#both are so full of themselves they think they could beat the other one

[cheemken]

you always talk about the champions but what about the next champions? would any of the main trainers beat their regions champions and take their title?

Ghmh yeah I have been thinking abt that for a while now, mainly bc it'd be funny if in a lil timeskip, Iris becomes the lil pseudo leader of the next gen champs and she's there vibing bc she's kinda like Lance hahaha even better she also wears a cape lmao

Anyways that'd be fun tho, but idk which one of the current champs to actually lose and give up the champion title. Then again, Geeta would still be top champ, but then there's Nemona and Florian y'know

With Indigo's league, it would be cool if Silver is actually the next Champion rather than Gold. Idk cause like, in my hcs Gold didn't really care much abt the league, he's just cool venturing around and helping his grandparents at the daycare; Silver on the other hand was determined to become Champion, I wanna say he would be able to beat Lance and be Indigo's new champ

Hoenn's league, May honestly just wanted that title to spite her father lol. Like, homegirl was already a battling prodigy, beat the Frontier Brains, and has Rayquaza with her, what more another title right. Idk if I do want Hoenn to still have two Champions, cause in my hcs Unova and Paldea already has two (technically three for Paldea but again, Geeta's in a diff rank)

Sinnoh's league, it's Dawn ofc. As much as Cynthia doesn't want her to be the next champ, Dawn was a strong trainer. She also wanted that Champion title since the start, and hey she really worked hard to get it y'know. Cynthia is there to guide her tho, homegirl doesn't want Dawn to go through the same shit as her

Unova's league, well, still Iris and Hilbert are the champs hahah but like, outside Unova, Iris is more well known as she's been Champion the longest and the fact between the two of them she's the one who attends meetings and gatherings, Hilbert only ever attends when Iris calls in sick or she really couldn't atm

Kalos' league, Calem becomes the next champ. I do have a lil concept abt this, like,, Calem is a lonely kid man, ik I compared him to May in my hcs, and the main difference abt them is that May forged genuine connections with her friends, whereas Calem tried but he just couldn't connect with the Kalos kids on a deeper level. Which, yeah, made him lonely, thinking that if he becomes Champion, it'd make him forget abt that loneliness. It didn't. Diantha is trying to help him through t ofc, she knows the feeling of loneliness all too well

Alola's league, it's still Hau hahah c'mon I think the kid deserves it, he's like, strong af too. Idk, I want him to have some sort of reputation hahah like, new challengers would always encounter him at random points, and he's like, very chill y'know, he's just vibing, encouraging new trainers to do their best, but during Champion battles, it feels like he becomes a different person that it actually scared the trainers hahaha

Galar's league, it's Gloria. Felt absolutely bad she beat Hop, low-key felt proud of herself beating Leon, either way, she doesn't know what to feel sometimes now that she's Champion. And hey not like it was during Leon's time, Rose isn't around anymore, and Leon made a few changes at how the League runs with young Champions before she beat him, so hey y'know. Honestly a bit intimidated w her new title, but tries not to show it

Paldea's league, Nemona and Florian ofc hahah. I mean, Geeta's still around ofc, but hey. Anyways yeah, these two are Paldea's champs and Nemona is the overly competitive one that she challenged Silver once like really pissed him off bc she wouldn't stop bugging him hahah (it ended up tied) and then there's Florian who's just trying to keep Nemona in check too, but also enables her in pissing off Silver bc he thinks it's entertaining

It would be fun tho to make concepts abt them, but hey yeah, feel free to send asks abt them if you guys want hahah

[margeoww]

Strong Enough for You

back to my masterlist

pairing: percy jackson x gf!reader

summary: being in a relationship with Percy Jackson means adventure, danger, and plenty of moments to admire his heroism. But what you love most? His quiet moments of vulnerability—and, of course, those arms that could rival the gods themselves.

a/n: okay guys, just look at him. I just wanted to write something related to this wonderful pic.

It wasn’t a secret, not really. Everyone at Camp Half-Blood had noticed Percy’s physical transformation over the years—his strength wasn’t just in his bravery or his loyalty; it was evident in the way he moved, the way he carried himself. And you? Well, you had front-row seats to it all.

Sitting on the steps of the Big House one sunny afternoon, you watched Percy from a distance as he helped the younger campers set up for capture the flag. His orange camp shirt clung to his shoulders, and his biceps flexed as he effortlessly lifted a heavy crate of shields.

—Are you even listening to me? —Annabeth’s voice broke through your daydream.

You blinked, turning to your best friend, who was smirking knowingly. —What?

Annabeth crossed her arms. —I was saying that Percy’s been showing off a little more lately. And judging by the way you’re staring, I think I know why.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. —I wasn’t staring.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. —Sure, you weren’t. Look, you’ve been together for a year now. He’s obviously just as smitten with you as you are with him. Maybe it’s time to tell him how much you appreciate his hard work.

Later that evening, you found Percy by the campfire, absentmindedly poking at the flames with a stick. He looked up as you approached, his face lighting up in that way that always made your heart skip a beat.

—Hey. —he said, scooting over to make room for you. —How was your day?

You sat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. —Better now.

Percy chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. —You’re cute when you’re sappy, you know that?

You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes trailing over his face and down to the strong line of his jaw. From there, your gaze wandered—his broad shoulders, the way his arms rested casually on his knees, the faint scars that told stories of battles won.

—Okay, what’s that look for? —Percy asked, amused.

You bit your lip, deciding to go for it. —I was just thinking… you’ve gotten really strong lately.

Percy blinked, caught off guard. —Uh, thanks? I mean, I’ve been training a lot, but..

—I like it. —you interrupted, your voice soft but teasing. —I mean, I really like it.

Percy’s face turned red, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. -Oh. Well, that’s… good to know.

You grinned, leaning closer to press a kiss to his cheek. —Don’t get too cocky, Pers. But for the record, you’re ridiculously attractive.

A few days later, Percy seemed determined to test just how much you liked his newfound strength. During sparring practice, he pulled off a series of overly dramatic moves that had the other campers rolling their eyes—and had you trying very hard not to laugh.

Afterward, as you were both walking back to your cabins, he turned to you with a mischievous grin. —So… was that impressive enough for you?

You playfully shoved his shoulder. —You’re such a show-off.

—But you like it. —he countered, grabbing your hand to pull you closer. His voice dropped to a low murmur. —Admit it.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. —Fine. Maybe I do. Just a little.

Percy leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was sweet and unhurried. When he pulled back, his eyes were full of affection—and a hint of smugness.

—Good. —he said softly. —Because I’d do anything to keep you looking at me like that.

That night, as you lay together on the dock by the lake, Percy’s arm draped around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but trace your fingers over the muscles of his forearm.

—Do you ever get tired? —you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

—Tired of what?

—Carrying the weight of the world. —you said, your tone teasing but your words sincere.

Percy’s smile was soft as he turned to look at you. —Not when you’re here. —he said simply.

And in that moment, as the stars reflected in the water and his hand found yours, you realized that no amount of strength could compare to the way he made you feel: safe, loved, and completely at home.

[uniquexusposts]

The Dutch Grand Prix - M. Verstappen (1)

Summary: Y/n visits the Dutch Grand Prix and meets Max.

The days leading up to the Dutch Grand Prix were a whirlwind of emotions for Y/n. She had packed her suitcase with a heavy heart, her hands moving on autopilot as she threw in the clothes she’d meticulously planned to wear when she and Julien were still together; the matching outfits were left at home. A trip to Zandvoort, once a dream come true, now felt like stepping into a landmine of emotions. They had broken up weeks ago—no slamming doors or screaming matches, just the quiet puzzle of something that had once been whole.

It was Julien’s mother who called first. Y/n could still hear her soft, insistent voice, asking—no, argue—for her to join them. “You’re still part of the family,” she had said, her words clinging to the hope that somehow, this trip could stitch the ugly edges of the past back together. And maybe it was that very last hope that had Y/n and Julien would get back together. 

The day of the race arrived like an overcast morning, the sun hidden behind layers of unresolved feelings. Zandvoort was a sea of orange, flags bearing Max Verstappen’s name flapping in the wind. Julien’s family greeted her with open arms, their smiles warm yet tinged with an unspoken awkwardness. Julien himself was polite, distant, like a ghost of the boy she used to know. His blue eyes, once so full of life when they looked at her, now avoided her gaze, settling instead on the horizon where the roar of engines grew louder by the minute.

The VIP section was a world apart from the chaos of the general stands. Champagne flutes clinked, the bubbles fizzing like the electric energy in the air. They were surrounded by celebrities, influencers, and sponsors—people who lived and breathed the world of Formula 1. Y/n tried to focus on the race, but her mind was elsewhere, tangled in the awkward silences and forced smiles that had filled the morning. Over the weeks, she realised she never fitted the family. Julien’s family was all about presenting the best of themselves and always thinking ahead of the possible critics they could receive. Julien had never been like that. Y/n never looked at it that way. 

Y/n and Julien’s family were invited to visit Red Bull Racing’s garage before the race. While Julien’s family were walking ahead to show the best versions of themselves and try to find a way to connect with the team, Julien and Y/n were walking in a distance next to each other. They both were observing everything, they talked and fantasised about this moment before they broke up. It was quiet between them, but they quietly observed everything. The way the team worked very structured, was brilliant to Y/n. Everybody knew what to do, with just one look everything became meaningful to the crew. 

And even Max Verstappen himself appeared. He was - obviously - the golden boy of the Netherlands and of many other F1 fans. During his home race, his name was on everyone’s lips. But here, in the intimate bubble of his garage, he was just Max, a team player of the team, almost like a coworker - which he was, technically. He introduced himself to Julien’s family and Y/n. His smile was confident, Y/n observed, but it was a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes; he had the race to think about, but there was a kindness there, a warmth that Y/n hadn’t expected from the star player. After all, it was a business man who was very good at his job, really well media trained. Perhaps that was why he was likeable by the sponsors and investors, aka the rich. 

Julien stiffened beside her, his jaw tightening as Max’s attention lingered on her just a beat too long. It was nothing, really—just polite conversation, a fleeting connection over a shared love for the sport. But Julien saw something more, or maybe he was just seeing what he feared most: that Y/n was moving on, even if she wasn’t entirely ready to admit it to herself.

“Are you enjoying this weekend?” Max asked and looked at Y/n, giving her the opportunity to speak instead of the people around her. 

He was charming in that effortless way that came from years of being in the spotlight. Y/n warmly smiled, “it’s amazing. It’s really different from TV, there you can really get the overview of everything. But being here in real time… It’s better than I thought it would be. And those Dutch fans…” Her lips parted and her eyes widened, showing an impressed impression. 

Max laughed and nodded as an agreement. “Nothing tops the Dutch.”

“It’s so intense, isn't it? Everyone is so loved and welcome here at the track and just in The Netherlands in general.” 

“Not always, but they do their best,” Max replied. 

“Geloof me, ik weet er alles van,” Y/n replied and gave him a typical Dutch nod. (Trust me, I know all about it)

His eyebrows raised. “Die zag ik niet aankomen.” They hold each other's gaze for a moment; this was their moment, their connection. There was something about her that made him long for more, more of her story. (I did not see that coming) 

But Julien’s jealousy simmered beneath the surface, a dark cloud threatening to overshadow the day. He watched as Max’s laughed with Y/n. They actually laughed at the same time, moving towards each other, and brushing their arms against each other’s arms. It was a casual, short touch, but one that sent a surge of possessiveness through him. He couldn’t stand it, the idea that Y/n, his Y/n, could be slipping through his fingers, right in front of his eyes. And the worse thing: Y/n was speaking in her native tongue, he wasn’t able to follow their conversation anymore. 

After a few minutes, the family and Y/n were politely asked to leave the garage. Y/n was almost glad to do so because she felt the weight of Julien’s gaze on her. And let’s not forget the jealousy she received from her ex-in-law’s because she could speak the same language as Max, they could not. And no one knew about what they were talking about. They quickly took a photo for the memories and left.  

As they walked back to the VIP area, Julien couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Y/n, what are you doing? With him?” His words tumbled out, rough and unfiltered.

She blinked, taken aback. “What are you talking about? We were just talking.”

But Julien wasn’t having it. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration gnawing at him. “You can’t seriously be interested in him. You just… you can’t.”

And there it was—the unspoken truth between them. Julien wasn’t ready to let her go, not yet, not when he saw her smile like that, the same way she used to smile at him.

Y/n took a deep breath, her mind racing as she tried to find the right words. “Julien, we’re not together anymore. You made that choice. I’m just trying to make the best of this trip. You don’t get to decide who I talk to.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. The truth of it was painful, but undeniable. Julien had ended things, thinking it was the right thing to do, but now, seeing her with someone else—even if it was just a fleeting moment—was unbearable.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I just… I didn’t expect it to be so hard.”

Y/n softened, her anger dissipating as she looked at him. This wasn’t easy for either of them. But she couldn’t let his jealousy ruin what little peace she had found.

“It’s hard for me too,” she admitted, her voice gentle. “But we both have to move on.”

Julien nodded, but the sadness in his eyes lingered. They stood there for a moment, in the centre of the chaos before the start of the race, as they faced the reality of what their relationship had become—two people trying to find their way apart, even as they were drawn together by the echoes of what once was. As she looked at him, she knew one thing for certain: she was finally ready to start healing. And that, in itself, was a victory; the first victory for today. 

Part 2

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc @ironmaiden1313

[nitadllyss]

Just Like It All Began

Bangchan Idol x Female Reader

Genre: Romantic, Angst, Slow burn romance, Fluff, Smut, Basically a bit of everything.

Warnings: NSFW, angst, heartbreak, alcohol use, mature themes, fluff, emotional distress.

Blurb: Chan and you are in love, in a relationship full of passion, but when problems arise, everything starts to unravel. Distance and stress take over, while nostalgia and memories resurface, bringing a spark of hope.

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

There you were, kissing the man you promised to forget. But somehow, each kiss made you feel like the spark might never have left…

---

You were getting ready for a dinner invited by a friend, Felix. You knew there would be more people, specifically members of his group. You were nervous and excited to have a fun night and meet new people. You only knew them by sight, that’s all.

The dinner had already started. Everyone was enjoying themselves, chatting with one another. It was interesting to see how the atmosphere developed: everyone was so warm and kind. While talking about wanting to plan a vacation, you heard a member you hadn’t interacted much with.

“I definitely recommend Australia,” he said, smiling, very excited about his recommendation as he looked at you. “It’s really beautiful, and I’m planning to visit my family there, I could give you a tour.”

You felt your body heat up and your heart beat a little faster. Was he that... cute? You didn’t know how to express it. His smile made you feel happy, and those dimples that accompanied it made everything seem more harmonious: that prominent and straight nose that made him look strong, those small eyes that smiled along with his dimples. Damn, you had fallen.

“Really? Well, if you say so, I’ll have to consider it. I’ve heard a lot about how beautiful it is there thanks to Lix,” you returned the smile, trying to hide your state.

The others were talking amongst themselves, not noticing the interaction that wasn’t as casual as it seemed.

“Are you Y/N, right? Sorry, I’m a little shy, and I didn’t have the courage to talk before,” he said, a bit flushed. His voice tone showed his shyness.

“That’s right,” you smiled at him, trying to make him feel comfortable. “You’re Bangchan, right?” You looked at him closely, hoping you weren’t mistaken.

“Yes, but call me Chris.”

The rest of the dinner was amazing. Sometimes your heel would accidentally hit his shoe, making you both blush. When your laughs mixed, you both felt butterflies in your stomach.

---

You started seeing each other for a while, of course, with the other members, whom you also got close to easily.

Group hangouts were comfortable and fun. You really had a bond with everyone.

But with him, it was different. When his hand brushed against yours, he would play it off with a “Oops,” and smile while winking at you, probably aware of your warm cheeks and your shaky responses.

He brought your favorite snacks, suggested your favorite movies and outings. God, this man was going to kill you with his love.

“Did you remember?” you said, happy and excited to see that he brought your favorite chips and put on your favorite Disney movie.

“I just want you to feel comfortable,” he said, somewhat embarrassed. When the others teased him about his obvious flirtatious attitude, he would just say:

“I MEAN, I want all of us to feel comfortable!” This made you laugh.

Things escalated a step further when he offered to help you with the shopping. You were alone, and somehow it ended in a sweet kiss.

---

After that, coffee dates, dinners, movies, walks, and other activities became very frequent.

Being alone with him made you nervous, and your cheeks ached from smiling so much while with him. When you got home, you’d only think about how cute he looked that day and how much you couldn’t wait to see him again.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Chat with “Chris💕”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Chris: Are you busy next Saturday?😊

I was thinking of having a sleepover…😉🫣

We could order pizza and watch a drama.

Y/N: Sure!🙂‍↕️

It’s on my schedule, Mr. Bang.📝💗

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

After several sleepovers, came the first time you slept together.

“Y/N...” he said, a bit uncomfortable because of his stiff posture in bed, afraid to touch you too much and make you feel uncomfortable. “Do you mind if... I hug you?” His ears were bright red, and his hands started to sweat.

“It’s okay, feel comfortable, Chris,” you said, a little surprised by his proposal but happy it was him who said it.

That night, you slept comfortably with each other’s warmth. After that, he needed your head on his chest to sleep in peace, and you couldn’t rest without his caresses on your back. You both slept soundly, accompanied by the melody of each other’s heartbeat.

---

The room was a mess of moans and gasps. Some growls escaped his mouth, blending with the sound of the moisture of your skin touching.

“You feel so good,” he said, lost in how your walls squeezed around him. He couldn’t help but hold your hands above your head, applying pressure to push himself deeper.

You only responded with babbling and broken sighs, trying to form sentences like:

“It feels so big… You’re opening me up so well…”

“Come on, baby… Fuck,” he said, setting a harder and deeper pace. “Cum for me.” He kissed your neck, biting and licking it in the process.

Your body couldn’t resist anymore, and your screams of pleasure grew louder. When he whispered, “Beg for it. If you really want it, beg for it.”

“Please,” you begged with a trembling voice. “Please, Chris... Let me cum.”

His smile became evident, and after a while, you both reached your climax, sharing the pleasure and love in an orgasm.

They both felt an overwhelming desire for each other. The love between them grew stronger, and the need to be physically united pushed them to act irrationally, losing themselves in the heat of the moment.

---

You missed him so much. The comeback season was horrible for you. You missed his scent in bed, his good morning and good night kisses. You felt cold sleeping there alone, and don’t even get started on how much it broke your heart to eat alone at that table. Your days felt endless.

He regretted not being able to spend more time with you, to the point where he didn’t hear your voice for weeks. It was slowly killing him, but he knew his job had its place.

When you did see each other, you tried to make up for it by loving each other intensely during the days and weeks you couldn’t be together. Everything changed when he had his first tour.

“I miss you so much, baby,” Chris said, nostalgic, during a video call.

“I can’t wait to kiss you and hold you,” you said, also nostalgic.

But over time, even the video calls became less frequent. He was exhausted, and his schedules didn’t always match yours.

One day, you simply couldn’t bear it anymore. When you finally had a video call after two months, you saw him turn on the camera, and when he saw you in tears, Chris knew exactly what was about to happen.

“You know I love you, and that will never change,” you said, barely able to articulate each word between sobs. “But I need some time… You don’t know how much it hurts not having you here with me.”

He accepted, broken inside, but understanding it wasn’t fair to either of you. It hurt that he didn’t fight for you both.

---

When Chris returned, you saw each other and tried to fix things. For a while, it worked. But then, he came back late again, disappearing for weeks. You understood that you couldn’t take the place his career had in his life, and that was okay with you. You loved him too much to pressure him.

The definitive breakup was inevitable.

“I love you,” Chris said, tears streaming down his face as he hugged you tightly.

“I love you so much, Chris. Thank you for everything,” you said, looking at him with all the love you felt for him, knowing this would be your last goodbye.

You shared one last kiss, full of love and pain. Then, you each took a different path, without looking back.

---

Almost a year later, at another group meeting organized by Felix, you saw him again.

You both tried to keep your distance, but your eyes met several times during the night. You didn’t talk deeply, but you both knew you understood each other. There was something in the air, a calm despite the distance that now existed between you.

You were happy to see he was doing well. He, for his part, felt relief knowing you were okay, eating well, and getting enough sleep. You both were happy for each other’s happiness, whether together or not.

---

Now, you were at the bar you used to visit with him, spending what would have been your anniversary. Looking at your phone, the photo album reminded you of a picture of both of you smiling and hugging. The nostalgia hit you like a cold bucket of water.

You didn’t know why, but the drinks started to feel like water, and with each sip, you remembered something more: the way he laughed, his face when he woke up, his kisses before bed, and his warm voice when he sang.

“Y/N...” you felt your blood pressure drop as you heard that voice, still stirring the deepest feelings in you.

You turned quickly and saw him. He, probably slightly tipsy, was looking at you with a light smile on his face.

“Chris?” You looked at him, and it felt like time hadn’t passed.

You caught up on your lives. You were both still single. When you heard this, you felt an unexpected relief, and it gave him a bit of hope. You touched on the topic of your relationship, and at that moment, your heel brushed his shoe, causing a shared laugh over the memories of the past.

Now, you were there, face to face, kissing. Each kiss, every heartbeat shared, and the laughter that arose between your caresses made you feel that the spark was still there, waiting to not give up.

The spark might never have left…

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

I don’t know, but I loved this, to be honest 🤭

Christopher Bang 😩😩😩

I hope you all liked this piece!

English isn't my first language, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know. 💕

[soul-controller]

Punished For Pride

“Hey stud, time to come back to Earth! Weren’t you going to flex those muscle tits of yours for me?”

As Joseph shook his head, the man gave a dopey chuckle before taking a puff from the cigarette that loosely hung from his lips. Despite thinking such a command was weird, he pulled open his shirt and began to sensually pop his pecs for the enthusiastic twink standing in front of him. Upon doing it a few times and watching the twink stare in absolute lust though, the sudden throbbing of his boner made him shake away such a bizarre thought. Why would this be weird? He loved nothing more than flaunting his godly body to pretty twinks like this guy!

Across from him Oliver, the twink, couldn’t help but have a full-body shiver while standing outside in his glittery mesh crop top and vibrant purple booty shorts. Although this was partially due to the cold breeze that whipped against his frail frame, he was truly shivering in both delight and amusement at the man who was continuing to flex his muscles and remark about how pretty Oliver was. The reason behind this was just a few minutes ago, the bulky redneck had been a homophobic asshole who had admonished Oliver for his “faggy” attire and threatened to beat his ass if he didn’t change.

Growing up in a small town, Oliver was used to his fair share of close-minded people who didn’t accept his lifestyle, especially in high school as he found himself bullied by countless jocks. It was through his own desperation for relief from these situations that allowed him to stumble upon the art of hypnosis, which he quickly began to study and become an expert in. In addition to wanting to make his life easier, he was desperate for a little bit of revenge and thus began to one-by-one send his tormentors into a deep slumber as he retooled their minds and personalities to his liking. 

Given how extreme their hatred was of a self-identifying queer man, Oliver was left with no other choice but to cheekily assume they were closet cases and thus it was his task of freeing them from the deep closet they had buried themselves into. From there, his school was going through a coming out epidemic as every single jock who tormented Oliver suddenly broke up with their gorgeous cheerleader girlfriends, declared their homosexuality to the world, and began to spend time in the locker rooms after their practices exploring each others’ bodies.

Ever since he made his way to college where he was surrounded by more open-minded and accepting individuals, Oliver’s penchant for hypnosis had become less and less frequently utilized. But after encountering Joseph leaning against the brick wall of a next door biker bar, old habits die hard so he approached the man and sent him into a deep slumber. In addition to turning him into a proud gay man, the twink altered his personality to become somehow who loved to flaunt their body and flex their muscles – so much so that the man implanted a suggestion for Joseph to quit his job instantly and search for work at the gay club as a go-go dancer.

Upon hearing the man ask if he could join him, Oliver extended out an arm and watched as the formerly stern redneck giggled like a schoolgirl and wrapped his burly forearm around the twink’s. As Joseph quickly pulled his cigarette from his lips and flicked it away, the duo looked at each other and smiled before they made their way into the club for a hot and sweaty night…

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[dreamsteddie]

This is a second love Omegaverse au inspired by @lexirosewrites fanfiction, Sometimes Goodbye is a Second Chance. It is one of my personal favorites and I have read it many a time and was inspired by it. This is meant to be a part of Slick Sunday but it got really long so I decided to post it like this instead.

------

They both find themselves suddenly alone in the world with little notice.

Steve thought he was in love. He was in love. But it turns out she wasn't. At least not anymore.

There had been a single moment of elation when she told him she was pregnant. That joy was quickly and brutally squashed by the admission that the pup was not his, and better yet, she was leaving him for the sire. They were going to take the chance of having her take a competing bond, hopefully beating out the strength of the old one to eliminate it completely. It's dangerous. If it doesn't go right the Omega will likely drop, maybe even lose the child from the shock of two bonds not willing to coexist but not being strong enough to eliminate the other

Apparently, moving on from Steve is enough of an incentive to risk it all.

Two nights later, he feels the bond dissolve. Gone, just like that. Empty where he had once been full. He turns into the pillows, the ones that still smell of her, and weeps. He reaches up to cradle his mating mark, now an empty scar with no meaning.

Eddie knew what he had wasn't love. He doesn't know if he'd ever been in love, but he knows it's not what he has with his Alpha. Without even realizing it, he had fallen into the same patterns of life his parents had tread before him. He met an Alpha at a bar, thought he was the best kind of wild, stayed with him just long enough to think that this was as good as it was going to get, and resigned himself to a bond. His Alpha wasn't the worst, but he was far from nice. He was a bartender who took advantage of his proximity to alcohol with a kind of reckless abandon that Eddie used to indulge in himself.

Then, all of a sudden, Eddie was pregnant. He didn't know how to tell his Alpha. Didn't know how he would react. Would he be excited? Mad? Indifferent? At the end of the day, he never gets to find out. By the time the call comes in to tell him his Alpha had had enough alcohol in his system to wrap himself around a pole, he's already felt the bond break. He thinks he should be sad. He should be devastated, it's the natural way to react, but all he feels is scared.

What is he supposed to do now?

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

They're both there to get their scars removed.

It's not a completely unusual procedure, common enough that there are a handful of clinics in town to choose from.

Steve hates it here. He hates the beige walls and the beige chairs and the smell of artificial air meant to cancel out the smell of distress that would no doubt be filling up the space otherwise.

He clocks Eddie first. He looks...vacant in a way that Steve can't help but feel is unnatural for him. He's dressed in all black but not like a widow. Chains and rings and a baggy hoodie brandishing the logo of some metal band he doesn't recognize. He doesn't know why, but something compels him to reach out.

He gets up, "this seat taken?" he asks.

The Omega looks up and, Jesus Christ, he has pretty eyes. Steve doesn't know if he's seen eyes quite like his before.

"Guess not," he says, voice deeper than any Omega Steve has ever met before.

For a while, they just sit. Everyone at these clinics is given a window of time to come in, so they could be stuck in this waiting room for five minutes or two hours. It all depends on how bad the cases before them are.

It's the Omega who breaks the silence.

"So, what are you in for?" he asks, looking at Steve with a little bit of that mischief that looks so natural on him. It makes Steve smile for the first time in weeks.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asks, turning up his wry smile just a little bit "I got dumped. She cheated on me, got pregnant, and now she's gone. Gotta figure out where to go from here, I guess."

If Steve wanted to flatter himself, he would say that Eddie looks shocked at the admission. In reality, he doesn't know what to call that look. He just stares at Steve for a long moment and then says, "Huh, wasn't expecting that one." It's enough to pull a startled little laugh from Steve.

"I'm Steve." he holds out his hand

"Eddie." he takes it.

"So Eddie," Steve says as he releases his hand, "what are you in for?" That, apparently, is the wrong thing to say because the Omega goes from quietly amused to averting his eyes and slumping in his chair.

"My Alpha died last week."

Oh.

Before Steve can think of anything to say to try and spit out the massive foot he just put in his mouth, Eddie is pulling at the collar of the hoodie and tilting his head slightly to reveal his mark. It's different than Steve's which has been red and irritated since the bond broke, upset at not having a match. Eddie's is dull, to say the least. It's like a grey film has been placed over the whole area. He hides it away as quickly as he'd shown it off.

"The wild thing is I don't even miss him. I didn't even really like him!" he says a little too loud for the low buzz of the waiting room, but he doesn't seem to care. "I didn't even like him but then he went and got himself killed and left me alone with a pup I didn't even want! And now I can't bear to give it up even though I know I should because I have no fucking Alpha and no job and I'm going to be a shitty fucking mom and-" By now he's definitely too loud for the waiting room and people are starting to look around like they're waiting for someone to do something and Steve really does not need to be kicked out right now so he does the only thing he can think to do.

Steve wraps Eddie up in an incredibly awkward side hug and starts crooning at him, trying to gentle him into relaxing a little bit. He subconsciously tries pumping out calming pheromones but with the clinic purifiers, it's probably not doing what it's supposed to. He half expects Eddie to push him away. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who appreciates random Alphas invading his space, but to his surprise, Eddie melts into his side almost too easily. He puts his head right over Steve's sternum, getting as close as he can to that gentle rumbling purr.

"Fuck, sorry, that was too much," Eddie says, voice muffled by Steve's shirt.

"Hey, hey, don't worry about it. That sounds really rough, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about your Alpha." he soothes.

Eddie just lets out a little sigh, clearly not planning to extract himself from Steve's hold any time soon. "Like I said, it's not even the Alpha. Honestly, he kind of really sucked. It's just...It all seems so big right now, y'know? I never planned on pups, but now I've got one growing in my belly like some kind of parasite and all I want is to see their little face and hold them in my arms and keep them safe. I want this baby, but I don't know how I'm going to do it."

Once again, Steve doesn't know what to say. He's been abandoned more times than he cares to think about, but never in the same way Eddie has been. He doesn't know what to do, what to say, where this whole thing goes from a kind stranger offering a little comfort to an Alpha trying to insert themselves into a vulnerable Omega's life. He should say nothing. He should hold Eddie for as long as he wants to be held and get the last of his bond removed and start thinking about what to do with his life next.

In fact, that's exactly what he's planning to do, but in the course of step one -comforting Eddie- Steve makes the mistake of leaning his head on top of the Omega's. This close to the source, not even the extra strength air purifiers in the clinic are enough to hide Eddie's scent from him.

Steve has never really believed in scent mates, always thought they were an old wives tale, but he thinks Eddie might just change his mind. Steve has never smelt anything quite it. It's muskier than most Omegas tend to smell but with sweet notes of basil and peaches. It takes every ounce of self-control and a reminder to himself that he has been without a mate for less than a month for him to not start huffing at the poor guy's hair like a lunatic.

All that really means is that rather than continuing to hold Eddie in silence like a normal fucking person, he instead blurts out "I could help you!"

Startled, Eddie backs up enough to look Steve in the eye, his own eyes wide in surprise. He doesn't completely leave the circle of Steve's arms which he counts as a small win.

"What?"

This is Steve's chance to back out. To back peddle and make up something, anything, except for what he's really thinking which is something along the lines of "please be my mate and let me help you raise a child. I think we might be soul mates!"

What he actually says isn't all that better.

"I mean, I could help you with the pup, you know?" Eddie just continues to look at him, eyes getting impossibly wider, "I mean, we just met and that's crazy but I just got a new apartment with an extra bedroom and you seem like a nice guy and..." Steve deflates a little bit, letting the silence linger.

"Steve?" Eddie prompts. A little bit of hope peaking through his words. Just enough to give Steve the push he needs to tell to truth.

"...and I don't know what I want to do with my life anymore. I don't know what to do next. All I ever wanted was a family, but no one ever wanted one with me. So, if you want, you can stay with me. It doesn't have to be permanent but...maybe it could be. Eventually. Your choice." and he means it, is the thing. As bat shit insane as it sounds Steve is suddenly so sure that he could make a life with Eddie. That they could be happy together. Mates.

Eddie is, once again, silent. He's still just staring, jaw dropped searching Steve's face for something. Steve doesn't know what it is he needs to see, so he just lets him look.

"Eddie Munson?" a nurse calls out, breaking the bubble they've built around them. They both startle, instinctively scrambling out of their chairs so she doesn't pass over Eddie for the next patient.

Steve starts to panic as he feels this opportunity start to slip through his fingers. Once Eddie passes through those doors, there's no guarantee that they'll ever see each other again, but he won't push him. What he's asking for is crazy, he knows, and Eddie has every right to flee from him and never look back.

Instead, Eddie whips around. There's more life in him than there has been since Steve first spotted him. There's fear and hope and joy all dancing across his beautiful eyes as he surges back to grasp Steve's hand from where it was lying limp at his side.

"Yes!"

"Yes?"

"Yes! To all of it! Fuck!" Eddie is, once again, being way too loud for this waiting room, but Steve doesn't give a damn about that. How could he care about anything else at all when Eddie is smiling at him like that? "Just, wait for me ok? Or, I guess I'll wait for you since I'll be out first?" he says it more like a question than a confirmation, like he's suddenly scared Steve is going to take it all back.

"I'll look for you." is all he says, suddenly aware of the nurse making her way toward them, clearly impatient to get things started. He wishes he could go in with Eddie. Wishes he could hold his hand through the inevitable pain of the removal and soothe the pup growing in belly reacting to their mother's pain, but he has his own appointment to wait for.

Eddie nods, squeezing his hand just once before finally allowing the nurse to usher him back toward the offices in the back, never looking away from Steve as he does so. Steve gives him a little wave as he passes through the door before collapsing back into the seat behind him.

All that's left to do now is wait for what comes next.

[michelle-is-writing]

Halloween Decorating, Spencer Reid

I wanted to try and write something different, so this is my first piece using the second person point of view.

Skip if you don't celebrate or like Halloween, but if you're a Halloween lover like me, then I hope you enjoy 😊

Word count: 800~

So far, living with Spencer has felt like a dream for you. You and Spencer hardly got into disagreements when moving in, and when it came to combining each other's things, Spencer had no problem moving his things around to make room for yours. For someone who had never really lived with anyone else, this was a massive step for Spencer, but it wasn't hard for him to make that step for you.

Your combined furniture gave the place a unique look; now two couches in place of one, and two side tables next to them differing in height and shape. More than half of his closet was filled with your clothing, and most of his bathroom countertop was now covered in your various makeup and beauty products. The sight of this actually made him happy as it was a stark contrast to the lonely toothbrush and hairbrush usually adorning his counter.

However, that happiness only grew upon opening an unlabeled box filled with what looked to be pumpkins and other various decorations. Upon opening the other unmarked totes, Spencer found himself excited as if he were a child on Christmas. Five totes full of nothing but Halloween decorations, and Spencer couldn’t help but practically gush over everything.

When you are done with putting away all your kitchen stuff and other dishes, you walk in and find him already setting out the decorations as if they were year-round. Although, you can't help the smile on your face as you see all the other boxes open and ready to be emptied. Only then does he notice you, a grin taking over his face. "I know it's only the first of September," He explains, beginning to walk over to you. "but as long as you don't mind, maybe we can start putting up the decorations now?"

A few seconds pass before you chuckle and nod excitedly, happy to decorate for something you love so early.

After emptying every tote and decorating every surface, you two are left with a home that looks like it came straight out of Halloweentown. Skulls and ravens adorn every surface in the house, candy-corn-themed lights are strung along the walls, and the couches are filled with fall themed throw pillows and blankets. Even the kitchen didn't go untouched with various spooky hand-towels and oven mitts decorating the cabinets.

Finished, you two step back and gaze at everything with smiles stuck on your faces. Finding Spencer's hand, you give it a little squeeze to gain his attention which works. Looking at you, he swears he feels his heart skip a beat as the orange light surrounding you two frames your face in a soft glow. Meanwhile, you're busy thinking about the fact that you actually found someone who loves Halloween like you do.

Yes, you owned all of the decorations before you even met Spencer, but you never really put everything up at once like this. When you lived by yourself, it didn't seem worth it to decorate like that when no one else would be able to enjoy it besides you. Plus, you would have never thought to decorate certain things the way that Spencer did as his height gave him a bigger advantage with the leaf foliage and fake cobwebs.

"I love everything so mu-" you go to say a compliment, but Spencer cuts you off with a kiss. Granted, it wasn’t on purpose. It just happened to flow that way as Spencer felt himself leaning closer to you the more he thought of how far along you two had grown together.

Pulling away from each other's lips after a few seconds, a giggle escaped your lips at Spencer's sudden boldness, his arms now beginning to wrap themselves around your waist and hold you tight. You found yourself doing the same as you rested your head against his sweater-covered chest. As you held each other close, you could practically feel the both of you physically relax in your holds before leaning your head up at Spencer.

"Thank you for being my Halloween buddy," you gently murmur to him, careful not to dig your chin any further into his chest. At the same time, you could begin to feel Spencer’s heart beating faster in response. He had always loved Halloween, but to find someone who loved it just as much, if not more than him? He couldn’t have been happier.

"Thank you for being mine too," he replied, leaning down to connect your lips once more. For the rest of the night, the scary movie you had put on your laptop played in the background abandoned while your focus kept being diverted to one another rather than the TV. You and Spencer both loved Halloween, but as the night grew longer and the more you stayed in each other’s holds, you both realized you loved each other even more.

[infactmrmeowz]

Hello, could you make a headcanon of the One Piece characters if they found out that the reader was abused in the past and what would they do if they knew who it was? I know it might sound strange but you could still do it, thank you

One piece characters- what will they do if they found out S/O was abused in the past

No problem pooks

content warning: Swear words, mention of abuse, beating people up! Gender-Neutral terms for both y/n and the abuser themselves.

Luffy: What I think Luffy would do, is probably the same thing that he did when he found out his other crew members abusers, kick their ass!! But when you vented or simply explained what happened, he really wasn’t listening. He just wanted to know who it was so he can make them pay the price. He isn’t one to comfort someone directly, just tell you that you’re a good S/O and move on. If you expect him to sit down and have a nice long chat with you, don’t. But if you expect him to kick someone ass for you, be prepared.

Zoro: Zoro is more an observer than an action taker, butttttt when you vent he will listen to you!!! You are part of the crew. When I say listen he will, may not act like it but he is. He just may say “ I’m sorry “ and move on from the day, he really isn’t good with emotions, but don’t get me wrong, he does think your badass for taking all that in and yet be the person who are today! But will never say that. Never. but what will he do to your abuser? He won’t fight them…when you’re around. He may just sneak out of The Sunny to find him, and take care of it himself.

Sanji: unlike Zoro and Luffy, he is very good at emotions and what to do or say, he will make you your comfort food and drink, sit down beside you and listen. He will get very angry when your telling the story, may interrupt you to say how much of a terrible person they are to do some such as yourself.. and he will do that a lot 😭 he knows how it feels to be abused and have emotional or physical trauma from abuse. but he would full on go HAM on the person that dare lay a finger on you. While doing that he will talk the abusers ear off saying how much of a great S/O you are. Law: He’s good at emotions and trauma, Espiecally after what he experienced. He will listen to you, very carefully asking the questions that need to be asked. Mostly on how are you feeling at this moment, physically or mentally. He will take this story(s) in consideration, he will treat you differently, more kindly, but he will see you as a brave person for taking all that in. But the question is what will he do.. like Zoro he won’t do it when you’re around, unless you directly told him you want to be. But he would make them feel pain like they did to you.

—

AAA that’s it! Cya later alligators! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[ozzgin]

Yandere!School Q&A 2

Answering some of the questions involving the Yandere School universe. Gender neutral reader, mildly NSFW/suggestive in parts.

Just curious, is there a difference between men and women in the yandere/darling academy?

Not at all. In theory, there could be a difference in uniforms, as seen from the occasional depiction of skirts, but that's really up to the student. As in, they can wear either, regardless of gender.

When it comes to you, on the other hand...I feel like they'd either ask you to wear pants, or heavily reinforced skirts. Too many creepshots and perverted attempts otherwise.

I know the yandere school verse is meant to be silly but I’m genuinely invested in the lore and worldbuilding now. What classes are taught in both schools? Do the darlings resent the yanderes? WOULD THEY BEAT THE YANDERE STUDENT’S ASS IF THEY GOT FOUND OUT??? SO MANY QUESTIONS SMFKEDKK

To be honest, I still haven't considered all the logistics!

I'm imagining a mix of both when it comes to classes: you have yandere-specific courses, and then general subjects with some practical applications. Obviously you can't do without mathematics, for example. If you don't understand double integrals, how will you determine the area you need to cover to reach your Darling who's running for the hills?

Also, I don't think the Darlings would be too upset. After all, they are studying solely to find themselves a yandere one day. What is a little baffling is that out of all the damn darlings in school, this guy ends up chasing after a ‘yandere’ student.

One of the Yanderes at Yandere Academy is bound to be a Platonic, and they're probably going insane watching every student and teacher going after the school Darling. Do you think they'd be on the staff or a fellow student?

There's plenty of platonic yanderes, both among the students and teaching staff. They make up the security brigade, ensuring your safety and keeping dangers away. If other students let their infatuation go overboard, they will be quick to correct it.

In fact, this is where their yandere skills shine most. Taking care of you.

Ohh what about yan art teacher using reader as the model for nude portraits in class?

That'd be like opening Pandora's box. What's to guarantee that the students won't go feral? Even as a regular model, removing any article of clothing within the artistic depictions is strictly forbidden. The other teachers already have to sort through stacks of confiscated fanart involving you, they don't need a boost in lewd creations.

Unless you mean a private encounter with Yan!Art Teacher for some extra credit. That's a whole different story. 👀

for your yandere school au if I was in readers situation, and I got a free full?? scholarship?/ to a fancy school?/? I no longer need to go along with family tradition I’m getting that free scholarship it’s not like I particularly needed a bunch of people to stalk me 🤷

I'm kind of hoping that Yandere School comes with a full scholarship, too. Bonus points if they offer legacy benefits. Reader comes from several generations of graduates, after all.

Not to mention, you already have a bunch of people stalking you, if we are to count the yandere family members. You'll feel right at home.

The darling is christian in some other scenarios right? What if in sex ed class, she said that she would only do that if she got married? Imagine every single yanderes trying to be a good husband material but the darling is so damn clueless about it

I don't think the religion was ever specified, but you're free to imagine it however you'd like, anon. I can definitely picture the yandere students perking their ears at such statement and taking it as a challenge. You want to wait until marriage? Then they’ll bring the marriage over right now. You have to wonder if there’s some current fashion trend you’re unaware of, as every student has asked for your opinion in rings. You’d assumed it’s a question involving their own, personal acquisitions, so now there’s a bunch of classmates fighting outside because they all got different answers and clearly only one of them holds truth.

That one teacher who got all those accidental smut submissions about Y/N is gonna be feasting tonight

I suspect most teachers have a neatly organized storage full of content involving you. Whether it's accidental submissions, confiscated doodles, illegal photos and so on. Hell, they probably trade the stuff like collectibles.

"You got the fic I asked for?" one teacher asks lowly, resting against the wall.

"Uh huh."

Another teacher swipes through a thick folder with the efficacy of someone who does this too often.

Imagine yandere school y/n slips up and accidently calls a teacher mom/dad. Or worse (or perhaps better depending on who it is), mommy/daddy. y/n is embarrassed, yandere students are jealous, and teacher is now horny.

Terrifying affair. The teacher will have to evade weeks, maybe even months of assassination attempts coming from the students and parents. Reader probably joked about it at the dinner table once, and the mom/dad has been spiraling ever since. How could such a mistake happen? Have they neglected their darling child?

“I-It’s not what it looks like!” one student will stutter, terrified to find Reader’s parent behind them.

“I’d say it’s pretty obvious, you’re doing a terrible job. Hand me the binoculars”, they demand in a whisper, glaring at the object of their envious stalking: the teacher.

How would the readers parents/fam react if the reader complained about the school staff or a student? [Gym teacher dress coding reader] With this as personally speaking I would be really annoyed. The yan family could also take it as an insult because I know for a fact they make sure the reader has all the best stuff. As well how they're bothering or unfairly treating the reader. And if the yan fam connects that the school is yan (students and staff) they would FLIP OUT. But that's out of the point

I’d say it depends on their relationship. Remember, Reader’s parents are graduates of Yandere School, so it’s entirely possible they were taught by the very same teachers and staff. Thus, they might be reluctant to question their authority.

“You have to understand, I had my best intentions in mind”, gym teacher will explain to the parents with a solemn face.

“No, you’re right. We’ve seen the way those kids look at our (Y/N). Who knows what perverted thoughts linger in their mind?”

The grey-haired man dabs a handkerchief across his forehead, visibly paler.

“E-exactly. It was all to protect (Y/N) from any indecent, uh, risks.”

Gym teacher prob got a forest downstairs

Only one way to find out. Better put on your adventurer's hat! 👅

Okay but like, the poor principal having to deal with the entire Yan!academy

He probably stares in the mirror every morning, noticing yet another grey hair, or that his eyebags have gotten worse. He's going to need an early retirement. "I tried my best", he mumbles to the portraits of the previous principals.

How would the yandere school react to reader being hypersexual? P.s can I be raccoon 🦝 anon? [I'm afraid you'll have to pick a different emoji, anon, as raccoon is already taken]

I mean, I can totally picture a playboy/playgirl kind of Reader who skips class to smooch one of the students in a storage room. Or Reader getting too flustered and excited and begging one of the teachers for "help" after school. I'm sure most would comply without hesitation.

Though you may have to deal with a horde of jealous partners who don't like to share. Next thing you know, you have to compile a sexy time chart and schedule the smooching to fit everyone in.

hai ! this is related to yandere school, i’m curious to know what if reader decided to accept the scholarship to darling academy? like i can imagine readers parents worried and proud while clumsy yandere is absolutely celebrating abt it :D

Knowing Reader’s luck and Clumsy!Yandere’s misfortune, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s more yandere students lurking the Darling Academy grounds. Or even worse, some darlings begin to develop intense feelings for Reader. Worry not, your clumsy best friend will always come to your rescue.

[corroded-hellfire]

Hi! I had this idea for the As you wish - series. What if reader finds her first grey hair or maybe spot the first lines on her face and panics because she thinks "Eddie was drawn to me because I was so young, what if he won't be drawn to me anymore?!"

Ah, the signs of aging. As someone who has had a line across her forehead for years now, I felt this lol. Despite what society tries to tell us though, aging is good! Never forget that.

Words: 2.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Waking up before your alarm clock used to be considered a sin to you. It’s not like you were always out partying all night in college when you were younger, it’s just the principle of the thing. How dare your body naturally wake you up just as the sun is making its first appearance over the horizon? The words “early morning” left a sour taste in your mouth, and you’d do whatever you could to get a few extra hours of sleep.

If growing up and becoming a productive member of society didn’t get your body accustomed to waking up earlier than in your teenage years, being a mom of three certainly did. 

The boys are both teenagers themselves now and won’t get up for school willingly, which means you’ve had to learn a few tricks over the years. But one of those tricks was seemingly fading as time ticked by as well. Eliza used to be up before the crack of dawn, her cries or laughter beating the rooster’s crow to the punch. Now that she’s pushing four years old, she often sleeps later than you or Eddie, which means she’s not readily available to bother her brothers into a wakened state. That still leaves Eddie though, and he considers it a joy to annoy his sons awake—payback for all the years they did it to him. 

But this morning you’re awake not only before your alarm, but before anyone else in the house as well. A few emerging beams of sunlight shine through the gaps in your blinds and warm the side of your face as you turn towards it. A content hum leaves your lips as you open your eyes, blinking away the bits of sleep still clinging to the corners. Your heavy head lolls to the other side and comes face to face with your sleeping husband. 

It’s impossible not to smile at his open jaw dotted with scruff, just a hint of drool pooling in the corner. Telling yourself to get up out of bed and not bury your face in his chest and cuddle back into the blankets feels like a Herculean task as you gaze at his handsome face. 

With a sigh, you push yourself up and stretch your arms up over your head. The bright side of being the first one up is that you can go through your morning routine in peace, you suppose. 

The plush carpet is warm on your toes as you slip from bed and pad over to the en suite bathroom. A fierce yawn erupts from your mouth as you turn on the faucet to wash your face. The back of your hands rubs against tired eyes as you wait for the water to heat to an acceptable temperature. The house is quiet and still around you, giving you a sense of calm that you’re sure won’t last once the kids are awake. 

A green washcloth hangs on a hook next to the mirror above your sink and you lather it with your apple blossom-scented soap before rubbing it over your face. The scratch of the cloth on your skin feels good, taking any remnants of the full night’s sleep off and preparing you for the new day. 

You let the wet swatch of fabric fall back down into the sink and grab the matching towel to pat your face dry. As you hang the towel back on the hook, you lean in towards the mirror above the sink and let your eyes roam over your features. Luckily, it seems like that small breakout you had last week has finally cleared up and your chin is blemish free. Your eyes trail farther up and once they get to your forehead your hands grip the side of the sink with enough force to crack the white porcelain in half.

There is a line across your forehead. 

Immediately, your hand goes up and tries to rub it away. Still there. Maybe it’s a smudge on the mirror. All your hand does is smear fingerprints across the glass surface, but the line on your face is still there. 

Gently, you rub the tips of your fingers over the crease in your skin. When you can feel the indent where it used to be firm, an involuntary whimper falls from your lips. Your forefinger traces the line back and forth from the left side of your face to the right. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes and your arms drop down to your sides.

You have a wrinkle. 

The ugly word has the tears spilling over your bottom lids and you squeeze your eyes shut. This is ridiculous, you try to tell yourself. It’s perfectly normal. Aging is a good thing. You force your eyes open and glare at the unwelcome addition to your face. But why does aging mean you’ll start to feel insecure about how your body changes? Wasn’t puberty enough of that bullshit?

A sharp inhale of breath and your hands fly to cover your mouth as a thought occurs to you. What is Eddie going to think? He was drawn to you because of your youth, so what now? Is he going to find this wrinkle gross? Will he find you unappealing now? Are younger, hotter girls going to turn his head?

The thoughts come on too quickly and you're flooded by a wave of panic and grief. Tears flow freely down your cheeks, and you make a conscious effort not to scrunch your face up, lest you get more wrinkles. 

A small sob wracks your body, and you tighten your hands over your mouth. Part of you knows this is an overreaction, that Eddie won’t care, but the irrational side of you has its claws too deep in you now to let go. 

“Babe?”

Eddie’s groggy voice calls out and his footsteps approach the bathroom door. As if it will keep him from seeing you, you press your back against the bathroom wall and keep your hands firmly clutched over your mouth.

A mop of frizzy bedhead pops in the doorway and Eddie looks in the other direction before swinging his gaze around and spotting you. Instantly, he’s more alert as he takes in your body language. He comes to stand in front of you and places his hands gently on your upper arms.

“Princess, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks. 

Not trusting your voice, you shake your head, hands still covering your mouth.

“What?” Eddie asks. “You’re not okay?” Gently, he pries your fingers from your lips and holds them securely in his own hands. “Hey, come on. Please talk to me.”

Try as you might to find the right words to say, nothing comes to mind. Too much is rattling around your head and the only thing that comes out of your mouth are whines as your sobs pick up. Instinctively, you step in towards Eddie and bury your face in his neck. Strong arms wrap around you and hold you close to his warm, solid frame. 

“Hey…” Eddie coos as he rubs a large hand up and down your back. It’s a tone you’ve heard him use with Eliza a hundred times before when he’s trying to get her to take a breath and use her words. “Sweetheart, talk to me. Please?”

It takes a lot of your strength to pull back and wipe your eyes and nose off on your arm. The concern in Eddie’s eyes damn near sends you into another fit, but you manage to keep it together. 

“I-I…” I have a wrinkle is what you plan to say. “I’m s-scared.”

Your husband’s eyebrows pinch together as he studies your face. He’ll probably spot the problem on your face on his own if he keeps looking at you like this. 

“Scared? Baby, what are you scared of?”

At his question, a new round of tears does come. You try to ward them off though, shaking your head and wiping your eyes. I’m scared you’re not going to be attracted to me anymore. I’m scared you’re going to think I’m old. I’m scared I’m freaking out and don’t know how to stop it.

None of those words form on your tongue though, so with a shaky hand you reach up and point to the crease above your eyebrows. Eddie’s gaze drifts to where you’re pointing but this only seems to confuse him more.

“What is it? What am I supposed to be looking at?” he asks. When you jab repeatedly at your forehead with your finger, Eddie gently grabs your wrist and lowers your arm back down. “Angel, you’ve gotta talk to me.”

“A-A wrinkle,” you manage to squeak out just above a whisper. 

Eddie frowns and looks at your forehead again. He squints his eyes and shrugs his shoulders.

“I see a faint line. Why does that scare you?”

“Because it means I-I’m old.”

Laughter is the last thing you expect to hear from your husband. But when you look up at him there’s an amused look on his face as he shakes his head. 

“Babe, you’re twenty-nine. If you’re old, then I’m the damn crypt keeper.”

“M’not like when you met me,” you mumble, looking down in embarrassment. 

“No, you’re not,” Eddie says plainly. “And neither am I.” When you look up at him in confusion, Eddie sighs and gently tugs you closer to him. He takes a seat on the closed toilet lid and pulls you into his lap. “Pretty girl, we’ve known each other for about a decade now. Neither of us are the same. I’ve got gray in my beard now and these crow’s feet around my eyes.”

“They’re sexy,” you’re quick to inform him.

“What makes you think I don’t think your changes are sexy?” your husband asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“This isn’t sexy,” you say with a sigh as you rub your hand across your forehead. 

“Is to me,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’ve got more tattoos now. You’ve given birth. Jesus hun, I’m in a different decade than I was back then. We’re not a couple in their twenties and thirties anymore—it’s twenties and forties.”

His fingers gently dig into your sides, making you squeak in laughter and squirm around in his lap. 

“Until I turn thirty in a few months,” you say. Words burn at the back of your throat, and you know you shouldn’t say them. But they need to come out and make themselves known. “You’ll still want me, right? When I’m thirty? With these lines starting?”

Eddie stares at you for a moment, his doe eyes scanning your face. You see the moment something clicks in his mind.

“Wait, don’t tell me that’s what you’re scared of?”

When you still avoid looking him in the eye and remain silent, Eddie lets out a long sigh. 

“There is no line or wrinkle that could make you anything less than the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Not a damn thing in this world could make me not want to be with you. I love you. Always have, always will. Wrinkles or not. Acne or not. Scars, gray hair, injuries, sickness, it doesn’t matter. You’re my girl and that’s all there is to it.”

Emotion swells within your chest and it’s difficult to keep it contained. Hoping to convey what your voice can’t, you lean forward and rest your forehead against Eddie’s. 

“Actually,” Eddie adds softly, “I think wrinkles and gray hair are pretty great things. Because it means we’re growing old with each other. No one else I’d want by my side, to go through this with.”

“I’m so lucky to be your girl,” you manage in a hoarse whisper, trying to quell the tears that build up—now for a different reason. 

A soft chuckle has Eddie’s breath ghosting across your lips.

“It’s absolutely me who is the lucky one, princess. I love you so goddamn much.” 

“I love you too—”

“Mama!”

Little hands beat on the wood of the closed bathroom door. You and your husband share a whispered laugh as you drop your head down to his shoulder. 

“What’s up, sweet pea?” Eddie calls back.

The banging stops and there’s a beat of silence before your daughter replies.

“I called for Mama.”

A snort of laughter leaps out of you at Eliza’s tone. Eddie shakes his head in amusement and lets out an overdramatic sigh.

“See?” He speaks softly to you. “None of us can live without you.” The banging starts up again, a little faster this time. Eddie winces and squeezes one eye shut. “Even for a second, apparently.”

[fandoms-x-reader]

Shy But Mighty

Oneshot

Requested By: @fernstarsblog

Summary: Lucifer gets surprised by how strong you are.

Lucifer never would have expected this power to come from you.

You were such a kind and caring person. And you tended to act a bit reserved.

Not only that, but Lucifer tended to think of humans as a weaker species.

It was nothing personal, it was just that demons were built so much taller, larger, and stronger.

So, it was only natural for him to think that he would be stronger than you.

-

The two of you were in his study, sitting across from each other at his desk.

Lucifer had a bit too much Demonus that night - granted, it was because of you encouraging him to keep drinking.

This was one of the rare nights that Lucifer had you all to himself, so naturally, he wanted to enjoy it to its full extent.

So he continued to drink away while enjoying conversation with you.

Then - you decided to challenge him to an arm-wrestling competition.

A small smirk formed on his lips as the words left your lips. There was no way you could be serious, right?

You - a mere but very adorable human - were challenging him - one of the seven rulers of the Devildom - to a contest of strength?

Lucifer tried to politely decline. He didn’t want to hurt you.

“Are you scared of losing?” you asked him in response.

Lucifer’s eyes widened slightly at your question but then they glowed with a mischievous glint.

There were a lot of things that Lucifer had control of in his life, but his sin wasn’t always one of them.

And telling a very prideful demon that they weren’t doing something because they were scared was a terrible idea.

Lucifer’s smirk turned into a devilish smile as he leaned forward, his raven black locks falling slightly into his eyes.

He placed his dominant arm upright on the desk, before telling you, “Fine, if you want to embarrass yourself that badly.”

You would have scoffed if Lucifer wasn’t playing right into your hand.

–

A week ago, you had been cleaning things in your bedroom when Belphie stopped by to ask you a question.

That’s when he noticed you moving your heavy furniture around like it was nothing. 

Belphie was stunned at first, then suspicious of whether you were really a human or not.

He dragged Satan into spying on you with him and when they both witnessed your strength, they had decided that you couldn’t be human.

Satan confronted you about it, and the whole scenario made you laugh. 

You explained that you worked hard for your muscles and that you were just really strong.

Belphie, of course, then wanted to challenge you to a feat of strength.

He was the one who came up with the arm wrestling idea. 

But, when you beat him quicker than either of the two demons in the room believed should have been possible, Satan wanted a chance as well.

He blamed Belphie’s loss on the fact that he was the seventh born. Obviously, the fourth-born would be much harder to beat.

Or so he thought, until moments later he was wearing the same defeated expression.

Belphie and Satan sat in silence for a few moments after, trying to comprehend how they were weaker than you.

But, then Satan’s eyes lit up with excitement. “We could use this against Lucifer,” he stated.

Belphie was, naturally, immediately on board. “That’s it! He’ll be so embarrassed when he loses a contest of strength to a human,” Belphie added.

“And we can sneak in and take a picture of his expression when he’s embarrassed and post it online for everyone to see!” Satan continued, the two of them looking like kids who had just discovered the greatest treasure.

“Hold on,” you stated, unsure if you were completely on board with the idea.

You would be the one who was putting themselves on the line here, so you had a couple of questions.

“First, how do we know that I can beat Lucifer? I’m strong but he’s the first born for a reason,” you told them.

Before they could answer your first question you continued to question, “And, we’ve tried to take a picture of Lucifer before. He always catches us in the act so how do you plan on pulling it off this time?”

There was a moment of silence before Satan said, “Demonus.”

Belphie’s eyes lit up again. “We just need to get him to drink enough of it, and then his strength and awareness will be down. So you can win and we can take the picture,” Belphie agreed.

You pondered the idea for a moment and your two friends looked at you with hopeful eyes. 

You let out a small sigh, already knowing the assignment that was given to you.

You nodded your head and watched as they got large smiles before moving to get everything you needed to pull this off.

-

Even though it was all a scheme, you were really enjoying your conversation with Lucifer.

You were somewhat grateful that you had the job of making sure he drank plenty of Demonus.

But, the time for talking was over. Now, it was time for the second part of your job.

You moved forward as well, placing your hand in his gloved one, giving him an innocent smile.

On his mark, the match started and you watched as his expression turned from confidence to confusion to slight panic as you began winning the match.

You had a smirk on your face as his hand hit the desk and Lucifer looked at you in bewilderment.

*FLASH*

In his moment of defeat, Lucifer had let his guard down just as you all had planned.

He didn’t notice that Belphie and Satan had snuck into the room to take a picture of his grand defeat.

The three of you quickly left the room, knowing that your scheme was sure to make the eldest angry, Demonus or no Demonus.

“We got it!” Belphie told you as the three of you ran for your lives. 

Funnily enough, Lucifer wasn’t angry until you posted it online, on multiple different platforms, from multiple accounts.

By the time Lucifer managed to get them all taken down, practically the entire Devildom had already seen the picture.

The Anti-Lucifer League received a very long lecture from Lucifer after that and you each had your own proper punishments.

But, Lucifer would be lying if he said that your strength didn’t impress him.

He could have any excuse as to why he lost that match, but the truth of the matter was you were so much stronger than he would have imagined.

And seeing that strength put to good use did happen to spark his sin and make him smirk as he watched you in action.

After that day, whenever there was something that involved physical strength, Lucifer would take the back burner and suggest that you help instead so that he could see your display of power.

He won’t admit it, but it excited him to see you looking so powerful.

But, if you ever needed a reminder of who was really in power in this relationship, he would be more than happy to show you.

[weewoowings]

Could this be it?

Buck and Tommy were draped over the couch, their limbs tangled in a comfortable mess. The living room was dim, the soft glow of a forgotten TV casting flickers of light across their faces. Something played on the screen—neither of them cared to follow it. The background noise was a hum, barely registering beyond the sound of their steady breathing.

Tommy’s head rested against the back of the couch, his eyes half-lidded, heavy with exhaustion. His fingers idly carded through Evan’s curls, the motion slow, soothing, as though each stroke could erase the weight of the long day from both of them. His boyfriend was pressed against his chest, his body relaxed, sinking into Tommy as if they were trying to merge into one.

They were quiet, their breaths syncing with each rise and fall of the other’s chest. The rhythmic in-and-out filled the space between them, steady, grounding. It was the kind of quiet that felt like home—words weren’t needed, the silence was enough.

His thumb traced the shell of Evan’s ear before his hand returned to its soft path through his hair. He could feel the tension slipping out of Evan’s muscles, the way he melted further into him, like he’d been waiting for this moment to finally let go. Tommy pressed his cheek against the top of his head, inhaling the faint scent of his shampoo, mixed with the lingering smell of the day’s sweat and city air. It wasn’t perfect, but it was perfect because it was them.

“You okay?” Tommy asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if anything louder would break the quiet.

Buck made a soft noise in response, something between a hum and a sigh. He shifted slightly, his face burrowing into Tommy’s neck, the warmth of him pressing in, seeking comfort. Tommy’s hand stayed in his hair, fingers curling gently, his touch so soft it almost tickled.

“I love you,” Buck mumbled, barely conscious of the words as they tumbled out of his mouth. They were unplanned, said without thought, like a secret whispered into the dark where it felt safe.

Tommy froze for just a beat, the words sinking in, and then he smiled. His hand stilled in Evan’s curls, his other arm wrapping tighter around him, pulling him impossibly closer.

“I love you too,” Tommy murmured, pressing a kiss to his birthmark. His voice was as gentle as his touch, as if the words themselves were something precious.

Buck, half-asleep, smiled against Tommy’s chest, his body growing heavier with the weight of comfort and certainty. The simple exchange of words had settled something deep within him, something he hadn’t even realized was tense. Saying I love you hadn’t been a decision, it had just happened—and the way Tommy had pulled him closer afterward, the warmth in his voice, made Buck feel like he’d found a home in that moment. He could still feel the echo of Tommy’s words, I love you too, lingering in the quiet, wrapping around his heart like a second layer of comfort.

Tommy’s hand had stilled in his curls, but Buck could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath his cheek. He knew Tommy was awake, probably thinking the same thing, maybe replaying those words like he was. The ease between them now felt like breathing—natural, effortless. He didn’t need anything more than this right now. Just them, just being.

Tommy’s heart thudded steadily under Evan’s ear, and he found himself smiling softly too. There was no rush, no need to say anything more. The moment was full enough, and Tommy knew they had time—plenty of time for more words, more quiet moments, more soft confessions. This was the start of something new and easy, and the certainty of it settled over him like the perfect blanket.

They both lay there, wrapped in each other, breathing in the quiet, as the flicker of the TV faded into the background.

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: Silliness IV

Jerk Ford's behaviour was way worse while he was in the multiverse because while he was in his own dimension, Stan was there to keep him from going too far, and to mediate his interactions with other people when it came to important business.

Once he fell through the portal? Completely unrestrained.

Here's a small list of some of things he's done across the multiverse:

Un-sunk the mythical City of Atlantis to get back at a 'sh*tty tourist company'

Lifetime ban from all Space Waffle House locations across time and space for inciting a riot because a waitress kept calling him 'honey'.

Had someone legally assigned to permanent Cosmic Jury Duty.

Sowing the seeds of an extremely invasive and fast-growing varient of cucumber all over a large city in the Cat Dimension.

Not giving his two weeks notice at Space Hooters.

Infecting a galaxy-encompassing digital records archive with a virus that changed every third noun with the word 'dick'.

Invading a weed farm on a parallel Earth and replacing the 'mother plant' that all of the other weed plants were cloned from with a strain of marijuanna thats identical in every way, except it produces no THC.

Impersonated one of the Bounty Hunter versions of Ford so he could fake his own death, collect the bounty for himself from the Ford Hate Club, crash the party they threw to celebrate, and then slip away right as the real Bounty Hunter Ford showed up to report that he'd failed to capture Jerk Ford.

---

Remember how in a reverse portal what-if Jerk Ford told Fiddleford he would blow up the planet if he didn't help him rebuild the portal? And Fiddleford called his bluff?

Imagine you're Bill Cipher, and an oddly calm Stanford Pines tells you that in three days, he's going to blow up the Nightmare Realm with you in it.

So you laugh, because he's bluffing.

Two days later, it turns out he wasn't bluffing about blowing up the Nightmare Realm with you in it.

He was bluffing about giving you a third day, because he's a jerk like that.

---

Boss Music? This guy isn't much of a fighter, he isn't a boss fight. It isn't hard to finish a fight with him because he's impossible to beat in a hand-to-hand fight - he isn't very strong compared to most versions of Ford Pines- it's hard to finish a fight with him because he's slippery. He's just going to escape and run if he doesn't think he can win.

If I were to give him a theme song or something, it'd probably be Dangerous by Jorge Rivera-Herrans. Mostly because of the "I have to get home" sentiment.

You have to ignore the fact that he didn't actually get himself home, just like canon Ford his brother had to fix the portal to bring him back.

Bro was at least trying to get back home.

Here's a Jerk Ford Playlist by @tearosepedall

---

Actually, the reverse portal scenario doesn't go quite the way you think it does.

Jerk Ford has to pretend to be Stanley. A school teacher. A resident of society that Gravity Falls actually loves. When he's been an active menace to society his whole life.

Stanley gets shoved into an unforgiving multiverse full of monsters, demons, aliens, and versions of his brother who project their resentment and anger towards their actual twin onto him instead as a proxy.

And they both ask themselves: "What would my brother do in this situation?"

Anyways, this is what happens with Stanley:

And this is what happens with Jerk Ford:

---

Fun fact: Jerk Ford is the reason there's no gnome queen.

While he was studying the gnomes during his researcher years in Gravity Falls, he discovered that the Gnomes only had one female, who was their queen by default.

Anyways he talks to her about how her greatest ambition in life shouldn't be having a hundred husbands and being barefoot and pregnant forever. No, her greatest ambition in life should be being one of the greatest hat models the world has ever known.

Anyways now she lives in New York, she may or may not also be a drug lord in the pixie dust cartel.

Soos, Mabel, and Dipper tried asking the mail box questions once.

It sent them a really long, angry, rambling letter starting with "What the f*ck did you just f*cking say about me, you little b*tch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals,"

Later on Dipper asked Ford about it, and he reveals that he traumatized the entity on the other side of the mailbox by sending it the question "is your refrigerator running?" every day for almost six years straight.

[temis-de-leon]

You just have to keep trying

Characters: Mammon x gn!MC

Main Masterlist

C/W: first kiss. There's alcohol involved, but they're both completely conscious about what they're doing. OOC I think, but I'm literally half-dead from sleep right now

A/N: I'm planning on trying to post something else this weekend. This is just a sleep-deprived little treat <3

.

The night had been frantic, although MC doubted they would remember half of it in the morning and caring seemed useless; despite the sweat, the loud cheering, and the music piercing their eardrums, their smile was wider than ever before. They’d never felt happiness so pure in a long time, maybe ever, and if their heart dared beat any harder, it would surely come flying out of their chest.

Not even their fingers behaved properly, seemingly too eager to touch, grab and never let go and, judging by the neediness in Mammon’s embrace, it appeared he felt the same. Both of them were trying to absorb as much as possible from the other.

Did he always smell this good? His perfume had almost worn off, but the essence was still there and, after such a long night full of drinks and cocktails, he’d gained a certain sugary scent mixed with the bitterness of human alcohol.

“Now you can enjoy the party too!” all the brothers had said hours ago while presenting the obscenely wide selection of bottles.

And enjoy MC did.

They were about to enjoy it again, actually, with their bones vibrating to the rhythm of the music and their breath shattered in excitement, when Mammon suddenly put his hands on their shoulders and stared at them. His cheeks were blushed and his eyes showed softness, something only they were allowed to see, and, adding that to the affection with which he was rubbing circles into their skin, MC was finding it extremely difficult to breathe properly.

“So…” he started, his whisper barely audible under the synthetic melody from the dancefloor. They nodded encouragingly, urging him to keep going. “Did you like it?”

“Did I like it? Hm, let me think…”

“C’mon, don’t be like that!”

MC chuckled at his feigned exasperated expression, mindlessly giving themselves the freedom to intertwine their fingers behind his neck. Mammon dropped his hands in return and hugged their waist to bring them closer. Leaning in and showing him just how much they had liked their first kiss was a strong temptation, but the need to tease him was way more powerful.

“I give it a solid 8 out of 10” they finally said, exaggerating an academic tone to make the joke clear. He gasped in surprise and MC fought hard to hide their smile. “Might’ve been better if we weren’t interrupted”

Which was completely true.

The music had been nothing but spectacular the whole night and their feet already hurt from all the dances they had shared with all of their demon friends in those long hours, especially Asmo, so of course it was fate that the Avatar of Lust would be the one to open the storage closet door just in time to see his older brother finally asking MC permission to kiss them after a heartfelt declaration of love.

“Damn Asmo…” the demon muttered under his breath. Then, turning as fast as a switch, he hid a cheeky smile under a hand and dramatically rolled his eyes, as if doing MC an immense favour. “Let’s have another one, then”

“You can only have one first kiss with someone, dummy” they chuckled, taking a strand of his hair between their fingers and wondering if they really cared about the specifics.

“Then we start over”

He broke the contact between them, leaving MC cold and lonely despite being a mere metre away in a storage room with no open windows or AC.

“Listen well, human!” Mammon exclaimed in a theatrical tone, one hand to his chest and the other gesturing elegantly in the air. “I am the Great Mammon, Avatar of Greed, and I was wondering if you could… maybe… y’know, like, let me give you a kiss…?”

MC’s eyes were open wide in surprise, but still, their smile occupied half of their face. They launched forward while laughing in delight and excitement, landing on his lips but unfortunately clashing their teeth together.

“OW!”

“Well, that was a straight 5”

“It was your fault entirely, idiot!”

“Let’s try again, then”

There was a beat of silence where, they could swear, both of their hearts stopped at the same time. Multicolour lights drew the outline of their faces from underneath the door and the music made the glasses on the shelf tremble, but MC couldn’t stop looking at him.

“Maybe this time I have to be the one to do it” they muttered, their focus shifting completely from his blue eyes to his partially opened lips. “It’s obvious you’re awful at it”

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[evilminji]

:T Hello there, Thought(tm) of the day...

I? Just remembered that Constantine's "Laughing Magician"(?) title is... f*ckin HEREDITARY?

Like?? As in The Constantine Meances have been out here, harrasing divinity and demons alike for GENERATIONS on behalf of a Good Time, the Lols, and probably Humanity if they can be arsed and you make a good case.

W... What chance would there even BE of at least like? HALF those f*ckers(conflicted but affectionate) NOT becoming Realms Ghosts? With the sh*t they're exposed too? With THEIR luck??

You think DEATH can trick them? Take them away for good? Take away the local Rat B@stard, Tricks Gods Just To See If He Can, Fate Is My Second Mistress and I Cuckold Glory On Your Mother's Bed, Constantine?

They run down main street, *ss in the breeze, wearing someone else's shirt and two shoes that don't match, not a stitch else, like run away lovers. Let Death TRY and catch them. Sorry, Luv, it's not them, it's definitely you.

..........I bet they're the wooooorst~~✨️

No joke, I bet they set up a whole *ss TOWN of Constantine.

Where the odds are in THEIR favor, gods fear to tread, and reality straight out stops working right. Like Diagonal Ally for B*stards, extended to a whole floating island. Everyone's related. It's Chaos. They can barely stand each other. Would sell each other for a toothpick.

Mess with ANY off them... and you can kiss your afterlife good bye.

They have NO neighbors because both no ones dumb enough to get NEAR them AND no one can stand to be around that many Constantines at once. The physical Manifestation of Fate wants to take the whole LOT of the handsy F*CKS to court for child support and a restraining order.

Somehow... they keep getting Earth Booze.

They SHOULDN'T have access. It's been anywhere from decade to centuries since they died. Millennium for a few. Howms't The F*CK, do they keep getting cheap gin and vodka? Bourbon and beer? Even the odd fruity cocktail for funnies.

Please... PLEASE! Tell the Zone at large, that their innate birthright powers STOPPED at Death. They... they are just REALLY good at smuggling right? Excellent con men?

Tell us they can't f*ckin PREDICT AND INFLUENCE Natural Portals!!!

*smug sipping noises from a large room full of Dead @ssholes*

Okay... They Won't Tell You~ 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 *siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip*

Now! I hear you ask? Why are John's Terrible, Terrible, God Awful Ghostly Relatives relevant? Absurdly powerful as they are... they seem to take the afterlife as an extended "Ha! GET F*CKED, DEMONS WHO WANTED MY SOUL!" Vacation/Family get together.

Minded their business and expected everyone to mind THEIRS, or ELSE.

Didn't give two solitary SH*TS that Pariah woke from his little nappy-poo to cause a tantrum. After all, in their family? When DOESN'T some "great and terrible Power That Be" get itself in a snit? Meh... it's baby Johnny's turn to clean sh*t up. Best of luck to 'im~!

But THEN!

They must've been drinking... making out with their equally terrible and bamf trainwreck significant others... sitting around playing "who can cheat best at cards"... when? Huh.

Never seen the Fate and The Odds... STRANGLE like that.

Billions of billions of What-Ifs, Maybes, Could-bes, and more... suddenly YANKED towards a single spot. The allowance of Only One Outcome. Almost like what they can do, but... not, WRONG, per say...

Just... impossible.

There's NEVER.. JUST one way this plays out. You can control the big notes. The script. But the details and set dressing will always decide themselves.

NO ONE can just... Decide What Will Happen. And yet?

...............was....... was that Little Johnny? Has to be. Right? Where's his old man? Oi! Was that your Kid??! John's closest relatives are baffled. Nope. They can still feel him laying a beat down on some demon in Norway. So then? Who?

How?

Well mark them CURIOUS(tm).

They decide to actually get up. Put their various drinks and cards down. Put pants on. Somebody's done something... INTERESTING(TM) and they want to know what's up. So? Off they trot.

It's traumatizing for everyone who sees them. The Constantines have breached f*ckin B*stard Containment and are spilling into the Zone. On this! The DAY Pariah Waged A War! THEY JUST GOT RID OF HIM!

And Danny? His everything hurts. The Eyeballs are starting to come out of the woodwork and ARGUE about him like he's not even there. He's DANGEROUS blah blah blah. Give them the crown. Right now! Etc etc.

Somethings telling him not too.

It's... it's HIS isn't it? Has been for centuries and seconds. And... and... everyone one of him is King. There is only one of him. The Zone covers all the multiverse and all of the Hims that were and aren't here and helped and... and...! His head is starting to hurt.

But the more they try to push him to hand it over, the less he feels like unhanding the dang gaudy thing. No. His now. He'll use it as a DOOR stopper if he dang well feels like it! Stop yelling.

Then all these blonde ghosts saunter in... and all he can think is "F*ck. I think they noticed."

Huh?

@stealingyourbones @cyrwrites @bjurnberg @the-witchhunter @hdgnj

[b14augrana]

Deadeye

You meet your match in the Champions League semi final

Chelsea Women x teen!reader

Part of the Scrubber universe

masterlist

Warnings: reader is a teeny bit cocky. this is not proofread!

A/N: scrubberverse rivalry 🫢 this is basically scrubber pt. 1 from the pov of a chelsea youngster, based on ‘we both reached for the gun’ because i saw a hard messi-ronaldo edit to it and got inspired! hope you enjoy :) 💝

Beating Barcelona isn’t for everybody.

However, your team managed to do it.

At 16 years old, you were a standout player in Chelsea’s youth academy. Now at 17, you were a standout player in their first team.

Unfortunately, you weren’t a consistent starter just yet, because the likes of Mayra Ramirez and Sam Kerr were other worthy contenders for the spot in the starting eleven, but you came off the bench nine times out of ten. You were widely regarded as one of the best youngsters in the game right now, with how quickly you settled into the first team and the consistent performances you put up every time you were subbed on. Slipping through tight gaps with the ball glued to your feet was a trademark move of yours, and you were basically untouchable to defenders because you were so young and agile.

Your Champions League debut technically occurred in the group stage, but you really shone in the knockouts.

You came on for Mayra in the first leg of the Champions League, and though you were only on for fifteen minutes, it was enough for you to feel the satisfaction of winning in front of a full Barcelona stadium. A few key passes here and there did the trick.

If it hadn’t been for Sam doing her ACL, you’d imagine that the score would’ve been substantially worse for the home side to come back from, even on aggregate, but that wasn’t the case and 1-0 would have to do.

Erin said to not get ahead of yourself, because there was still the second leg at home, but you were over the moon. You liked to think you were a true blue, through and through, so moments like these were what made you the happiest.

Champions League glory seemed closer than ever, now that your team had proven you could overcome possibly the biggest obstacle in the tournament. Sharing the pitch with greats like Alexia Putellas and Aitana Bonmatí was an honour in itself, but beating them? Beating them was historic.

You smiled at the idea of it; beating the best players of all time, scoring at home in front of thousands of fans, possibly taking your team to the final, taking them one step closer to a Champions League title, but above all... proving that Barcelona is human. Maybe even proving that you are the best youngster in the world, along the way. Of course that was the dream, but you couldn't get lost in your fantasy world just yet, Erin said.

Now that you were standing in the tunnel, altering history for your club seemed imminent. Your manager, Emma, had told you that you'd feature in the starting squad for the evening, so it went without saying that the match would be extremely special for you.

“Excited?” Erin asked, looking over her shoulder to see you. You nodded, but you were more scared than anything. You were grateful to be starting, but also a little bit terrified.

“You’ll do good, I know it. You’ve got the deadeye we need to beat them,” she said, and a little giggle came from you in response, “I’ll try!”

Beside you, the Barcelona players were lined up, whispering amongst themselves in what you assumed to be Spanish. Some of the words didn’t sound like regular Spanish though, which sucked, because for a moment you thought you’d be able to eavesdrop on them with the minimal Spanish knowledge you have.

The officials at the end of the tunnel signalled for both teams to make their ways out, and your ears were almost immediately slammed with the cacophonous noises of a fully packed Stamford Bridge. It was amazing, playing in an environment like this while experiencing the tournament of your dreams, and the loud supportive cheers were something you wanted to get tattooed on your soul.

The Barcelona girls walked out looking staunch. They carried themselves proudly despite the loss they previously faced against Chelsea, but you thought nothing of it. All you were focused on was your undying desire to knock them out of the tournament and show the world what the Blues were really made of.

“5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1!”

The crowd counted down to the first whistle blow of the match, and the shrill noise rattled the stadium as the ball got rolling and the match commenced.

You passed the ball backwards then immediately made a run. It looked hopeful when the ball was lobbed back to you, but it was quickly shut down by a well-timed intercept from…

Who?

Well, she was gone before you could see the name on the back of her jersey. As she dribbled through the midfield before pinging a through ball to Hansen on the wing, you could only hear the cries of Mapi León from behind you. “Venga, bebita!”

You did remember talks about Barcelona having a youngster of their own, and this must be her.

Whatever, you thought. You had bigger things to focus on. Dropping back into the midfield, you hunted for the ball, and when possession of the ball was finally in your hands, you felt on top of the world.

It felt like nothing could stop you, now that you had the ball at your feet, dribbling seamlessly past the blaugrana jerseys. Being smaller than others on the pitch had its advantages as you weaved between the gaps and slipped past players… until you came up against her.

She stood tall in the backline, not even giving you a moment of her vision’s time as her eyes stayed glued to the movement of the ball.

You tapped the ball forwards, and she followed, tracking backwards. Stepover after stepover, it was becoming increasingly impossible to shake her as you struggled to deceive her, and then…

One heavy touch was all it took. It was an accident, and maybe you should’ve listened to Erin’s directions to lob it overhead and pass to Lauren, but it was too late; you were on the floor, she was just getting up. The ball was gone, and you were still on the floor. Without the ball.

“Fucks sake,” you hissed, scrambling to your feet and charging after the ball. You couldn’t seem to get past her, at least not yet. You had to think smarter, be faster, push stronger, kick harder, anything to snake your way past.

“Don’t worry about it!” Erin exclaimed, jogging behind you, “Just stay focused.”

You nodded, because she was right. If you wanted to win, if you wanted to see that beautiful silver trophy adorned in only blue ribbons, if you wanted the rewarding feeling of carrying it in your arms, you had to stay focused and you needed to beat Barcelona, or more so, their youngster.

You had to admit, you underestimated her. You didn’t expect her to be a defender and therefore didn’t expect to be crossing paths with her so often, but you expected wrong. She was strong and definitely knew her stuff when it came to defending; at times, it felt like you were kicking a ball into a brick wall, trying with no avail to get through.

It pissed you off.

Running forward made you open for a cross in from Lauren, who resided on the right wing. “Lauren!” you screamed, gesturing in front of you to where you were going to run. She looked up and noticed your frantic pointing, then she lobbed the ball across the field.

It was almost inevitably coming to you. It floated over everyone, barrelling down exactly where you wanted it, but then a body cut in front of you and before you could register anything, they were up in the air and heading it out of the box.

Every blocked shot, every slide tackle, every through ball, every aerial duel, it made you want to win even more. A distasteful feeling welled inside of your stomach when you realised she wanted it the same, if not more, given the way she was flying around and determinedly defending the goal.

The last line of defence was always her — she was the one separating you and the goal, never mind Cata Coll between the posts. It was her saving your shots.

Half time couldn’t have come sooner. You trudged off the pitch, slumping onto the bench as you sprayed water into your mouth. Jess sat beside you and put her hand on your back. “Feeling okay?” she asked, and you nodded simply.

“You’re doing well. Once you get past their back, it’s all yours,” she smiled, rubbing your back reassuringly. You smiled in return, putting your head on her shoulder. “Thanks, J.”

Even Jess knew how much that centerback was troubling you. The whole lot of them irritated you because they were just so good, and they never crumbled even under pressure, but she was something else. Whether you admired her, envied her, or disliked her, was to be decided by the next half.

She was like you — a young talent — but your positions were different. You were a striker, so you could make mistakes. It was one of your many comforts. She was a defender, and there was no room for mistakes at the back. It was incredible that they trusted her so much to start her over the likes of Engen and Paredes, but you could see why they did. You had everyone else on their knees, except for her.

The defining factor, you thought, was the fact you had seen the others play so many times. Rolfö, Guijarro, Walsh, Hansen, they weren’t new phenomenons; you could anticipate their next moves, unlike their new centerback. You didn’t know how she tackled or how strong she was until you were face to face with her.

Aitana had scored in the middle of the first half. 1-0 wasn’t too bad to come back from, so you were confident that you’d get one back. Hope is a dangerous thing, but you had it.

The second half started with more intensity than the first. From kick off, the ball could barely be seen as anything but a blur zipping around the pitch. You sent the ball spinning across the damp pitch to Catarina Macario on the wing, who took one magnetic touch before exploding outwards.

Lucy Bronze had overlapped and now there was a big gap in the defence. Their midfielders were dropping, but they still weren’t quick enough to reach Catarina.

“Watch the wing!” Mapi yelled to someone. You decided to make a run into the box, preparing yourself for some sort of cross, and that’s when you saw it.

It kind of felt like a suitable muse for a renaissance painting, if the context was included — teenage girl slide tackling a world class, Champions League-winning winger to spare her goalkeeper the displeasure of saving a goal. That didn’t change the fact that you were infuriated at the dwindling prospect of getting a goal.

It was hard to hate a player that has done nothing to you except be better than you, but you felt like you were just about at that point.

Your heart raced with every telltale sign of a big chance. Lauren getting the ball seemed promising, and you trailed into the middle for support. “Lauren! Cross it!” you screamed, hoping your cries would be heard. Instead, you watched her cut inside and wind up to take a shot, your stomach swelled with dread when you saw a body in the way and the ball deflecting off someone’s back. Someone being… well, take a guess.

Hope is a dangerous thing, and you had lost it by the 80th minute. It was heartbreak for your team when the final whistle was blown and the game ended 2-0 for the away side, going down in history as yet another amazing Barcelona comeback.

You watched her get swarmed by her teammates, a smile on her face as they engulfed her in hugs and forehead kisses before she walked away with Mapi. You could only observe as you clapped for all the wrong reasons. The title was so close, yet it had always been far. It was appalling as much as it was unbelievable that the person with the most blood on their hands was a teenager. The nail in the coffin was learning post-match that she was actually freshly 16.

You two were no longer a coexisting pair of young talents. You weren’t sharing the stage anymore.

You were competing for the stage.