue and pink caught your eye as Vi and Powder ran past the windows. You couldn’t help the way your chest squeezed when you saw them. Happy and almost carefree kids. You hoped it would stay that way.

You turned your attention to the man, a cigar hanging out of his mouth as he spoke around it. “I’d heard Vander took the Pilty in off the streets, but I couldn’t believe it until I’d seen it for myself.” He sat forward, taking his cigar between his fingers and blowing smoke in your face.

You let your breath catch until it dispersed so you didn’t cough and make a fool of yourself. “Quite,” you said simply. You didn’t like the way this felt, and you wanted to get out of this conversation as fast as possible. Your gut had never steered you wrong before, you weren’t about to stop listening to it now. “Is there anything I can get you, sir?” You asked.

“A ride if you’re selling it, sweetheart,” he grinned, and you felt dirty. Disgusting.

“I’ll have to decline,” you said with a forced smile. His eyes roved over your form. It was common for men to have this kind of reaction to any woman, especially one of such refinement. They just couldn’t wait to get their hands on them and corrupt them like some twisted right of passage. “If that’s all, I’m sure others need my attention.”

He huffed a laugh, “Yeah, I’m sure they do,” he licked his cracked lips before putting the smoke back between them.

You fought the twitch of your lip as it tried to become a sneer. Without saying anything else, you headed back behind the bar. Though you made sure to keep composed and completely masked, Vander’s eyes darted over you as you set your tray down.

“Y’alright?” He asked quietly as you moved to the sink.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” you told him, picking up the mug you had dropped before and resuming your task. You could feel his eyes on you still, and you refused to meet his gaze. “Really,” you assured him.

You were almost certain he didn’t believe you, but he also didn’t press about it, turning back to the bar and serving someone else.

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

Finally, after what felt like an endless nightmare, the last straggler had left the bar and Vander flipped the signs off. You huffed out, practically deflating as you untied your apron and hung it up on the far wall next to the bar. The kids had come back a few hours ago and gone downstairs, and you watched as Vander locked the place up for the night.

You moved to the small closet where you grabbed the broom and started sweeping the wooden floors. Your feet and back ached from the work. Luckily, you had found a few minutes earlier to grab a bite to eat so you weren’t overly hungry. 

You and Vander worked around each other as he wiped down the tables and started putting chairs up for the night. When he finished with the tables and chairs, he moved behind the bar to count coins. 

“So, is this the glamorous nightlife of Zaun I’ve heard so much about? Dusty floors and sticky counters?” You asked him.

He didn’t look up as he spoke. “Better than wherever you came from, I’d bet.”

You scoffed, leaning against the handle of the broom. “Oh, absolutely. Who needs fancy parties and clean air when you’ve got rat traps in every corner?”

He chuckled. “You’re getting the hang of it, though. Starting to look less like a lost little princess.”

You paused with mock offense. “Is that a compliment?”

He finally glanced up at you with a wry grin. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You grinned back, “Too late,” you said, going back to your task until you felt you had finished.

Once the two of you had settled down you sat at the bar and Vander poured himself a drink. “Can I get you anything?” He flashed you the same smile he gave his customers, and you rolled your eyes.

“Just give me whatever you’re having,” you said with a dismissive wave of the hand.

He raised a brow but said nothing as he filled two glasses halfway with a dark amber liquor, sliding one over to you before pulling a stool around to sit facing you. He lifted his glass to you, and you clinked yours against it with a tired smile.

“To my new life,” you toasted.

“Cheers,” Vander said before taking a drink.

You tipped your head back, feeling the liquid burn down your throat, a bitter, woody taste in your mouth. Your lips and nose screwed up in a scowl, and Vander laughed.

“You should see your face,” he said.

“I’ve seen less pleasant things,” you joked as the burn in your throat faded.

“I’ll drink to that,” Vander responded, draining his glass.

You pushed yours away with a frown. “I won’t.”

He chuckled again, “More for me,” he said, taking your glass and pulling it toward him. After a moment of not completely uncomfortable silence, he spoke again. “Despite your griping, you’re good with the people,” he observed.

“Comes with the territory I guess,” you shrugged. “All the politics up top and my job…” you trailed off.

Vander stroked a hand over his beard as he swirled the glass idly. “A teacher, eh?” He asked. “Did you like it?”

You sighed. “It was the best part of my life,” you told him, that faraway look taking over your expression. “Those kids… they were everything to me.”

He nodded in understanding. “They’re all the more foolish to let you go,” he said, tipping his head back and draining your glass. You looked down at your hands folded in your lap, fighting to keep all your emotions you’d been white-knuckling at bay. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he said. “But you can if you want to.”

“I think it’s best left in the past, now.”

A/N: Let me know if you enjoyed! And as always, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Have a good day/afternoon/night, my loves! <3

Tag List: @growls-like-thunder @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @hwalovs

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[writers-potion]

Latin Phrases of love

Latin: Words/Phrases of Love ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Thank you all for the attention that my Latin words/phrases lists are getting! (interesting latin phrases, soft-souning latin phrases)

Here are some Latin phrases regarding love:

aeger amore: love sick

aegra amans: [lover's disease] love sick

amo: I love

amor sui: self-love

amor habendi: love of possessing

animo fractus: heartbroken

caritas: love or charity

cupido: longing or desire

cum corde: with the heart

digitulus: [little finger] the touch of a finger

digitus auricularis: the ring finger

imo pectore: from the bottom of the heart

in saecula saeculorum: [for ages of ages] forever and ever

philtrum: a love potion

potentia amoris: the power of love

vinculum matrimonii: th bond of marriage

vis amoris: the force of love

amo et pax: love and peace

amo ut ivenio: love as I find

amor et honor: love and honor

amor gignit amorem: ove begins as love

amor amnibus idem: love is the ame in all (Virgil)

amor tussisque non celantur: love and a cough are not concealed (Ovid)

amor vincit omnia: love conquers all things

amore sitis uniti: be united in love

cedamus amori: let us yield to love

cor ad cor loquitor: heart speaks to heart

cor et manus: heart and hand

cras amet qui numquam amavit: let those love now, who never loved before (Catullus)

dulce periculum: sweet danger

fide et amore: by faith and love

fortis est ut mors dilectio: love is strong as death (Song of Solomon 8:6)

in omnibus caritas: in all things love

meminerunt omnia amantes: lovers remember everything (Ovid)

nihil amori injuriam est: there is no wrong that love will not forgive

nihil amanti durum: nothing is hard for one who loves

nihil esta more veritatis celsus: nothing is loftier than the lover of truth (Propertius)

non mihi, non tibi, sed nobis: not for you, not for me, but for us

redintegratio amoris: the renewal of love

serva jugum: [preserve the yoke] preserve the bond of love

si vis amari ama: if you ant to be loved, then love (Seneca)

ut ameris, amabilis esto: to receive love, be lovable (Ovid)

...and because ruined love is also love:

a vinculo matrimonii: [from the bonds of marriage] an absolute divorce

aurear compedes: golden shackles

corpus inane: body without a soul

succubus: a female spirit or demon believed to prey sexually on young men while they sleep

zelotypus: jealousy

expertus dico, nemo est in amore fidelis: I say as an expert, no one is faithful in love (Propertius - I wonder what this man had to go through to say this?)

neno in amore videt: no one in love sees (Propertius - seriously, what happened, Propertius?)

omnis amans amens: every lover is demented

res est solliciti plena timoris amor: love is full of axious fears (Ovid)

As always, happy writing.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! Also, join my Tumblr writing community for some more fun.

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

Reference: Latin for the Illiterati: a modern guide to an ancient language by Jon R. Stone, second edition 2009.

[inknopewetrust]

𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠

When the Emperor summons you, you always answer the call. [Emperor Geta x Fem!Reader] [wc: 3.38k]

Warnings: minors DNI, smut, 18+, slight exhibition kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex (this is outdoor sex in Ancient Rome whores, they’re unprepared), Geta be a little submissive and possessive, corruption, dirty talk. I do not take responsibility for my writing actions.

When you were summoned to the coliseum after dark, there was no questioning what be the cause.

The corridors of the great arena were near silent. Distant growls and scratching claws filled its catacombs with a crawling anticipation because when the Emperor called, world at his feet quieted to hear what he had to say. Feeling the sands of the stage shift and meet the seats of the empty audience, there was nothing but the moonlight and wind to greet you.

You were not alone in Rome’s greatest achievement. The ghosts of the gladiators watched over the wicked as they fed off the suffering of the poor.

And when the guard left you to your devices upon the imperial seat looking over the arena, you forgot the evil that took over the man who called. Feigning oblivion to the red that seeped into the cracks of every surface he touched.

“It is quite the sight, no?”

In the silence of the amphitheater Geta’s words were quiet yet threatened to bounce off in echos amidst the stone.

You ran your hands over the marble ledge. Its once smooth nature lifting in bumps every inch of the soaring motion your hand made. A gust of wind fluttered the fabric of your chiton to dance around your legs with ease.

It invited his dark eyes in the shadows of night.

Geta dismissed his most loyal guard at the sight of you blowing in the wind.

“It is different in the light,” you answered. The sand below you was not stained of blood and there was no chanting of what the Gods would decide of a prisoner’s fate. “Peaceful… if I dare say.”

“If you were not to speak freely, I would not have let my men go.”

“So there is no fear to be had here?” You turned your head over your shoulder. Barely capturing him in your vision, Emperor Geta leaned against his brother’s seat. The edge of the stone resting his body as his eyes traced you against the backdrop of his arena.

“There is no one to fear, my lady,” he spoke.

Emperor Geta was a man you had known for a long time. As children he often sought you out as a companion of play while his father helped prime himself and his brother, Caracalla, for their ascent to the throne. You, on the outskirts of royalty within a wealthy family of semi-relevant status to the Caesar, were allowed in their court as a potential wife.

The status of wife never came but it did not stop Geta from perusing you into adulthood.

It was on nights like these when the clouds floated to cover the moon and the poor laid soundly on the gravel on the outset of the building that Geta felt a need to see you, to have you for himself before the reality of morning came tumbling upon him. Weakened by his thoughts of illicit want and bruised from a victory turned sour, his eyes shone bright in the darkness while the necessity grew.

But you knew the intent.

The one guard, never different from the last, summoning you from your villa with a coded message of: vi et animo, with heart and soul. Descend upon the place where he shall be waiting and when the act is done, as always, the guard would see you home and little would be said as time surpassed before the the next occasion. An invitation to sit behind him at a fight always went unanswered; the feasts in a Senator’s name would go uneaten.

You always had something to fear when a man whom you had grown to be so utterly conflicted in lust and hatred reigned unfairness from his palace on top a hill. The shining city of Rome was not what it once was but Geta cared for nothing except what he wanted.

And while you never accepted the invitations beyond these, the jewels around your neck, the ones that hung from your ears, the pulsing of your heart spoke wonders for the truth within you.

Geta watched as your head turned back around and your hands curled over the balcony’s edge. His fingers rapped against the back of the chair; rings clashing against the golden adornments at the bristle of your objection.

“What summons me here?” You prompted. “Are the others not enough for you? Do they not fill your cup on nights as brutal as these?”

You were not to call the women he sought whores. They made their choices, or, they had none, but their actions did not relegate themselves to lesser. How were you any better than them? With your gold and your home and your money? You believed yourself, on the worst of nights, to be a wealthier version of what they had been subject to but unlike many of them, you let this linger beyond the reasonable time.

“I wish to think you know better than to question the call of your Emperor. You showed, after all.”

“I do not question your wants… what keeps you ticking,” you turned to rest your back away from the arena. Geta admired the wrap of your gown tightening against the stone. “You should be celebrating the conquering. Rome has just expanded. There is a celebration at the palace and yet you are here amongst the prisoners and the animals.”

“And you.” He looked pointedly.

Geta’s makeup was gone from the day. He wore a tunic of red and white with golden laurels weaved in its fabric. The orange of his hair had gone muted in the dark.

“And me,” you agreed. “You have me here, Caesar—“

“Geta.”

You eyed him.

“Why are you playing a game tonight? You denied my invitation—“

“It is not my place,” you cut in. “I am no wife, I am not a… woman of a man’s delight. I did not wish to be an object on an arm.”

“I could have your head for such an implication,” he warned.

“You wouldn’t,” you affirmed. “No one else would be dragged here to kneel before you so willingly.”

“You want to be on your knees?”

You shook your head at him with a tick. No one would dare to speak to him like you. But you knew it bothered him in ways he couldn’t manifest. The blood rushing through his body—you challenged him in a way only he would allow you.

Geta removed his arm from the back of the seat and stepped down to you. Each step closer and closer until he came to rest directly in front of you and caged you like the animals below. Arms expanding on either side of you, his breath invading your space as his nose nicked yours. You shuddered. Your back piercing into the travertine not in fear but anticipation.

To be the lover of a corrupted Emperor… you had him in the palm of your hand. You hated it but loved it all the same.

“You speak so freely,” he hissed. “And yet you tremble in my presence.”

In an instant, your breathing had gone staggered. His hands drew onto you, feeling up the sides of your body as he pushed himself on you and the front of his body lay flush with yours.

“The tremble is not you. It’s me.”

“I am the only one to make you feel this way, yes?”

His hands roamed freely. Geta’s thumbs rumbled up the fabric of the front of your body while his fingertips hardened against you. The plushness of your skin was melting to him. His nose tipped against your chin to turn your head upwards.

“Your Emperor asked you a question.”

“If I said no,” you breathed in as his fingers groped harder. “What would become of me?”

“I’d lock you away,” he wouldn’t. “I’d see to you myself in the cells below the palace. You’d wear nothing,” you scoffed and his lip quirked up. You could feel his lips change against the column of your neck. “And when people would ask of you, they would not be allowed to see you.”

“So you would not want them to see us like this?”

He let out a low, bemused chuckle. “This is for me, us, to enjoy. But if you imagine the whole of Rome watching us, then please, my dear, listen to them.”

Geta rose his lips to your ear as his hands fell to your hips and then one of your legs. He maneuvered to grip the back of one of your thighs and opened up space for him to fall further into you. You could feel his excitement; the prodding of his want against your clothed self. His hot breath and lips danced across your cheek.

“Can you hear them? Gasping at the sight of you. It is the most beauty they have ever seen. So wet and glistening for their ruler.”

“And what of their Emperor?” Your hand came to clutch the extra fabric of his chest. His heart under your hand was picking up in paces. Beating against his ribcage while his eyes blew lustful.

“They should see their Emperor on his throne,” you commanded.

He dropped your leg and with a push from your hand on his chest, Geta stepped backwards until you pushed him to meet his throne. The seat wide for his liking, he sat upon it and grasped at the loose fabric of your dress at your hips.

“Further.” He pushed himself further back into the seat. Using the small step at the base, you lifted yourself onto him with your knees on either side of his hips.

“While he’s on his throne,” you let him pool the fabric into his hands and draw it upwards. You sat atop him and relished the way you could feel him grown underneath. “They shall see his weakness.”

“I do not have a weakness,” he growled, one hand clasping the back of your neck and forcing your face an inch from his own. You rolled your hips on him. His fingers adjusted the grip on the back of your neck and he hesitated. “I-I do not have a weakness.”

“Then what am I here for?” You asked against his lips and through his hesitancy he gazed into your eyes before capturing his lips with yours. You sucked in a harsh breath. Hands coming up to cup his head as hard as his lips met yours.

Your fingers raked through his hair with a tug as his lips refused to separate themselves form yours. So desperate in want, he attached himself to you in the way he knew how. One of his hands pulled on your dress and moved you forward then back, tugging on the fabric to encourage you to roll your hips onto his. You needn’t a command to seek the friction of your body on his.

Where you rested on him, his erection formed against his tunic. You lined up above where you could feel the outline of him beneath the fabric and dragged yourself along the length of him and back down again. He pulled his lips away with a tug on your bottom lip. Geta kept your dress bunched at your navel and watched as your cunt glided as best it could along his clothes. Each thrust painting the fabric a shade deeper in color he could see even in the night.

He was mesmerized. Entranced by your body—no different than the times he had taken you in the light or dusk of a day. Your pussy glistened in the brief windows of moonlight that met your body. Dripping with ecstasy as you only felt the outline of his cock above the thin piece that separated you. It was enough. For you, it was always enough.

But it wasn’t for him.

“Take it off,” he ordered.

His hand pushed at your gown and you huffed. Hands going to unfurl it from the ties in and on the sides and letting it fall to the step below. Fully nude on his throne, on him, Geta’s hands groped your ass to pull you to his lips again.

“What of you?” You murmured.

Geta simply pulled up the tunic up on his body with a shuffle and his cock was more than ready in response. “There.”

“Us women do not see the same pleasures,” you meant in the form of clothing being simple to remove. Geta quirked his head to the side and leaned it back against his seat.

He sat an awkward angle but was semi-sitting up with you on top of him. You lifted on your knees and palmed at his cock with purpose. Remembering the lines and curve like the stones outside of your home, you pumped him as a grunt left his throat.

“I see that you do.” See his pleasure. He was so arrogant.

“Not that anyone would know,” you snided.

Again, he furrowed his brows. “Do you want people to see? All of Rome to see what a woman of your position does to me?”

“They don’t need to see, Geta,” you sighed and moved up on him. “If you wish to take a wife, fucking her is already implied.”

“You are far too beautiful to be a wife. You are a goddess.”

“Who can only be sought in darkness.”

“That is when you come alive,” his eyes closed at the feel of his tip at the entrance of you. Moving back and forth along your slit while the wetness gathered to make his intrusion easier. The pull of your walls made room for him as you sunk down to take him in slow, steady seconds until there was nothing more to take. The claw of your fingernails into his chest at the sensation left half-mooned indents upon his skin.

Your knees dug into the harshness of the chair as its girth, and his own, sent you ascending. Your back arched as his fingertips drove goosebumps along your spine. You started grinding on his cock slowly. Clit rubbing against his pubic bone, gently caressing your most sensitive bit as he gripped your hips tightly. You looked down at him prompting his stare to reach through you. It grabbed your soul and reminded you of all the reasons you kept answering his call.

Geta filled you completely. The stretch of him long and wide, your hands fell back to his knees and propelled you as you rut on him the best your body could. He thrusted up into you as the match inside of you both struck hot and heavy. The burn of your body, the pulse of heat between your legs grew while the slick of your arousal coated his dick every time you sunk back down.

His hands bruised. They gripped you as though you would slip away into the darkness should he let go. He needed to feel you in more ways than one. The digging of your nails into his skin transposed by the burn of his palms on your waist, hips, thighs, and wherever else they could touch.

“Look at you,” he praised breathlessly. “A God to a King.”

A Venus of Rome.

“My Venus,” Geta cut between his teeth. “Mine.”

His own pace superseded your own. Geta’s hips snapped up, racing a high that hit him like an arrow into his heart. His pace was parading his strength he did not often show beyond words and measures. Your hands failed you on his knees and forced you forward once more.

Geta grabbed at your jawline, hand crushing your chin.

“You are mine,” he repeated. “No other man shall have you. Not as a wife, not a lover.”

Your silence maddened him. He was relentless in his mission to send you to the edge. You could barely catch your breath and your chest, naked as the day you were born, rose and fell rapidly as the faint sheen of sweat washed over you.

“Do you understand me?” Geta stopped his movements and your shoulder jolted uncontrollably. He was the only one who had ever sent your body’s muscles into overdrive.

“Yes,” you nodded with his hand still grasping your jaw. “Yes, Geta.”

His eyes flicked back and forth between your own. You were truthful even if you hated the ruler he had become.

“Good,” he agreed with his own nod. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around,” Geta ordered again. “Your Emperor commands you.”

He released your jaw dismissively and let his hands fall beside his legs. You lifted yourself from him with a shiver and maneuvered yourself front facing. The arena before you, the empty spectator seats still viewing you freely in coitus. Geta’s hands roamed over your ass and up your back as you turned. He grasped himself at the base of his cock and lined up his head to you again.

“Come down,” he commanded.

You joined together as one again and you were quick to realize you had no bearings. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to support you except what little resistance your knees could gather against the harsh seat.

As though Geta could read your mind, he drew you back. He leaned you all the way against him to where you were nearly laying as though on a bed yet still angled as though lounging on a chaise. The new angle pushed his cock to the sweetest spot. Geta soothed the sides of your body with his smooth hands while your feet turned under you and you let your weight lay on him.

He ran over your breasts slowly. Nipples long pebbled, he squeezed the flesh and brought them up with a rough tug before releasing them again. Geta brought his head to incline beside yours as he thrusted into you once more.

“I see their jealousy. All of them—“ the non-existent spectators “—wanting to fuck a woman like you. If they saw an Empress so bare, so exposed, what would they do?”

Geta’s tone had become selfish. His pace returned to an unrelenting finish. He pounded into you. Each snap hitting your most pleasured spot perfectly as his hands cradled you and his words filled your mind with him.

“How would they feel seeing their Emperor defile the most exquisite creature that has ever graced Rome?”

“They would all wish to be you,” you admitted. His words of praise hit you as hard as his cock. Your head tossed back onto his shoulder.

“Open your eyes, darling. Head up.”

You did as commanded—like any good subject would do.

“This will be yours,” he guided one of your hands into his and brought them both to your bud as the other wrapped around your waist. With his finger atop yours, he helped circle your clit as his end was near.

“This land, Rome, can be ours. Just ours.”

That was only if he would ever be given permission to marry and the match was fixed.

“Gladiators in your name, fighting to see your beauty. Feasts and splendor for the sake of our children…”

The familiar heat in your bones began to bubble like the makings of a volcano. You turned your head to his and kissed him deeply at the thought, rubbing your clit furiously with the help of his hand and relishing the way his cock completed your body.

“I will marry you,” Geta reaffirmed as his words caught every second his hips threatened to stutter at his release. “I will marry you. I swear to the Gods if it is the last thing I do.”

Maybe you believed him, maybe you didn’t. Yet you would feel nothing but him and only him and everything he gave you in that moment. The utter devotion and the most raw form of his propensity.

If the night were not already fallen, you saw the waves of Heaven wash over you as the eruption of your orgasm shakes you to the core. The blinding hues of what Venus had brought upon you leaving you gasping for breath. Thoughtless and wordless of promises that carry on with the shaking of your thighs and soft whispers of marriage from his lips. Geta’s own release was missed by you. Mere seconds after your own, he stilled as his hips stuttered into you and the legacy of his spent began to leak beyond where he filled you.

Geta released his hand from your own and rubbed your arms soothingly as you laid heavier on him than before. The wear of your brilliance forging his content sighs. He closed his eyes as your head knocked into his own and the two of you sat there, in the empty arena, alone as one.

“I swear to the Gods,” he assured once more. “I will make you my wife.”

And if the Gods were fair, you would know it to be true. But they have never been fair in the life you knew. So, how could they be true now?

A/N: couldn’t help writing for Geta. The men of gladiator have me in a chokehold. Thanks for reading and while it isn’t required, reblogs and comments help writers the most! ♥️ [not proof read yet]

[acrowsaidthewindsings]

Vi et animo.

With heart and soul.

[yoongisleftearring]

VI ET ANIMO ( with heart and soul )

× in which you are unwillingly sharing your apartment with a malevolent spirit and accidentally summon the most powerful being after an online tutorial on a sketchy website goes wrong (or right).

-> Pairing: god of the underworld!jisung x fem!reader

-> Genre: fluff, fantasy au, comedy(?)

-> Word Count: 3.7k

-> Warnings: swearing, nothing else really

You ignite the final flame, the smell of the pine-scented candles flowed throughout the small, dimly lit room. Your eyes scanned the screen of your laptop that sat on the couch beside you, the instructions were written in a bright red colour which starkly contrasted the black background. Once you had read the next step you picked up the crow that lay lifeless on your apartment floor.

"Fucking disgusting," you mumbled as your eyes fell upon the small carrier that held your cat who looked up at you with wide eyes as if he had known he had done something wrong. "This better work," you mutter, nose scrunched and lips pulled down in a frown of disgust as you held the bird as far away from your body as possible and placed it on one of your old plates that you barely used anymore, it had just been collecting dust in the dark corner of the cupboard anyway. You moved to stand in the pentagram that you had created out of salt on your wooden floor, taking a deep breath as you prepared yourself to take the final step in the ritual. In all honesty, you hadn't a clue what would happen once you cut into the flesh of your hand and the blood from the wound would fall to the floor, the description on the website of what happens after left a lot to be desired but what's the harm in trying?

You watched as a single drop of blood hit the floor, its crimson colour sure to leave a stain. Within moments the liquid began to move unnaturally. You watched in shock as the drop moved towards the salt boundary, seeping into the white crystals, painting them red. Seconds later a flurry of sparks ignited from the boundary of the pentagram, surrounding you in bright orange flames. The fire was so bright your eyes couldn't see anything but the flames as they moved around you. The flames weren't hot, not even when one would come close enough to touch your skin. You watched in horror as the light within the flames seemed to dull and the embers flying around you burned out, the flames calmed until it was like they were never there in the first place.

"Fuck," you sighed as you gave up any hope of the flames miraculously returning. Nothing had happened and you were no closer to solving your problem than you had been before trying to cast a random spell from the internet that promised to hinder any evil spirits. You knew something else was supposed to happen so you let out a huff and made your way to the couch, ready to plop yourself down on it and search the depths of the internet for another fix. You were unexpectedly stopped when you walked straight into a wall. That couldn't be right. Since when was there a wall in the middle of your living room? The shock of the impact had caused you to close your eyes but when you reopened them you saw nothing, no wall. But you knew it was there because you could still feel the slight pain radiating from your forehead and when you brought your hand forward, you were stopped, a force pushing against you. "That's bad," you groaned.

"Oh, it definitely is, but for which one of us?" a male voice sounded from behind you. You let out a shriek as you spun on your heels, coming to face with a rather handsome stranger. He held an authoritative aura which was only cemented by the smirk that lay on his lips as his dark almond-shaped eyes stared back at your own surprised ones. You couldn't deny this blue-haired stranger was attractive but you forced yourself to remember that he had seemingly materialised out of nowhere.

"Who are you?" you spoke, narrowing your eyes slightly so that the stranger wouldn't pick up on the fear that lingered in your irises. The stranger frowned at your words.

"What do you mean? You brought me here," the man replied, confused by your confusion.

"I-" you began, unable to get your thoughts out fully. "I... brought you here?" The only thing that was going through your head at the moment was that this had to be an April fools prank. A very late April fools prank in the middle of August. But, that was the only logical explanation for your current predicament.

"Yeah?" he tilted his head at you and you couldn't help but think he looked cute. "The pentagram that is currently on your floor isn't sparking anything?" His slightly bored tone was evident but who could blame you for not expecting that a random spell from a sketchy looking website would actually work.

"Oh!" you exclaimed in realisation. "Oh, it worked? I did it!" The man in front of you crossed his arms across his chest, obviously unamused. "So, who are you?"

"Who am I?" the man scoffed. "I am the god of the underworld," he boomed, he held his arms out to the side almost as if he had expected applause and his voice had taken a different, more demonic tone, the sheer volume of the exclamation had caused you to wince slightly.

"As in Hades?" you questioned, intrigued.

"Uh, no, not exactly. As in Han. Han Jisung," Jisung scratched the back of his head, normally he would have been a lot more confident and fear-inducing but honestly, he had not yet encountered a human that had not known him, considering that the only way for a human to interact with him was to summon him using magic. "Han, son of Hades?" he tried but you gave him no reaction. "Nothing? Really?" you shook your head at him, he huffed.

"Sorry," you tried, feeling a bit bad for the man who clearly regarded himself highly enough to expect you to have known his name, he shook his head in dismissal before muttering something under his breath.

"Nevermind," he shrugged. "What is your name witch?" he spoke and your eyes widened at his words.

"How dare you, I am not a witch. And, my name is Y/n," you replied hotly, at this point Jisung had completely forgotten about the menacing act he had been attempting to keep up, his fury being replaced by complete confusion.

"I don't know of a witch by that name, who are you really?" Jisung boomed, his eyes glowing a bright blue as he spoke, the pentagram glowing a similar colour. Your eyes widened as you stared into the electric blue colour of his eyes that had replaced the deep brown, almost black colour. You took a slow step backwards in an attempt to create some distance between you and the unfamiliar man but when your back collided with the invisible wall of the pentagram you knew there was no use.

"I don't know what to tell you, bro." Jisung wanted to call you out on the disrespectful address but couldn't find it within himself when he scanned your eyes for any sign of deceit but couldn't find anything but fear and confusion.

"Well, this is an odd situation," he spoke softly as he grew closer to you, grabbing a piece of your hair between his fingertips before letting it fall back down into place, he looked intrigued. You stared at the man who was currently studying you, attempting to act confident, but the two of you knew it was a lie. "The spell you used is part of an ancient ritual to summon the most powerful being, it should have killed a feeble human, so why are you still here?"

"Well, I wouldn't really describe myself as feeble, but I have no idea what you're talking about," you tried. "Look, I just need to know if you can help get rid of the evil ghost who keeps trying to kill me." Jisung's eyes widened and his lips parted in shock.

"You summoned me from hell to go ghost hunting for you?" he frowned, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" you cried out in hopelessness, starting to feel a little bit embarrassed when put like that. The man stared at you for a moment before his lips turned up into a smirk yet again.

"Okay, I'll get rid of your little ghost," Jisung began. Your eyes lit up at his words. "But it will cost you, a mere Corvus will not do," the confident stare that he was giving you was intimidating but you weren't about to let go of an opportunity like this, not when you were so close to getting what you wanted. Plus, you had no idea about what would happen if you were to deny him.

"I'll do anything, I just want to get rid of that stupid ghost," you breathed out in exasperation. There was a crash from the other side of the room, presumably from the spirit who was rooming with you, it was something he had done as a warning but with Jisung here, you paid it no mind. Jisung looked quite pleased with your words, his body moving ever so slightly closer to your own, leaving little space between you and him. You could feel his breath on your cheek as he opened his mouth to reply to you and you found yourself slightly intoxicated by him.

"Anything, my beautiful witch?" he softly chuckled. He brought his hand up to rest on your cheek, trailing his fingers down the soft skin. "I want your soul," he stated simply, a small smile on his lips. Your eyes widened as you took in his words, your soul? You weren't exactly sure what that entailed but it definitely didn't sound great. But what was the alternative? Turn down the handsome demon's offer and later die at the invisible hands of your malevolent spirit? No, no way could you let that happen.

"Fine."

Jisung blinked in surprise at your swift answer, he had expected you to put up a fight but he could recognise the finality in your tone as well as the exhaustion in your eyes. Jisung would cut you some slack, take care of your little problem but first, he would have some fun. Jisung moved fast, listing out a long list of steps you had to take to get rid of the ghost, he gave you no time to take his words down properly so you were left with almost unintelligible scribbles written on a random piece of paper you had picked up from your table.

"One hundred ripe mangoes?" you read from the paper with much difficulty, looking from the paper to the man in front of you with squinted eyes. Jisung shrugged in reply. "Sandalwood scented cologne? What does cologne have to do with ghosts?"

"Look, I don't make the rules. Now, off you go," Jisung replied, taking a seat at your dining table and propping his feet up on one of the chairs.

"Oh, no. No way, you're coming with me." you shook your head as Jisung's face dropped. "How else am I supposed to bring back twenty assorted fish?" you reasoned, "What does that even mean?" you whispered under your breath. Jisung watched you with his heart-shaped lips pulled down into a pout but when he realised that you weren't succumbing to his cute looks he let out a huff, dropping his feet back on the floor and standing up to follow you.

---

"I really don't understand how this is supposed to help us," you breathe out in exhaustion, your feet were beginning to get sore from all of the walking around as you gathered all of the things on Jisung's list and your hands were going numb from the multiple bags you were lugging around. Jisung helped, barely, but he still carried a few bags as well as a spring in his step. You had lost that ten supermarkets and many empty baskets of mangoes ago.

"This one's nice," Jisung spoke, completely ignoring your words. "Don't you think?" he said as he sprayed the small bottle of cologne on himself then motioning you to come closer so you could smell it too.

"Why do I need to like it? It's just for the stupid spell or whatever anyway," you argued.

"Spell? No, I just wanted some new cologne," Jisung replied, your gaze quickly snapped to his. "Why would you need cologne to get rid of a spirit?" Jisung chuckled as he shook his head slightly but all traces of humour were gone from your face.

"What are we doing here, Jisung?" you exclaimed, drawing the attention of a few nearby shoppers. "We're supposed to be shopping for the things we need to get rid of my ghost!"

"No," Jisung smiled innocently, "Not exactly," he stated.

"What do you mean "not exactly"?" you scowled at the man who stood in front of you that had an amused expression on his face.

"The whole 'getting rid of a ghost' thing is pretty easy, I am the god of the underworld after all," he smirked which only served to dampen your mood further. "This, well I just needed to get some shopping done," the man smiled sweetly as if to lessen the blow and to keep the veins in your neck from bursting.

"All of this? All of this time we spent getting everything on your stupid list and it was just part of your weekly shopping?" you chuckled humourlessly. "I spent a lot of money on all of this!" you cried.

"And I'm very appreciative," Jisung replied with a tight-lipped smile, he received a disbelieving, deadpan look in response.

"We're going home so you can take care of my ghost problem," you grumbled, turning to leave the shop you were both standing in the middle of.

"Oh, come on." Jisung groaned as he fell into step beside you as you made your way out of the shop. "You're telling me that you didn't have fun?"

"I might have had more fun if it didn't feel like my hands were going to fall off at any given moment!" you scoffed, you looked to him when you spoke only to see him walking beside you with his bottom lip jutted out and his eyes wide as he bent down slightly so he could look up at you which made him look even more adorable.

"I can fix your hands," he tried.

"Wait can you?" you asked eyes wide as you looked down at your struggling limbs.

"Okay, no. I can't," he mumbled. "But, I can get rid of your ghost," he grinned but that was quickly wiped from his face when you lifted an elbow to strike him in the ribs.

"That was the original plan!"

---

When you arrived back at your apartment the sun had long since set, the stars shone brightly in the night sky as the moon barely illuminated the room. You dropped the bags to the floor, the resulting thud causing Jisung to shoot you daggers as he carefully placed his own bags down on the dining room table. You childishly stuck your tongue out at the blue-haired man in retaliation, his back was turned so there was no risk but it felt good nonetheless.

"Okay, now do your thing," you spoke, staring at the man carefully from your seat on the couch, curious as to what he would do.

"Are you sure about this," he asked, his tone was surprisingly serious. The lack of playfulness in his voice was unexpected, it wasn't something you had heard from him in the short time you had known each other. He made his way towards you, taking a seat next to you on the couch as his eyes never once left yours.

"What will happen to him?" you questioned softly, your words were soft and uncertain but there was no way he could miss them because he was so close. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your question, he wondered why you were so concerned about the future of the spirit that had made several attempts on your life but not your own fate.

"The spirit will be free of any ties to the human realm, then he has his own choice to make, whether he would rather stay here among the living or travel to the realm of spirits," Jisung explained, you let out a small 'oh' at his words but fell silent after. "And you?"

"Me? What about me?" you breathed.

"Aren't you curious what will happen to you after all of this is done?" he inquired. "Already forget you made a deal with the devil?" he teased, a small smirk on his face but it was far from malicious.

"Oh, yeah. That," you whispered, your thoughts had never managed to make it this far ahead in the plan thanks to Jisung's seemingly neverending list of useless things.

"We agreed that I would take your soul, it's a common price to pay when it comes to workers of the underworld. You won't die, not at my hands at least," Jisung explained, his brown orbs trained on your own eyes as you took in his every word. "The soulless can live after they pay, but there is not much else, your soul is what makes you, you. Without a soul, the body is almost like an empty vessel," his words were grim, his expression even more so. He wanted to relay to you the gravity of the deal that you had made with him without much thought. It was true that you had not understood what it actually meant to give away one's soul but you had assumed that it had meant death, not that what Jisung was explaining was far off.

"Okay, if I don't do this then he would be tied here forever, right?" you asked, Jisung nodded. "So, he would probably succeed in killing me eventually. Let's do this."

Jisung lifted himself from his seated position on the couch to stand in front of you and held his hand out for you to grab so he could pull you up to stand with him. You obliged, and when he pulled you up you were close enough that you could smell the warm, woody cologne he had sprayed on himself earlier in the day. Jisung guided you by your hands to stand in the middle of the pentagram that was still there from earlier. Lucky for him, that meant less work. You both stood in the centre of the pentagram as you faced each other, his eyes fell closed before opening a moment later now glowing a brilliant bright blue. Blue flames began to gather around the two of you, the vibrant flames flew around you, these flames radiated a slight warmth, unlike the others, but still not enough to burn you, the embers that escaped from the flames burned the same bright blue before they burned out, leaving the black dust to fall to the floor. You couldn't focus on much, your mind was overwhelmed by all of the sensations but once you felt his warm fingers interlacing with your own, your eyes found his, still glowing bright and you watched as the reflection of the flames in his eyes dimmed, the same with the electric blue of his irises.

Once his eyes faded back to their original deep chocolate colour he let your hand slip out of his. "It's done," he breathed heavily.

"Thank you," you smiled sincerely. "Now there's only one thing left to do," you remarked.

"That is true," the blue-haired man nodded. "But, I was thinking, what if we made another deal?" he smirked. Your face contorted in confusion, not following him. He stepped closer to you yet again, his fingers coming up to play with your hair as his eyes studied your features. "It would be such a shame to take the soul of such a beautiful woman. So, I have a proposition."

"Can you do that? Just change the price of a deal like that?" you question, surprised by his change of mind considering it was him that had set the price in the first place.

"Of course I can," he chuckled, the confident Jisung coming back full force. "As the god of the underworld, I can do anything I wish."

"So, what do you propose?" you mused.

"You are a powerful being even if you are not aware yet, no mortal could have summoned me and only the best witches are capable of it. It would be an honour to have you join me back in the underworld," Jisung declared and you looked at him incredulously.

"Join you in the underworld? And do what?" you chuckled, disbelieving that this man who had wanted to consume your soul was now offering you to come back to hell with him.

"Join me in the underworld as my queen," he smiled. If you had been drinking this would have been the part where you did a spit take.

"I'm sorry, queen? Take me out to eat first," you joked but you were slowly beginning to realise that the man in front of you was, in fact, not joking.

"Oh, don't worry my dear, I will take you out to eat as much as you like," Jisung chuckled.

"You can't be serious?" you challenged, but it didn't look like Jisung was backing down any time soon.

"I've never been more serious about anything in my life," he affirmed. "I think this is a more fair deal, don't you?"

"Well, yes," you mumbled, unsure of what other option you really had. But did you really want to follow this handsome and attractive stranger back to hell instead of losing your soul and being forced to live your life without joy ever again? When put like that you felt stupid for even contemplating denying his new offer. But, he was really annoying. And charming, and also attractive, very attractive.

"There's no pressure for you to reciprocate feelings, but it would be an honour to rule alongside such a powerful being," Jisung assured and when your eyes met his again he had known what your answer would be, you were still awful at concealing your emotions but you had plenty of time to learn.

"Fine, let's go," you nodded. Jisung smiled widely at your words.

"And she's smart too," he commented, earning a slight eye roll from you.

"Come on, it better not be too hot down there," you whined causing his smile to turn into a smirk once again.

"Oh baby, that'll be the least of your concerns."

[unholyfidelity]

tag dump

ooc -  out of latin text

ic - carpe noctem (seize the night)

musings - vi et animo (with heart and soul)

memes -  ab absurdo (from the absurd)

aesthetic - memento mori (remember we die)

asks -  quaere (ask)

anonymous - ignotus (unknown)

headcanons - scilicet   (it is permitted to know)

about the blog - communis opinio (common opinion)

crack - ad absurdum (to absurdity)

art/music/video - ars gratia artis (art for arts sake)

past memories - tempus fugit (time flies)

the servant - cor et mors (heart and death)

count von sales - non omnis moriar (i shall not all die)

[eternal-echoes]

Stuff I want to Read

Books:

Essays on Woman by Edith Stein

Rb 1980: The Rule of St. Benedict by Saint Benedict

The Way of Life: John Paul II and the Challenge of Liberal Modernity by Carson Holloway

Moral Absolutes: Tradition, Revision, and Truth by John Finnis

Natural Law and Natural Rights by John Finnis

The Life of St. Catherine of Siena: The Classic on Her life and Accomplishments as Recorded by Her Spiritual Director by Raymond of Capua

Diary: Divine Mercy in My Soul by Saint Faustina

Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Either/Or: A Fragment of Life by Soren Kierkegaard

Nihilism: The Root of the Revolution of the Modern Age by Fr. Seraphim Rose

Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity by Charles Taylor

A Secular Age by Charles Taylor

After the Natural Law: How the Classical Worldview Supports our Modern Moral and Political Views by John Lawrence Hill

A Biblical Walk Through the Mass: Understanding What We Say and Do in the Liturgy by Edward Sri

Lunacy and Letters by G.K. Chesterton

St. Thomas Aquinas by G.K. Chesterton

In Defense of Sanity by G.K. Chesterton

Heretics by G.K. Chesterton

After Virtue by Alasdair MacIntyre

How the Catholic Church Built the Western Civilization by Thomas E. Woods

The Making of Europe by Christopher Dawson

Neo-Scholastic Essays by Edward Feser

Existence and the Existence by Jacques Maritain

Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald

This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Common Man by G.K. Chesterton

The Dialogue of the Seraphic Virgin Catherine of Siena by Saint Catherine of Siena

The Interior Castle by St. Teresa of Avila

A Miscellany of Men by G.K. Chesterton

Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross

The Servile State by Hilaire Belloc

The Third Way: Foundations of Distributism as Contained in the Writings of Pope Leo XIII and G.K. Chesterton by Paul A. Boer, Sr.

Catholicism: A Journey to the Heart of the Faith by Bishop Robert E. Barron

Return to Order by John Horvat II 

The Abolition of Man by C.S. Lewis

The Problem of Pain by C.S. Lewis

A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis

Theological Highlights of Vatican II by Fr. Joseph Ratzinger

Jesus of Nazareth by Pope Benedict XVI

Truth and Tolerance: Christian Belief and World Religions by Pope Benedict XVI

God in the Dock by C.S. Lewis

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

The Seducer’s Diary by Soren Kierkegaard

Fear and Trembling by Soren Kierkegaard

The Sickness Unto Death by Soren Kierkegaard

Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche

Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche

The Antichrist by Friedrich Nietzsche

The Will to Power by Friedrich Nietsche

Silence by Shusaku Endo

The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus

The Stranger by Albert Camus

Edith Stein: A Philosophical Prologue by Alasdair MacIntyre

Whose Justice? Which Rationality? by Alasdair MacIntyre

The Plague by Albert Camus

Church Documents:

Laudato Si’ by Pope Francis

Inglese Vultum Dei Quaerere (On Women’s Contemplative Life) by Pope Francis

Libertas by Pope Leo XIII

Arcanum Divinae by Pope Leo XIII

Spes Aedificandi - Proclamation of the Co-Patroneses of Europe by Pope John Paul II

Fides et Ratio by Pope John Paul II

Fulgens Radiatur by Pope Pius XII

Testem Benevolentiae Nostrae by Pope Leo XIII

Tra Le Sollecitudini by Pope Pius X

Pascendi Dominici Gregis by Pope Pius X

The Syllabus of Errors by Pope Pius IX

Regnans in Excelsis by Pope Pius V

Ubi Primum by Pope Leo XII

Apostolic Journey to Germany: Visit to the Federal Parliament in Reichstag Building by Pope Benedict XVI

APOSTOLIC JOURNEY OF HIS HOLINESS BENEDICT XVI TO MÜNCHEN, ALTÖTTING AND REGENSBURG by Pope Benedict XVI

Apostolic Journey to the United Kingdom by Pope Benedict XVI

Humanis Generis by Pope Pius XII

Mediator Dei by Pope PIus XII

Lumen Gentium by Pope Paul VI

Sacrosanctum Concilium by Pope Paul VI

Dei Verbum by Pope Paul VI

Gaudium et Spes by Pope Paul VI

Nostra Aetate by Pope Paul VI

Dignitatis Humane by Pope Paul VI

Unitatis Redintegratio

Mirei Vos by Pope Gregory XVI

Quanta Cura by Pope Pius IX

Immortale Dei by Pope Leo XIII

Libertas by Pope Leo XIII

Quas Primas by Pope Pius XI

Mortalium Animos by Pope Pius XI

Pascendi Dominici Gregis by Pope Pius X

I’m somewhat tempted to drop out of school just to get started on these. But I already paid my tuition.

[grevisangel73-blog]

  eheu fugaces labuntur anni                Alas, the fleeting years slip by

    in ictu oculi                                             In the blink of an eye

    sic vita est                                                This is life

      vi et animo                                               With heart and soul

    spero melior                                            I hope for better things

    memento vivere                                     Remember to live

    esto quod es                                             Be what you are

      fons et origo                                            The spring and source

    lux in tenebris                                         The light that shines in the darkness

    sub divo                                                    Under the wide open skies

    This is my first attempt at writing a piece in Latin. I am not sure if I translated everything right or if the structure is correct, and comments would be appreciated

Momento Vivere eheu fugaces labuntur anni                Alas, the fleeting years slip by in ictu oculi                                             In the blink of an eye…

[orangeavocadojewelry]

"Vi Et Animo"...With Heart & Soul. Live this everyday. #latin #jewelsonebyone #orangeavocadojewelry #sculpturaljewelry #yeg #yegarts #bronzejewelry #handmadejewelry

[girlwithadragonheart]

3 ~ King of Wands, Upright

Vi Et Animo (With Heart and Soul)

Vander x Fem!Reader

Summary: Do your legs ever get tired running from your past?

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Heavy allusions to SA!!!(Nightmare). Descriptions of blood, a fight, hurt/comfort-ish, Powder is my little angel baby

A/N: Haha *hits the whip*

Part 2 Masterlist Part 4(wip)

Your heart pounded as you sprinted through narrow corridors, barely understanding the layout of your surroundings as you ran. It didn’t matter. He was right behind you, and all you had to do was get away. Was there an exit? You couldn’t tell. Everything was so bloody dark, and you could barely feel your feet slapping against the pavement. 

Dark streets, quiet alleys, low lamp lights. Quick, heavy breaths as you fought for control you could never have. 

Bruises on your wrists. Your hips. Your thighs…

No, please don’t go there. Not again.

It didn’t matter how hard you fought. It never did.

Your fists landed weakly against his chest. He didn’t even flinch as your skirts were hoisted up. Your face scraped the brick of a nearby building as he pushed your front half down.

The clink of a belt buckle. A bruising grip.

You looked at the diamond set in gold on your finger, thinking how the light refracted reminded you of the stars. Your beloved constellations. You floated through the night sky, the shining light of the stars tickling your fingers as you passed them by.

A sharp pain pulled you down out of your precious sky, plunging you into dark waters. All noise was muffled, and if you didn’t move, you almost felt you were floating. Peacefully suspended beneath the tumultuous sea.

Too bad it was time to come up for air.

You gasped and sputtered. Your skin felt sticky and warm. A faint metallic taste rested on your lips as you spat, copper filling your mouth. 

When you opened your eyes, you drowned in the sea of blood.

—------------------------

Your heart raced as you sat up quickly, hand clutching your chest. Your gaze darted around the now-familiar room, tucked away in a dark corner of the bar. The couch was soft and plush beneath you. A blanket covered your form that you didn’t remember having.

You had given Vander his bed back after that first night, opting for this spot. The four of you had settled into a somewhat cozy routine, eating breakfast together at the bar before setting up for opening. You felt a bit out of it, just going through the motions without giving them much thought. Thank the gods for a routine, right?

You heard a snide comment under Vi’s breath as you pulled chairs down off of tables. “Bet she’s never lifted anything heavier than a teacup.”

The comment registered too late for you to respond.

Vi scoffed, leading Powder out of the bar with a hand on her upper back. Vander glanced at the two of them, “Don’t do anything stupid!” He called after them.

“You know we will!” Vi yelled over her shoulder.

He shook his head fondly as he wiped down the bar. “Headstrong, that one. Takes after her mother.”

You look over at him curiously, doing your best to be engaged. He had never spoken of the girls’ mother, and while Powder called him “dad”, Vi called him Vander, so you assumed he had taken them in. That didn’t make them any less his girls, though.

“Who was she?” You asked carefully.

Vander looked up at you and sighed heavily. “Felicia,” he started. “She worked in the mines with me and my brother. She was fiercely protective and loyal, and she always gave her all, no matter the circumstance,” he told you. “She died with her husband, Connel, when we led the uprising.” A forlorn expression rested on his face as he finished, and your heart clenched for him.

“What about your brother?” You asked, almost afraid of the answer. Still, it was easier to ask questions than to answer them yourself. You’d divert the attention away from yourself as long as it took for you to be safe.

“Our opinions on how to achieve peace diverged once Felicia wasn’t there to keep us on track. He wanted to fight violence with violence and get revenge on Topside for what they’ve done to us. Showing them that we’re exactly what they think we are. No offense,” he added quickly.

“None taken. I’m one of you now, remember?” You flashed a wry grin of pearly whites, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head.

“Anyway. We got into it pretty bad, and I…” he looked down at his hands. “I almost killed him,” he admitted quietly, the sound almost getting choked in his throat. “That’s when I hung my gauntlets up.”

You moved over to the bar, taking one of his hands, having to cradle it between both of yours. You traced over the lines softly, humming. “Interesting…” His hand was covered in little faded scars, some rougher and some newer than others. There were calluses that looked to be fading slowly with time. This was easy for you. Familiar and comforting.

“What?” He questioned.

“Your heart line is all broken up,” you told him, rubbing your thumb over the crease in his palm. “You’ve suffered a lot, and there’s more to suffer, but you’re strong and won’t let it break you.” You spoke softly, glancing up at him. “And you see how it ends here?” Your finger traces it from his pinky to his ring finger. “You fall in love easily. And the curve shows you’ve got a good handle on expressing your emotions.”

You felt his eyes on you, studying you intently. “You can see all of that in a line?” He questioned.

You shrugged. “One of my many talents.” You ran your fingers over his palm, pointing out all the lines on his hand. “This is your heart line, obviously” you explained, your thumb running over the one you just read. “This is your head line,” your finger dragged over the line across the middle of his palm. “This is your life line.” Again over the line curved around his thumb. “And this…” You take his hand, gently molding it to show the line running down the center, “is your fate line. Not everyone has this one. They all show different things.”

Vander watched you carefully, and you almost missed the slight tremble of his hand. Someone banged on the door, and you pulled away quickly. “Another time, Peach,” he told you with a small smile. “Flip the lights?” He asked, and you nodded, moving to unlock the door and turning the signs on.

The man who had been waiting strutted in, with a smile, moving to the bar. “What does a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?”

“Benzo, my man!” Vander yelled, pulling out the tumbler and making him a drink.

“I’d heard you were taking in more strays, Vander,” he said, looking over at you with an appraising gaze.

“You’re one to talk you old bastard,” Vander playfully punched his arm, setting the drink heavily in front of him.

“Yeah, yeah. Who’s the lass?” He asked.

“You hear about the Piltie stuck on our streets?” Vander wondered, eyes darting over to you and you averted your gaze, moving to don your apron for the day.

“No shit,” Benzo said, glancing over at you again as you picked up your tray. “Suppose it explains why the Lanes have been up in arms about this place lately,” he observed. “You’re a little attention magnet, girl.”

“Must be my dashing good looks,” you grinned with a wink, and you swore the man almost cracked an unwilling smile.

“Only when that ego ain’t blocking ‘em.”

Vander watched the exchange with amusement. “See, she’s fitting in right well already.” He rubbed a hand over the scruff of his beard thoughtfully. Benzo grumbled into his mug, and Vander just grinned. 

“Besides, I’m stuck here like the rest of you, might as well get used to seeing me, sweetheart,” you pulled a wry grin, leaning on the bar. 

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

The day was slow. Agonizingly so. You needed the rush of the job, the distraction. If you weren’t serving someone, you were cleaning tables or sweeping the floor. If Vander noticed your distraction, he didn’t comment on it. 

You were grateful when he asked you to go and check the stock downstairs. It offered something for you to really think about. Unfortunately, you were remarkably quick and finished before you really started. 

You reported back to Vander, moving to clear off a couple tables that patrons had left before moving to wash mugs.

“You alright, lass? You seem… distracted,” Vander asked you quietly over his shoulder.

You blinked, looking over at him before answering after a beat of silence that stretched just a bit too long. “Yeah. Just a lot on my mind is all. Don’t worry about it,” you gave him your best reassuring smile before turning back to your dishes and finishing up the washing.

The crowd picked up as the night went on, and you found yourself with more orders than you could count on your hand that wasn’t carrying drinks. You had started to learn some of the regulars’ names over the past week that you’d been working. You offered them welcoming smiles as you brought their usual drinks.

You didn’t even notice the girls had come back until one of the patrons started yelling—drunk and belligerent. He had Powder’s wrist in an iron-clad grip, and she was visibly shaking, wide blue eyes filled with unshed tears. The front of the man’s shirt and his pants were soaked. A spilled drink.

“Look what you did, you fucking brat!” He swore, getting down into her face.

“I didn’t mean to, I- I’m sorry!” Powder struggled.

You were moving before you even knew it. Your hand clamped down around the man’s wrist, anger hot in your chest. “Let her go,” You demanded, voice calm despite the raging storm within.

You stared at him, unblinking. He looked up at you, ready to throw another curse or insult or perhaps strike you, but whatever he saw in his eyes made him think twice. 

He scoffed. “Tch. Not worth the effort.” He released Powder from his grasp, and she went running downstairs. “Clean up this fucking mess.” He ordered you.

“I’m sure you’re capable enough to clean up your drink from your clothes,” you spat, already walking away from him. When you looked at Vander, he was fuming, rolling his sleeves up past his elbows. 

You discarded your apron, tossing it on the bar before quickly descending the basement stairs. When you got down there, you saw Powder curled up in a corner, rocking back and forth as she cried, her knees pulled to her chest. 

Your heart clenched, your anger practically dissipating as you took in her state. You made sure your steps were audible as you walked over and sat on one of the couches across from her. 

She held herself tighter as you approached, and you sighed, noticing her sniffles quiet, forever trying to be strong like her sister. However, holding in your feelings didn’t make you stronger, it only made you volatile.

“C’mere, love,” you said softly, your voice gentle and beckoning.

She practically darted into your embrace, curled up on your lap as she clutched at your clothes desperately. Your arms encircled her easily, gently rubbing her back as she cried. Your other hand carded through her hair, gently working out any knots. 

“That was scary, yeah?” You asked gently. “Breathe for me, okay? In… Out… In… Out…” You breathed deeply, letting her rise with your chest. You felt her trying to match your breathing. “There you go. It’s alright. No bastard will ever get away with putting their hands on you while your dad and I are around. I know the Lanes aren’t safe, but just remember if they knock you down, you get back up again, okay?”

“Okay,” she said quietly, yet determined.

You heard a crash from upstairs, and you gently cover Powder’s ear that isn’t pressed against your chest. You would shield her from the violence; While you could. You hummed softly; the tune your mother used to sing for you. It helped you sometimes to feel small and warm in her embrace. Before the world got dark and scary. 

“Don’t touch my daughter!” Vander bellowed upstairs. More than a small part of you was glad he was giving that man what he deserved. And another, bigger part of you felt warm at his protectiveness. You ignored both of them, focusing solely on Powder.

You sat with her, playing with her hair and humming until she was fast asleep against your chest. Something in you warmed that she felt safe enough with you to let her guard down, despite the hardships she had faced. Losing both parents… You didn’t even want to think about how awful that must’ve been for her.

Protective, innovative, inspiring, magnetic.

The King of Wands card symbolizes a natural born leader. Someone who knows what they want and knows what to do to get it. The King is often seen as a light in the darkness to those who need it, and provides protection for those who cannot protect themselves.

Eventually, the chatter from upstairs died down, and you heard the telltale cut of electricity from up top. You never realized how much noise it made until it was gone. Vander’s heavy steps sounded on the stairs. He saw you gently laying Powder down on the couch and pulling a blanket over her.

Your hand passed gently over her hair with a small smile on your face. You turned to look at Vander, eyes going wide as you saw the blood dripping from his nose. You sighed, shaking your head as you headed past him and back upstairs to give him a minute with his little girl.

When he came back up, you had already gotten the First Aid kit out on the bar and raised a brow, looking at the bar stool closest to you. Vander moved to the bar stool with a sigh, but you swore there was the hint of a smile on his face.

“I hope you at least gave that bastard what he deserved,” you said as you poured disinfectant on a soft towel, stepping between his legs to carefully pat the split skin on his brow.

“My customers know my rules. Sometimes they just need reminding,” he huffed, wincing a bit as the alcohol set into his wounds.

“Just… be careful,” you said softly. 

He pinched your hip lightly, “You’re not worried about me now, are you Princess?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Because that would be entirely out of character, would it?”

He shrugged, “Can’t say I know your character well beneath all the grime I found you in.”

You swatted his chest, and he chuckled. “Cheeky,” you said. “I just would hate to have your job if something happened to you.”

“You would manage,” he told you.

You huffed a humorless laugh. “I hardly know half the drinks you mix.” You felt his hand rest on your hip, almost covering the entire surface with his warmth. An almost comfortable silence fell between you as you cleaned his bloodied nose, cradling his jaw with your other hand. “Let me see your hands,” you told him.

He sighed, bringing them between you for your inspection. A couple of split knuckles, but you knew the majority of the blood on his fists wasn’t his. You cleaned them up silently, gently passing your thumb over each after you absolved it of his violence.

“You took care of Powder,” he said quietly, as though afraid to break the fragile silence between you.

“She needed it,” you replied just as softly.

He studied you carefully. “It was the most alert I’ve seen you today.” He didn’t say what he was thinking. What you both knew. Not everyone would’ve done the same.

You sucked in a breath, avoiding his gaze as you started packing up the first aid kit. “I’m sorry, I’ve been distracted.”

He was silent for a moment. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Princess?” He asked gently. It was an opportunity to be listened to. To be heard. 

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. “Just a bad dream. It’ll pass,” you told him, putting the kit away. “I need some sleep. Good night, Vander.”

“Good night, Peach,” he said as you retreated back into your corner of the bar. You were restless as you tried to sleep, wrapping up tight in your borrowed blanket.

A/N: Dude I locked tf in and wrote almost this whole thing in one night after writing a couple paragraphs the whole week.

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list! Love you guys<3

Tag List: @growls-like-thunder @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @hwalovs @loserreinawriter

[girlwithadragonheart]

I finally got the time to read Vi Et Animo and MY GOD?? It’s SO GOOD you actually cooked so hard with this

“You’re part of the undercity, which mean you’re part of my people-“ like- AGK WHAT IS THIS WET STUFF ON MY CHEEKS?? The way you write Vander and the main are so so good.

I’m begging to be added to the tag list

OMG THANK YOU IM SCREAMING I WILL ABSOLUTELY ADD YOU TO THE TAGS

[girlwithadragonheart]

I swear I’m working on part three of Vi Et Animo. We just started school back up on Monday but I have a three day weekend so fingers crossed I can get this out to you guys soon 🫡🤞

[girlwithadragonheart]

Vi Et Animo (With Heart and Soul)

1 ~ Wheel of Fortune, Reversed

Vander x Fem!Reader

Summary: The transition from living in Piltover to being cast to the Undercity is not a smooth one. Will anyone help you, or is it up to you to learn how to survive?

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Swearing, description of injury, mentions of blood, lots of fighting, thievery, description of starving, strong feelings of helplessness and desperation, hurt/comfort kinda

A/N: Guys I have been working on this for three days, and I plan to make this a series :3

Arcane Masterlist Part 2

Bad luck. Misfortune. Unforeseen setback. Disappointment. Mishap.

When the Wheel of Fortune is reversed, your luck and fortune may take a turn for the worst. You may experience unexpected change or negative forces could be at play, leaving you helpless. Change is inevitable. It’s up to you to decide what you do with it.

Changing your destiny starts with accepting responsibility for where you are now.

Scraped hands with bloody knees, your body ached and burned. Tears flooded your eyes as you fought to breathe. The bag that had been carelessly thrown over your shoulder sat in the dirt and ash of the half paved road. Your fists clenched against the rough road, and your chest tightened as you let out a guttural scream that sent rats skittering away and half-forgotten people drifting to the shadows.

The ground beneath you shook, rocks and pebbles rattling as your agony rang through the streets. A ragged sob broke past your lips.

What a cruel hand the cards had dealt you this time.

“All those in favor…?” 

In your mind’s eye you could still see as each councilor raised their hands. Rough fingers gripping your arms, protests falling upon deaf ears.

You tried to take a deep breath in, regaining some air into your lungs, but the very air was trying to choke you, trying to keep you from beloved oxygen. You knew the air in the Undercity was bad, you had no idea it was this dire.

Your body refused to draw breath, a coughing fit wracking through your frame. The white and gold dress you wore was covered in dirt, soot, and grime, the hem already fraying from your walk through these desolate streets. 

You pushed yourself up off the ground, stomach growling. You didn’t know how long you had been here. Time seemed to stand still, with the sky always being clouded and faintly green and gray. Your belly seemed to say it had been too long though, without food. 

“Well, what do we have here?” A scratchy voice called from the darkness. “Look at this, boys.” A scrawny boy with blonde hair walked into your vision, flanked by a larger one with brown hair and another with dark skin and coily black hair.

The brown haired boy grinned as he looked at you, crossing his arms. “A little lost princess come to play.”

“What’s in your bag, Princess? Anything valuable?” The blonde asked.

You scowled. “None of your fucking business.” You pulled your bag tighter against you on your shoulder. “Piss off, I’ve not had the day for this.”

“Such foul language from such pretty lips. I wonder if her teeth bite as well as her words,” the dark skinned boy smirked. 

“Come on, Princess, we just want a taste of the goods,” the blonde boy crooned, approaching you slowly. 

You took a step back, shifting your bag so that it was behind you. “There are no goods,” you said adamantly.

“Anything can be goods down here, sweetness.” The boy nodded subtly, looking just past you. 

A sharp tug on your bag had you stumbling back. You spun quickly, fist connecting with another boy’s jaw. He shouted in shock and you grunted from the pain of the impact of your knuckles on bone. 

“Get her!” The blonde boy ordered.

Another pair of hands landed on your shoulders, and you swung your arm, elbow knocking into the nose of one of your pursuers. You collapsed as one of them landed a swift kick against the back of your knee. You cried out as your already scraped knees dragged against the pavement. You flung your head back, connecting your skull to his most sensitive parts. A sharp squeal rang out as the boy collapsed. 

“You bitch!” He gritted through his teeth. 

Your momentary satisfaction was short-lived as your head was grabbed and your face slammed into someone’s knee. You screamed in pain as your nose cracked, and your vision blurred, eyes tearing up before everything went black.

“Miss?” A sweet soft voice called to you. “Miss, wake up.” A soft touch on your shoulder and a light shake pulled you from blessed darkness.

You sat up at your desk, looking into the soft green gaze of one of your students. You ran a hand through your hair, blinking the remaining sleep from your eyes, cheeks warming from embarrassment. “My apologies, Miss Jasmine. Can I help you?” 

Her thick lashes fell softly against her cheekbones as she looked down at the paper in her hands. Her curls bounced as she shook her head, “I’ll come back another time. Um…” 

She turned to leave, but you caught her wrist gently. “Let me see,” you gave her a soft smile.

She sighed hesitantly before handing you her paper. She had been working non stop on an essay for Professor Heimerdinger, wanting it to be perfect and she had asked if you would read over it and help her make any improvements needed. You knew she didn’t really need any help, her work was always excellent, and she was friends with both Jayce and Viktor who were also wonderful students. But you understood wanting the extra assuredness of another Professor’s approval.

Besides, it didn’t take anything extra for you to read over her work, and you were glad she trusted you to do so. Jasmine hadn’t had the best home growing up, or so you had heard in passing, so if she felt safe enough to approach you in this way, you were glad of it. 

Your fingers clutched the paper lightly as your eyes scanned over it. “This looks spectacular. The only thing I would consider is a transitional statement between these two paragraphs,” you point out the place to her. “But otherwise, this is amazing.”

She hummed, a furrow forming between her brows as she looked over it, “I think you’re right.” She pulled a red pen out of her pocket, scribbling some notes in between the paragraphs. “Thank you, Miss.”

“Of course, dear. Tell me, how are your studies going otherwise? Are you ready for the exam?” You asked. 

She sighed, “I think so. It feels like I have no time between studies and work; there's scarcely any time for me to sleep or eat.” She perched on the corner of your desk as she spoke. “And Viktor’s the same, throwing himself into his studies, we hardly have time to spend together.”

You tap your fingers against the desk in thought. “Perhaps it would benefit you both to study together? It’s often helpful to bounce thoughts and ideas off of a classmate or peer.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve just been so busy lately.”

“Make sure you’re taking the time to care for yourself as well, Jasmine. If you aren’t sleeping, you won’t retain any of your studies no matter how hard you work at them. Short term memory commits to long term through sleep, it is an essential part of any student’s life.”

“I know, I know,” she said, putting her hands up defensively. “Jade says the same thing.”

“I’m sure she does. How are they?” You ask, knowing Jasmine was the only one caring for her younger sibling.

“I think they’re doing okay. I can’t thank you enough for supporting them to live in the apartments with me,” she said gratefully.

“Of course. I know how difficult it is to support someone else while also chasing your dream. I am incredibly proud of you, you are a bright, intelligent, and compassionate young lady that has a wonderful future ahead of you.”

Her cheeks warmed at the praise, looking down at her lap. “Well, I’ve taken enough of your time. Enjoy grading,” she stood, waving as she left your classroom.

You smiled at her as she left, though a dull ache formed in the back of your head as you looked back down at the work in front of you. Your brows furrowed as your eyes focused on the scribbles across your students’ papers. The word ‘Traitor’ written in bold capital letters criss-crossed on the pages. 

Your vision blurred slightly, the throbbing in your head growing to be unbearable. The world went black as your head slammed into the desk in front of you.

You coughed and sputtered, a coppery taste in your mouth as you spat blood. Your vision swam, and you pressed a hand to your head, groaning. Your eyes squeezed shut as you waited for the urge to puke to abate. 

As soon as you could, you opened your eyes, looking around at the grimy streets of the Undercity. Fuck… You had almost hoped it was just a dream. But the sinking in your gut told you otherwise. You sat up, hissing as your scabbed knees pressed against the pavement, brushing pebbles off your front from your nap on the asphalt. 

You winced as you stood, gently brushing debris from your bloodied knees and sucking in a breath that had you coughing, lungs crying for clean air that you would likely never breathe again.

Your bag had been taken. The only thing left were your scattered tarot cards, littered in a puddle around you. You cursed, squatting down to collect them. The small bag you stored them in was also missing. 

You glanced around before pulling the band out of your hair and wrapping it securely around the cards, tucking them into your brassiere. Your stomach growled, drawing your attention to how empty it felt. Your body shook with weakness, and nausea clawed at you, begging you to eat something. 

But there was nothing here.

So you dragged yourself forward, step by unsteady step. The bastards stole your shoes as well. Your bare feet ached against the rough pavement, which was almost burning hot. What could produce this heat if the sun was hidden from this city? You didn’t know. You found you couldn’t care at the moment.

One of your shaking hands pressed against your gut as you walked, trying to find something, someone. You just wanted something to eat, to sink your teeth into. Gods, was this what turned men into beasts? Very well, a beast you would become if it meant you could find something to bloody eat in this place.

But oh, you were tired. So tired. And that rocky overhang in the distance looked like good shelter to sleep. You stumbled forward with tunnel vision, nearly collapsing by the time you reached it.

You didn’t know how long you slept. Minutes, hours, days? Time was irrelevant. All that you knew was insatiable hunger and an unquenchable thirst. You stayed under your little awning on your knees, palms cupped out in front of you, praying that passersby would spare something for you, anything. But nothing ever happened. No one came to your rescue. 

You had been hungry for so long you no longer remembered what it was like to be sated. Oh, what a luxury it had been to have a full meal and a night’s rest in the comfort of your home. Everything you had taken for granted had now been taken away, and all you had were your most basic instincts. Hunger, thirst, exhaustion, this endless cycle that continued day by day.

What even was a day anymore? The sun never shone, the stars were hidden behind the Gray, plunged to an eternal gloom in this horrible, awful place. Nights never ended, days never began. The only thing driving you was the clench of your stomach as you starved.

What had you done to deserve this?

(Changing your destiny starts with accepting responsibility for where you are now.)

Your alertness peaked as you heard a soft scuffling in the distance. A tiny squeak reached your ears, and you turned, careful to be dead silent as you moved.

There, not six feet away, was a rat. Your mouth watered before you could even think to be disgusted. With slow movements, you made your way toward the animal, keeping your breath shallow and quiet as you crept forward. Once you were a couple feet closer, you pounced, gripping the small creature, quickly snapping its neck as it squealed and fought your grip. 

It fell limp in your hands shortly before a force collided with you, knocking down down into the pavement. The rat fell from your fingers as a scrawny force darted for it. Moving quicker than you had in days, you rammed your shoulder into the redheaded man, seeing his cracked glasses slip down his nose from the impact. 

He landed in a squat, hands braced on the ground. You picked the rat up, throwing a glare in his direction, daring him to try and steal your food once again. He shrank away, slithering back to the recesses of the Undercity. 

You stood and your stomach growled loudly. The animal in your hands had already started to lose its warmth and go stiff between your fingers. Cooking it would take too long for your malnourished body, your mind told you. 

Only once the smell reached you did you shrivel in disgust. Is this what you had become? Once a proud Professor of Divination, turned to a beggar on the streets of the Undercity, resolved to eat rats as a meal once a goddamn week. 

Your nose scrunched as you brought it to your lips, once more reminded of how you longed for a meal. 

“I wouldn’t eat that, if I were you.” Your hands froze, gaze darting around. You watched as a man stepped out of the shadows. A very large man with a bag slung over his shoulder and heavy boots. He had brown salt and pepper hair with a beard to match, a round nose, and kind eyes. As you stared, his gaze fell over you, looking you up and down. You swore there was a moment of surprise in his gaze before he spoke again, voice gravelly with a hint of an accent you’d never heard. “Rats in this place carry more diseases than nutrients.”

You frowned. “Do you have a better idea, or do you just enjoy watching me suffer?” You spat.

“Come with me,” he jerked his head for you to follow.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” You questioned.

He leveled you with a flat stare. “Because you’ve got nothing to lose.”

You looked between the dead rat in your hands and the man in clean clothes—albeit it worn—and a kind gaze. Your brows furrowed. What did you have to lose? Was your life even counted among that anymore?

You looked down at your bare feet, scratched and dirty. Your torn clothes and bruised body frailer than you’d ever seen it. With a sigh, you threw the rat into the shadows, hearing scuttling feet. You vaguely hoped the redheaded man gets ahold of it for something to eat. 

You walked shakily over to the big man, and he walks with you in stride, shortening his steps so you don’t fall behind as he leads you… somewhere. 

“What’s your name?” You asked him quietly.

“Vander,” he said easily. “What about you?” He asked. You tell him. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“It doesn’t matter where I’m from anymore,” you brushed him off. “Where are you taking me?” You questioned.

“To my bar. The Last Drop.” The mention of a bar had your stomach growling again. “When’s the last time you had a bite to eat?” Vander asked.

“I don’t know.”

He hummed, the rumble of his chest somehow putting you at ease. 

You had to squint as you approached a building with warm light spilling out of the windows, illuminating the street. Vander reached his free hand into his pocket, producing a keyring and unlocking the door, motioning for you to go in ahead of him. 

As soon as you stepped inside, you were embraced by the warmth of the place, soft music playing in the background as you looked around. It was nice. Especially compared to everything you had seen so far. What you had endured. 

“It’s… cozy,” you said quietly as Vander stepped behind the bar, setting the bag down on the floor.

“Welcome to The Last Drop. My own little slice of Heaven.” He motioned for you to sit, so you did, as he placed a glass in front of you and filled it with water from a bottle. “Don’t chug it or you’ll make yourself sick,” he scolded.

You bring it toward your dry, cracked lips, drinking it gratefully. It eases some of the ache in your throat, the tightness in your chest and the sheer desperation you’d been feeling for the last several days.

With a speed and grace you’d never expected, Vander slaps together a sandwich, sliding it over to you. “You’ll have to eat light for a few days,” he warned as you took a bite.

Your eyes filled with tears as you chewed and swallowed. It was better than anything you’d ever had in your life, or at least it felt that way. You sniffled as you ate, tears dripping down your cheeks. If Vander noticed, he didn’t call you on it.

You wanted to savor this moment, but your body demanded otherwise as you wolfed down your food and finished your water. You wiped the tears from your face, looking up at the man with wide eyes. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, barely above a whisper.

He nodded. “The bedroom and bathroom are upstairs, if you’ll let me have a look at those scrapes and bruises,” he told you.

“You’ve already done so much, I couldn’t—”

“You see those?” He cut you off, looking up to the right. When you follow his gaze, you see a massive pair of cast iron gauntlets hanging up. “I know how to handle a scratch or two. It’s no trouble.”

You looked from the gauntlets back to him, thinking for a moment. “Alright.”

He led you upstairs, a hand on the small of your back to steady you as you wobbled. You came to a room with a massive bed and a small closet. Through a curtain beyond it was a bathroom.

“Have a bath, then we can see to your wounds,” Vander told you, grabbing a shirt from his closet and holding it out to you. “You can borrow this until we get that dress clean.” You carefully took it from him. “Just shout if you need anything, alright?”

You nodded, barely able to form any words as he left the room. You carefully laid the shirt on the bed, stripping out of your ruined dress and moving to the bathroom. You set your cards on the small shelf beside the tub. Turning the faucet, you let the bath fill as warm as you could get the water until steam filled the room.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and regretted looking. Your skin was filthy, covered in dirt and grime. You had a black eye and various cuts and bruises across your arms, legs, and face. Your hair was greasy and laid almost flat.

Your lip curled in disgust as you stepped into the tub, hissing as the water hit your various scrapes. There was a bar of soap and a well-loved bottle of shampoo that you were grateful for. You recognized the scents from Vander, though they were missing the undertone of smoke and leather.

You tried to be as gentle as you could when you scrubbed your skin, wincing every time you rubbed a bruise the wrong way and feeling your scrapes sting from contact. But no matter how soft you wanted to touch, you scrubbed your skin almost raw, trying to eliminate all the dirt from your body.

It didn’t matter how much it hurt, you felt disgusting.

You scrubbed your fingers through your hair and over your scalp, trying to remove all the oil, grease, and dirt that had built up over the last several days. You scrubbed thoroughly until your fingers brushed a knot on your head. You touched the spot gingerly, flinching from how tender it was. You cursed under your breath as you finished washing up gently. 

The water was black and brown by the time you stepped out, grabbing a hanging towel to dry off. You scrunched your hair over the edge of the tub before using the towel to dry it more thoroughly. It would still be wet for hours, most likely, but at least now you were less likely to drip water everywhere.

You gently patted yourself dry, wrapping the towel around you and moving back to the bedroom. You felt better about picking up Vander’s shirt now, not worried about soiling it with your touch. The cotton was soft, no doubt from years of wear.

Slowly, you slipped it over your head, doing another pat-dry over your wounds with the towel before hanging it back up in the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your skin finally visible without the layers of dirt covering it. Your hair shone with the water that had soaked it. Vander’s shirt fell to your knees, the neckline wide enough for your collarbones to show. You had never looked so bony in your life. You glanced at the bundle of cards on the shelf, staring at them for a moment before flicking off the light and moving back downstairs.

Vander had taken a seat at one of the tables in the bar downstairs, a First Aid kit open in front of him. He spotted you and smiled, even as you moved with tension in every fiber of your being.

“Being clean suits you,” he jested, easing some of the tension from your shoulders. His gaze wandered down to your feet and back up, jerking his head to the side in silent request for you to join him. “Let’s have a look at those scrapes.”

With silent steps, you moved to where he was seated, pushing yourself up to sit on the table, making sure the shirt covered you properly. Vander’s hand was warm as he gently held your ankle, fingers wrapping all the way around it as he inspected the scrapes on your feet.

“Bastards stole my boots,” you chuckled nervously, looking around at the walls of the bar.

“Vi has a pair you can borrow,” Vander said. “This’ll sting a bit,” he warned before gently dapping your scraped with antiseptic. 

You hissed. It did sting, but his touch was gentle, his thumb stroking over your ankle soothingly as though he had done this a million times. “Who’s Vi?” You asked, distracting yourself as he worked on your wounds.

“My daughter,” he said without missing a beat, moving to your other foot. “I have two girls,” he told you. “Powder, and her older sister Violet—she prefers Vi. They share a room downstairs.”

After disinfecting your knees, he slapped bandaids over them. You fiddled with your hands in your lap. “Listen, I… I really appreciate this, but I can’t repay you.”

“Can you work?” He asked, looking up beneath his brows.

You loosed a breath. “Yeah, I can.”

He shrugged. “Then that’s all you need to do.”

You sighed, exasperated. “Why?” You questioned.

“Why what?” He pressed, taking one of your hands to clean properly.

Your cheeks warm and you look away. “Why are you helping me?”

Again, he shrugged. “You’re not from the Undercity, but now you are, which means you’re part of my people. My people help each other.” He said it so simply, but it was so wildly baffling to you after what you had endured.

He put away the First Aid supplies, leaving you for a moment to think about his words. When he returns, you slide down from your seat on the table. 

“You take the bed tonight. I’ll crash with the kids,” he told you easily.

You learned to stop arguing. If he didn’t want to, he wouldn’t. That’s what you had learned about Vander so far.

“Thank you, Vander,” you bowed your head to him. He bade you good night before heading down the stairs behind the bar, leaving you to make your own way to bed.

A/N: Let me know if you enjoyed via comments/reblogs!

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[girlwithadragonheart]

Arcane Masterlist

Vander x Reader

Vi Et Animo (With Heart and Soul)

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[yoongisleftearring]

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Last updated: 24/05/2023

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