#I feel like I could be killed for that comment

[a-witches-riddle]

But… that’s not in character??? Why the hell would Vi EVER give up on her sister if she knew she could be saved? The reason why she gave up on Jinx at the start it pretty cut and dry and reasonable. After cementing herself as Jinx, threatening to kill Caitlyn, and making the choice to nuke the council, I get Vi giving up on Jinx and even making the decision to kill her, with the asterisk of her being the one to do it. Which yeah, is in character and going good for the first three episodes. I won’t comment on the several out of character choices because that would detract from this discussion. But anyways, flash forward to episode 6, Vi and Jinx had made up, bonded over the fact that Vander is alive (if you want to call what Warwick is alive), and everything is going well. When she learns that Jinx was thrown in a cell, she’s furious, angry, and breaks her out, seeing how mentally devastated and broken Jinx is. She was self harming, refusing to eat, had entirely mentally given up due to the death of Isha being the catalyst.

Once Jinx leaves, and mentions how she’s going to break the cycle, and HEAVILY IMPLYING to Vi that she’s going to kill herself, which lo and behold she was, of fucking course Vi is going to break and want to try saving her sister again. Old habits die hard with her. What WOULD HAVE been in character, is have Vi still have the breakdown to Caitlyn, but have Caitlyn encourage Vi to get her sister back, to be there for her considering Caitlyn seems to have had a change of heart about Jinx. The sex scene was too soon, and should have happened later. These characters still had so much emotional baggage to work through, both with each other and themselves over what happened in the past 6 episodes that there is no way what she did being a “selfish decision” was at all an in character decision. Once again, this was the result of bad pacing, an overstuffed plot, and expediting character arcs for the sake of having a rushed finale, because we needed Caitlyn and Vi together so we could do our epic finale battle.

Would I believe that Vi would give up on Jinx EVENTUALLY? Maybe, but literally 5 seconds after Jinx leaves, she accepts the fact that she doesn’t want to bother saving her sister and fucks Caitlyn, which by the way, there still feels like we need a larger conversation between those two over everything that happened between episodes 3-6. We just… didn’t get that. Just like how they cut out any conversation between Ekko and Jinx, and instead do a surprise reveal of the two at the final battle for the “omg wow” shock factor, when we SHOULD HAVE had that conversation. They could have made all of this work, but they NEEDED to pace it well, which they absolutely did not.

good for them but lmfao ???

[faithshouseofchaos]

But I love them — Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader

Word count — 985

Fluff

Warnings — slightly suggestive towards the end this is mainly for a my girlies who are apart of the big boobs community

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon in Charles’ apartment, the kind of day that begged for nothing more than lounging on the couch and ignoring the world. He was half-watching a football match, the sound of commentators filling the space as he absentmindedly scrolled on his phone. Beside him, Y/N was curled up, legs tucked beneath her, scrolling through her phone with a focused look on her face.

Out of nowhere, she sighed, set her phone down, and said casually, “I think I’m finally going to do it.”

Charles looked up, brow furrowing. “Do what?”

She didn’t even glance at him. “Get a breast reduction.”

It took him a moment to process the words. He blinked, sat up straighter, and turned to her with wide eyes. “Hold on. What now?”

Y/N finally looked at him, her expression calm but resolute. “I’ve been thinking about it for years, and I think it’s time. My back can’t take it anymore.”

Charles stared at her like she’d just suggested selling their firstborn child. “Your back? When did this become about your back?”

“Always,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Charles, you know this. I’ve been complaining for ages.”

He leaned back, waving a hand dismissively. “You’ve complained, sure, but I just thought it was, like, normal life complaining. Not surgery-level complaining!”

“Charles,” she said firmly, her tone laced with both patience and warning.

He sat up, his full attention now on her. “You’re seriously thinking about just… getting rid of them? Like, just like that?”

“Yes.”

“But…” He gestured dramatically at her chest. “You can’t just get rid of them! They’re—” He paused, grasping for the right word. “They’re iconic!”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, already regretting bringing this up while he was awake. “Charles. I’m in pain all the time. My shoulders have permanent dents from my bra straps, I can’t go running without strapping myself in like a gladiator, and every button-up shirt I own gapes open like it’s crying for help.”

“Okay,” he said, raising a hand to stop her. “But—”

“And bras?” she interrupted. “Do you know how much I spend on bras? A hundred bucks each, minimum. And they’re not even cute. They’re functional. Like, ‘industrial scaffolding’ functional.”

Charles blinked at her, his lips parting like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. Finally, he said weakly, “But… you look great in them.”

“Oh my god.” She threw her hands up, exasperated. “This is not about how I look, Charles. It’s about how I feel. And I feel like I’m carrying around a couple of bowling balls every day of my life.”

He frowned, leaning forward as if he could reason his way out of this. “But what about us?”

“What about us?”

“Our dynamic! The… the whole…” He gestured at her chest again, like it was a key player in their relationship. “You know, vibe.”

“Charles,” she said flatly. “They’re boobs.”

“Not just boobs,” he argued. “They’re your boobs. They’re a part of you. A part of us!”

She stared at him, deadpan. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” He stood up, pacing in front of the couch now. “Do you know how many people would kill for what you’ve got? And you’re just gonna… throw them away like an old sweater?”

“Okay, first of all, ew. And second of all, you’re being dramatic.”

He stopped pacing to point at her. “I’m not being dramatic. I’m being honest. You’re about to break the hearts of an entire fanbase—”

“Your fanbase,” she corrected, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly!”

Y/N let out a disbelieving laugh. “Charles, I’ve made up my mind. This isn’t about you, or your ‘fanbase,’ or even how I look. It’s about me being able to live my life without constant pain and discomfort.”

He deflated a little at that, sinking back onto the couch. “But what if you regret it?”

“I won’t.”

“But what if you do?” he pressed. “What if one day you wake up and think, ‘Wow, my life was so much better when Charles was worshiping the temple of—’”

She picked up a throw pillow and smacked him in the face with it. He caught it with a grin, but his eyes were still slightly pleading.

“Charles,” she said, softer now. “I appreciate that you love me exactly as I am. But this isn’t about you.”

He sighed dramatically, flopping backward on the couch. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m going to miss them. Like… a lot.”

“Noted,” she said dryly.

“Maybe I’ll throw a farewell party,” he added. “You know, invite some friends over. We’ll say our goodbyes properly.”

Y/N laughed despite herself, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me,” he said smugly, pulling her back onto the couch and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Unfortunately.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Y/N got up to grab a glass of water. Charles pulled out his phone and began typing into the search bar: “Can boobs grow back after surgery?”

She glanced back at him from the kitchen, catching the guilty look on his face.

“Charles!”

“What? I’m just… curious!”

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, but there was a smile tugging at her lips, drinking the water and setting the glass down on the counter as she walked back over to Charles.

“Hey!” Charles says as y/n snatches the phone out of Charles's hands her own hands cupped his face “It’ll be okay Charles. It’s not the end of the world baby, you know that right?” You ask.

“Of course I know that but I just love them so much,” Charles says, reaching up to cup her breast feeling the weight of them.

“Can I fuck them?” Charles asked out of nowhere.

“Charles!”

“What can’t blame me for asking” he says smiling holding his hands up defensively.

“You no what I don’t see why not”

[zeddylux]

I've grown really tired of this "erm actually they've killed people canonicaly so they deserve this fate," like who the fuck are you to decide what anyone DESERVES? I wish people had the capacity to understand that fictional characters are narrative tools being used to tell a story. No different than the car they drive or the couch they sit on. Touya existed as a foil for Shoto and (or at least I thought) as an example of a different kind of trauma response. In which oldest child syndrome rears it's ugly head and forces you to tamp down your emotions in order to avoid the hurt that at the end of the day. You were not good enough to reach the insane expectation set by your parental figure. Do you have any idea how painful it is to just simply be cast aside for a sibling that fit bill better? To be deemed not worthy of existence by the people who gave you life in the first place? (No Rei hate whatsoever btw). The fact that he goes from feeling EVERYTHING to nothing is a textbook example of what can happen when you were never shown how to deal with your emotions from your parental figure. Dabi is great disability representation. Not only for auto-immune diseases but for anyone that suffers from issue with their skin due to anxiety. (Like handwashing from OCD or excessive scratching from stress). I wish we could cease this moral superiority when it comes to fictional characters, policing others and who the like. You can hate a character. Please by all means hate and hate proudly. We can talk about how effective a tool they were in what they represent and the role they have in the story. But it becomes a completly different issue when you come into someone else's comment section, not even your own post with this condescending attitude basically telling people they aren't ALLOWED to like a character. Maybe make your own post? Host discussions on your own blog? No one invited you? Hello??

Hori’s headcanon is cool and all, but in my headcanon the league are all alive and opened a sanctuary for stray animals.

[mythalism]

in my rook hating mindset now after that post this morning and cannot stop thinking about how they are literally the worst protagonist maybe in any story i have ever experienced JRHGKJERHGJERG. and like if you love your rook i am not saying you shouldn't. if you love your rook i am so so happy for you genuinely but you are also probably brilliant and have a huge brain because what the game gives you to build off of is so abysmal.

i literally cannot stop thinking about how insane it is that rook literally causes a double blight and worldwide catastrophe on a scale which thedas has not seen probably since the creation of the veil itself and just. experiences no remorse. and the story tries to tell us thats a good thing and makes them better than the villain/their foil. JHREGJKHERGJKHERG. HELLO?!!??!?!?! literally no one ever goes "hey maybe you shouldnt have done that" except solas and hes framed as the VILLAIN!!! WHAT!!!!!!!!!! hawke blames themselves for not putting the pieces together fast enough when a bouquet of white lilies arrived at their door? the narrative gleefully condemn anders with the immediate opportunity to kill him for his crimes. nearly every single character in origins immediately puts the entirety of the responsibility for the fifth blight on loghain's shoulders, regardless of the CLEAR SUGGESTION that the battle at ostagar could never have been won. and all of these makes sense for the world and characters!!!!! of course hawke would blame themselves for their families deaths when they were given the role of protector by leandra after malcom dies. of course the city of kirkwall is going to want anders dead for his extreme act of violence rather than start the uncomfortable process of acknowledging the beloved chantry's complicity in large scale abuse happening in the mage circles!!!! of course alistair and the warden are going to blame loghain for the blight and cailan's death!!!! it doesnt matter if they are right or wrong, it makes sense for their perspective and worldview to feel this way!!!!

have yall gotten the low approval conversations in inquisition????? solas's "Inquisitor. Tell me. How does it feel? Being you. Are you blissfully unaware or, deep inside, is some part of you banging on the walls, screaming?" cassandra getting drunk and practically spitting in your face how she regrets raising you up to such power? blackwalls' "Are you proud of yourself, of what you’ve built here? How about the lives you’ve destroyed along the way? Given much thought to those lately? Is this Inquisition all you wanted it to be? Because I’m disappointed. All I see is a gang of thugs led by a self-serving tyrant." and these SCATHING comments from those who once believed in the inquisitor enough to join their cause come from decisions that affect a fraction of the population that dies under the southern double blight. people will rip the inquisitior to fucking shreds when they fuck up. THATS THE ENTIRE POINT OF THE TRESPASSER DLC EHRGKJHERGKJHERG. like holy shit every decision carries the weight of "oh my god whos gonna hate me. who is going to die because of my choice. how is this going to come back to bite me." have we forgotten what its like to return to varric after leaving hawke in the fade and confess what we did? the call we just made? to look him in the eye and tell him that we sacrificed his best friend? WHY IS ROOK NEVER ASKED TO PARTICIPATE IN ANY OF THIS INTROSPECTION?????????? TO EVALUATE HOW THEIR DECISIONS AFFECT THOSE AROUND THEM BOTH PERSONALLY AND SOCIETY AS A WHOLE????? OH MY GODDDDD

the regret prison scene is so insane. first its insane because its solas at his best and most cunty. but secondly it makes no fucking sense even if im largely distracted by pookie being fun and villainous. solas tries desperately to play up rook's regrets during their conversations and we are supposed to believe that it was that manipulation that allowed him to swap with them in the prison. how does this actually work? blood magic? dont worry about it, kitten. but then when we get into the prison.... the only two regrets that manifest are things that just happened within the last 3 hours - your two party sacrifices. lets be clear that these are not even real sacrifices because literally all of these people volunteer to go and then argue about why they should go. this is so fucking stupid. then rook looks at the statues and says "i dont regret this because this was your choice". YEAH????? OF COURSE YOU DONT FUCKING REGRET IT WHY WOULD YOU. HELLO???? THIS WAS NOT ROOKS CHOICE THIS WAS ROOK JUST SAYING "SURE I GUESS". AND THEN THATS ENOUGH! THEY JUST LEAVE BC THEY CONQUERED THEIR REGRETS!?!?!?!?!??! WHAT!!!!!! there is no discussion of rook being responsible for the blight in the south that we find out via ooc inquisitior letter has KILLED LITERALLY EVERYONE. no suggestion that their recklessness and willingness to act WITHOUT ALL THE INFORMATION at the ritual is the reason for every single thing the evanuris do following their release.

and let me be very clear bc i know this was causing drama on twitter last week. i am not saying the double blights is rook's fault. i actually dont think it is their fault, although i do think they are stupid and reckless and shouldn't have acted so carelessly. but although rook is responsible for ghilly and edgar breaking free, rook is not responsible for the their actions following that freedom, and rook is not at fault for being put into an impossible situation (the need to stop solas's ritual) without all of the information on what the ritual was and what stopping it might incur. however, the double blight is rook's fault in the same way that the veil, the fall of the elvhen empire, elven mortality, and every demon's existence is solas's fault; which is to say, it is and it is not. solas was backed into a corner, in a desperate situation without knowledge of the potential consequences, and was forced to make a decision for the good of the world when he imprisoned the evanuris and blight with the veil. rook was backed into a corner, in a desperate situation without knowledge of the potential consequences, and was forced to make a decision for what they thought was the good of the world when they interrupted solas's ritual. but while solas feels immense guilt and responsibility for the choice he made, rook feels.... absolutely none. and the game tells us that... they're right? people should just not take accountability for anything? i will give credit where it's due here that varric's contribution to this scene is quite good and his line where rook tries to take responsibility for his death and varric says smth like "no, that was my own choice and you dont get to take that from me" is B A N G E R. WHERE WAS THAT ENERGY IN THE REST OF THIS FUCKING GAME!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?

THAT was the lesson solas needed to learn, not that his regret was wrong but that it was MISPLACED!!!!!!!!! and that is why it is mythal acknowledging that their burden is shared and not his alone is the culmination of his entire story and what finally allows him to move on. pride stands alone, wisdom seeks out the input of others to make an informed and wise decision. this is also why he leaves such breadcrumbs for the inquisitor (a high approval one, at least) because he respects their opinion and their input and their existence and the way they treat him turns him back into wisdom from pride. this is why a romanced inquisitor mentions his name being pride and how its possible that hes not even CAPABLE of changing his mind because it would be so against his nature, and he needs someone whose opinion he values to show him the way. his flaw is his SELF INFLICTED LONELINESS!!!!! NOT HIS REGRET. varric even fucking says this in some random banter you get with his ghost in the infirmary but im too lazy to go find it on my desktop. its something about how he sees attachments as a weakness rather than a strength. his pride causes him to take on responsibility that is not his, his wisdom -> pride corruption has led him to believe he is the only one capable of fixing the world's problems and he will destroy both himself and those he loves in the process. he asserts that he is just a man but is unable to stop making decisions for the world like a god.

THIS is the solas/rook foil that should have been: rook relies on their friends and that reliance is ESSENTIAL; after all, the neve/bellara and davrin/harding sacrifice is essential to win. in contrast solas refuses to rely on anyone, and this isolation makes him increasingly cruel. when he has no one to mirror the way a spirit should, he becomes Pride, too proud and too god-like. his attachments make him more human. he is terrified of depending on others and will kill them rather than risk the vulnerability of dependence after what it has done to him (mythal, felassan). he has to unlearn this avoidance and fear, he has to admit that there "could have been a better way" that someone else saw and he did not. he must learn that he does not have all the answers. he is not Pride. its NOT that rook doesnt experience regret and doesn't take accountability for mistakes while solas is trapped by his own regrets. the message we got instead is so incoherent. but it was SO CLOSE TO BEING GOOD. the bones of this are littered everywhere in both the game and in the datamined content and for some reason it just could not be brought together in a way that makes sense.

the message that rook is "right" and better for not having regrets is genuinely insane, especially when the "regrets" they have to conquer are literally just. other peoples decisions. the fact that rook has the audacity to say to solas that he could never escape the prison while they could so easily because he is trapped by his own regret as if rook is better than him is genuinely so fucking dumb it makes me want to claw my eyes out for having been forced to read it. rook sacrifices nothing and learns nothing. the sacrifices within the game belong to the characters that make them, rook does not order people to their deaths in the same way that solas or even THE INQUISITOR do. rook never is asked to grapple with the fact that they ACCIDENTALLY unleashed a double blight, no matter how good their intentions. WHY DOES NO ONE BLAME THEM FOR THIS???? regardless of if it is their fault or not, the objective truth of fault does not matter, what matters is that you make decisions and PEOPLE JUDGE YOU FOR THEM!!!!!!!!! THIS IS LIKE FOUNDATIONAL TO THESE GAMES JEHRGJKREHGJKRHG. this is what the entire game is about doing to solas. judging him. based on his choices. and the game clearly wants you to have empathy for him in the end. but its so OBVIOUS that the vessel for building up that empathy should have been ROOK EXPERIENCING THE SAME THING!!! THE SAME JUDGEMENT!!! THE SAME GROWTH!!!!! FEELING THE BURDEN OF THE WORLD ON THEIR SHOULDERS. FEELING THE DREAD OF GUILT AND SHAME AND REGRET. TRYING TO DEFEND THEIR INTENTIONS!!! I DIDNT MEAN TO I DIDNT MEAN TO IT WAS A MISTAKE!!!! LEARNING THAT THEY HAVE TO OWN UP TO IT BUT THEY ALSO HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO MOVE FORWARD!!!!!! HELLO!??!?!?!?! they BARELY even express remorse for the treviso/minrathous sacrifice, even when faced with neve/lucanis's anger they just go "a decision had to be made and i made it". well. YEAH? LIKE YEAH THATS RIGHT BUT HUMANS HAVE FEELINGS??? YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE A PERSON, NOT A BLANK SLATE VIDEO GAME PROTAGONIST!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ITS OKAY TO FEEL BAD!!!! YOU MADE A DECISION THAT RESULTED IN PEOPLE DYING. ANY HUMAN BEING WOULD FEEL BAD ABOUT THIS. ITS KIND OF FUCKING WEIRD THAT YOU DO NOT. HOW IS ROOK JUST BORN BEING OK WITH THIS. ITS SO ROBOTIC AND ARTIFICIAL LOL

rooks actions are such a clear, perfect parallel to solas putting up the veil and the guilt that haunts him afterwards that i KNOW it was intended that way and somehow it just got completely shafted. it literally feels like they did have a coherent parallel going and for some reason were forced to change directions last minute and thus we got some mish mashed barely cobbled together incoherent nonsense with clear echoes of its former self. instead rook has no flaws, makes perfect judgements at all time, has unconditional support from all of their friends who also make perfect judgements, are immune to making mistakes, and the message is its actually just really easy to not have regrets if you just choose right every time and refuse to take responsibility for anything as long as you had good intentions :D

[starmocha]

OK. I THINK I HAVE A NEW IDEA OF HOW SYLUS' MYTH WILL PLAY OUT.

"Amidst the chaos, wings flap and stir up a whirlwind of sand and gravel. On that day, the girl marked for execution unleashed the Fiend from the Abyss."

— Official summary in Where Darkshadows Fall trailer description box

This will be my third theory. Theories 1 & 2 share the same post and are very, very brief, and honestly, not as well-developed.

OK, let's get started <333

For whatever reason, MC is to be executed. I theorize that she hopes to escape her death sentence and she seeks out Sylus, the infamous dragon said to bring about Philos' downfall. Perhaps, she assumes that if she can slay him, she will be pardoned.

However, she is obviously weaker than him. Sylus, as we know him, is a very complex person. Even though he does have an imposing aura, he does not attack without reason, and he also does not attack people weaker than him.

I believe this scene we see in the beginning is MC "training" with Sylus after having been in his company for quite some time. He is not sneering at her foolish attempt to kill him but rather critiquing her mistakes when approaching her prey.

It could also explain 1) she has no weapons, 2) she's alone, 3) she attempts to strangle him bare-handed with one hand (girl pls 🤡), 4) she shows no fear or resistance when captured by Sylus, even as he comments on how easily she can be killed if he applies more pressure to her heart.

Kind of similar to how in Zayne's Snow's Embrace myth, MC was training under Zayne's guidance for quite some time, and he would often give her lessons. I feel like this is a similar situation with Sylus being a mentor of some kind.

(Also, side note: she dresses similar as him??? Feels more draconic fashion than Philos, just saying. She might have been with him for even far longer than a few measly months.)

The mark he gives her could simply be just that. A bruise that serves as a time limit for her to develop her skill and show growth. He wants to see her progress, wants to see her become stronger, so this is could serve as a motivation device for her.

Now unlike with Zayne, Sylus is more upfront about his personal feelings, so we get intimate moments like these, where it leaves little room for doubts about their romance.

We also have a memory (Secret Times, most likely, based on the others' past myth 4-star cards) of Sylus carrying MC in his arms as he flies (🎶 A whole new world~ 🎶)? They're also described as kindred spirits (a term Sylus would later echo in the main story during his first appearance). Shared thoughts and feelings? Perhaps bonding over their status as outcasts?

Now, Sylus seems to be prophesied as bringing about Philos' downfall. Could...MC unwittingly have caused this? Could something have happened that led to Sylus going berserk and decimating Philos?

I believe a "betrayal" (or assumed one, believed by Sylus) may have happened that led to their tragedy. I'm leaning more towards a tragic misunderstanding. I'll make a part 2 since I'm at my 10-pic cap on mobile 😔

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part twenty-two preview

Five days. They're still here. You realize what's taking them so long; they're collecting food, drying meat into jerky and simmering wild strawberries into jams that Nereida cans. They have quite a lot of supplies with them. One of Kyle's backpack's is filled with ammo and another is stuffed with medicine. 

Kyle is easy to talk to. Nereida, too. Price—however—seems like he doesn't know what to think of you. Or maybe you're too insignificant to have crossed his mind much. 

That's fair. You don't need to all be friends.

Blue seems to like Ari. He's thirteen, two years older than her, which is evident in the way her head reaches his shoulders. She doesn't even say hi to you in the morning. Instead she shows him all her magazines and even the rabbits. He decides to name one Rocky, a friend for Grim. You can't be bothered; she needs another friend. Ghost isn't keen about them alone together, though. You heard him mutter to Kyle—keep an eye on him, Gaz.

The threat of summer starts to invite more and more sweat down your neck. Your hair has gotten so long. After tossing and turning on Ghost's bedroom floor, it became a nest of tangles. When Nereida, Ari, and Blue go for a dip in the pond, you go with them and soak it, then let the water settle so you can stare at your reflection. Blade sharpened, you saw a few inches off. Better. More practical. 

"I thought you were going to cut more," Blue comments.

"I don't want it that short, or else it's harder to braid."

As the two kids keep swimming, Nereida finds bunches of rosemary and seems more excited than you'd be about it. 

"It helps fight off odors," she explains when you ask. "Like when I have my period, so the Greys can't smell it as much."

When she puts it that way, you grab some, too. Then you start wondering about her and John. Do they have sex? They must. You've seen the way they are. Kisses to their shoulder and neck, arms around each other's waist. You've stared a few times only to catch yourself and quickly look away. How do they avoid pregnancy? You highly doubt either of them want to bring a new child into the world. You wouldn't.

Ari and Blue lay in the sun together. You scoot away to give them space, but overhear some of their conversation, anyway.

"Your dad is so cool."

Blue plays with a piece of her hair. "Oh? You think so?"

"Have you seen him? He's a beast. My uncle told me he got his name because no one could see him coming before he killed them."

"He can be a pain in my ass sometimes," Blue mutters. Her nose scrunches. "But he's taught me a lot of things. I'm pretty good with knives."

"Damn, I gotta see that."

She is beaming. "I'll show you when we get back."

Then, she leans over and whispers something in his ear. Whatever it is, he smiles and shakes his head in response.

She pulls away, sighing. "I wish you guys could just stay here."

Or maybe your dad will make us go with them, you think to yourself. In a way, it's comforting, that he is secretive with her, too. He still hasn't brought up the topic again. Either he hasn't decided, or he doesn't actually plan on keeping you updated. You try your best not to ruminate, but it's hard not to, especially when you have a hard time falling asleep on floorboards and are left with your thoughts in the dark. 

Which is why you're not feeling thrilled by the time you go into his room. He's already lying in bed, one hand bent behind his head while the other props open a book. He looks comfortable. Almost normal, even.

"How do you sleep with the mask on?" you remark, kicking off your shoes. 

His eyes lift from the page briefly. "Like a baby."

"How come Kyle has seen you without it and not me?"

His jaw flexes. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Twix."

"And mental sanity doesn't suit you."

A light huff. Then, "Nice haircut."

When the room is dark, Ghost must get tired of hearing you toss and turn. He flicks on the small lamp, and you squint from the sudden light, stuffing the pillow over your head. There's shuffling before a hand rips the pillow from your face and tosses it onto the bed.

"Just get in the fucking bed. I won't bite." The sight of him standing above you, sweatpants low on his hips, consumes your vision. His voice is low but demanding.

"What, together?"

"I want good sleep. M'not going to get it on the floor, or listening to you up all night, so get in." His eyes peer down at you, half-lidded, before he lowly adds, "I'll be a gentleman, if you're worried."

You lift up and ignore the offer of his hand. "I'm not worried."

To protest would be embarrassingly juvenile when both him and you know you want to sleep there. Yet—your heart thickens. He watches as you crawl into the bed where the ceiling slants, tucking yourself under the quilt and curling against the very edge so that your knees float over it. The springs groan to your left and then heady warmth spills over you. Ghost keeps to his side, flat on his back, with his hands lying on his chest. His elbow pokes into your back no matter how carefully you try to inch away, and his thigh just barely brushes against your backside. 

The bastard doesn't say a word, nor does he make an effort to give you more space so you screw your eyes shut and fall asleep to the sound of his breathing. 

[possessiveandobsessive]

Another Lucanis Obsessed Post

It's only a problem if we call it that...

**Spoilers for late game events in Dragon Age: The Veilguard. If you havent finished and care about being spoiled, stay away!**

Something I think about a lot is Lucanis's reaction to Rook being pulled into the fade after they kill Ghilan'nain. This kind of scene is definitely making it into my current work, but I need to get it out of my brain.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lucanis is riding a magnificent high for all of a minute. He just killed one of his two targets. A GOD. Finally, he completed the contract that slipped through his fingers so narrowly last time. He has this blissful, thrill of adrenaline singing through his veins. And then, it's all gone in an instant.

The hot blood that had been rushing through his limbs following his vistory turns to ice I'm an instant when he realizes: she is gone. The woman who had believed in him from the start. The one person who never once had looked at him with disgust or fear. The woman who had only just broken through the last of his walls and now held his heart. Lucanis can see her smile, can see her head thrown back in laughter at some silly comment he made. And then he watches as all that fades out of his view. She was GONE, and she took his heart, his soul with her. He never got the chance to tell her...

Lucanis can faintly hear a raw, primal, and broken wail. It sounds distant at first, before he realizes it's coming from him. The agonized scream tears from his chest violently without him even realizing. An enraged chant fills his mind and blinds him to his surroundings. His vision fills with only a blinding purple light and all he can hear, all he can think is, "GONE. TAKEN. GONE. LOST. OURS. OUR ROOK IS GONE. MUST GET HER, MUST SAVE HER, MUST HAVE HIS BLOOD. GONE. GONE...."

The chanting, screaming really, continues over and over. Each word caused pain anew to cut through him like a blade. He had already lost everything, become a monster, and now he was losing the one thing that kept him tethered to this reality. She was the one thing that made him feel human. Rook trusted him even when he couldn't yet trust himself. And the elven god of lies and betrayal had just stolen her from him.

Lucanis was dimly aware of shouts directed at him and hands pulling at his arms and shoulders. The team must be trying to stop him from completely destroying, leveling, everything in his immediate vicinity. All he knew now was this pain fueled rampage. Their pain fueled rampage. Spite and he are currently of one mind. They always are when it comes to Rook.

Suddenly, he felt a wave of magic wash over his body. Lucanis shuddered as his bones seemed to turn to liquid and his body began to feel as of it weighed thousands of pounds. His eyes were closing against his will, and he could hear Spite's screams grow more desperate as they both were pulled under into a deep nothing. The last conscious thought Lucanis had was of her face, terrified and screaming his name as she disappeared in a flash of light.

I will find you Rook, NOTHING CAN KEEP YOU FROM US....

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You're welcome for the devastation! If it lives in my head rent free then it also gets to live in yours 🥲 Look forward to a more fleshed out version of this scene later in my current work in process: The Spirit of Determination.

[sir3n-s]

Steve hoped they would all get out of this apocalypse together. Hopefully in one piece, but he'd take just alive.

And everything was going great until someone got bit by a zombie.

When Eddie told everyone they were all devastated. And only had 3 days to decide what to do. 

Either let Eddie wander until he fully turns or kill him. 

On the first day they all spent time with Eddie as a group. They didn't get much done but they all wanted to soak up the remaining time Eddie had before he was gone forever. 

On the second day everyone started getting setemintal. Saying how much they love Eddie and how they'll miss him. And of course Eddie gave a very over the top speech about his love and appreciation for the group. 

No one commented on how many jokes Eddie cracked during it despite him being teary eyed. 

On the morning of the 3rd day Steve took him in the forest with a pistal. Preparing to be the one who shoot Eddie. 

They chatted as if everything were normal, as if these weren't Eddie's last moments. And for a moment, Steve forgot these were his last moments.

Eventually they stopped talking once they've made it far enough. 

They stood there silently only for a moment before tackling each other in a huge. 

"I'm going to miss you so much" Steve says holding Eddie tighter. They've only been together for a month and a half and he's already losing Eddie. 

"I know" he responds, "I'm sorry."

"Its not your fault" 

"It kind of is," Eddie says, backing up a bit while keeping his hands on Steve. "I should have been more careful. I got careless that day."

"It's okay," Steve says, cradling Eddie's face in his hands, trying to memorize the way Eddie looks. He wishes he would have asked Eddie out sooner so he would have had more time to study every feature on his face.

"I love you, Eddie, more than anything" he crashes their lips together like he needs it breathe.  And maybe he did. 

He's not ready to know how it feels to live in a world without Eddie. He just got him. Just got to know him. Just got to love him. He doesn't want to give it up. 

"I love you too Steve, never forget that" Eddie says against his lips. 

"How could I forget you?" He says resting their foreheads together. 

"Can't believe I got The Steve Harrington to fall for me," Eddie says without a smile, "make sure to put that on my tombstone" 

Steve laughs but it comes out wet. Tears filling his eyes as he tries to stop them. He doesn't want to make this moment worse by sobbing. 

"Everything is going to be okay, promise" Eddie says before walking away from him. 

Once he stand still Steve takes the gun out and aims it as his head. 

"I can't do it" Steve admits lowering the gun as he starts to sob.

Eddie just takes the gun away from his shaky hands and pours out all of the bullets except one, handing the remaining bullets back to him.

Kissing Steve on the forehead before pushing him away, "Don't look back okay?" Steve nods and turns to walk away. 

When he eventually hears the gunshot and a body hit the floor that's when he starts to sob until he feels a pain in his chest.

Because he just lost apart of his heart. 

[spiderb00]

Teach me - Megan Skiendiel

Megan Skiendiel X Reader  Synopsis - You've always liked football, so your girlfriend surprises you with the Rams game.  Genre – Fluff  a/n - I don't know MUCH about football, but I think my basic knowledge saved me here. Enjoy. <3  (request)

Sitting and watching the Rams game was relaxing, after days of work you just wanted to sit back and relax. Usually, this was one of the times when Megan wasn't with you, most of the time she would be out with the Kats, or doing something else while you were watching the game.

Today, however, the girl had sat next to you, and asked you to explain in detail how a game worked. You were confused, Megan had never had any interest in games or anything involving sports. But of course you explained everything she wanted to know, after all, all this just gave you more time with your girlfriend.

"So they basically kill each other?" Megan said, looking at the guy lying on the ground.

"They don't kill each other, they just have to stop the other team from scoring points." You said, eyes glued to the television.

"I never asked why you like these games so much..." Megan said, leaning on the couch and laying snuggled against your chest.

"I used to watch a lot when I was little. My family always liked sports, so we always got together to watch the games" You said, putting your left arm around your girlfriend, stroking her back, making the whole environment feel cozy and warm.

"Oh, what is he doing now?" Megan said, pointing to the screen, where the player was positioning himself.

"Ah, he's Kicker, he is responsible for field goals, extra points and kickoffs. He's very important to the team." You said, calmly explaining to the girl who was clearly confused by all the terms.

"Look, not that I'm complaining, but why did you take any interest in all this? You've never seemed this interested before." You said, giggling.

"Well, me and the girls were kind of invited to watch the Rams game, so I kind of wanted to understand at least a little bit..." The red-haired girl said with an embarrassed smile.

"Oh my god, Meg, this is amazing, baby. You're going to love it, it's really cool to be in a stadium, the energy kind of gets to you." You say, happy for your girlfriend.

"Well then I think you'll also like to know that I can bring a date, and I want to bring you." Megan says with a smile on her face. Your face lit up, Megan knew how much this meant to you, and she was happy she could make you feel special.

"No way, babe! Oh my god I love you so, so, so much." You said, as you spread kisses all over the girl's face.

Megan just laughed, the tickling that the kisses made on her face made her heart warm. After exchanging kisses, Megan looked at you smiling.

"Do you know who else will be there?" Megan asked, a teasing smile on her face.

"Sophia's girlfriend?" You asked, your excitement growing even more as you waited for the answer.

"Sophia's girlfriend." Megan stated with a smile on her face, it was really cool to her that you all were friends.

Even though Sophia's girlfriend is a little older than you (you're 19 and she's 21), you've always gotten along really well.

Oh my god, I love that girl, I HAVE TO CALL HER!!!" You said, forgetting about the game temporarily and going to grab your phone to call your friend.

In the end it seems that Manon was right.

The energy in the stadium was uplifting, having Megan by your side made everything better, and being in the presence of the girls definitely made you feel like the little girl watching the game with her family.

Everything seemed perfect, and when the game started, you made sure to watch everything alongside your girlfriend, commenting on everything and answering every question that crossed her mind.

"Thank you for bringing me here." You say into the shorter girl's ear.

Megan, who was clinging to your bicep, lifted her head from your shoulder to look into your eyes.

"You deserve, baby. I love you." The red-haired girl said, standing on her tiptoes and reaching his lips.

bending over a little to get more comfortable, you gave the younger girl another kiss on the lips, that moment was perfect, and every day you knew you fell even more in love with the girl.

I think you've noticed that I love making references to "Fam out", but you can't blame me, I'm kind of obsessed with them

[vroomingrussell]

Charles Leclerc x Plus Size Reader

When online haters began to body shame Charles’ childhood best friend, he confesses something he’s been holding in for years. Some angst but mostly positive affirmations.

First F1 fic…. Enjoy.

You stood unmoving in the Ferrari garages; unable to peel your eyes away from the scene unfolding infront of you. Charles, you best friend since childhood, was moments away from fulfilling a dream he has had for years, a dream that had seemed unlikely, breaking the ‘Monaco curse’.

You were very aware of the cameras set on you and the rest of his family; they were feeding off the tension in the room, displaying a vulnerable moment to the crowd; and then it happened, he crossed the finish line and finally you felt like you could breathe again; with tears brimming in your eyes you embraced Arthur and then his mother. The cheers of victory ringing out in your ear.

Charles was elated and right fully so; he drove brilliantly and worked hard for this moment, in that moment he was the king of the world and you were happy to be a loyal subject. The celebration went on through the day and late into the night.

You smiled as your best friend looped a hand around your waist, drunkenly singing to the song in the club. “Charlie I have to use the bathroom” you called out to him.

“No stay, dance with me” he begged, but you needed to put some separation between you; the prying eyes of the other club goers left you feeling more exposed that the short black dress you wore did.

Monaco was home to beautiful models and heiresses, actresses and singers, beautiful woman that did not have shop outside of the sample sizes the designer boutiques that was on every street in Monte Carlo. You knew you were beautiful, you were confident in the body you had been given, curved like the goddesses your mother had said. But being around Charles always garnered attention you didn’t like. People that didn’t know you always had a lot to say, nothing nice. Women that wanted his attention hated you for having it; even though you were nothing more than best friends.

Reluctantly, Charles let you go “you owe me a dance Y/N” he called after you as you rush to find the bathroom.

You stood in the toilet stall, trying to ease the anxiousness that had settled in your chest. The bathroom door swung open and you could hear a hushed conversation.

“Did you see the girl that he was with?”

“Ick, horrendous whale” one girl giggled “Charles is such a pretty boy, it’s a shame he’s friends with someone like her”

“She’s so in love with him, poor thing does not realize he only likes models” the other said.

The rest of the conversation was drowned out by the loud beating of your heart. Online comments were something you were used to, the harassment from trolls never took a toll on you, but hearing it for yourself from girls you can imagine looked nothing close to you was a different kind of pain, and the reminder that Charles wouldn’t date someone like you, well you didn’t want to dwell on that, not when you had drilled it into your head since you were teens.

-

You skipped out on the rest of the celebrations after that. Heading home instead to your dog, the comfort of your paints.

By the time you had showered and changed into your favorite sleeping shorts and t shirt; the sun had began to rise over the beach, which you had a perfect view of from your balcony. The soft pinks and peach mixed together beautifully as you tried to replicate the view in front of you on canvas; for the moment you were in grossed by creating you didn’t hear the door open and close to your apartment.

“Y/N” Charles shouted, startling you.

“Christ Charles” you answered, hand over your heart as you stood up “do you want to kill me?”

“Why’d you leave?” He asked, not beating around the bush.

“Nothing- I was tired” you lied. Charles rolled his eyes at that, he knew you better than anyone, he could tell there was something on your mind.

“Truth”

“Would you date me?” You asked.

“Y/N” he said softly

“No, no I know, we’re friends, you don’t have feeling for me like that, but would you date me, or someone that looks likes me?” You gestured down to your body, soft stomach and thicker thighs, arms that weren’t toned nor defined.

“Who said something to you” He looked at you with a frown.

“Does it matter? Answer the question”

“Of course I would, specially you if you wished”

“Char, don’t joke” you pouted.

“Y/N.. I’m not”

“Charles, please” you sighed softly.

“I’m serious, you are the most beautiful, talented and smart woman I know, you are ways out of my league” he steps closer, hands reaching out to rest on your hips. “I did not think it would be possible for me to confess this is how I fell, how I’ve felt for a long time”

“Why?”

“Because everytime anyone mentions it, you said we are just friends, I thought you did not want to be with me”

“I’d be crazy not to want you, but we just can’t” you shook your head “I already get so much shit for being your friend, could you even imagine what they’d put me through if we dated?”

Charles shook his head and cupped your cheeks “sweet Y/N, why does it matter what anyone says, especially when they don’t know us?”

“It shouldn’t matter but it does, it hurts to be picked apart and shamed for existing… I have to think twice about the clothes I wear or what I eat in public, I cannot even fall in love without being afraid that I will be judged because I don’t look a certain way or because I am a certain size. It’s frustrating even when i am at my most confident, I worry about what other will say”

The silence stretches for a long moment before Charles pulls you in his arms “you know what I love the most about you? You are most radiant person I’ve ever met, you radiate this kinda of energy i cannot put into words, you make me feel calm and happy and confident.. you have not seen the effect you have on people; you can always put a smile on someone’s face, you are always so kind and gentle… I have seen the comments; the words people have said about you, the nasty ones and the good… and there’s so much good… you have inspired so many young women to embrace their own beauty… Y/N I love you, you might not believe me today because of the doubts that’s been planted in your mind but I will show you” he kisses the top of your head, vowing to show you just how true his words were.

[kathlare]

fanboy

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando experiences the thrill of watching Amelie perform live for the first time at the Eras Tour in Melbourne. Amid the excitement, Lando's growing admiration for her becomes evident to his friends, and playful teasing ensues. As Amelie commands the stage with confidence, Lando is filled with pride, awe, and a deepening affection that he’s still trying to understand.

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Warnings: fluff, smau

request over here!

February 16th, 2024 - Melbourne, Australia

liked by f1lover_24, amelienation, and others

lando_updates: Lando was spotted at the Eras Tour in Melbourne with Max and Pietra, cheering on Amelie during her opening act! 👀🎤✨

View all 2,932 comments

joshallen44: No way they’re just “friends” with all that body language. Please tell me they’re not still pulling the “we’re just friends” card. → f1insider11: @joshallen44 They’re playing the “we’re just friends” card so well, it’s almost like they read a handbook on how to tease the fans. 👀

lanospeed: Lando’s vibe is screaming "I’m here for my girl" but also screaming "I hope no one realizes we’re secretly dating."

f1nista_: LANDO??? At the Eras Tour??? With Max and Pietra??? I’m just saying, this looks like a lowkey date night for two people who’ve been too friendly for too long. 👀🎤 → speedyfan_: @f1nista_ Right?! Tell me why this feels like a soft launch for a relationship? Boy’s too hyped for just a “friend”.

realdeal: Y'all, we all know Lando’s not there just for the vibes. He’s got Amelie’s back like a TRUE fan.

charlesleclercfan_: I swear I’m still waiting for the official announcement, but these two are basically together without saying it at this point. Am I the only one who noticed how soft Lando was looking at Amelie? 🥹💘 → maddie_f1: @charlesleclercfan_ You’re not alone, babe. Even Max is like “yep, they’re in their own little world” 😂

joshy_f1fan_: Lando’s always been lowkey about his relationships, but like… he’s SO obvious with Amelie. That smile? He’s obsessed. 😭💘

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

The crowd at Melbourne’s iconic stadium buzzed with electric energy, the anticipation palpable as fans decked out in sequins, sparkles, and Eras-themed outfits filled the stands. Lando stood near the VIP tent with Max, Pietra, Elysia, and a handful of Amelie’s team, the group quietly chatting as they waited for her set to begin.

This was Lando’s first time watching Amelie perform live. Sure, he’d heard her sing before—soft humming around his flat in Monaco, casual duets during quarantine game nights, and even the occasional voice note of new songs she wanted his opinion on—but this was different. This was her, in her element, doing what she loved. And for reasons he didn’t want to analyze too deeply, his stomach twisted with nerves, excitement, and something else he couldn’t quite name.

—She’s going to kill it,— Elysia said confidently, sipping on a soda. Her voice was steady, but Lando caught the slight quirk of her lips that hinted at sisterly pride.

—I don’t doubt that,— Lando replied with a smirk. “I just hope she doesn’t fall over in those heels she showed me last night.”

—Oh, she’ll be fine,— Pietra chimed in. —Amelie’s a pro. You, on the other hand…— She trailed off, exchanging a knowing glance with Max, who grinned mischievously.

—What?— Lando asked, his tone defensive.

—You look like a fucking fanboy,— Max teased, nudging him. —Admit it, mate. You’re about to lose your shit the second she steps on stage.—

—I’m not...—

—Lando, your cheeks are red,— Pietra interrupted with a laugh. —It’s cute.—

Before Lando could argue, a group of fans approached, their faces lighting up as they spotted him. —Oh my God, it’s Lando Norris!— one of them exclaimed, clutching a string of colorful friendship bracelets.

Lando offered a polite smile, stepping closer as the fans shyly extended bracelets toward him. —Can we get a picture?— one asked, while another added, —Will you give these to Amelie? Tell her we love her and that she’s amazing!—

—Of course,— Lando said, accepting the bracelets and posing for photos. The girls giggled as they handed over more, their eyes sparkling. “You and Amelie are such good friends,” one of them said, almost conspiratorially. —You’d make such a cute couple.—

Max, standing behind Lando, stifled a laugh. —Oh, he knows,— Max muttered under his breath, low enough for only Pietra and Elysia to hear. They both rolled their eyes, but Pietra couldn’t hide her smirk.

As the fans walked away, Lando turned to find Max smirking at him. —What?— Lando asked.

—Nothing,— Max said innocently, though his grin said otherwise. —You’re just very popular with her fans. Almost as much as she is.—

—Shut up,— Lando muttered, slipping the bracelets into his pocket.

Moments later, the lights dimmed, and the crowd roared. The opening chords of “Read Your Mind” played through the speakers, and a spotlight illuminated Amelie as she stepped onto the stage. Lando’s breath caught. She was radiant, dressed in a sparkling purple dress that caught the light with every move, her confidence commanding the crowd’s attention.

—She’s incredible,— Pietra whispered to Elysia, who nodded, her usual stoicism softening as she watched her little sister own the stage.

Lando didn’t say anything. He was too busy taking it all in—the way Amelie moved, how her voice carried through the stadium, and the way the crowd responded to her. It was surreal. She wasn’t just Ames, the girl he played video games with during lockdown or teased relentlessly over dinner. She was Amelie, the superstar, and she was captivating.

When she launched into “Hopelessly Devoted to You,” the crowd swayed, their phone lights creating a sea of stars. Lando’s chest tightened as he realized just how much this moment meant to her. She had told him once, in a quiet moment back in Monaco, how much she admired Taylor Swift and how surreal it felt to open for her. Watching her now, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride—and something else he wasn’t ready to name.

As the setlist continued, Amelie’s energy never wavered. She introduced her final song, “Nonsense,” with a playful grin. “This is one of my favorites,” she said, her voice carrying through the stadium. The crowd erupted in cheers as Amelie improvised the outro, throwing in cheeky references:

"D-I-C-K, I am good at spelling Tastes so good, I need a second helping Aren't you glad I know how to say Melbourne?"

Lando couldn’t help but laugh, his cheeks flushing as Amelie threw the crowd into a frenzy with her playful humor. Max leaned closer, smirking. —Did she just spell what I think she did?—

—Yeah, she did,— Lando muttered, shaking his head, though his grin betrayed him. He could practically feel the heat rising to his ears. That was so Amelie, unapologetically bold, effortlessly charming, and completely impossible to resist.

The song ended with a final, triumphant note, and the crowd erupted into deafening applause. Amelie stood there for a moment, taking it all in before offering a heartfelt smile. —Thank you, Melbourne! You’ve been incredible! I hope you’re ready for Taylor!— With that, she waved one last time before disappearing backstage.

Lando felt his heart settle into a steady rhythm as the lights dimmed again. He turned back to the group, catching Elysia’s knowing smirk. —She killed it,— Elysia said, her voice soft but proud.

—Absolutely,— Pietra agreed. —You looked like you were ready to propose, Lando.—

—Shut up,— Lando mumbled, though he couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him. —She was amazing.—

Max clapped him on the back. —Mate, we’re teasing, but you’ve got every reason to be proud. She’s incredible, and you’re lucky to have her.—

Before Lando could reply, his phone buzzed with a text.

Ames💛: Give me ten minutes, and I’ll meet you guys at the tent. I need a shower; I’m soaked in sweat. Gross, I know.

He smiled, typing a quick response:

Lan🧡: You were amazing. Can’t wait to see you.

By the time Amelie joined them at the VIP tent, Taylor’s show had just begun. She had swapped her stage outfit for a pair of ripped jeans and an oversized Taylor Swift tour shirt, her damp hair tied into a loose braid. She looked effortlessly beautiful, and Lando felt his chest tighten all over again.

—Hey!— she greeted, her voice warm as she hugged Elysia first, then Pietra. She exchanged a cheeky fist bump with Max before finally turning to Lando. —Hi, fanboy.—

—Hi, superstar,— he shot back, his grin wide. He wanted to kiss her, but with so many eyes around, he settled for a playful nudge. —You crushed it out there.—

—Thanks,— she said, her cheeks pink. —I saw the bracelets. Were they from fans or your personal collection?—

Max burst out laughing. —She got you there, mate.—

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn’t help grinning. —They’re from your fans. They told me to give them to you.—

Amelie beamed, holding out her hands. —Well, hand them over. My fans make the best bracelets.—

As Lando passed her the colorful trinkets, Taylor began singing “Cruel Summer,” and the group turned their attention to the stage. Amelie stood next to Lando, their shoulders brushing as they swayed to the music.

—This is amazing,— Amelie said, her voice barely above the music. —I still can’t believe I get to be here, opening for her.—

Lando glanced at her, his expression softening. —You deserve it. You’re incredible.—

She looked up at him, her eyes bright under the stadium lights. —Thanks, Lando.—

Max, ever the opportunist, leaned in. —You two are disgustingly cute. Just saying.—

Amelie laughed, nudging Max. —And you’re disgustingly nosy.—

As the night went on, Lando found himself watching Amelie as much as the show. Her joy was contagious, her laughter ringing out during Taylor’s upbeat songs and her voice barely a whisper as she sang along to the slower ones.

By the time Taylor closed the show with “Karma,” Amelie was leaning into Lando, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. The stadium was a sea of phone lights, the atmosphere electric.

—This is the best night,— she murmured, her voice soft enough for only Lando to hear.

He looked down at her, his chest warm. —Yeah, it is.—

And for a moment, surrounded by music, lights, and the buzz of the crowd, it felt like it was just the two of them.

[kentochronicles]

A Blade Between Us

Suguru Geto x Reader

Genre: Angst

A/N: It’s my birthday, so here’s a little birthday post!! Thank you to @empower-bi-women and @imm0rtalbutterfly for beta reading for me, it means a lot!! Enjoy lovelies and as always likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🩵

The rain was relentless, but Suguru didn’t mind. It dulled the noise in his head, a constant reminder of everything he’d lost. He stood alone on the empty street, watching droplets streak down from the grey sky, washing over the world as if it could cleanse it.

But no amount of rain could wash away what he’d done.

Suguru’s thoughts wandered, as they always did when he allowed himself to pause. They went first to the faces of those he’d left behind. Satoru’s sharp laugh, the way he used to grin like they had all the time in the world. Shoko, rolling her eyes at their antics but always there with her quiet understanding. Yaga, who had done his best to guide them, even when Suguru’s ideals veered into dangerous territory.

And then there was you. Always you.

You haunted him the most.

He wondered if you hated him now. You had every right to. When he left, he thought he was doing the right thing—breaking free of the chains tying him to a world he couldn’t save. He told himself it would be easier if he severed ties with you, too. That you’d be better off without him, without the destruction and darkness his path would bring.

But the memory of your voice, the way you had begged him to stay, still tore at him. He thought cutting you off would spare you the pain of watching him become something unrecognisable.

Instead, it seemed he’d only broken the one person who had made him feel like he could be whole.

The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, sharp and deliberate in the rain. His hand instinctively hovered over the curses at his command, but then he heard a voice he hadn’t dared hope for—or feared—since the day he walked away.

“Turn around, Suguru.”

He turned slowly, heart tightening as he saw you.

You stood there, soaked to the bone, but your eyes burned with fury and something deeper—something fractured.

“So it’s you,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended.

“Don’t say it like I’m just someone,” you snapped, your voice like a blade cutting through the rain.

You were trembling, but your resolve was unshaken. He could see it in the way you gripped the blade in your hand, the way your jaw tightened as if holding back a scream.

“I loved you,” you spat, the venom in your voice making his chest ache. “I trusted you. And then you—” Your words faltered, your voice cracking. “You left me. You betrayed all of us. Do you even understand what you’ve done?”

“I didn’t betray you,” Suguru said softly, though the words felt hollow even to him.

“You abandoned me!” you shouted, stepping closer. The rain streaked down your face, mingling with tears he knew you didn’t want him to see. “Did I mean so little to you that you could just walk away? Without a word, without—” You shook your head, your voice trembling with anguish. “Without fighting for me?”

His throat tightened. He wanted to tell you he had fought for you—fought with himself, over and over, before making the decision to leave. But what good were words now?

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he murmured.

“How noble of you,” you hissed, stepping closer still. The blade in your hand was steady now, its tip pressing against his chest. “Do you even know what you’ve done to me? Do you know how many times I wished I could hate you, only to realise I’m still—”

Your voice broke again, and the pain in it shattered what little composure he had left.

“If you hate me that much,” he said, his voice low, “then do it. Kill me.”

Your eyes widened. He stood completely still, offering no resistance as the blade pressed harder against his chest. He could feel its sharp point through the fabric of his robes, but the weight in your gaze was far more devastating.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice barely audible over the rain. “End it. If that’s what you need to do—”

“I hate you,” you whispered, the blade trembling in your grip. Tears fell freely now, and you let out a choked sob as the weapon clattered to the ground.

“I hate you for making me feel like this,” you continued, your voice cracking with every word. “I hate you for leaving. And I hate you even more because I can’t stop loving you.”

The storm inside him broke as you stumbled back, your knees buckling beneath you. He moved without thinking, catching you before you could fall.

Your hands fisted in his robes, clutching at him like you were trying to hold him together even as he was the one who had broken you.

“I never stopped loving you,” Suguru confessed, the words tumbling out unbidden. They felt like a wound torn open, a truth he could no longer keep buried.

You sobbed into his chest, and he held you as tightly as he dared, as if letting go would break both of you completely. For a moment, he let himself believe that holding you like this could be enough.

But it wasn’t.

You pulled away first, your hands lingering on his robes for a moment before you forced yourself to let go.

“I can’t do this,” you choked out, stepping back. “I can’t keep loving someone who’s already gone.”

Your words hit him harder than any curse ever could.

When you looked up at him, your eyes were filled with anguish, but there was something else too—something final.

“You’re not the man I loved anymore, Suguru. That man is dead.”

He wanted to argue, to tell you he was still here, still him. But the truth was undeniable. You were right.

The man you loved had died the day he chose this path.

You turned and walked away, each step like a knife twisting in his chest. He stood frozen, the rain soaking through his robes, his hand half-raised as if to reach for you.

But he didn’t call out. He didn’t move.

He let you go.

And as your figure disappeared into the rain, Suguru realised something he had been running from all along:

Losing you wasn’t the cost of his ideals.

It was the cost of his soul.

[just-another-fanfiction-writer]

Could you handle me? | Sebastian Sallow x fem!Reader | Chapter Three

Word count: ~900

Summary: Frustration - this summarizes Sebastian's mood pretty well after you have left him so utterly confused with your mixed signals.

Now he needs to vent his frustrations.

Warnings: aged up characters, possessive!Sebastian, pining, tension, hurt/ comfort, fluff, smut (masturbation), body worship, miscommunication, Sebastian is bad at feelings, minors dni

~ chapter one ~ chapter two ~ ao3 link ~

It's been a minute!

I'm so sorry for taking over 1,5 years to update this fic. But because of those lovely comments from you guys, I never truly gave up on this on and I'm happy to be back. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Stay tuned for more ❤️️

~Mia

Sebastian rubbed over his knuckles, cursing at himself, the wall and the whole world for the ache he felt.

He messed up. Seriously messed up. He went too far, reading the signals completely wrong and jeopardized the friendship he had with you.

You - god, he could never lose you.

The door to the Undercroft slammed shut, similar to the way you had shut him out, after letting him in. Sebastian suppressed the urge to hit something, preferably himself for his stupidity. How could he have said no to the inviting image of you, not only tempting him but the very sun, who cast her most enchanting glow solely onto you.

No, stop.

He needed to calm down. Think clearly on what to do next. Salvage of what was left of your relationship.

He paced up and down the cool stone floor, mumbling to himself, cursing under his breath, whenever his mind drifted into a mess of pictures and sounds of you, that tried to pull him back into the deep like the enchanting mermaid song of the Black Lake.

Finally he let himself fall onto the old velvet couch he had spend eternity on with you talking, laughing and crying. He had to apologize. He had to make clear he would never ever do anything to harm you, to make you cry or to make you feel unsafe. He would offer to never flirt with you again.

Even when it would kill himself, to not tease the adorable pink blush onto your cheeks with just a few words. Or to notice your eyes so deliberately avoiding his gaze, as if his woul'd be able to glimpse behind the perfectly innocent mask you were wearing. To accidentally make his hand brush against yours, so your breath would quicken. To suddenly close in and make you check, if your heart was still beating or had stopped completely. To part his lips, just as your eyes would drift down to them, if only for a split second.

God, your lips...he wished he had tasted them, when he had the chance. Maybe it was good he only got to taste your skin, the sweet and salty mixture, but even that was completely intoxicating. He could still feel on his tongue the way your throat vibrated with your quiet moan, when he hit the right spot. And the way you were holding onto him, your hands seemingly pushing and pulling at the same time.

A deep gutteral groan left his lips, when he was reminded of the heat between your legs and how your hips ever so slightly had shifted back and forth. Sebastian knew this was wrong, to let his mind run wild with what had happened. He could feel the tightness in his pants, his arousal becoming more and more unbearable, even as his hand had already started to rub over the growing bulge. But just for today, he'd let himself go. Tomorrow morning he would apologize and let nothing ever come from the incident. He'd only ever be your friend.

But today in his mind you were his.

As he was already forever yours.

Slowly sinking into the soft cushions of the couch, unlike how he had so quickly sunk into his obsession over you, his fingers reached for the buttons of his trousers, popping them open one by one until he finally could free himself. His hot breath danced across his parted lips, when his fingertips reached for his pulsing erection. The muscles in his lower abdomen visibly contracted, when he ran them along his length, spreading the excessive amount of precum over his heated skin. It was ridiculous just how hard he was. How incredibly desperate he was for this to be your hand, feeling just how tightly wound he was. Even just a few gentle strokes were almost enough for him to come undone, so he had to tightly wrap his hand around the base to stop himself. Something between a hiss and a groan echoed in the candle-lit vault, as his head fell back. Slow and steadily he continued to stroke his shaft, making sure to prolong this moment for as long as he could.

His mind drifted off to your encounter again and it felt like sweet torture to keep edging himself, while all his senses were remembering everything about you in great detail. Sebastian couldn't stop the desperate whine, just after his hips stuttered forward, indicating the close orgasm. If you were with him, he told himself, he wouldn't let out such sounds. A grunt here and there, but he wouldn't want to miss a single sound from you.

Then again, he thought, would you maybe enjoy his sounds just as much as he did yours? Would it turn you on to hear his sharp breaths, his little whines and moans? Would you rub your pretty thighs together, as you'd make a mess of him? So many question swirled in his head, it made Sebastian dizzy.

One thing was for sure. If he had you, he would find answers to all his questions and take his time to explore and worship every inch of you. You truly had him under your spell and it never were to be broken, as long as you were walking the earth and beyond.

Sometimes he'd even dream of you calling out to him.

"Sebastian..."

Your sweet voice calling out his name, as it was supposed to be.

"Sebastian..."

Just one more time, he pleaded in his head. Hear your voice one last time, calling out his name with such adoration.

"Sebastian..."

"Ah fuck!"

It all happened in a blink of an eye. One second, he was in utter bliss, cumming onto his hand and stomach, the next panic settled, when his muddled brain finally registered your voice wasn't just a siren's call.

~ To be continued ~

Tags (thank you guys so much for reading!): @blueroseava @lollife1617 @ghosigirl @anynfran

[kingdomaddiction]

I can’t stop thinking about my Fragmented SQH AU so here I go:

—

Obviously Shang Qinghua is not fine. He tries to be, really. The story is over, his son is finally happy with the love of his life and the world didn’t end. Even his ex-husband (they never got a divorce, Qinghua technically died, does it count as one?) is now free! And his cute and socially awkward King is trying his best to treat him like a friend instead of a servant.

Still, Qinghua yearns.

Sometimes, when no one is looking, he touches his flat stomach and remembers his pregnancy when he lived as Su Xiyan. A strange, lovely feeling to carry someone inside you. Unforgettable. He misses those days, but not so much. Too stressful, always running and hiding in order to protect her little one.

Other days he gets lost in the memories of his life as a washerwoman. Sad, grey days were those. Binghe was her little sunshine, the only reason she kept waking up everyday until her frail body could no more.

He remembers Binghe’s first words, his first steps. He even remembers the things he used to whisper to calm him down after a bad nightmare, kissing his tears away. Back then she used to dream for a better live, hoping to live long enough to see her baby boy grow up and marry someone kind.

He got to see Binghe grow up, yes, but only from afar. Qinghua had to restrain himself many times from killing Shen Qingqiu pre transmigration. Seeing his son cry with no way to comfort him was torture. Or so he thought. Because living right now so close to him and only being victim of his hatred is way worse.

“The traitor.”

“That rat.”

“Pathetic—“

It was too much.

He did deserve it. Qinghua did nothing to stop the stop fate (why was Shen Yuan allowed to change the rules when he was forced to hurt his son?) but it still hurt so much.

So it was no surprise when a few tears rolled down his face after a specially mean comment. A few demons from the court snickered, but Binghe just looks at him with a mixed of confusion and surprise, recognizing the tears as real and not the fake kind Qinghua usually shed around Mobei. He doesn’t feel guilt, because if it isn’t Shizun he does not care, but is still odd to witness.

Shang Qinghua just bows and leaves. He cries the whole way to his rooms. It’s depressing, he knows, but he must endure this. This is his penance, right? Now he must face it.

He tries not to stare at Binghe too much after that or even speak in his presence, but it only draws his attention. Binghe seems to attack him more often as if trying to test something, curious to see his reaction. Why? Qinghua doesn’t know, but it can’t be good. His love for his son does not blind him of his cruelty.

‘Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry—‘

Why did his little sunshine had to become such a fearful and cruel emperor? Why couldn’t he remain small, and cute and kind? Why in the world did he write that cursed story?

He sighs giving Binghe a quick glance. The young demon looks tense. Qinghua is sure his bad mood is mostly for Shen Qingqiu’s absence, who left a few days ago for serious sect business (yeah, right— you just wanted a break from your clingy husband bro) and hasn’t returned yet. On top of that the last few meetings at court has been terribly stressful. So many demons playing mind games can be exhausting.

Qinghua even after feeling hurt by Binghe feels the need to comfort him. To tell him his doing great and will find a solution. What can he say? The love of a mother (should he say father? He is currently in man’s body, but he took care of Binghe as a woman—) never fades.

It’s a silly idea, but Qinghua sneaks into the kitchen to prepare a little snack. Steamed millet buns. Very cheap and easy to make. He only needed millet flour (which was even cheaper than rice and widely cultivated in poor areas) and water. If they happen to be lucky enough to have more ingredients available then Qinghua added salt or a bit of onions. It used to be Binghe’s favorite— well, he said “everything mama makes is Bing-Bing favorite!”

Ah, he used to be so cute.

He finishes making the buns and brings him back to the court room. The other demon lords are gone and Binghe looks like he has a migraine. Qinghua approaches carefully trying to be brave.

“Junshang…” he calls softly. Before he can say something more Binghe opens his like he’s searching for something and sniffs the air. Then he finally looks at him, well, the tray in his hands.

“What is that?”

“Ah… steamed millet buns, my lord. I— I made them… for you?” Binghe just keeps staring at him as if he had grown another head. Qinghua clears his throat. “This servant thought Junshang should eat something after a long day.”

Binghe looks at the tray, then at him, then the tray again and he seems like his about to reject the offer. Qinghua holds his breath, already preparing for the burning sensation of rejection. Instead Binghe surprises him by saying:

“Bring it here.”

The peak lord nods and feels so excited he almost trips in his way to the throne. He offers the buns and Binghe stares at them with mild disgust (maybe because his treacherous shishu made them) and after long consideration he finally takes one.

He gives it a sniff before taking a big bite.

Binghe’s eyes open wide and for a brief moment they seem to shine. He keeps eating one after the other and Qinghua feels his heart fill with warmth at the sight remembering when Binghe was 3 years old and tried the buns for the first time.

“I’m glad Junshang enjoyed the buns.” Said the cultivator with a small but honest smile.

Binghe seems to finally realize what he had done and cleans the crumbs with his sleeve.

“Shang… shishu,” Wow, really having a hard time respecting your elders, huh, mister? “… made this on his own?”

“This one did!” He says proudly. “If Junshang desires this servant can always prepare more“ Qinghua offers because he knows his son enough to know he won’t ask for them again even if he loved them.

“… Do as you wish.” Oh, someone has been spending some time with his King. Doesn’t matter.

This is a good sign, right? First positive interaction with his son since forever— oh! Maybe he can prepare him some congee and mantuo next time? Yes! He can’t wait!

…

// Binghe’s angrily eating buns the next day in his room, crying: I miss my mom (˃̣̣̥ヘ˂̣̣̥) stupid rat—

[puuuders]

Marigold - Terzomega - Part One of Tranquility

Ghost fanfiction

Fluff

~

A/N - As I mentioned before, I lost interest in angst. Now I wanna write fluff. And smut. Haha. Thanks @ofthemorningstars /pos

BUT this isn't really a whole fanfiction, it's just a collection of short stories basically. Little to no angst.

~

It is a beautiful summer day in Linköping, Sweden, one that Omega does not want to waste at mass. Luckily, after Sister's death and the Emeritus brother's resurrections, his time with his beloved Terzo is infinite.

2.5k words

Read on AO3

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Omega held his breath as he turned in bed, stretching out his arms. His tongue curled as he yawned like a cat, sitting up and looking down at the still sleeping figure beside him, his chest immediately rumbling into a purr. He would never get used to the sight. Some years ago, he would have felt indifferent to Terzo’s form beside him, having grown familiar with his presence in their shared bed. Perhaps he became ungrateful for his human partner back when Terzo first became Papa. The threat of his absence hadn’t crossed his mind, at least not the possibility of his absence any time soon. Until, it happened one day. Omega regretted not giving Terzo a kiss on his cheek every morning, whether he was awake or not, because there was nothing the ghoul wanted to do more now that he was able to again.

Omega leaned down, planting a soft kiss on Terzo’s cheek, taking a moment to gaze down at him lovingly. Now, that threat of his absence was almost entirely eradicated. As a side effect of the human’s resurrection, he lost the ability to age. He was forever 54 with an immune system of a demon like Omega himself. Sure, Terzo could develop typically deadly illnesses or simple common colds, but the ailments would be removed from his body within the week. This was proven when Terzo developed a nasty case of pneumonia a few days ago, leaving him bed ridden and Omega in anxious shambles. Until, suddenly, the very next morning, his lungs were thriving. No one was entirely sure if he or his brothers could possibly be killed anymore. A common theory around the ministry is that they were actually ghouls now, who were immortal, but remained in their human bodies due to the nature of the resurrection. They were simply souls possessing the bodies. But nothing could be proven.

“Time to get up, I see you smiling.” Omega spoke gently next to Terzo’s ear, who rolled over with a groan in an attempt to hide his smile after feeling Omega’s kiss. Omega chuckled, rubbing Terzo’s shoulder.

”Come on. You can go back to sleep after mass.”

”I don’t want to go to mass.” Terzo pouted like a child. Omega scoffed playfully, gliding his claws up and down Terzo’s arm in a soothing manner.

”Who will feed me his body and his blood if you are not at mass?” Omega asked, smiling as Terzo rolled around and finally opened his mismatched eyes. They gazed at each other momentarily before Terzo sighed, sitting up.

”Only because I do not want anyone else’s thumb in your mouth,” Terzo swung his legs off of the side of the bed, standing up to stretch. “Only my thumb goes in your mouth.”

”But you can put your thumb in many people’s mouths, hm?” Omega stood up, moving to the closet to fetch each of their clothes. He pulled out his own typical uniform, slinging it over his shoulder and picking out Terzo’s. Terzo had a bit more leeway with his attire, having multiple suits and dress shirts that he wore to mass. Omega picked out his personal favorite to see on his beloved Terzo: his pink button up and white vest with matching pants.

”It is my duty, ghoul,” Terzo took his clothes as they were handed to them, “I do not take any pleasure in any other than you.”

”I know, I know.” Omega pulled the back t-shirt over his head, quickly stuffing his arms into his jacket before Terzo could get distracted with lustful thoughts and comments about his ghoul’s body. Terzo removed his own shirt, accidentally nicking the scab forming around his neck.

”Ouch.” Terzo winced, moving his hand up to touch the thick scar. Omega whipped his head around to look at him, his heart dropping.

”What’s wrong? Terzo?” Omega quickly stepped over, fully dressed now, gently placing his larger hands overtop Terzo’s.

”I am okay, I just scratched it a bit.” Terzo pulled his hand away. The scar was still red, stitches still in his skin just in case Terzo was not actually immortal. It was Omega’s call to take such precautions, him having the authority as the head of the infirmary department to make such decisions. Even so, if he was not in a powerful position, Terzo would have had it done anyway just to soothe the ghoul’s unending paranoia.

Omega leaned in, closing his eyes as he pressed a warm kiss to the scar.

“Be careful, amore.” Omega stood by, watching as Terzo dressed himself to ensure his safety. Terzo found it silly that Omega was so worried about Terzo dressing himself, but he knew the concern came from a deep, genuine fear, so he would never point it out.

Mass went as boring and uninteresting as Terzo had expected it to be. Omega would smile behind his metal mask as Terzo would frequently shift positions up there sitting near the altar. He would cross his legs with his arms crossed, head tilted to the side to listen to Copia’s stuttering Satanic prayers. Then, he would shift, manspreading and hanging his head, eyes wide and nodding at nothing in particular. Finally, by the time it was Terzo’s turn to give the body and blood, Terzo had his head leaned back against the wall, asleep. Copia had to snap his fingers in front of his face to wake him, a quiet wave of giggles rumbling across the mass attendees.

As Terzo made his way across the room, Omega noticed how Terzo would pinch the crackers, placing them with a flick of his fingers on each person’s tongue. Terzo was not grossed out or upset about having to feed them, in fact he enjoyed the feeling of providing for the siblings and ghouls. Almost nurturing them, like a mother would her baby. But there was a clear difference in the way Terzo would feed the other siblings and ghouls and the way he would Omega. When Terzo approached Omega, Omega lifted his mask and held it delicately in his hands. Terzo placed the cracker on his thumb instead of pinched between his fingers. Omega opened his mouth, letting his tongue poke out, and Terzo would gently press the cracker on to his tongue. When Omega finished, instead of handing the shot glass to him, Terzo would gently lean Omega’s head back and slowly pour the wine into his mouth. The whole process made the large ghoul fidgety and flustered, but the shyness he felt was entirely worth that look of adoration written all over Terzo’s face. Similarly, the boredom and annoyance Terzo would feel having to sit so far away from Omega during mass was worth seeing the blush spread across his face when he finally got to feed him.

“You need to stop falling asleep in mass, tesoro.” Omega scolded, wrapping his fingers around Terzo’s smaller hand as they shuffled out of the room in the midst of the crowd. The people dispersed throughout the halls, most of which heading for the dining hall since it was now lunchtime. Terzo and Omega decided neither of them were hungry, so they opted to head outside in the ministry gardens to enjoy the heat of the thriving summer. Besides, with the major amount of changes Copia had installed on the ministry and their morals, they could always go somewhere else to eat if they grew hungry later on in the day.

“I do not actually sleep,” Terzo claimed as they walked across the path, the sweet scent of roses filling their noses, “I only do it to annoy Copia. And make people laugh. Mass is boring, someone has to make it worthwhile.”

”What would we do without you and your comedy?” Omega sighed, kissing Terzo on the top of his head. Terzo smiled.

”Whatever you did while I was gone.” Terzo looked up at Omega, feeling the grip on his hand tightened. The smile faded.

“I’m sorry, that was not funny.” Terzo murmured.

”No, amore, don’t be sorry.” Omega sat down on a stone bench, facing a rose bush. He placed his hands on Terzo’s waist, having him sit on his lap. Terzo gladly did so, wrapping his arms around Omega’s shoulders.

”There was no replacement for you and your… Your artful smartass-ary.” Omega chuckled dryly, rubbing Terzo’s back as he looked up at him.

“I don’t think I smiled once in those 6 years.”

”Isn’t it funny how much nicer it is without those decrepit old bastards around?” Terzo said lightheartedly, trying to help Omega’s clearly anxious mood. “Ah, and we all blamed my brother. I do not forgive him for that humiliating stunt with Metal Hammer, though. And Metal Hammer! Of all magazines! Metal Hammer. Sounds like Square Hammer. Embarrassing.”

Terzo sighed, playing with the back of Omega's hair as he continued.

“I know what you say, that if it were not for those old bastards, none of this would have happened. I believe you.”

”Copia was so scared of you especially when we were preparing your resurrection,” Omega chuckled, swallowing the lump in his throat that he did not want Terzo to notice, “he knew you’d have something to say about Metal Hammer.”

“It is humiliating!” Terzo exclaimed. “I should do the same to him.”

”I think you embarrassed him enough when you pantsed him at Sister’s ashes ritual,” Omega grinned. Terzo tossed his head back in a cackle.

“Hello Kitty underwear, he had!”

“He deserved it.” Omega chuckled. Terzo nodded, sliding off of Omega’s lap to sit on the bench. He leaned his head on the ghoul’s broad shoulder, closing his eyes contentedly as he felt Omega’s arm wrapped around him.

“I do not care what Copia did while I was gone,” Terzo spoke more solemnly this time, “I am just glad to have you back, mio amore.”

They sat silently for a moment, basking in the sweet air of each other's presence. With Omega's arm wrapped around him, Terzo reached over to the side of the bench, plucking out a plump marigold from its plant. He brought it over to them both, smelling it and humming.

“I love marigolds,” Terzo began, holding it up for Omega to smell it as well. “They always remind me of this festival, the lantern festival. They are quite popular in China. And Japan. Not here in Linköping, though, I have checked. Many times.”

Terzo twirled the flower around in his fingers.

“Marigolds? Or the lantern festival?” Omega asked.

“Both if they have any taste.” Terzo smiled. “No, I mean the festivals. They light hundreds of thousands- Omega ghoul, have you ever watched Tangled?” Terzo looked up at him questioningly. Omega pursed his lips with a smile, looking away, knowing he was about to offend his movie obsessed partner.

“No, I haven't.”

“We will watch it tonight!” Terzo exclaimed, tucking the marigold behind Omega's ear. Omega chuckled, allowing Terzo to adorn him with the brightly colored flower. “You will see how pretty it is. It is a good movie. I wish I could get married at the lantern festival.”

Omega began to stare off into space upon hearing Terzo's confession.

”What?” Alpha called in response to the urgent knock on his door. He was in the middle of fixing his hair, squeezing a handful of mousse into it. He would never admit it, but he had an intricate hair care routine. He stuffed his products in the cupboard under the bathroom sink as he ventured into the main part of his room, opening the door.

”I need your help with something.” Omega breathed out, fidgeting with his fingers.

Alpha raised a brow. He opened the door wider and allowed Omega in, shutting the door behind him.

“What is it? Oh, don’t even tell me. You want me to make you 500 candles again for a date with Terzo, don’t you?” Alpha rolled his eyes, but he was not seriously annoyed. Omega parted his lips to speak, blush spreading across his face, but nothing came out. Alpha’s expression softened.

”What?”

“Well… Kind of.” Omega shrugged. “Lanterns. Lots… Lots of lanterns. Terzo’s been telling me about this lantern festival he wanted to go to, but it’s not in Linköping. So I want to make it for him.”

”Never heard of it,” Alpha crossed his arms, noting Omega’s fast pace. “Why?”

“He’s been- Well, he’s just-“ Omega stuttered, his chest puffed out, “he just likes it and I wanna do it. Can you help?”

Alpha paused, studying Omega’s body language with the worst RBF Alpha had ever produced. His silence prompted Omega to continue his rambling.

“And I already know, it’s a fire hazard, but I talked to Copia and he said yes as long as the water ghouls are around. Plus, you can also let the lanterns float in the lake. And I will ask Dew and Ifirit to help but I know they are busy with the rituals, so-“

“What’s going on?” Alpha interrupted with a smirk, idly shifting his weight back and forth on each foot. “What’s this for, big guy?”

Omega held his breath for a moment, debating on whether he was going to lie or not. Finally, he decided there was no point and he exhaled, reaching in his pocket as he looked down. He pulled out a small jewelry box and opened it delicately. Alpha’s jaw dropped as his eyes landed on a beautiful ruby ring, glistening with pink and white moissanite that lined the metal band of the ring.

“Holy shit.” Alpha spat out. He raised his hands, looking up at Omega for permission to hold it. Omega nodded.

”Just… Careful.” Omega choked, his nerves apparent. Alpha carefully picked it out of the box, looking all around it.

“How fucking much did you pay for this?” Alpha laughed as he looked at it.

”Uh… Well, I bought it from Earth a week ago. He made it.” Omega watched sheepishly as Alpha examined it in awe before putting it back in the box.

“How much?” Alpha repeated. Omega bit his lip.

”Uh… 22 thousand krona.” Omega blushed deeply at the price. Alpha’s hair burst into flames at the tag.

”Jesus fuck!” Alpha exclaimed.

“I make a lot more now that I’m in the infirmary!” Omega defended. Alpha patted out the flame on his head, eyes still locked on Omega.

”He does not need a 22 thousand krona ring!” Alpha laughed. Omega blushed even more.

“He deserves it, though.” Omega murmured.

“He’s gonna fucking love it.” Alpha reassured. “Yes, I’ll help you with the lanterns. When?”

”Sunday. I still need some time to plan it. I'm gonna, uh… Propose that night. After the lanterns are lit.” Omega fidgeted with the ring on his finger anxiously.

“Okay,” Alpha. Followed as Omega moved to leave the room. “Knowing him, you'll be married the next day.”

Omega smiled, his temples beginning to hurt from grinning so much.

“Thank you.” Omega waved and shut the door, drawing in a deep breath as he began to walk down the hallway to join his future husband in their suite for the night.

[valiwrites]

hiii if you don’t mind could you please do a joao felix fic where they do the loyal chris brown dance trend bc i feel like it would be really funny 😭

tiktok trouble

⋆·˚ ༘ * - joao felix

masterlist

summary: João hilariously nails the Loyal TikTok dance, turning a joke into viral gold and leaving you laughing at his over-the-top moves and newfound TikTok fame.

It had started out as a joke.

You were scrolling through TikTok on the couch while João sat beside you, engrossed in a FIFA match on his phone. The Loyal dance trend popped up on your for you page, and you couldn’t help but snort.

“What’s so funny?” João asked, glancing over.

You turned the screen to show him the video. A guy was doing the dramatic, exaggerated moves to Chris Brown’s “Loyal,” complete with the smug smirk and pointed finger.

João squinted at it, his brows knitting together. “What is that?”

“It’s a TikTok trend,” you explained, grinning. “You’re supposed to act all cocky and over-the-top while doing the dance. It’s hilarious.”

João tilted his head, watching the guy on screen. “That’s supposed to be dancing?”

“Don’t knock it until you try it,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

João smirked, leaning back on the couch. “I don’t need to try it. I already know I’d be better.”

“Oh, really?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

That’s how you found yourself setting up your phone in the living room, the familiar opening beat of “Loyal” echoing off the walls.

João stood across from you, hands on his hips and a playful gleam in his eye. “So, I just... follow you?”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to keep a straight face. “But you have to sell it. Smirk, point, the whole thing.”

He rolled his eyes but nodded. The music started, and you launched into the moves—puffing out your chest, pointing at the imaginary crowd, and pretending to be the cockiest person alive.

João hesitated at first, mimicking your moves with a sheepish grin. But as the beat dropped, something shifted. He leaned into it, throwing in exaggerated spins and finger guns, his face set in a ridiculous “too cool for this” expression.

You couldn’t hold it together. “Oh my God, João!” you choked out between laughs, doubling over as he pointed at you like a music video star.

“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “I’m nailing it!”

“You’re so bad!”

“I thought the point was to be bad,” he shot back, grinning. “It’s called acting.”

By the second take, João was completely in his element. He strutted toward the camera, flipping an invisible jacket and winking at your reflection in the TV screen.

“You’re taking this too seriously!” you cried, clutching your stomach.

“Not seriously enough,” he replied, spinning dramatically.

When you finally uploaded the TikTok, you captioned it: “I created a monster 😭 #LoyalChallenge”.

Within hours, the video blew up.

The comments rolled in:

"João really said main character energy."

"Why is he actually killing it though??"

"This is the most unserious footballer on the planet."

"I need to see this on the pitch. Now."

João couldn’t stop laughing as he read through the comments, his head resting on your shoulder. “See? I told you I’d be better at it than you.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

João pressed a kiss to your temple, his laughter softening into a fond grin. “Admit it. You had fun.”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine. But next time, we’re doing one of my trends.”

“Deal,” João said, already pulling up the TikTok app. “But only if I get to be the star again.”

You rolled your eyes, but you knew you wouldn’t trade this moment—or João’s ridiculous dancing—for anything.