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writersrkive · 9 hours ago

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Don't shut up | Spencer Reid

summary: Spencer is used to people who constantly tell him to shut up, but somehow, he feels even more embarrassed and sad when he thinks you want him to stop talking after looking at the tired and confused expression you have when he's trying to help you. The thing is you hate when people do that to Spence and would spend years just listening to his voice.

gender: fluff

pairing: Early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: mentions of the team shutting Spencer down. Derek and JJ being a little mean to him when he's spreading information. Spencer being a cutie potato. Mention of a stomachache and its causes (mention of miscarriage as one of the causes, but nothing happens). Reader not being a native english speaker, but just a slight mention.

a/n: Dr. Spencer Reid is a genius.... I am not. I literally had to search for information and copy-paste here in some parts, so if there's misinformation, it's Google's fault, lmao. I wrote this yesterday when I was about to sleep, so I'm sorry if something is wrong with the writing (even though I already edited). English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

Spencer and you arrived early that morning. He hated being late for anything. He couldn't afford to be late if he wanted to stick as closely as possible to his assigned schedule, especially because he took public transport. On the other hand, you had no choice but to arrive early when you woke up at four in the morning thanks to a severe stomachache and couldn't go back to sleep.

That's how your conversation started. Your genius workmate was surprised to see you, first hour in the morning, when he walked in the office, even before Hotch arrived.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. You couldn't deny that the expression was too cute for your own good.

“Yeah… I think so. It's not even the stomach ache that bothers me, it's the fact that even if I was sleepy, I couldn't fall asleep again. You know? That happens to me a lot. Once I open my eyes, I can't go back to sleep. I've also been feeling mildly unwell for a week, but even though the medication is controlling it, it doesn't stop."

At this point, he already set up his desk, leaving his briefcase on his own chair to walk over to you and sit at your desk, next to the chair you were sitting in, to listen to you attentively and answer.

“The brain works with different phases of sleep: light sleep, deep sleep, and REM sleep. The cycle usually restarts every eighty to one hundred minutes, and we typically have four to six cycles each night.”

Hotch came out of the elevator and walked upstairs after both of you waved at him, and he let out a soft “good morning”. Emily arrived a few seconds later. You greeted her too, as she took place on her desk, but that didn't stop your conversation.

“So, it's completely normal that we wake up in the middle of the night because of that process, but if it is frequent, for three months or more, it may be a symptom of insomnia.”

Your view went to the floor, and your head nodded in a semi-unconscious movement, because although you knew that your sleep cycle was ruined by work, you had not come to that conclusion, maybe that was it.

“Now, the stomachache��” He said, taking one pen from your pencil case to concentrate. He usually never took other people's belongings or shared his own stuff because of the germs, but somehow, after a few years of working together, he had come to have a good amount of closeness with you to borrow some stuff from you. Months ago, it hadn't gone unnoticed by Penelope that Spencer had a box full of pens reserved for you, in case you needed one, nor the fact that he denied JJ one of them once, when the blonde girl needed something to write with quickly.

“The causes can be the most common, such as gas, indigestion, a muscle injury, or stress. Although there are also more serious causes: gastrointestinal infections, inflammatory bowel disease, irritable bowel syndrome, ectopic pregnancy or miscarriage..."

“Wow, what are you trying to do? Scare her?” Derek's voice invaded the place and Emily smirked.

“What? No, I'm just saying the possibilities…” Spencer whispered, looking down, a little worried that he might actually scared the person he cared more, besides his mom.

“It's okay.” You answer loud enough so your friends and coworkers would hear. “Thanks, Spence. I already went to the doctor, so I have none of… those.” I gave him a little smile. “But about stress…” The sentence hung in the air, so Spencer looked up and continued speaking automatically.

“Stress can cause stomach pain because the autonomic nervous system of the gastrointestinal tract reacts to the same hormones and neurotransmitters as the brain. This is because the digestive system is connected to the nervous system, and the enteric nervous system, which is located in the digestive system, is able to send and receive impulses and assimilate emotions.” He started to talk faster.

Your focus on the genius boy and his explanation was sincere, but maybe it was the fact that you didn't rest well, plus the fact that he was speaking too fast and not vocalizing all the syllables, that for a moment your brain didn't process what he was saying.

It was weird. At some point you didn't even hear words, just sounds from his mouth. That didn't happen to you for a really long time because you already had experience with the native speakers, even if english wasn't your mother language. The exhausting feeling of not being able to sleep well was definitely to blame.

While your brain was coming to that conclusion, Spencer could only see your furrowed brow, tense jaw, tilted head, and dissociated look.

“You want me to shut up, right?” That whisper was enough for you to come back to reality. His cheeks were red and his eyes looked a little sad, not to mention the way his mouth formed a line like whenever he felt awkward.

“Yes, please!” Derek answered instead, leaning back in his seat and looking up with his arms outstretched as if he'd had to deal with seven unsubs in the five minutes he'd been there, listening from his place to the information Spencer was giving you.

“Little genius boy got excited… again.” JJ said, looking at some documents in front of her, opening her eyes wide in an expression of tiredness and disinterest.

The young profiler stood up from your desk thinking about returning to his chair, a little embarrassed, but you took his pinky with yours —that way you wouldn't make him feel uncomfortable in case he wasn't in the mood for physical touch, something he refused unless it was you. Again, another special treat—. “Wait. It wasn't like that.” Hazel eyes looked at you intently, still with a bit of doubt. “I'm sorry Spencer. Yes, you got excited, but that's not something bad.”

“It isn't?” He questioned.

“No, but you started to speak fast, and the fact that there are some words that I have a hard time processing in English and I couldn't quite catch what you were saying because I didn't sleep enough, well, that distracted me. Would you mind repeating it again, slower?” This time, you were the one with warm cheeks.

“Oh. Are you sure you don't want me to shut up?” The boy was actually intrigued and a little surprised.

“Why would I want that?” The fact that your teammates often shut Spencer up when he tried to share extra information, or information that he had been asked about, was something you had noticed from the moment you started working with the team. You thought that was rude. You understood that sometimes Spencer got excited, gave information that was perhaps better saved for another time since you were investigating a case, or people could be tired and want silence, but the team either silenced him or made fun of him most of the time. Plus, there weren't many other things you liked more than hearing his voice.

The sweet, soothing tone of his words helped you sleep on the jet after a long case, or made you want to hear more about whatever he was talking about. Feeling like he was sharing with you, a mere mortal, some of the vast knowledge he had was nice.

“I'm always happy to hear whatever you need to say, even if it's about something I don't understand. And, right now, you are helping me a lot, so, please, don't shut up.” The crimson color returned to the tall boy's face, this time not because he was uncomfortable. Your kind and somewhat complicit smile made his heart race, like almost every time he was with you. Spencer knew that no matter how tired he got, he would never shut up if you wanted him to keep talking.

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chronicowboy · 19 hours ago

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several sentence sunday

new fic is finished but it's not very christmassy so i'm going to wait a while before posting it. thought i'd give you a little sneaky peek to wet your whistle as it were:

He hits call. A ring. Two. Three. Four. Fi—

"Eddie?" Buck's voice rasps through the line, scratching some invisible itch deep in his gut. "A-are you okay?"

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Eddie asks, frowning. Hadn't even thought about the time, just thought about Buck and how he should be right there on the couch for Eddie to throw his legs over his lap. How his big hands should be burning through the material of Eddie's jeans as they share their final beer of the night.

"Yeah, but that's okay." A rustle. Eddie closes his eyes and imagines him sitting up in bed, curls adorably sleep rumpled. "Are you okay?"

"I'm grrrrreat," Eddie slurs, laughing to himself. "Tony the Tiger great."

"Are you drunk?" Buck asks, a little laugh in his voice. Eddie grins, triumphant.

"On victory!" Eddie basks in Buck's next chuckle like a cat finding the perfect ray of sun. "I won trivia night because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Mhm. Remembered all your facts. Giraffes hum. The universe is beige. The Moon will never leave the Earth even if The Moon is drifting away right now." Buck's breath hitches, something hurt in the sound. Eddie frowns, wants to chase away that hurt until he can live in the back of Buck's throat instead. It'd be warm. Buck would keep him safe there. "We got a hundred dollar bar tab!"

"We, huh?" Buck pries, gentle, quiet.

"Mhm. Morgan. The probie from work. Don't worry," Eddie rushes to add. "She's not best friend material. Just took pity on me for the night." He sighs. "I miss you."

"Eddie," Buck croaks. Another rustle. Another voice thick with sleep.

"Evan?" they mumble.

Eddie freezes all the way down to the breath in his lungs, lays there on the couch stock still, lungs burning, eyes wide.

"Is that Tommy?" he asks before he can think better of it. Buck lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

"No. No. Um, one second." His voice drifts, "I'll be back," and Eddie realises he's making that promise to whoever's lying next to him in bed, not Eddie. But that means Buck isn't going anywhere for now. Eddie gets to keep him whilst the stranger languishes alone in his bed. Buck never left him alone in that bed during quarantine. Not once. He listens to the pad of Buck's feet as he goes downstairs, the whoosh of the balcony door sliding open and closed again. "Just some guy I met at a bar."

"Oh." Eddie nods to himself, pursing his lips. "Sorry for interrupting."

"No, that's o-okay," Buck replies, voice unreadable. "You weren't really interrupting, Eddie. We were asleep."

"Right." Eddie nods again. Then, the words just fall out of his mouth. "Probably tired after... Y'know."

"Eddie." Buck takes a deep breath. "You okay?"

"Do you miss me?"

@danielsousa @jjudaslips @butchdiaz @outdiaz @shitouttabuck @poughkeepsies @saryasy @team-118 @that-sounds-mighty-oof-to-me @ambitiousbutrubbish @iamaniamscat @freetreasures @inell @chaoticlava101 @dangerpronebuddie @jacobglaser @doggirlbuck @rainbow-nerdss @faggotjonesss @unsteadylilactree @4thbrighteststar @laurenttheninth @missing-tony @eddiebabygirldiaz @try-set-me-on-fire (please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!)

#sami rambles #eddie makes friends and gets drunk and misses buck #the premise of the fic really but somehow it's like 15k words #buddie

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moody-alcoholic · 3 hours ago

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CW: stalking behaviour, over protective 141, fluff.

“See her coming out now.” Ghost says over the radio.

“Afirm.” Soap’s voice comes back almost instantly. Ghost watches as you stumble over the pavement, pulling your jacket over your shoulders. It’s almost 3am, and most clubs are closing. The friend you came out with left an hour ago. Now you’re alone, drunk, swaying through the streets of London on a busy Saturday night.

“Watch your distance Soap, no need to spook her.” Price says.

“Copy.” Soap says as he weaves his way through the crowd of clubbers spilling out of the various nightclubs and bars. He keeps his head low, making sure to keep a safe distance from you. They’re not going to lose sight of you though. That’s what Ghost is for.

He slips between the crowds on the other side of the street, slipping into the shadows every opportunity he gets.

“She’ll take the next right. Don’t lose her.” Price says as you pick up your pace slightly. He’ll be driving to the next location, ready to pick you up at a moment's notice. You pull your phone out, typing while you struggle to keep your balance. Ghost lost track of how many drinks you had.

It was a celebration after all, your friend getting a big promotion, she took you to one of the fanciest bars in the city. Even though she left early you still seemed to be having fun, helping yourself to another drink before finally deciding to call it a night.

The streets off the main road are darker, quieter. Less room for error.

Suddenly you make a sharp turn, almost throwing your body down a dark alleyway. Ghost’s lost visual, he speeds up his strides, he has no idea if the alley is a dead end or not.

“Soap, don’t lose her.” Ghost orders panic building in his chest. There’s no reply, now Ghost can’t even see Soap. “Soap, confirm visual on the target.”

Ghost jogs to the next street over, nothing but shuttered buildings and the odd person heading home.

“Stand-by.” The seconds feel like they’re ticking on for hours. “Eyes on target, she’s-”

The line goes silent.

“She’s just throwing up, seems like she’s had a few too many.” Soap says. Ghost can almost hear the collective sigh as he slips back into the darkness waiting for you to emerge from the alley. When you do you seem even more unsteady on your feet.

“Keep it tight, she’s got another main strip to cross.” Price says. He’ll be moving on already. The amount of times you’ve walked this route. The amount of times they’ve practiced this route, it’s almost like a rehearsed play they could do in their sleep.

You move on weaving through the growing crowds of the next cluster of clubs. They seem busier than the last. You work through them quickly, Soap keeping his distance, pushing through people without a care. He has one motive, one mission; never lose sight of you.

As you make it to the quieter end of the street a group of lads cat-call you. You brush it off waving at them as you skip over to the next turn. Almost home.

“ETA 10 minutes.” Ghost says hugging the shadows on the opposite side of the street.

“Copy,” Price says, he will be in his final position. For the next few minutes the walk goes smoothly, you’re almost home, almost safe.

“Got a guy on her six, just overtook me.” Soap says. Ghost’s eyes flick over in an instant.

“I see.” Ghost says, watching as the man’s pace slows. “Hang back Soap. I got eyes.”

Ghost doesn’t even hear a reply, his eyes digging into the man now following a few steps behind you. You seem to notice too, quickly taking a peak over your shoulder, pulling your jacket around you tighter. You’re almost there, almost home.

“Want me to grab him?” Soap asks. As he says it you pick up your speed, your body straightens up.

“Negative.”

You turn into the front garden of the house, shutting the gate behind you. The hairs rise on the back of your neck as you fumble with the key pressing it into the lock and opening the door. The feeling of being followed suddenly fades as you make it inside, locking the door behind you.

“Hey, welcome home.” Kyle says, sticking his head out the kitchen. You smile walking over to him and wrapping your hands around his neck.

“It’s late, you didn’t have to wait up.” you say pressing your lips on his. He kisses you back, his hands gripping your waist.

“Needed to make sure you got home safe.” You hear John say. You break from the kiss looking over at him sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of tea in front of him. You walk over wrapping your arms around him from behind squeezing him.

The smell of tea fills your nose and makes you thirsty.

“Cuppa? Or bed?” Kyle asks, walking over, placing his hand on the small of your back. You hum looking round the kitchen.

“Where’s Johnny and Simon?” You ask.

“Sleeping, they’re not used to staying up as late as you are.” John chuckles. You smile looking up at Kyle.

“Bed.” You say. He smiles back at you kissing the top of your head.

“C’mon, I’ll give you a hand.” Kyle says pulling on your waist turning you to the stairs. John hears you giggling as you stumble up the steps to the first floor. A few seconds later the back door slowly opens, Johnny and Simon slipping in. John raises an eyebrow, quickly checking behind him to make sure you’re definitely gone.

“You better hurry up, I’m pretty sure she’s looking to climb into your bed tonight.” John says as Simon and Johnny look at eachother. Johnny's smiles, taking his coat off and leaving his radio on the kitchen island.

“Get some rest cap, you look exhausted.” Johnny says, patting him on the shoulder as he passes him. John sighs looking up at Simon.

“Another successful night.” John says as Simon puts his radio down.

“Always.” Simon smiles.

_______

👏zero👏self👏control👏

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alientee · 1 day ago

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Shimmer Head

Ekko x reader

6k+ words

Fem reeader

Hazbin hotel Easter egg included. Addicted song describes reader.

Warning: suicidal thoughts and actions, drug use not by choice though.

Im sorry it took so long yall I’ve been crocheting blankets for Christmas and life has been lifting with work

You were an anomaly, or at least that’s what Silco called you. Apparently he saved you at birth; one calm walk through Zaun's lanes, and your mom was an overdosing shimmer head who was getting her last fix before she pushed you out. You survived. This was something Silco never thought possible; even when you looked like a shivering, whining skeleton, you were strong, a survivor, and from that day on, you were his daughter.

As life went on, you got stronger, faster, and a little more insane; your eyes changed, looking like a wild mix of two different colors. You changed so much it confused you every day to see yourself. How the voices in your head would go from telling you to slaughter everyone to offing yourself.

Silco had you microdosed with shimmer ever since you were a newborn till now, and you handled it each and every time. You were his creation, his wild card. Even as a child, he had you by his side with torture, robbing, and meetings. You’ve done it all. There were days the voices really did get to you; sometimes it was better to hurt yourself rather than to crash. You can remember the times Silco had to stop you from hurting him and yourself. The scars on your arms, the bloodstains left on your clothes, the burn scars from throwing bone down without any care, ready to give it all up. Either you survived, or Silco was just in time.

So when you first met Jinx, your first thoughts were, This poor kid, she’s just a dreamer.

But she followed you around everywhere, calling you sis, saying she’d never leave your side, she’d never leave you no matter what. Not like her sister did. You didn’t believe her; how could you? No one but Silco ever saw you; he’s the only one that loved you.

Until she followed you to a club one night.

You spin around in the chair, listening to the grungy punk music, drunk, horny prowlers, angry wannabes, and goofy dancers mixing into the crowd. You sit in your chair in the corner of the club, drink in one hand, revolver in the other. One bullet, one drink—it was all a game to you. The gun clicked three times, and you took three shots before it was snatched from your hand. And lo and behold, it was your new shadow coming to ruin the fun.

“Hey, what gives, Blue Jay!”

“How are you going to be the big shot legacy Silco says if you're dead, dumbass!”

“It’s none of your business!”

“We’re family now, so yeah, you are!”

“You going to love me even if I try to kill Silco in his sleep?”

“I’d still love you even if you killed me with him.”

Family, huh?

“Fine.”

For the first time you didn’t take your game too far, or get fucked up and pass out behind the bar; you didn’t even have a mental breakdown.

At least the voices got quiet for a while.

After a while you started to think of Jinx as a sister. Someone you could confide in, someone who gets you. Was Silco the best dad? Nah, but he was all you had. Now you know he had Jinx too. You thought everything was ok; you could be happy with your found family; even if you were broken, you still had people to fix you up, so everything was fine.

At least you genuinely believed everything was alright.

Until Jinx’s actual sister showed up, calling her Powder, the hugging, the crying, the family reunion was cute. You haven’t seen Jinx this vulnerable in a while. Everything was calm until some Piltie came out, and then the moment was gone. Jinx threatens the redhead with the gun, and boom, the Firelights had you all surrounded.

“Jinx, if you want your sister back, you gotta be smart about this.” The silence you got back let her know she was thinking up something stupid.

Smoke and ash covered the air, bullets flying and fighting at every turn. The firebugs just didn’t know when to quit, always trying to get into business that isn’t theirs. It was fun knocking them off their boards every once in a while. You’ve faced them before with Jinx killed a couple of times; you didn’t kill any of them, though. Never had the guts to really kill innocent people; you didn’t want to know what the voices would say if you did. You didn’t want to lose yourself all the way.

As always, Jinx is shooting bullets every which way in the sky, which wasn’t bad, but using bombs to blow up the platform is very bad. Your body hurt, your ears were ringing, and you could barely breathe. You tried calling out for Jinx but got no answer. You finally dragged yourself up; you can see some fire bugs down, but you couldn’t see Jinx. Couldn’t see her sister. Didn’t even see the body lying dead somewhere.

Huh, you were all alone.

Then it dawned on you: Jinx did it on purpose. She really was a genius, truly. She blew up the platform, making a distraction; a lot of people were down and out. Nobody could see what was happening; some too injured to chase.

Looks like she could only carry her sister to safety, though.

You’ll never leave me no matter what, huh?

Hehehehehe, yeah right!

You could finally breathe again and got the strength to stand up. It was all just so funny, really.

Bunch of bullshit hahahahaha

You didn’t notice anything going on around you, the shuffling of people standing; you didn’t feel all the cautious eyes on you. Not that you cared; all you cared about were the voices screaming at you so loud you could swear your ears were bleeding.

Walking towards the edge of the platform is easy. Turning around and giving a mock salute to the firelights with a smile on your face was easy. But dropping to your death knowing the last thing playing in your headphones was your and Jinx's song, it fucking burned every lyric you tried to sing just turned to ash in your mouth.

But at least now the voices would stop forever. The air rushed through your ears and then nothing.

Out like a light

You woke up in an eerily dark room; honestly, it was predictable. Down to the moldy smell, the silence, and the creepy guy in the corner with a mask. And you honestly should’ve been more mad at yourself for getting saved; you couldn’t even die in peace!

“Why am I alive, dammit!”

The silence was so annoying; there’s no need to try and be intimidating. You’ve seen worse. You hate people who try those tactics; you can’t torture someone who’s already tortured every day. Geez, just kill them if they don’t tell you what you want.

“Look, I’m not going to tell you shit, so just kill me already!”

And then the mask comes off. You don’t know him, but you knew him, apparently jinx’s past. The boy savior, she calls him; he looks just like she said he would. You also remember what she told you about him. “Better watch out; the boy savior likes to think he can save everybody.”

Ok, you can deal with a wannabe hero.

“Your on shimmer. You are an addict; Slico has you do his dirty work, and he gives you your next fix. Am I right?”

You’re really fucking wrong. Scratch that; you didn’t want to deal with the wannabe hero.

“So how about you tell me what I need to know, and you get to lay low somewhere secret and get off that shit before you try and die again while Silco just replaces you?”

The voices started to get louder, your throat tight and blood dripping from your palms for how tight you started to squeeze them. His words were like acid on your skin. Just who did this asshole think he was?

“First of all, dipshit, I’m his daughter! Ok, not some random street rat shimmer head he feeds. Second of all, shimmer makes people stronger. I should know; came right out of my druggie mom, still living and breathing, full of shimmer! I’ve been injected with it since Silco adopted me! He says I’m perfect; he says I'm his legacy. I don’t do his dirty work; I help him make Zaun better! So you're dead fucking wrong, wannabe!”

Now he’s looking at you like you’re crazy…. And you're used to that.

“This is better? Our people are dying all around us. Kids are abandoned! People are sick and starving. How is this better?”

“Blame Piltover! Duh!”

“It’s Piltover. And Silco, are you crazy??!!”

That word. It always did something to you. You didn’t care when people looked at you like you were... but calling you crazy? Different story. Something that made all the voices laugh, an itch in your brain that told you to break, hurt, destroy, kill, and show them your insane.

“FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU! Hahahahahahahahaha. All of Piltover and Zaun is going to burn you, and your fucking bugs are going to be ash! I’m not crazy. I’m perfect. I’m perfect he said”—

Your music!?! Where were your headphones?!!?

You were so numb, in a really dark place, you never fully remembered how your episodes went. When that singed guy injected you with your first microdose of shimmer, all you remembered was the screaming and Silco whispering how proud he was. But Ekko would remember it all even in his dreams. How you banged your head against the pole you were tied against over and over again. Crying tears of shimmer while laughing hysterically until blood dripped on the side of your head. Only to end up sobbing.

The voices screamed and screamed and screamed. Until they stopped, they never just stopped without music or silco. And you never had this heavy feeling over your ears without your headphones.

Oh, it’s this Ekko guy. What is he doing? Why is he holding his hands over your face? Why is he looking at you like that?

“I’m sorry. You’re not crazy. I promise, okay? Breath for me nice and slow.”

This was nice: everything quiet, everything nice and warm. This is new, huh?

“Hey!? Wai”—

Out like a light again

“She’s a danger to the base!”

“We can help her. She’s not like Jinx! She’s the product of a bad situation. She’s not with Silco because she wants to be; it’s because it’s all she knows.”

“She’s a mess; keeping her here is like bringing bullshit to our door!”

“He’s been injecting her with shimmer since she was an infant! We can’t kick her out!”

“Can y'all shut up sleeping here?”

Bat Guy and Ekko just stared at you.

“Look, I don’t care what you do to me; can I just have my damn headphones? The voices, ya know, they’re telling me to escape and kill everyone here. Soooooo, my earphones, pretty please.”

The boy wonder hands them over and puts them over your ears. And even with no music playing, everything feels peaceful. The whole time, he and Bat Boy are still going back and forth; this time you couldn’t hear it, though. Finally you get silence, if only for a moment. You almost bit Ekko when he moved one of them back off.

“Look, let’s compromise: you get a little freedom, supervised. And we get one shimmer shipment location… not the factory, just the shipment.”

“No bullshit babysitters; it’s you or nothing.”

“...fine.”

You could’ve told him to fuck off and die. Make him eat his sappy little words. But after the way he held your ears, he looked like a kicked puppy for making you freak out. How softly he said sorry. It was different; it was new. You didn’t do soft, not that much.Silco always told you to play your enemies, so maybe giving a little bait wouldn’t be too bad.

“Fine, boy wonder, I’ll give you a shipment that’s all.”

“Thank you.”

There he goes, looking at you like that again.

Like some kind of puppy. What a sucker.

Ekko took you outside, but you didn’t want to socialize, so he kept you both at a good distance from the others. While taking you out of the base, you didn’t want to look at anyone. If you saw any leering faces and judging eyes, you knew you’d lash out.

Oddly enough, you didn’t want to smack the fuck out of Ekko's face. Maybe a little bit, not a lot. You didn’t know what it was, but Ekko was calming; his presence was like a warmth in the dark murk of Zaun. You didn’t understand how he could be so... normal with all of this around him.

Maybe it was the fact that he actually took you out of the hideout and onto a roof to look over Piltover. You could’ve knocked him out, taken his board, and run. Why is he so stupidly trusting? “How do you do it?” He raises an eyebrow. “Do what?” You raise one back “Be so happy-go-lucky when we live in a place like Zaun.” That made him stop his steps, and he looks serious; you haven’t seen him unless he’s talking about shipments.

“I have to make a change for the people who can’t help themselves; I want to give people something to live for; the firelight is my way of doing that.”

And there he goes again, making your mind feel funny again. It sounds like he means it; everything Ekko says always sounds genuine, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to believe him.

“Alright then, help me by teaching me how to ride one of those hoverboard things.” Ekko’s eyes get wide, and his mouth even opens a little. “You want to learn? I’ve been trying to get you to do that for a week. What changed?” You didn’t want to let him know the real reason, so you decided to play it off.

“Just thought I could kick your butt at something, boy wonder,” he scoffed. You knew he hated the nickname; it was too fun teasing him to stop, though.

“Alright, alright. If you’re so confident, then I’ll teach you. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you end up falling off a few times.”

“I’ll be a pro; just you wait and see.”

You were in fact not a pro. Your knees were scuffed, and the dirt on your clothes was a testament to just how many times you hit the dirt. “Sorry this is taking so long; I feel fucking stupid.” Ekko grabs your hands and pulls you up, grabbing the board. “Don’t; it takes everyone a minute to learn this is no different. How do you think I feel? I made it; I had to test it and fall a lot.” You give him a nod, deciding to take the board back with a little more confidence this time. “What a boy genius you are,” you got a snort in return.

“Now, remember, hoverboards are pretty sensitive. You have to find your balance and keep it steady. And be careful not to lean too far to one side or the other, or you’ll tip over.” Ekko watches you carefully as you mount the hoverboard, his arms crossed over his chest. The hoverboard begins to move forward as you lean, slowly at first, but steadily gaining speed.

You could hear Ekko yelling behind you, “There you go, you’re doing great! Just keep your balance and focus on the path ahead.”

“What about turns!? What if I fall??”

“Don’t worry; I’ll be right here to catch you if you fall.”

You got the hang of it after a while; you both went back to the base riding your hoverboard and even racing some of the kids. It was a good time, no responsibilities, no expectations. It still hurt you; there was no Silco, but at least you had distractions.

Ekko seemed to show up when he wasn’t asked; it’s like he knew when to butt into people's business.

He was there during your worst moments of loneliness. When the darkness was too much, when the voices kept repeating the insults louder and crueler. Telling you to kill yourself, that you're nothing, worthless, not good enough, burn the firelight base to the ground, and watch everyone around you die. You’ll only end up alone anyway. The smell of ash and blood, you could remember it by heart. Tears pouring out of your eyes continuously, you didn’t even sob. You had nothing to be sad about in the moment. You just naturally cried, and all you could do was scream, hoping I’d stop. Sitting in the dark waiting for it all to end. Thinking, hoping that just maybe one day you’d be blessed enough not to wake up.

It wasn’t until you felt Ekko's heavy gloves on your shoulder. Asking if you were ok, if you needed anything, if you needed him. Looking at you like you're the only thing that mattered in the moment. Moving to sit next to you, his shoulder lightly touching yours. “You don’t have to talk; just know I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere.” Those days were hard, but it always felt nice to have Ekko lying on the floor next to you, no words, just his company.

He even let you into his little workshop. His words: “You don’t have to knock. If you need me, just come in” You’d hand him his tools and use all the knowledge you had on tech to help. You used to make a lot of trinkets that helped your day-to-day life. You didn’t like to make weapons like Jinx, but you could make a mean bomb. You’ve even fallen asleep to his tinkering and his little nerd-out moments. “You're such a dork.” He wouldn’t even take his eyes off his invention.

“Shush if you're not going to help.”

“Touchy touchy. Here, let me look, boy genius.” When you actually put in effort to help him, he’d look at you from the side of his eye, and you’d pretend like you didn’t notice the small smile creeping up on his face. Sitting by his side until late at night, making new things to help out in the base. Both your giggles and the metal clanking were the only things heard at 3 am.

And that’s how it was for a month. Ekko is coming in, trying to coax you into giving up Silco; you give him a little info, and he folds and gives you what you want for the day. You had a good thing going. So why’d he want to ruin it now? You were fine seeing the kids; you made small talk with one of the firelight girls, but that’s it. Everyone else you dealt with in passing. So why was Ekko so set on you interacting with more people?

“How about we hang out with the group for a bit?”

“I’m fine; I hate people.”

“Look, I’m just trying to—“

“I don’t need help! I don't need friends! I—I need my dad; I need…. I need to feel in control. It still feels like I’m a fucking prisoner even if you say I’m not.

Ekko doesn’t talk for a minute; you can tell he’s trying to choose his words wisely, his white locs covering his face. “I don’t know what you see in Silco, even if he took you in…. You can’t tell me you truly see the good in what he’s doing.

You didn’t answer him. Afraid you’ll say something you’ll regret by lashing out. He didn’t get it; he didn’t get you! Silco was your dad; Silco helped you ignore the voices; he loved you even if he had a funny way of showing it.

“He’s not the best dad in the world, but he’s my dad. He helped me when I had no one. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Ekko didn’t answer you; it’s like he wanted to argue, but he knew you needed this.

“Just... just give it a chance; you may find your people.”

If he heard your scoff, he didn’t react to it.

I don’t have people; all I have is my dad and myself, even when I don’t love myself.

Ekko’s soft words pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You have me too.”

“Until how long, hmmm, till I run out of information?”

“That’s no—“

“Hey, Ekko, tell me how I survived the day I jumped.”

Ekko went back silent; he was giving you that look again, and you hated it. It’s like he saw everything within you, and it made you feel naked, like you couldn’t hide.

“Oh that… flew down to save you.”

“Why?”

“When you smiled at us before you fell, I thought you were asking for help.”

You giggled at that; only Ekko would think of saving his enemy who tried to off themselves in front of him. “Your something else, Sunflower.”

“Sunflower!? What kind of flower is that? We don’t have those in Zaun.”

“Alright, take me out or whatever it is you want.”

“D-don’t say it like that. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the kids.”

You never knew Zaun could look like this, or even have a tree, and now the name firelights makes sense: nothing but a lush green tree with the fireflies all around it. It’s peaceful, plush; it’s nice. You got a few looks here and there, but it’s fine; ekkos here, and you weren’t forced to hang out with who you didn’t want to.

And that’s how you spent your day bonding with Ekko and even the kids; they weren’t as judgy, and you appreciated it. Even when they had questions, it didn’t feel pointed. “Why do you always wear those things on your head?” your headphones; you never took them off, never could bring yourself to part from the one thing that helps stop the voices, no matter how battered and dingy they are. “They’re headphones. They help me when I’m scared or upset.” “Oooooh, I get it; my mask helps me! Makes me feel stronger!” “Good, use your strength to become the best firelight you can be.”

That’s how the day started and ended: you playing with the kids, running around, playing tag and hide and seek until the night came. The kids gathered around, using common objects around them to make a little band; music brings a lot of the firelights together, and somebody brings an actual scrap-made speaker playing louder music. Some even start to dance. And in this moment you couldn’t help but think maybe Ekko was right; maybe these people were ok.

You grab the overworking leader by the arm and pull him with you. “What is it?”

“Come on, Ekko, let’s dance!”

“Dance?”

“Yeah, you scared boy wonder?“

“Not at all, but um… why?”

“Who doesn’t like dancing!”

That’s when the music hits and nothing else matters. Ekko moves effortlessly, his body flowing in perfect harmony with yours. He keeps you close, his chest pressed against yours as he twirls you around. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble. Your body’s moving in rhythm as the music gets Ekko pulls you closer, one hand resting on your waist while the other takes hold of your hand, spinning you. He begins to sway gently, guiding you in a slow dance. Holding each other’s sides, swaying back and forth. Every minute you got to look in Ekkos's eyes, seeing him smile at you like that did something to you; he really was something else.

You couldn’t let those eyes shake you, though. You knew it was only a matter of time before it all went to hell; no one really gives a damn about you, no one except Silco. But maybe if you were a better daughter, he would’ve found you by now.

Ekko could only look at you in confusion when you walked away from him, away from the gathering. He thought it was a good moment that he was finally getting through to you. But he wasn’t one to push, not when he knew what you’d been through, but he followed you up the stairs to the treehouse.

And when he found you, the silence was heavy but comfortable. That’s how it was with you too, and you’d never say it out loud, but he made you feel safe.

“Do you want to stay here?”

You timidly glanced into his eyes before you took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” you looked away, closing your eyes, trying to stop yourself from getting out of hand. Ekko hummed, leaving more silence in between you both, and then he asked another, “Even if you know Silco loves you, it isn’t healthy.”

You opened your eyes as a bitter taste remained in your mouth. Your face contorted into different expressions as you debated with yourself on whether or not you would share.

“My mother was a shimmer addict; she had me right as she overdosed. And Silco found me; I was different; I survived even with a small, premature body full of shimmer. He said I was unique, that I could change all of Zaun. I believe him. I’ve done a lot of great things… at least I think so. Even if you don’t agree with him, he saved me.

“But you're not okay—

“Don’t tell me what I am! I’m perfect as I am; he said so! I may not be normal, but I am living instead of surviving, Ekko! Can’t you see that?”

“I do. But you know what else I see? I see how happy you are riding your board; I see how sweet you are with the kids, especially when you steal yarn from the top side and crochet stuff for them; I see how you care for Raven when you think she’s not looking by finding her favorite things to surprise her without letting her know it was you; I see how you truly care for the people you're loyal to. You touch people's lives and leave light in your wake. I see how beautiful you are inside and out. You’re your own person, not what Silcos made you! You can do better than what he has you doing.”

“Is that what you’ve come up with in your mind? That I’m just this lost, misguided girl who was groomed to be fucked up? News flash! Boy Wonder, I’m in Zaun. I was going to be fucked up regardless of Silco! Who do you think I am, huh? Don’t act like you know me, 'cause you don’t! Stop trying to change me into something I’m not! I’m not some knockoff version of Jinx you can fix just because I decided to be nice a few times. What?! I’m your little powder passion project. Couldn’t save her, so you’re trying to save me because we both have family, daddy, and abandonment issues?!”

You knew it was a low blow, but even though she left you, you couldn’t help but think about Jinx’s words, taking them to heart, and everything she told you. “He likes to think he can save everyone.”

He narrowed his eyes at your response; you could see him clenching his fist and clenching his teeth. His eyes no longer looking at you with acceptance or worry like you were used to, only irritation

“I wasn’t trying to change her; I thought she was in danger. I didn’t know she went with that piece of shit willingly…. I thought I could save her; I needed to because she was my friend.”

“Ohhhhh, that’s right, you’re the boy savior!”

His eyes went from a glare to cold and lifeless.

“Fuck you. You know nothing; you only know Jinx's pain but not mine. You’re right about one thing, though: you and Jinx are similar. So I don’t know why I was stupid enough to try and help you; just like her, you don’t deserve it.” That just pissed you off more.

“I didn’t ask you to help me! I didn’t ask for you to save me from offing myself! I didn’t ask for you to try and fucking fix me or my life!”

“I’m not trying to change you; I’m trying to give you something better! A chance! Silco didn’t give you a chance; he used you! Your work, a tool! If you survived on shimmer this long since birth, you're proof that his product can lead to something greater than he thought. But it’s at the expense of you and your health.” His voice lowers, his breathing heavy. “Please… tell me you see it. You have to know that keeping you on shimmer as long as he has wasn’t to help you. Only him.”

In the back of your mind you knew; you always knew. And yet the faith he put in you gave your heart love you’ve never felt before. How he always stated he was proud of you, said you were the best thing to happen in his life, that you're his legacy, his daughter. But what was the cost for your heart, suicidal thoughts, breakdowns, nightmares, and dissociation? A mother that never wanted you, a father that loved you but not enough to see your pain, only your potential. “Hey Ekko, thank you. For saving me and making me realize. I don’t want people to end up like me... because I’m not ok.”

“Then let me he“—”. He didn’t get to finish before you pushed back, making him crash into the tree behind him. You jumped from the stairs on the tree; you didn’t care about the fall because it’s the freest you ever felt. You could hear the other fireflies yelling, but the adrenaline and the wind in your ears helped you ignore them. As soon as you fell, you pushed forward, not caring about the pain in your legs and ankles. Grabbing a hoverboard before speeding off and out of the hideout.

When Ekko got up, he didn’t chase you, nor did he call out for you; all he could do was watch. Scar rushed up to him, looking at him expectingly. “She’s going to go back to Silco!? We have to catch her before she rats us out!?” Ekko didn’t react to his words, only looking forward to where you had run. “Ekko!” And when Ekko finally looked at Scar, he just shrugged. “She’ll be back when she’s ready.” “She’s not coming back." Ekko, she’s been waiting for an opportunity to escape, and we let her!”

Ekko just shook his head, picking up something off the ground. “She’ll be back.” “How do you know!?” Ekko moved his hand in front of Scar, showing him what he picked up. “She left her headphones.” Scar just scoffed. “That doesn't mean anything.” Ekko just shook his head. “Trust me, if you knew her like I do, you’d know it meant everything.”

You wandered around one of Silco's biggest shimmer factories, where most of his shipments go. You walked around the rooftop, pacing back and forth. “I’m addicted to the madness~” You turned on your headphones, singing along, tuning out the noise below, scummy workers and henchmen everywhere. “Let me leave my soul a-burning; I’ll be breathing it in.” Sneaking down through the crawl spaces, you laid out bombs everywhere you could stick them. You set up trap after trap after trap after trap. You knew this place like the back of your hand, so it was easy to get in and get out.

“I’m addicted to the feeling, getting higher than the ceiling~” This place had meaning to you… this was the first place Silco took you when he felt like you were ready to work for him. The first place where he showed you the ropes was the same place he had you start your injections. The same place you had your first breakdown. This felt like a goodbye to the past, the pain, everything that made you feel inadequate. You don’t know what you’d be without Silco; you knew the voices would never fully leave, but at least with this you could let your dad know you were ok and that you were going your own way.

“Just concede and give in to your inner demons again~” You hit the button, and it all blew up—the building, the workers.

And you too. Hopefully, Silco can forgive you for not saying goodbye.

It’s been 3 months; Ekko waited for you to return. But after a while he could only assume you’d either gone your own way or something terrible happened. Missions still happened with no sign of you with Silco's goons, and there’s talk about the huge explosion that happened, so he couldn’t pinpoint what had happened to you; all he had to give him comfort about your departure was your headphones. He never touched them, only keeping them by his bedside with your memory lingering with him whenever there in his sight. But today at 12 am, he finally had the courage to tinker with them, hopefully fixing them up.

He was concentrating so hard he didn’t hear the door open; it was Scar. “Your stray is back,” and as soon as he came, he left.

“Hey sunflower,” he jumped and turned around so quickly you thought he’d fall out of the chair. He did slip a little as he rushed to hug you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

“Missed me?” He squeezed your torso, chuckling a little. “Missed your humor, not your bullshit.” You poked at his side, making him jump. “Lies, you missed that too. Everyone else is boring.

He pulls you over to his patched-up couch, both of you plopping down. You lean into his touch, laying on his shoulder. Neither of you said anything; you didn’t need to. You don’t know what you expected when it came to his reaction. But you’re glad Ekko didn’t pressure you to talk about anything or question what you’d been doing. You’d tell him one of these days. The withdraws, breakdowns, you almost ending it all. But right now you just wanted to enjoy his company; being alone for months took its toll, so it’s good to be back in a warming presence.

It took everything in you to not go back to Silco, to everything that was easier. But you pulled it off, and you hope Ekko could see that you really are trying. “Was it you?” He spoke so softly you thought you just imagined it, but Ekkos looking into your eyes let you know it was real. And you knew what he meant; your explosion was nothing but destruction, but you wanted to leave that behind you. So you said the only thing that was closest to the truth. “I’m following my own path now, Ekko.” When you looked back at him, it almost took your breath away. Those stupid, big, brown eyes looking at you with so much warmth you could’ve melted right then and there. It made you sick.

“I’m happy for you... So you’re just visiting?”

“Geez, trying to kick me out already, huh?” He shook his head. “Of course not. I just…. I want you to be happy and go your own way, even if it’s not here with me.” You looked away, biting your cheek. “So what if I wanted to be happy here?”.

“Then I’d make a space for you right now; you’re always welcome.”

“Even in your room~”

“Yeah, you can stay with me if you want.”

You felt all your thoughts falter and come to a stop once the words were out of his mouth. You paused and looked at him, face red. “Easy there; we don’t want everyone jealous that the big boss in charge is playing favorites.” He pulls you so close, too close. His nose and forehead touching your own. You don’t know this Ekko, Ekko who always was too shy to flirt back, who was always the gentleman, who only gave fleeting touches like he was afraid to break you. “You are my favorite; you’ll always be someone special to me.” You couldn’t help pushing his buttons, not wanting him to see your face reddening.

“Leaders shouldn’t show favoritism, ya know. I’m going to need something for me to keep quiet; wouldn’t want to hurt the kiddies feelings, would you? out of all the things you expected Ekko to say, you didn’t expect what he’d do.

Ekko leans down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. It’s slow and tender; the brush of his lips is so soft. He takes his time, savoring the feel of your lips against his, pouring all of his love and affection into the kiss. He leaned back and smiled warmly as he continued to gently caress your cheek. He looked at you with a soft, affectionate expression, his gaze filled with adoration thatyou’d noticed before. You just never had the guts to call him out on it.

“Is that enough to keep you quiet?”

“It's a start.”

#arcane #ekko #ekko arcane #ekko league of legends #ekko lol #ekko x reader #leauge of legends #the arcane spoilers #firelight ekko #ekko x you #jinx arcane #arcane silco #silco #silco and jinx #arcane league of legends #arcane lol #arcane ekko #arcane fanfic #arcane fandom

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thursdayinspace · 2 days ago

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So I rewatched "Our Town" last night and when I sat down at my laptop this morning to do something that was not writing, I ended up writing instead. These things happen. Just a silly fluffy-ish little thing because omg that ep is so gross and also Scully has to be getting sick of being abducted all the time. Mulder feels the same way.

She can’t sleep. It’s not every day you almost get beheaded—even after everything that she’s already been through this year, it seems there are still things that can shake her up pretty badly. She rolls over on the lumpy motel mattress and tries to get comfortable. For a glorious moment, she considers quitting. Handing Skinner her resignation and walking away, finding a nice job with regular hours where people won’t handcuff her to radiators, stick her in closets, contort their stretchy bodies through cracks in her bathroom window, or drive her around in the trunks of their cars before handing her over to aliens or the government or whatever theory Mulder’s going with right now. A job where she won’t spend the end of a work day strapped into a metal harness as a guy in a mask raises an ax above her head.

In her mind she pictures a simple life: a nice house with a yard, a dog greeting her as she opens the door and walks inside after a long day at the hospital…no, a private practice? A day of teaching? Whatever she’s been doing, she walks into a kitchen that smells like home-cooked dinner, leaning up to kiss her faceless husband who’s vaguely Mulder-shaped. “Honey, I’m home!” “Dinner’s almost ready! How was your day?” “Fine. Narrowly avoided decapitation. Nothing exciting.” Fuck. Not even fantasy-Scully can escape the absurdity of this life.

The knock on her door doesn’t even surprise her. She already knows who it is. He stopped waking her unless it’s something really important, so she groans and gets up, her bones aching, weeping inwardly as she makes her way to the door. So she can’t sleep; that doesn’t mean she wants to spend the night going over their case report or whatever that infuriatingly charming insomniac wants from her this time.

But when she opens the door, he doesn’t look as if he wants to go over case reports. He looks like shit. As much as that’s even possible for him. Another thing that’s simply unfair about her life, she thinks with a sigh. Even with bags under his eyes and pale as a sheet he still looks beautiful. “Mulder?” she says.

He doesn’t answer, just steps right into her and pulls her into a wordless hug, so tight she’s a little afraid he’ll crack her ribs. She hugs him back weakly and pats his back, not quite sure what else to do since she has no idea what the fuck he’s even doing. She expects him to pull back, but he just keeps holding on, and she’s genuinely having trouble breathing.

“Uh, Mulder?” she says again, a little louder.

“You’re okay,” he mumbles into her hair, and she wiggles in his arms, trying to loosen his grip.

“Not for much longer if you don’t let go.”

“Sorry.” He drops his arms and takes a step back, but keeps looking at her like he’s never seen her before. “Sorry, I just—”

“It’s fine,” she says. “Did you have a bad dream?”

He shakes his head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah.” She grimaces. “Me neither. It’s been…a day.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, and she laughs. She’s too tired not to.

“Thanks to your timely rescue, my head is still firmly attached to my body.” It sounds a little bitter, and she’s surprised at herself before she feels another little piece of her frustration clicking into place. Ah, yes, she thinks. There’s that too. Rescued once again. She makes a mental note: fantasy-Scully in her little imaginary suburban nine-to-five utopia will never have to be rescued. She’s gonna be the one doing all the rescuing. Except nobody needs to be rescued in that perfect little world, because nothing bad ever happens to anyone.

“You don’t sound okay,” Mulder says, and she closes her eyes for a second. She’s not annoyed with him, she reminds herself. It’s not his fault that she became part of these townsfolks’ dinner plans, and it’s not his fault that she needed him to keep that from happening.

“I’m just a little tired.”

“I’ll let you sleep.” He sounds exhausted and when she looks at him, she sees leftover fear in his eyes. “No more interruptions, I promise.”

Her hand reaches out for his before she’s fully conscious of what she’s doing. It’s just that he’s here and she’s had enough of being Agent Scully for tonight, and he really looks so much like Doctor Scully’s faceless dinner-cooking husband in her nice little fantasy home. “Come on,” she says.

“What are you—”

“Bed,” she explains, hoping he won’t ask any more questions.

“Oh. Okay.”

She gets in on her side and is relieved when he lies down next to her without another word. She closes her eyes, but she can feel him stock-still as a statue next to her, she can feel the tension radiating off of him, and, hell, it sounds like he’s even trying to breathe without making a sound. So she grabs his arm and rolls onto her side, tugging him with her until he has his back against her chest, and she holds firmly onto his hand and snuggles back into him.

“Scully?” he asks, sounding a little confused.

“Relax, Mulder,” she tells him. “Sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“About sleeping?”

“You know what I mean.”

She laughs and squeezes his fingers. “No. Of course not. But honestly? I really don’t care right now.”

“Okay,” he says, and he gets it, she knew he’d get it. “Okay,” he repeats, and laces their fingers together. She feels him lift his head, feels his hot breath against the side of her face, and then a gentle kiss against the corner of her eye. “Good night, Scully.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

Behind her closed eyelids, fantasy Scully lies just like this with her faceless partner, who’s just as warm and smells just as good as real Scully’s friend-partner spooned up behind her. The only difference is that her own real Mulder is…well, real. No matter how perfect her beautiful little dream house with her beautiful perfect husband may be, she kind of prefers snuggling with someone who has a face and a name. And maybe she’d actually miss the mess.

Not all of it. Not the ax-swinging, homicidal maniacs or the lumpy motel mattresses. But a partner who knocks on her door in the middle of the night because he couldn’t sleep without making sure she was okay? Who sleeps wrapped around her with his breath ruffling the hair at the back of her neck, knowing this isn’t leading anywhere other than comfort and friendship? And…she kisses the backs of his fingers once she convinces herself he’s probably asleep…a vague hope that maybe this won’t always be all there is between them?

Yeah. She’ll take it.

#txf #the x files #msr #mulder and scully #fic #poangpals #ficlet

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midnightminx90writings · 2 days ago

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Emmrich wasn’t lying to Rook when he said he doesn’t regret their relationship.

But he did have second thoughts about it, before the end. And those are the thoughts he regrets more than anything, because they could have cost him everything.

His whole life, all Emmrich has wanted is lasting love, something that will last into eternity. Someone to hold his hand, to sleep next to at night. A person that will sit next to him and read books, or work in a garden.

Someone who will say “I love you” in return and mean it.

Wanting is a scary thing. A terrifying thing, if he is to be honest with himself.

Because now he has found someone who wants him back, and while Rook flirts with him in return, and does so at frankly the strangest occasions, Emmrich is terrified this is just another fleeting thing.

But Rook takes his hand, takes his heart, takes all of him and turns those too large feelings into something slightly more manageable.

Parts are put into Manfred; into carefully guiding him to become more, to become someone who can take care of himself long after Emmrich is gone.

More than an assistant; now a prodigy. A son, as Rook says, and a part of Emmrich settles, a part he did not know needed settling, but there all the same.

Like the piece of a puzzle he never knew the scope of.

Then there’s Rook himself; calming and exciting in equal measures until Emmrich no longer knows which way is up.

Rook, who loves unconditionally and surprisingly, who turns Emmrich’s knees weak and holds him up with the same look in his eyes. Rook, who tells him gold is his favourite colour and in the next breath admits that Emmrich is his first in everything.

And how can a man respond to that?

By bewilderment, at first, then pure joy and pride over being chosen. And lastly, thoughts he would like to not admit to, calculating ones entailing how to best go about it, to show how good it can be with the right person. How right.

It feels selfish, Emmrich thinks, but shows an immense amount of trust.

He cannot say no to that. To hold that honour.

So he kisses Rook, shows him the merest hint of what he can look forward to, even as his own body screams at him to take it further but also to step away before he ruins something beautiful again.

He gives, in the end, helpless not to.

Emmrich knows the exact number of days that pass between Rook’s first expression of interest, to their first kiss, to their first time.

And he knows the exact number of days between that, and when Rook is taken from them. From him.

When Rook is taken, Emmrich is terrified.

His love is gone without a trace, after an argument between them that they did not resolve, and the loss of two of their dear friends.

Emmrich can see why people are driven to madness, to desperation, doing whatever it takes to get their loved one back. His books hold no aid for the first time in his life. He cannot return to the Necropolis because what if…

And so he cries and he rages and wears himself into exhaustion again and again, dreams filled with nightmares where Rook is never found and there is an empty grave next to those of his parents.

Even Manfred holds no comfort for him now, as hours turns into days, turn into weeks until finally, there is a hand in his, and he knows that hand unlike none other, and he thinks do not let go this time, clutch it as tight as you can until only eternity remains.

EDIT: now on AO3

#emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #emmrook #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age the veilgaurd spoilers #dragon age ficlet

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harry-on-broadway · 2 days ago

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On Holiday

Word Count: 1.5K || Series Masterlist || Rating: M

***

Christmas looked a little different this year. The smell of cinnamon and pine had been swapped for coconut and salt, and the chill of London was replaced by a warm sea breeze. Any other year, the season would have been crammed with visits to family and friends, tasty food, and Christmas carols, making for long, albeit fulfilling days.

But after a year at home, Harry had suggested something different.

“How’d you feel about a tropical Christmas, love,” he’d whispered against Quinn’s hair one night, so softly, she almost didn’t hear him.

The holidays had always been the only time he��d been allowed to slow down and see the people he loved most, soaking in as much as he could in the couple weeks he had. But with his self-imposed break, he’d had plenty of family time this year, he’d argued, which made him feel comfortable skipping out on some of the festivities.

And that’s how Quinn found herself in the Caribbean on Christmas, making use of the swimsuits she’d purchased during an end of season sale. Harry had taken care of planning every detail, even the smallest most mundane ones. Quinn had obviously fought him on it, never wanting to cede too much control, but she had to admit it was nice to just sit back and enjoy while someone else did the work.

She’d headed out the beach after breakfast and had quickly dozed off, the crash of the waves and the rustle of the trees lulling her into a peaceful sleep. As she slept, she dreamed that something was tickling her. She twisted trying to move away, but she couldn’t get comfortable and the sensation quickly returned. She sleepily swatted at her skin, only for the sensation to return with a vengeance. Finally, she opened her eyes and saw Harry standing over her, palm leaf in hand, hanging just above the exposed skin of her stomach.

“Hi,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“Seriously?”

“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “I missed you.”

“You’ve spent every minute of this trip with me, H,” she laughed. “How can you miss me?” Harry just shrugged. “You’re interrupting my beauty sleep,” Quinn added.

“You’re always beautiful. Don’t need sleep or anything,” Harry said, motioning for Quinn to scoot over on the plush lounger. She moved to the side, giving Harry enough room to sit down beside her before cuddling in beside him, linking their legs together.

“You’re just saying that because you want attention. Or sex,” Quinn muttered against his bare chest. He smelled like sunscreen and salt and it was quickly becoming her favorite scent.

“I mean, I won’t say no to either of those things,” Harry said with a chuckle. “But who’s to say I want anything? Maybe I just want to pay my wife a compliment.”

His wife. It had been almost two weeks and Quinn didn’t think she’d ever get tired of hearing those words from her husband. “Well, I’m lucky to have such a wonderful husband,” she replied, craning her neck to place a gentle kiss along Harry’s jaw. She never thought she’d be one of those newlyweds, but she had clearly misjudged herself.

They’d started wedding planning soon after Harry proposed, and while they’d initially assumed they’d have a large wedding (perhaps in Italy?), the more they looked into the actual mechanics of pulling it off, the less enthusiastic they became.

“I didn’t realize this would be so…involved,” Harry said over dinner one night after they’d spent the day researching venues. “It’s like planning the biggest party of our lives. But less fun. Am I allowed to say it’s not fun?”

“I know,” Quinn said, slightly relieved she wasn’t the only one who felt overwhelmed. “It’s like we need to have an idea about the guest list to see what venue would work, but then we kind of need to know where we’re going to have it so that we know who would be able to come. And there are so many decisions. Why are linens such a big deal? And then there’s trying to keep everything private. It’s just…” she trailed off.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” she said in agreement.

The next morning, Harry had presented his new plan over coffee. “How would you feel about eloping?”

So that’s what they did.

They enjoyed the spring and summer and fall soaking up time with family, exploring the city, and enjoying mundane everyday details that aren’t so mundane when you’re on the road for most of the year. They enjoyed being with each other and their families, all while keeping the biggest secret of their lives. And when work started to wind down for Quinn in early December, she cashed in all of her leave, ready for what came next.

On a rainy Saturday, they texted a couple of their friends and had them meet them at a venue that would not be making The Knot’s list of ideal wedding locations: a nondescript government building. Quinn wore a white jumpsuit she’d purchased earlier in the week, and Harry wore the simplest suit in his closet. An hour later, the papers were signed, and they were officially a married couple. They celebrated their nuptials with pizza and early bedtime, before catching a flight the next morning.

“So,” Harry said, moving to take Quinn’s hand in his own, bringing her back to the present. “When are we going to tell them?” He stroked the diamond band that now rested on her finger alongside the engagement ring he’d given her just a little over a year ago. She reached for his own wedding band in return, twirling it around his finger, smiling when she caught a glimpse of the small tan line that already formed.

“Would make for a great New Year’s surprise.”

“It would,” Harry said, smiling softly. “Mum’s going to lose it.”

“I just hope she’s not mad,” Quinn said. It was the fear that had been nagging at her since they’d made their decision. That by keeping this moment for themselves, they were somehow depriving their family and friends from sharing the memory with them, even though they’d agreed to have a celebration when they’d returned.

“None of that now,” Harry scolded. “She’s going to be thrilled that we finally made it official. Got my act together and made an honest woman of you.” Quinn shot him a look and he laughed. “You know what I mean. I think everyone’s just going to be so happy. That we did what worked for us. And if they aren’t, well they’re off the guest list for the celebratory dinner.”

“I’m really glad we did this, Harry,” Quinn said after a moment. “I think it’s everything I wanted.”

“Signing papers in a water-stained room while a government employee watched?”

“It would have been nice if there was some mold to complete the vision but I’ll take what I can get.” Harry laughed and Quinn waited until he calmed down before continuing. “No, I always wanted it to be you and me. I didn’t need a crowd of people or a dress or a fancy destination, I just needed you there with me. And you were. It was perfect.”

Harry was silent but Quinn could feel him take a shuddering breath. She knew what those words meant to him. That she wanted him. Not the glitz and the glamour and the money and the attention and all of the other things that came along with being Harry Styles. She just wanted him. Harry. The guy who always ended up on her side of the bed because his side was too far away. The guy that had coffee waiting for her every morning. The guy who would never admit it publicly but loved nothing more than reading the bios of the cats up for adoption at the local cat cafe, always saying he was just looking for one his mother would like. And now he was hers, forever and ever. Even when she had to share him with millions of others.

“You want another one of those rum things?” Harry asked, sniffling.

“Sure. Are you getting one?”

“Might as well. It’s our honeymoon after all. We only get one of those.” He waggled his eyebrows. ‘It’s our honeymoon’ had become his favorite way to justify anything and everything on the trip. He stood up and Quinn moved to follow him. “No, no,” he chided. “Stay here. I didn’t mean for you to get up.”

“I want to go,” Quinn said, reaching for his hand and leaning into his touch as he pulled her up. “I always want to be with you.”

“And now you’re stuck with me.”

“Forever.”

Harry smiled widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Come on.” He gently tugged Quinn along. “I need to get my wife a drink.”

***

talk to me! || story inspo

taglist: @rivercran @daydreaming-laur @oh-honey-styles @nevertoooldtodancelikeamaniac @tbslhrry @andwhenshesays @hslllot@luvonstyles @woody32271 @ambee789 @very-berry-harry @last-saturday-night @confusedbansheee @kakaym @daphnesutton @bableliketable @lauloupi@kkrenae @sing-me-a-song-harry @soup-sex-and-sun-salutations @sweetwanderlust05 @deepestsweetsarbiter @kahluamystery97 @thurhomish @honeybluebirds @daydreamingofmatilda @indierockgirrl @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @mleestiles @theekyliepage @b-reads-things @behindmygreyeyes

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles ff #harry styles fiction #harry styles x ofc #harry fic #harry styles series #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot

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prettymfwrites · 16 hours ago

Text

𝑼𝒏𝒘𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒔

*＊✿❀　 ❀✿＊*

Ellie x Vi x Female Reader

Summary: Bringing your girlfriends, Ellie and Vi, home for the holidays was already nerve-wracking. But with your conservative parents and the pressure of keeping your relationship a secret, things get complicated. Between sneaky kisses, whispered confessions, and a family confrontation, this Christmas will test your love like never before.

---

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Ellie grumbled, leaning against the kitchen counter, her tattooed arm flexing as she crossed her arms. Her knife spun lazily in her hand, a nervous habit.

You looked up from where you were attempting to fold laundry, already flustered. “Ellie, we’ve talked about this. It’s just a few days, and then we’re back home. My parents have been asking me to visit forever.”

Vi smirked from the couch, her feet up on the coffee table. “Sounds like someone’s scared of a little holiday cheer.”

Ellie glared at her. “I’m not scared. I just don’t like the idea of sneaking around. It’s weird.”

“It’s not sneaking,” you said, sitting down beside Vi and tugging on her hoodie. “It’s… being strategic.”

“Strategic,” Ellie repeated, unimpressed. “So, your parents don’t know about us at all?”

“They know I’m bringing two ‘close friends,’” you said, making air quotes. “I just haven’t told them we’re, you know…”

“Sleeping together?” Vi supplied, raising an eyebrow.

You sighed. “Dating. Together. In love.”

Ellie snorted. “Yeah, this is gonna go great.”

Vi reached over to take your hand, her thumb brushing your knuckles. “Relax, babe. We’ll get through it. Worst case, Ellie makes some smartass remark, and we get kicked out before dessert.”

Ellie grinned. “That’s best-case scenario.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is my family we’re talking about. Can you at least try to behave?”

Vi leaned in, her voice dropping into a low, teasing tone. “I’ll behave if you promise to make it up to us later.”

Her breath was warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Ellie, noticing your reaction, smirked and joined Vi, standing behind you to press a gentle kiss to your neck.

“You owe us big time,” Ellie murmured, her lips grazing your skin.

“I promise,” you whispered, your heart racing as Vi pulled you closer, her hand sliding up your thigh.

---

The drive to your parents’ house was uneventful, aside from Ellie’s relentless teasing about the amount of luggage Vi brought.

“Do you really need three bags for four days?” Ellie asked, twisting in her seat to poke at Vi’s duffel.

“It’s called being prepared,” Vi shot back, her voice laced with mock superiority. “Not all of us can live out of a backpack, Ellie.”

You rolled your eyes. “Can you two try not to kill each other before we get there?”

When you finally arrived, your mom was waiting at the door, a bright smile on her face. “Y/N! You’re here!”

She enveloped you in a tight hug before turning to Ellie and Vi. “And these must be your friends!”

Vi offered her most charming smile and a handshake. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

Ellie, less polished but equally endearing, gave a small wave. “Hi. Thanks for having us.”

Your dad appeared in the doorway, eyeing Ellie’s tattoos and Vi’s undercut with thinly veiled suspicion. “Welcome. Hope you’re ready for some holiday fun.”

You exchanged a nervous glance with your girlfriends before stepping inside, bracing yourself for what was to come.

---

The first night was awkward. Your mom asked endless questions about Ellie and Vi’s “friendship,” while your dad seemed more interested in grilling them about their jobs.

“So, Ellie,” your dad began, his tone overly casual. “What do you do?”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, I’m a musician. I write songs and play guitar.”

Your mom’s smile faltered. “Oh, how… creative.”

“And what about you, Vi?” your dad asked, turning his attention to her.

“I work security,” Vi replied easily. “Helps pay the bills.”

Your dad nodded approvingly. “Good, honest work.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “And music isn’t?”

Later, as you, Ellie, and Vi settled into the basement where you’d been assigned to sleep, the tension finally broke.

“Your dad hates me,” Ellie said, flopping onto the pull-out couch.

“He doesn’t hate you,” you said, sitting beside her.

“He definitely doesn’t love her,” Vi quipped, earning a glare from Ellie.

You sighed, pulling them both close. “Can we just get through this without fighting? Please?”

Ellie’s hand found your waist, her fingers tracing lazy circles. “Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.”

Vi leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “We’ll behave. Promise.”

---

By the third day, the strain of keeping your relationship a secret was starting to show. Ellie was snappier than usual, Vi was restless, and you were constantly on edge.

The breaking point came during a family trivia game on Christmas Eve. Abby, your younger sister and the only one who knew the truth, decided to stir the pot.

“So, Ellie,” she said with a mischievous grin. “How long have you and Vi been dating Y/N?”

Your mom froze mid-sip of her cocoa. Your dad’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

Ellie shot you a panicked look, and Vi sighed, clearly over the charade. “Six months. Give or take.”

“Excuse me?” your mom said, her voice rising an octave.

You stood quickly, holding up your hands. “Okay, yes. I’m dating Ellie and Vi. Both of them. At the same time.”

The silence was deafening. Finally, Abby smirked and said, “Well, this just got interesting.”

---

The fallout wasn’t as bad as you’d feared. After some initial shock and a few tense conversations, your parents began to accept the situation.

“how is that- you know what, I just want you to be happy,” your mom said tearfully, hugging you on Christmas morning.

Ellie and Vi, who’d been lurking in the background, joined you on the couch.

“Next year,” Vi said with a smirk, “we’re spending the holidays at our place.”

Ellie nodded. “With no secrets.”

You smiled, leaning into them both. “Deal.”

As the snow fell softly outside, you knew this would be a Christmas you’d never forget.

---

𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑷𝒀 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑰𝑫𝑨𝒀𝑺 ❤

#ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #elliexyou #ellie tlou #ellie williams fanfic #gxg imagine #ellie williams x reader #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi imagines #vi fanfic #vi x ellie x reader #vi x ellie #elliewilliams #ellie x vi #fluff

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tkpuke · 23 hours ago

Note

23 and jayvik pretty please :3

Jayce + Viktor - 23. “Yes…I mean, no!”

author’s note: okay so the plot for this was heavily inspired by @ticklish-ghost , @home-of-the-squirmle and I’s discussion on one of their posts so why not make it into a fic okay? okay cool

It was nearing midnight, the only light shining into the lab through the curtains was the moon and its luminescent stars scattered around the sky. Viktor perched an elbow on the table, leaning his cheek on his hand while reading a book that could hold answers to have them move forward with their project. They were close, but it seemed like they were met with a dead end. Scientists don’t take those lightly, so they hungrily search for other possibilities and correct their mistakes on what went wrong.

He doesn’t have a clue on his partner’s whereabouts, but he’s not going to waste time searching for him. Usually Viktor takes the extra mile and works on projects a little more than he’s suppose to. He tends to struggle with the definition of teamwork when he’s been mostly alone his entire childhood, so he has no issue working alone while Jayce heads off for other duties or sleeps at a healthy time compared to Viktor’s sleep schedule.

It was peaceful and quiet. Viktor treasures nights like these. Until something was dropped beside him, creating a loud thunk.

“Look what I made.” A voice suddenly spoke out from behind, it belonging to Jayce which made Vitkor nearly jump a foot from his chair. “Jesus Christ—Jaycewhendidyougethere-“ He looked beside him to see what was dropped, picking it up to examine. An iron knife in the perfect size to fit in your pocket, the ends in a twisted pattern to make it look a little stylish. His face doesn’t show it, but Viktor is slightly impressed. There is no interest in him for weapons, but when it’s created so clean and perfected by Jayce himself, he can’t help but be in awe.

He then puts the knife down, finally meeting Jayce’s eyes. “Another tool that will never be used for its purpose.” Clear to say Jayce has made a couple of tools, most having the same theme: sharp and dangerous. He never uses them, as Viktor stated, but Jayce always gives the ‘you never know’ excuse. In reality the man just gets bored out of his mind at times and gets these random surges of creativity to go down and make any toys his heart desires. Who wouldn’t if they had the skill to properly do so?

Viktor’s eyes started to register that Jayce is full on shirtless right in front of him, muscles exposed and pumped to its core from all the wielding. It never really dawned on him how strong of a guy Jayce is, feeling a bit fragile and small the more he compared his own build to him. How easy it could be for Jayce to effortlessly pin him. How he could take away Viktor’s right to squirm by simply sitting on his waist. How he could be picked up with one singular arm by Jayce with zero sweat.

Jayce caught on to his more than five second stare. Viktor noticed.

He took attention to the soot covered all over Jayce’s upper body, taking that as an explanation of his longing stare. “You’re dirty. Here, sit.” Viktor nudged his head over to a nearby chair, heading over to grab a cloth that will soon be damped with water and soap. “Oh, thank you. You really don’t have to.” Jayce chuckles all flustered in appreciation by Viktor’s care, taking the seat anyway. Viktor comes back, starting to dab the cloth on his shoulders while he works his way down. “Hmph, I’ve seen you sleep before in this state. Least I can do is help you get cleaned up.”

“Hey, I get too exhausted sometimes!” Jayce replies defensively, but gives a soft smile at the end. He grabs the knife he created earlier, fingers feeling around it. “You have to admit, this one looks a bit cooler than the others I have made.” Viktor nods in somewhat agreement, now focusing on the upper chest to clean off. “You can keep it, if you want to of course.”

Viktor shakes his head, not meeting Jayce’s eyes while conversing. “There’s no need for me to have it, but thank you for your…kind offer.”

“You’re keeping it.” Jayce responds back with, putting it on top of the open book Vitkor was previously reading so he won’t forget to take it with him. The other only sighs, being aware it’s a losing battle to argue with Jayce when he’s so set on gifting someone something they’ve never asked for. It’s one of the man’s many love languages: giving gifts.

His hand started moving down more, getting near his upper ribs. A quick shift of change in Jayce’s demeanor, beginning to have trouble sitting still like before and biting down his lip hard. Viktor catches on. Of course he did when he begin to rub the cloth against his body more gently, hoping it sent a ticklish shockwave. Revenge was right in front of him from all the times Viktor was ruthlessly, in his opinion, tickled silly by Jayce who never shot down an opening opportunity to do so. Little to Jayce’s knowledge, Viktor has been seeking out opportunities himself to get back. The whole idea of touch is just a subject he awkwardly moves around in, never having someone so playful and lovingly touchy like Jayce in his life.

With the way Jayce was squirming and huffing air out of his nose to suppress the giggles forming in his throat, it fueled newfound confidence in Viktor’s actions. He took it a step further, pretending a spot of soot around Jayce’s ribs was giving him difficulty to rub off, so he pressed his fingers deeper while curling them a little.

Not expecting the firmer touch along with feeling nails through the cloth gliding around his ribs freely, a surprised gasp slips out. Small giggles came right after, instinctively grabbing ahold of Viktor’s wrist. Viktor raises a brow, feigning confusion. “Sorry, does this tickle?”

“Yes…I mean, no!” Jayce got too distracted from the ticklish grazes that the question failed to register on time for him to think of an answer that may save his dignity. Viktor nudges Jayce’s firm grip off of his wrist, and he hesitantly does so. His partner looks up, doing incredibly well on not cracking a smile to foil his true intentions. “Yes? No? Which one is it?”

Jayce finds Viktor’s calmness to a newfound discovery nerve-racking, wishing he could read his mind right then and there. This is the first time Viktor has ever tried to tickle Jayce, but the poor man truly believes it was done on accident. He’s been so use to Viktor taking his ticklish onslaughts like a champ and never immediately attacking back, or even days later. Jayce had his own assumption that Viktor would never live up fully to his playfulness and do so much as tickle him back. The guy doesn’t even complete Jayce’s friendly hugs most of the time by wrapping his own arms around him, just kind of standing there until he pulls away.

So that’s why Jayce is sitting here, staring into Viktor’s questioning eyes, not knowing exactly on how to respond. He decides to lie, feeling like there’s no use in telling the truth if Viktor won’t indulge a little more.

“Um, just a little. Felt weird mostly.” He so badly does a terrible job of convincing. He releases a quiet held back sigh, not knowing if it was out of relief or disappointment when Viktor continued on cleaning after not questioning him a bit more. Viktor created a pattern, dragging the cloth and his fingers across Jayce’s skin that wasn’t ticklish at all. Then in the middle of doing so, he would press more firmly and curl his fingers again just enough for his nails to graze.

Jayce is terrible at holding in his giggles, making weird ‘kcchh!’ noises and sometimes letting a couple out for a few seconds but in a whisper tone as if Viktor isn’t right in front of him to hear them all. “You’re giggling a lot for someone who claims to just be a little ticklish.” Viktor nonchalantly states, placing a hand on top of Jayce’s shoulder to keep him steady. Jayce was about to do another failed attempt of denying until that pattern Viktor was doing met down around his stomach.

Jayce snorts, instantly slapping a hand to cover his mouth in shock as Viktor pauses his movements. His mouth twitches upward for a split second, almost smiling from Jayce’s flushed cheeks. “Oh, so it does tickle.”

“Viktor, wait—“

“You lied to me?”

“Nononono, it’s just that—“

“No need to explain yourself, Jayce. I’ll be careful.” You’d have to be dumb to not practically hear the smile in Viktor’s tone. Both of them, and if anyone else were to be in that room, would very much know that Victor won’t be ‘careful’. Viktor kept up that god forsaken pattern again, but this time letting it tickle Jayce more frequently than it cleaning.

He observed Jayce’s reactions, testing out different areas around his stomach and what brought out a louder reaction than the other. Fingers curling to the middle of his stomach earned him a full boisterous laugh. Nearing his belly button made him receive laughs that shot an octave higher with an occasional whistle coming from the gap of his two front teeth. Cleaning over his belly button made Jayce snort again, a noise Viktor was seeking out for.

Jayce’s rambunctious laugh got Viktor stuck in a trance. How it’s so loud it can be heard from all over Piltover. Jayce’s high pitch snorts coming out only when Viktor tickles somewhere particularly more sensitive. His eyes being closed shut, a random push to Viktor’s face as if it’ll tone down the ticklish sensations. Viktor now understands Jayce completely. He doesn’t want to stop the fun and hearing the flow of his laugh, everything so mesmerizing and ridiculously childish. Viktor could do this all day.

Two hands grab Viktor’s wrists while a leg kicked out when he dragged the cloth over his belly button again, shaking his head. “Hohold on plehehease!”

Viktor scoffed. “Stop being a baby. I’m not doing anything.” But it was clear as day everything was now being done with purpose. Hands still holding onto Viktor’s wrists, Jayce takes the granted time to catch his breath. “Hehehe…ohohokay, I am one hundred percent sure I’m clean now.”

Viktor tsked, watching him take in air like he ran a marathon. “I think you might be more ticklish than me, Jayce. Isn’t that something?” Jayce abruptly stares at him, peeved. “Ohoho, is that what you think? Let’s put it to the test then.”

Viktor is now the one grabbing at Jayce’s wrists, pushing with all his might out of reach. “No, Jayce! Stop!” Jayce manages to skitter across Viktor’s side, earning him a squeak that he’s terribly embarrassed of. Jayce relishes it.

“What are you, a mouse?” He teases, letting Viktor push his hands away so he can feel like he’s having the upper hand ever so often just to play fair. Viktor stops his attempts of fighting back, shooting a glare but meanwhile grinning. “At least I don’t snort like a pig.”

Viktor just sealed his own coffin shut. “Oh, is that how you want to play?” Jayce gets up from his spot, startling Viktor. He picks him up with ease, showing no effect of Viktor’s shoves and shouts to be put down at once. Jayce lays him down on the couch softly, a location Viktor is all too familiar with by how frequent Jayce pins him down and tickles him mercilessly whenever Viktor, in Jayce’s words, deserves it.

Jayce does not attack right away, taking the time out of pure entertainment to watch him struggle a bit as if by some miracle today is the day Viktor manages to escape Jayce’s evil clutches.

He’s already giggling. “Jahayce, I am telling you now. Do not.” He manages to sit up a bit, hoping to level with Jayce more and seem convincingly threatening when his cold glare meets his eyes.

Jayce’s hands started slowly moving downwards.

“I now know where you’re most ticklish. I promise you, I will not be gentle when my next chance comes if you dare to do this.”

A leap of excitement was felt in Jayce’s heart at those words, causing him to smile and shrug before drilling into Viktor’s hips.

“I can live with that.”

#try not to have Viktor always get tickled by Jayce in the end challenge #it’s okay there’s still lee!jayce in here and don’t you worry there will be more HEHEHEHE #this got me going now I need to write a 7k word count fic of just Jayce getting absolutely fucking wrecked and not being able to handle it #I luv writing Viktor being an evil ler who pretends he doesn’t know what he’s doing like sure vik sure #just two guys in love with one another idk what else to say man #tickle prompts #arcane tickle fic #tickle fic #arcane tickle #jayvik tickle #jayvik tickle fic #jayvik arcane

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heich0e · 1 day ago

Note

Best friends little brother Tobio? 👀 for the ask game

ask game: a christmas drabble from an established AU AU: bff's little brother!tobio

"i know, mom," you say for the tenth time in your short phone call.

"they're calling for thirty centimetres!" your mother exclaims in disbelief.

"it's just snow," you remark with a sigh. "and i already told you: i'm not going anywhere, anyway. i'm gonna be fine."

the snow has brought tokyo to an utter standstill. the kind of storm that only comes once every few years, grinding the usually unceasing activity of the city to a halt. outside the windows of your apartment, the roads are snow-covered and empty, the flakes still falling rapidly outside the frosted pane of glass.

"all right," your mother says warily from her end of the call. "i was just calling to be sure."

after another half a dozen assurances that you are not going to imminently meet a snowy demise, your mother lets you go. you toss your cellphone down onto your sofa once the call concludes, and follow behind it shortly after—landing amongst the fluffy throw cushions with a little oof!

your tv is muted from when you'd answered your phone half an hour prior, the christmas movie you'd been watching still playing silently across the screen. you watch it for a moment, and though the dialogue is lost to you, you can tell a romantic moment is unfolding. the male and female lead are out in the snow, eyes glistening and cheeks rosy, and before you know it they're joined in a passionate embrace.

you sigh.

christmas.

it's not the first time you've spent the holiday alone—nor likely to be the last, considering how your love life seems to be going. but somehow, the weight of your own solitude sits a little heavier in your chest this year. a little more unignorable.

on the coffee table at your side there sits a postcard. you pick it up from the table and hold it over your head as you survey it for the hundredth time.

you'd received it in the mail a few days prior: a glossy photo of cinque terre, oversaturated and probably taken years ago but still undeniably beautiful, printed across the front. on the back there was no message, just your address scrawled in charmingly boyish script.

tobio.

you'd chastised him about a thousand times on your brief visit to italy that he ought to travel more while he's working abroad. before your trip, he'd never even seen the trevi fountain—but you'd been sure dragged him along with you to right that during your stay. it seemed he'd taken your unrelenting criticism to heart, making a point to visit more tourist destinations in his limited time off.

and he always sends you a postcard when he does.

there's never a message included, or even his name, but you know without a doubt who the sender is.

usually you send him a text message to thank him for the card, and ask him what he thought about his visit. the conversations are usually brief—tobio's not much of a chatter, after all. but he has surprisingly insightful remarks to share about the places he's visited, and maybe a photo or two that he snapped while he was there. he's never in the pictures, but it makes you smile to imagine him amongst the scene regardless.

you haven't contacted him about this postcard yet.

you're not sure what the hold up is, really. the first day you'd been on your way to work, and planned to reply on your lunch break. the day had gotten away from you and before you knew it you were collapsing into your bed—the postcard was your last fleeting thought before sleep overtook you, and the image of tobio overlooking the sunny, picturesque coast of cinque terre.

you dreamt of him that night. of his sunsoaked apartment in italy. of cobblestone streets and boisterous restaurants and the warmth of his back as he carried you home when you drank too much wine at dinner.

and now it's been days, and you still can't quite bring yourself to contact him.

you should have gone home with miwa this weekend like she asked you to. should have made any plan that would have gotten you out of your apartment and this strange funk you find yourself in. but now the snow is falling, and the trains are cancelled, and you're alone on christmas looking at a postcard from italy.

a knock at your door tears you from your spiralling thoughts.

you have no idea who it might be. not at this time of night. not in this weather. but you're shuffling to your door quickly in the wake of the knock, pulling a hoodie on over your head as you go to cover up the little pyjama shorts and tank top you have on underneath.

there are many people you're not expecting to see on the other side of your door, but kageyama tobio—with rosy cheeks and snowflakes caught in his unfairly long eyelashes—is surely the least expected of all.

"tobio?" you say, breathless in your bewilderment. "what are you doing here?"

"i came home for christmas," he says, a bit quiet—almost shyly. "i'm sorry it's so late, my plane was delayed because of the snow."

with the entire city shut down, tobio must have had no other option than to turn up at your door like this. any flights or trains he may have hoped to take to miyagi would be cancelled. miwa's gone for the weekend. you must have been the only choice he had.

"come in, come in," you say, ushering him in the door, brushing snow from the front of his coat as he passes. "you must be freezing!"

tobio's cheeks are even pinker as he starts to warm up, ruffling his hair to get the snow from the strands as he sits at your kotatsu. "i'm sorry to turn up without any warning."

"stop apologizing to me, tobi," you say with a laugh, setting the steaming cup of tea you'd just prepared for him in front of him on the table top. "it's no problem for you to spend the night. the trains should be running again by the morning."

he takes a sip of his tea.

"have you told your family you made it here safe?"

"they don't know i'm here," tobio replies, a furrow of confusion on his brow.

"you didn't tell them you were coming home to see them?" you ask him incredulously. tobio doesn't strike you as the type of guy to plan surprises.

he looks away from you for a moment, his eyes catching on something at your side.

"you got it," he says, with something akin to relief in his tone.

you follow his gaze to the postcard at your side.

"i didn't hear from you, so i thought..."

the christmas movie on the other side of the room is still muted.

the snow is still falling outside.

you look back at tobio, and find his eyes on you again.

"i didn't come here to visit miyagi," he says quietly. "i came here to visit you."

#liv got mail

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rookinthecrownest · 2 days ago

Text

Bedtime Stories For a Demon: The Day The World Disappeared, Part IV (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

Word Count: ~ 5.2k

Rook is trapped in the Fade. Spite is determined to get her out. But the truth of the prison is slowly unravelling itself.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Madeleina Mercar can’t sleep.

And this is quite unusual, because for the last few nights – really, ever since she can remember being at home, she has simply woken up to the next day. Every night was a dreamless slumber, shuffling her between moonlight to sunlight with little fanfare. Not so much as a violent twitch of her body while her mind convinces it she’s falling off a ledge.

Since Spite’s visit earlier, something hasn’t felt right. There’s not one thing she can really point a finger at. It was more of an ill-defined uneasiness that started bleeding into her interactions with her parents.

Later in the afternoon, she went to help her mother with the shop as she always did. It was only today that she realized that there were never any customers. Eurydice baked the bread and croissants and tartes every morning and arranged them neatly onto silver display trays. Each day, they went un-eaten, and Madeleina had no idea what happened to the excess, because she certainly never saw her mother carting in boxes of those leftover pastries into their home.

When she asked her mother about it as she was sweeping the floors (that never seemed to have any dust on them), Eurydice had simply returned a blank stare and asked her what she would like for dinner.

Madeleina had blinked, confused at the sudden shift in subject.

“Um …” she began, and really thought hard about it. Her face scrunched in concentration.

What had she eaten lately?

She remembered … well, she only remembered her favourite meal. Dolmades and vegetables with Tzatziki on the side. The same thing, every night.

“I want spiced lamb stew” she answered a few moments later. Madeleina didn’t even remember what her mother’s lamb stew tasted like but certainly wanted the opportunity to.

Her mother had nodded, airy and light, as if she hadn’t even heard, then went back to fussing over the displays that would certainly go unnappreciated.

Madeleina doesn’t question it until she’s sitting at the dinner table, and she doesn’t smell spiced lamb stew – she smells Dolmades. Sure enough, the stuffed grape leaves appear in front of her, with a side of grilled carrots and eggplants, and Tzatziki dip. As they had the night before. It was as if the conversation in the bakery earlier hadn’t happened at all. Since her mother didn’t acknowledge it, Madeleina didn’t either. She wordlessly ate her Dolma and ignored the sensation of the food turning to ash in her mouth.

Later that night, her father told her a story, before he went off to work for the evening. The same story, every night. Always The Sleeping Princess. And after Spite had tried to retell it in his own disjointed way, evoking all those strange memories as he did, she couldn’t help but notice how stilted her father’s delivery was tonight.

Almost as if he was reading from a script he couldn’t deviate from. A character in one of his own stories.

Had it always seemed that way and she just hadn’t noticed? Or was he becoming … different?

She desperately wanted to say something but her lips wouldn’t make the words. Just like at dinner. Would it even matter if she did, or would he brush her off like her mother had?

Deciding it wasn’t worth the effort, Madeleina listened and nodded at the appropriate times while he spoke, as the figures of the Princess, the King, the Demon, and the Hero danced behind her eyes, brought to life by her over-active imagination.

Madeleina’s eyes fly open as a memory starts to take shape in the back of her mind.

A memory of stories brought to life by magic. Her magic. In front of an ornate hearth, in the company of a man who’s face she still cannot see. A man whose name is as familiar as breathing, and yet entirely foreign as well. The phantom smell of coffee and chocolate and cinnamon lingers in the air, even now. She hasn’t been able to stop smelling it since Spite left. Wherever they are, it’s warm. Safe. Comforting. A private little haven for the two of them, forged first in blood and comradery, then molded into something tender and sweet with time and trust.

Lucanis.

Home.

Madeleina shakes her head.

No, this was her home.

A sleepy little village tucked safely between a forest of great Sycamores and the Hundred Pillars. A bakery that she tends with her mother, while her father plays at the tavern down the street every night.

A bakery without any customers, she reminds herself.

Madeleina tries to blink the thought away, but Spite’s words keep nagging in the back of her mind like a small dog yipping and snapping at her heels.

The young mage takes a slow, deliberate, inhale and closes her eyes, trying to focus harder on that memory.

She needs to figure this out. If there’s nothing to be worried about and she can go back to her regular, day-to-day, mundane life.

A day that repeats like turning wheel, a snake eating its tail.

Madeleina pushes the thought to the back of her mind, and with some reluctant effort, she’s back in that elusive memory.

Madeleina sees the stone hearth again. She can feel the hard, wooden chair beneath her. The warmth of the fire spreading like a wave across her body. As before, she tastes something sweet and familiar on her tongue - cinnamon and dough. He’s sitting across from her, partially shrouded in the dark. His voice is muffled, as if he were speaking under water.

Madeleina shuts her eyes tightly tries to focus harder. Spite’s words come streaming into her consciousness, guiding her down the turbulent river of her thoughts.

You show him. Wonders in front. Of his eyes. Stories brought to life. With magic. He measures nights. By your tales. Days. Waiting for the next

When she remembers Spite’s words, something strange happens.

She opens her eyes to find her chest glowing, as if someone set her heart alight with blue flame. It flickers weakly in the dark, almost like a beacon. There’s the sensation of being tugged towards some unknowable, far-off direction she couldn’t pinpoint. It’s stronger now than it was before. She’s almost afraid she’ll fly out of her own window, trying to find whoever is pulling at her heartstrings. Acting on instinct alone, Madeleina places a hand over her chest, inhales deeply once more, and concentrates on the strange sensation in her chest.

The scene bleeds into her mind’s eye again, a bit sharper now than it was before the sudden interruption.

The fire feels warmer, a balm to her sore joints and muscles. The desserts on the table smell fresher, sweeter than they did before. The leather of her father’s journal in her left hand feels rough, and weathered with time that shouldn’t yet have come to pass.

Her free hand flourishes across her vision, and right in front of her eyes the castle from The Sleeping Princess blinks into existence in sharp, striking detail.

Stories brought to life with magic. Just as Spite had said.

“It’s incredible, Rook” The man across from her breathes.

His voice is low, soft and gentle. Each word a velvet-soft petal falling upon waiting ears. The sound practically wraps around her like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s morning. She could live in that feeling.

Madeleina blinks in the memory.

His face his clearer now, coming into clear focus. Rimmed in the contrasting warm orange glow of the fire and eerie blue light of her magic, Madeleina drinks his features in like a madwoman dying of thirst, and he an oasis in the sand.

His eyes draw her in first. They’re big, and the most beautiful shade of earthen-rich brown she’s ever seen. She could fall into them for an eternity and be content to drown in their warmth. His black hair is styled into a mullet and feathered at the sides – almost like the wispy wings of a bird. His beard frames a strong, square jaw. His features are accentuated by soft lips, and an aquiline nose.

Breathtakingly, devastatingly, handsome. Words are inadequate, and so her body settles for a releasing a soft breath she didn’t know she was holding.

She continues moving through the motions of the story, bringing every figure and every scene to life with a wave of her hands, like she was the director of a theatre production.

“Well, go on” He motions to her eventually, with an expectant look flickering in those perfect brown eyes. At some point, the illusion she had been maintaining disappeared into the ether. She was too busy studying him like an art piece from one of the old master’s to have noticed. Lucanis is resting on his forearms now, practically at the edge of his seat.

Lucanis. Waits for what happens next.

He waits for you.

Only you.

Madeleina grins widely, pleased by his reaction. “Impatient, are we?”

He smirks, and she’s undone at the sight. “Spite wants to know how it ends”

She raises an eyebrow and folds her arms over her chest, “Oh? And you’re not the least bit curious?”

Lucanis’ lips quirk into a little smile, and her heart melts into her stomach. “I might be” he adds, as he takes a sip of his coffee.

That same melted heart is somehow solid enough to able to thrum erratically in her chest, flitting about like a crazed hummingbird trapped in a cage. A faint smile works its way onto her lips but she’s afraid the quickened rise and fall of her chest will give her away. So, she does the only thing she can think of and takes a sip of her own coffee. She’s not really thirsty, but the cup is large enough to hide the blush spreading across her face. The coffee is a bit lukewarm by now, clearly forgotten over the course of the story the two were enraptured in.

Satisfied that blush is gone and the pounding in her chest has settled, she sets the coffee aside and wrings out her hands.

“Sorry, I was feeling a bit parched there. On with the story”

A lie, a terrible lie. But a needed one.

As her free hand flourishes the figures into being once more, the memory cuts off abruptly. She opens her eyes and grips the fabric of her shirt through the thick blanket.

The warmth of the fire dissipates slowly, receding like a tide and although she’s under the covers, Madeleina feels cold. There’s no smell of coffee or cinnamon anymore. Lucanis is gone, and in the wake of his memory, a horrible realization settles in.

A piece of her heart is living outside of her body, somewhere far beyond her reach.

And she has no idea how to get to him.

“Lucanis”

She whispers his name like a prayer in the dead of night and hopes that wherever he is, he’s listening for her.

~*~

Lucanis Dellamorte has been sleeping more than usual these last few weeks, which was quite paradoxical because he wants to spend every waking moment making sure Rook’s rescue plan goes perfectly. He’s convinced he’s driven even the patient, kind-hearted Professor mad with his meticulous planning.

Unfortunately, it’s easier for Spite to traverse the raw Fade and keep an eye on Madeleina while he’s asleep. So, Lucanis acquiesces and lets himself drift into a dreamless slumber as Spite monitors the situation.

Once they told the group of the danger and time was running out, everyone was firing on all cylinders. It was a cacophony of organized chaos in the Lighthouse until the Veilguard was geared up and ready to head to Arlathan Forest through the Vir’Evas.

The entire trip through the Tevinter countryside to rescue Rook has him so on edge he’s lucky to get a few uninterrupted hours, much to Spite’s annoyance. He puts on a calm demeanour for the group, but each day that passes, given what he knows is happening inside that prison, Lucanis grows more agitated. Spite can feel it too. The demon’s … fear, for lack of a better world, is palpable under his skin, rolling across his body like a passing thunderstorm.

If the other members of the Veilguard have noticed, they have the good graces not to say anything.

The group is speeding along verdant hills in a large Dalish Aravel with Strife, Irelin, a few Veil Jumper mages, a sizeable quantity of Lyrium, and a few Resonance Amplifiers.

Bellara and Irelin are holed away in their own little corner, still furiously studying the Resonance Amplifiers and coming up with all sorts of far-fetched theories on how to … reverse their something, so they’ll weaken the veil instead of strengthening it. He may have spent a good portion of his career hunting mages, and he did know his way around a sordid variety of dangerous magic, but the finer points of magical theory are lost on him. Their chattering, as a result, filters in through one ear and out the other. Unfortunately, the amount of magic they’re using to try and get them to work is making the backs of his eyeballs itch something furious and is a lot harder to ignore than talking. He tries to blink the sensation away to no avail, so he settles for getting up and moving closer to Davrin and Assan’s corner of the Aravel.

The Griffon squawks excitedly at his approach. Lucanis gives him a quick smile and ruffles his head. Davrin is still working away at his wood carving. A wooden chess piece, Lucanis has noticed.

A little Rook.

The sight of has his heart squeezing in his chest.

He and the Grey Warden have settled into an easy friendship, one brokered by Rook, of course. She had that effect on people – was able to make them see past petty differences. Madeleina eased tension just by existing. Like a little sun, catching everything in her orbit and bathing it in her light.

Although he still thinks Davrin all too pretentious and self-righteous, he does have one endearing quality that Lucanis has come to appreciate. He can tell when is the time for words, and when is the time for silence. And Davrin is more than content to let Lucanis sit beside him in companionable silence as he continues carving his wooden figurines.

Assan stands on his hind legs next to him and watches the Tevene countryside roll past them.

He wiggles his hind legs and looks into the air, then to Davrin expectantly. His right ear flops as the Griffon tilts his head, pleading.

Davrin smiles and gives him a quick nod towards the air above them, “Just don’t go too far, boy. Stay where I can see you”

The Griffon needs no more encouragement, and a moment later, he’s leapt into the air and flying circles overhead, squawking delightfully.

Lucanis watches the young Griffon joyfully, freely flying through the air. With Spite’s wings, he could be up there too. But the absence of Rook is like a stone in his chest, keeping him and Spite grounded.

“Incredible, isn’t he?” Davrin remarks offhandedly, while he carves out dainty triangular designs on the side of the Rook tower.

Lucanis didn’t realize he was still staring up at Assan, basking in the sun, and gliding on an air current just to the west of the Aravel.

He makes a noncommittal hum of agreement.

“A little young to have seen so much, though” The assassin remarks, after another few moments of silence, recalling the fight with the Gloom Howler in the Cauldron. Remembered Assan's squeals of terror as the Gloom Howler had him in its claws, about to be blighted with Arch Demon blood.

Davrin’s lips quirk, “Not unlike a certain illustrious leader of ours”

Lucanis hadn’t given much thought to Rook’s age. It was just another thing in a growing list about her he thought he’d have time to ask about. Her age, her birthday, bothering Neve about what kind of jewelry she likes (or if she even likes jewelry), her favourite flowers, more of her favourite food and drink than he’d already gleaned from their time together. He wanted to know it all. To know her in her entirety.

But he didn’t ask those questions. Not her age or her birthday or her favourite flowers or her taste in jewelry. She was definitely younger than him by a good margin, but the gap between them could span as large as a decade, for all he knew. Madeleina certainly had the recklessness of youth. That he’d seen in spades, because she was constantly hovering at the edge of death’s door and he was constantly pulling her back by the scruff of her neck. But she also possessed a wisdom well beyond her years, and he never once factored her age in as a detriment to her ability to lead the team, although she might disagree.

“I expect in these times, that’s become more and more common. Growing up faster than one’s years.” Davrin murmurs, nicking some decorative dots on the tower’s side with the tip of his blade. “I don’t envy the decisions Rook’s been forced to make. I’ve a good five or six years on her and I don’t know that I would’ve fared any better even with that experience on my side”

Lucanis didn’t quite know what to say, so he let Davrin continue talking.

“All this to say,” The Warden shoulders him gently, “Try not to worry so much about Rook. If there’s anything I can say with confidence, it’s that she’s not going to let anything keep her down. Including some weird, nightmare-inducing Fade prison that’s trying to siphon her memories and – “Davrin stops abruptly when he sees the frown spreading on Lucanis’ face, “… I’ll just be quiet now. You get the picture. She’s tough, don’t worry”

He looks down at his wood carving and continues working at it, glancing up at the sky every once in a while, to make sure he can still see Assan.

Lucanis sighs and closes his eyes. He tries to focus on things he can hear and smell to keep his thoughts from winding him up like a children’s toy. The rustling of the leaves on the wind, the smell of pine and oak, the sound of Halla hoofbeats beating against the ground and low grunts of effort as they pull the aravel through the woods.

Try as he might to distract himself with this world, his mind continues to cycle back to Madeleina in the Fade. The very idea that the Fade prison could cause her to forget about him, forget about all their time together, as absurdly terrifying. It makes his skin crawl, and Spite rattle angrily in the back of his mind.

He’s mid-way through thinking about how he’s going to wring Solas’ neck the next time he sees him (and he isn’t entirely certain the thought only came from him), when Lucanis feels a pinch in his chest. Like someone was plucking a thread attached to his heart. He closes his eyes and reaches for Spite through their shared connection, much easier now with the newfound alliance.

Spite. What’s happening?

The demon bristles behind his eyelids.

Calling. To us. Through the Fade.

Is she in danger? He asks quickly. Lucanis can hear his heart pounding in his ears as he waits for the Demon’s response.

Don’t. Know. Spite replies after a thoughtful moment. Go. To sleep. I will. See.

Lucanis blinks as a hand waves in front of his face.

“Lucanis?” Davrin snaps his fingers for good measure, “Hey, Lucanis. You alright?”

He shakes his head and waves off Davrin’s concern, “I’m fine – it’s just… Spite and I sense something off with Rook.”

Davrin frowns, his brown eyes alight with concern. He sets his blade and wood carving down, before leaning closer to Lucanis, “What’s going on with her?”

“I don't now. Spite needs me to go to sleep so he can investigate”

He ignores the knot of anxiety forming in his stomach and tries to settle into his spot on the wooden floor of the aravel. It’s not the most comfortable place to fall asleep, but with about a year of sleep deprivation to catch up on, the bumpy ride on dirt paths hardly poses an insurmountable obstacle.

He turns to Davrin, “Watch my back?”

Davrin grins, “Do you even have to ask?”

The Warden claps him gently on the shoulder before quietly returning to his whittling, “Just make sure our friend’s alright. I promise not to let trouble disturb your beauty sleep”. Davrin huffs, “Maker knows you need it”

Lucanis rolls his eyes. As much as he wants to quip back, the feeling that Rook is in danger in the Fade has him desperate to let sleep take him as soon as possible and reigns in the impulse. The assassin draws his legs in to his body and rests his head in his arms, before closing his eyes and letting sleep take him.

Assan squawking overhead as he flies in circles, the wind whipping the trees and the sound of soft hooves beating on gravel soon fade away into a dreamless slumber.

Wait for me, Madeleina.

~*~

Spite Dellamorte hates the Fade Prison with an intense, all-consuming passion, even though he is Spite and not Passion. He doesn’t completely understand how that works. There’s still a lot of things about existing in the material world that are confusing to him. Sometimes, he doesn’t know how much of him is him, and how much of him is Lucanis. The edges between the two have blurred significantly since they made a new alliance. So much so, that his human host seems to have put new emotions in front of him to grapple with that weren’t there before. More things that aren’t him, on top of the memories from Rook’s journal that also are not him.

Regardless, Spite was determined to answer her plea for help.

The young Demon flies circles around her home inside the Fade prison. The journal’s essence flickers in and out, just a little weaker than before. Then, an emotion he’s felt from Lucanis bleeds into him, one they both know all too well from their time in the real Ossuary – fear. Fear that it won’t be strong enough to get him out. That he could be trapped in here, with her, unable to open the door that frees her.

He has to be the one that opens the door.

Spite ignores the thought as much as he can, and lands softly on her windowsill. He peers into her bedroom, expecting her to be doing something mundane, like she was before. Instead, he finds Rook sitting on the corner of her bed, with her head buried in her arms and knees pressed close to her chest. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly. He can hear soft, muffled sobs escaping from the narrow space between her face and her arms.

Spite is Spite, he is not comfort or compassion. But Lucanis’ nature has once again, made him feel things he’s not supposed to be feeling. He doesn’t want to see Rook crying. He hates the sight of it, actually.

Spite taps on the glass several times, harder than he normally would, to make sure she hears him above the sound of her soft sobs.

Rook looks up at him, her green eyes bathed in a sea of red. Her face is puffy and tear streaked. She looks awful. Rook shouldn’t look awful. He doesn’t like that she looks awful.

Smells like. Salt and Lavender. Not right.

He taps the window again.

Rook wipes the tears from her face with her arm and slowly walks to the window sill, before unhooking the latch.

Spite ruffles his feathers and flits to perch on the back of her chair, as he did before. Madeleina closes the window and sits back down on her bed slowly, sniffling the entire time.

“Rook” He croaks, tilting his head. “Why. Are you crying.?”

Rook inhales sharply and closes her eyes before exhaling. “S-Spite …” she whimpers his name, and he hates how that sounds.

She draws her knees in close again and frowns deeply. “W-why do I keep seeing Minrathous burning? P-people being h-hung in the s-street” she takes a shaky breath between words. "E-every time... I look ... in the m-mirror - I s-see it ..."

Rook has a distant look in her eyes, like she’s staring through him at not at him.

“A v-voice in my head … it’s … it says … it’s my fault” She cries softly, and wipes her nose with her sleeve again, “He s-says I l-let them take the city … t-the dragon…”

Rook grips her head and shuts her eyes tight, and then takes a ragged breath. “It won’t stop! It won’t stop…” She raises her head and looks at him with pleading eyes, “Spite, how do I make it stop?” Her face crumples as more tears threaten to spill from her eyes, “S-Spite … help me… it w-won’t stop … my head…”

Spite tilts his head and thinks.

She’s starting to remember things, but not the right things. He’s rightly quite confused. Solas’ prison so far has been showing her what she wants to see - her parents, her childhood home - familiar things that would presumably function to keep her from wanting to leave. Why would it be showing her a blighted Minrathous? What purpose would that serve?

He remembers the day they found her in the music room, days after she’d returned from visiting Neve in Minrathous.

Smells like … cheese and salt. He had thought, as Lucanis brought her a cup of cioccolata calda to share.

They sat beside her, and she quickly wiped her hands of the remnants of the cheese wedge she’d been eating and moved over. He remembers Lucanis’ fretting over her mental state very well. Locked in their pantry, he thought of little else.

Knowing Treviso was safe brought him little relief every time he watched her go into the infirmary to talk with Varric’s ghost because she couldn’t cope with his death. When she stopped coming to dinner, he started drinking more coffee and staying awake even longer worrying over her. Pacing back and forth, paralyzed with inaction, with uncertainty on how to help her.

It turns out he was severely overthinking the problem.

All he had to do was tell her a story.

Maybe Spite had to do the same, like the first time he came. She was only remembering the bad that came from that decision. It figures the Dread Wolf’s prison wouldn’t want her to remember the good she did during that time.

“This place. Doesn’t want you. To know what. You saved.” Spite begins, “Minrathous fell. But Treviso. Lived to see. Another day. Because of you.”

Rook releases the name on a soft breath, “T-Treviso?” Her brows furrow in confusion, “I … I’ve n-never left Tevinter…”

Spite preens and plucks at a loose feather as she speaks.

“Saved Lucanis’. Home.” He squawks, “He trusted you. Above all others. And you saved him. There when he. Needed you most. And he will. Never forget.”

Rook’s eyes flash with recognition at the name, “Lucanis – tell me about Lucanis. P-please, Spite. I think… I think I remembered him last night – his face, his voice … but it’s gone again”

If Spite looked like Lucanis, he was sure his face would split in a satisfied grin.

He was going to break apart the Dread Wolf’s prison, memory by memory. He would open the door for her and pull her out.

“He came. To you. In the music room. After the Dragon. Took Minrathous”

She closes her eyes, as if trying to picture the scene herself. He can see her eyes flicker back and forth behind closed eyelids.

“He wants. To help you. Like you. Helped him. With Treviso. With Caterina’s funeral.” Spite says, “He helps. Only way he knows how. With a story.”

Rook’s fingers grip the edge of her bed tightly, and her lips press into a hard line, deep in concentration.

“I smell something warm… chocolate?” Her nose wrinkles. “Warm chocolate… like before…”

“Cioccolata. Calda.” Spite corrects her gently, although his own pronunciation of the word is a bit clumsy, “He knows. You love it. He makes it. When he knows. You’re in need.”

Her lips part in a sigh, as if she’s taking a sip in her jumbled memories.

“T-tell me more… please …” Rook whispers, biting her lower lip, “I want to remember him”

“He tells you. The story of how. He became the Demon of Vyrantium. The Wigmaker. And his. House of Horrors. Of blood magic and demons. And freeing slaves.” Spite recites the memory as he had seen it through Lucanis’ eyes. “A story. For a story. He always. Wants to help.”

A small smile creeps at the edges of her lips, “I remember him… I remember him telling me about a terrible pickup line Illario used on a guard”, Spite tilts his head as she giggles, “I couldn’t believe it actually worked, you know”

Rook wipes a stray tear from the corner of her eye, before opening them both. Her green eyes crinkled at the corners as she erupted in a warm smile. Like they did when she would tell them stories.

She swings her legs off the edge of the bed and comes to stand in front of the little Demon.

“He’s important to me… isn’t he? You both are” She whispers quietly. Rook touches her chest, and a faint blue glow erupts from where her heart should be. His chest is alight with its twin flame.

Spite merely nods and flutters his tailfeathers in response.

“He waits. For you. Only you.”

“You said that before” Rook nods and looks around her room, “You also said this place isn’t my home”

Spite nods wordlessly.

“Then what is it exactly? Why… why am I here?”

“A prison. Made by the Dread Wolf. To keep you in. Away from. His plans.” Spite nearly hisses the words out, rage bubbling in his chest. He puffs up into an angry little ball as a result. “A prison. To make you forget. Forget us. Lucanis.”

Rook grips her chest through her shirt and frowns. “The memories they … they come and then… then the day repeats and I forget ... I think…” She releases a shaky breath, “I think I’m living the same day again. And again. And again.”

If Spite could scowl, he would be scowling harder than he ever had in his entire existence.

“Spite” Rook leans in closer, so close he can feel her breath on his feathers. Her eyes are wide with panic now, “Spite… help me… I don’t – I don’t want to forget but each day I think I’m losing more of myself- “

She turns abruptly when the door opens, and Spite is startled enough to let out a surprised squawk. He flies out the window quickly before he can be spotted, leaving Rook to deal with the intruder. Spite hovers outside her window for just a moment, and sees a tall woman pull her into a tight embrace.

The woman, who resembles an older Rook with straighter hair and brown eyes, seems to be looking straight at him. The eyes are soulless and empty. Yet somehow, there is a warning lurking beneath that hollow gaze. She grips Rook tightly, as if to signal to him she will not the girl go.

The sight of it chills Spite to his core.

The Demon calls on whatever essence of the journal is left and propels himself out of the Fade with dizzying speed.

Each day I think I’m losing more of myself -.

He would not let that happen.

If she loses herself to this prison, he will find every scattered piece in the Fade and put her back together himself.

The Dread Wolf will not win.

Demons do not fear Gods.

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

Wooooo okay, well that took a lot longer than I thought. Once again big thank you to @teawithshakespeare (honestly my honourary co-author at this point for how much time I spend rambling in their DM's about this story), and @juneiper-art and @thewardenisonthecase as well for letting me bounce ideas for this chapter off them. I appreciate u guys.

Also, the Fade prison is doing weird things now! It's changing and reacting! Freaky stuff. But then again, the Fade's a freaky place.

I'll give bonus points to whoever can guess which movie I'm sort of loosely basing this off of haha.

I think this part of the fic is coming to an end in maybe another chapter or two.... I really just wanna write the Rookanis reunion :')

Anyway,

As always, thanks for reading! Appreciate all the love and support for this fic <3 MUAH!! See you next time!

-Rookie

#lucanis dellamorte #spite dellamorte #rook #lucanis x rook #lucanis x mercar #rookanis #fanfic #rook mercar #oc: madeleina mercar #dragon age veilguard #datv #dragon age #rookie writes #fic: bedtime stories for a demon

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mizutsugi · 2 days ago

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Hiii!

May I please request a Hannibal x reader fic, preferable female or gn where the reader is a full-on insomniac. Reader is a full-on workaholic (literally can be anything, author, painter, lawyer, idk) so when they start staying over at Hannibal's every now and then, the first time he wakes up to reader no being in bed is SCARY for him. Because what if she's snooping around his house and finds his basement?

Anyway, it just turns out she's in the dining room, bathed in the bright blue light of her computer screen working. So Hannibal needs to coax her back to bed.

Thank youuuu

3 am 💻 (hannibal x reader)

↳request!

↳word count: 1,439

↳cw: sfw, gn reader, mentions of taking a pill

↳a/n: gahhh wait! i see your vision!!! i feel like he would act chill but be freaking tf out on the inside... thank you so so much for your request! hope you like :) <3

Your relationship with Hannibal had grown to the point where, after a hardy dinner with an endless supply of rich wine that slowed your senses, he would urge you to stay the night instead of drive home. He was still a gentleman, and would occasionally offer to drive you back, but after he really took a liking to you there was no point. You also would make no effort to argue with spending another night in his downright luxurious king size goose feather bed with pressed silk sheets, huddled up against his warmth.

Tonight, you were wrapped up in said silk sheets like a cocoon, back pressed to Hannibal’s chest as he slept soundly. You could feel the gentle push of his chest everytime he took a small breath, and it was quite comforting. What wasn’t comforting, though, was the fact that you were wide awake at- you glanced over your shoulder at the bedside table, peering at the digital clock- 3:28 am. You sighed. You sometimes grappled with insomnia, and as a defense lawyer you knew your time was never truly your own. Your mind would usually race with thoughts about checking your inbox, peeling over your current cases, and researching until your mind went numb and eyes couldn’t physically remain focused. You absolutely adored your job and the opportunity it gave you to represent the law, something so incredibly important to you, but at the same time… you knew that your career choice came with a price (outside of law school tuition).

You couldn’t keep your current case, in particular, out of your mind. Your endless stream of thoughts were urging you to rush to your laptop downstairs and re-examine the file of evidence for your client. You realized that, despite how impossibly warm and comfortable you felt in your cocoon of expensive and amazingly soft sheets, you had to get up and go through your documents. You weren’t getting sleep anyways, right? Might as well make the lost time worth it.

You slowly, ever so delicately, slid out of bed, making extra sure not to wake Hannibal. You let your feet lightly graze the floor before stepping down, walking on the tips of your toes out of the bedroom. You slightly shivered at the cool air beyond the cozy bed, feeling goosebumps rise in your exposed flesh. You made your way quietly out of the room, then down the staircase praying that his old Baltimore home wasn’t too creaky. Luckily for you, it wasn’t, and you were able to fumble your way through the dark house before landing in the kitchen, cold tiles beneath your soles. You flicked on a lamp on the far side of the kitchen aisle, where you had (rather strategically) left your laptop. You hopped on to one of the leather barstools and opened the lid of your computer, feeling the harsh white light of the screen on your unadjusted eyes. You squinted, quickly typing in your laptop before breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of all the files you needed already being open in separate tabs. You worked for a while, scanning through each document thoroughly and pulling up a separate page to write all your notes in.

About 20 minutes later, Hannibal had stirred awake. He immediately felt the cold of the room, and almost instantly noticed the lack of your presence in his bed. He could see the faintest of golden light peeking through the exposed doorway, and he knew you were up. He was always worried this moment would come- a night where you didn’t drink enough to knock yourself out into a deep sleep, and your naturally curious nature would lead you to hopping out of bed and rummaging around his house. You weren’t rude in the slightest, obviously, so you wouldn’t be doing it to be nosy. Maybe you wanted a glass of water, but found that the tray was out of ice and you needed to get another tray from the freezer in the basement. Maybe you would hear something down there and get worried, and would follow the sound down into a place you were never supposed to see. Though he had intentions of letting you know him completely one day, it wasn’t to be a day anytime soon… especially not while you still served the court of law.

He was torn between what to do. The last thing he wanted to do was harm you- he had truly grown fond of you- but if you found the skeletons in his closet, he would simply have no choice. His appetite would always come first. He stood up and opened his neatly organized beside table, finding a scalpel resting near the edge of the drawer by the handle. He grabbed it and tucked it into the sleeve of his sleep shirt, holding it there discreetly with his palm. He stealthy made his way down the stairs and into the living room, following its path to the source of the light. That’s when he heard something- the familiar sound of you typing away at your keyboard, plastic keys being pressed down at an impossibly fast pace. He took a small breath, composing himself to release his tension. He looked around before glancing at his couch, and tucked the slender blade he was carrying deep into the crevice of one of the smooth cushions before making his way into the illuminated kitchen.

“Y/N.” He called to you, causing you to nearly jump in surprise.

“Oh my god, Hannibal…” You clutched a hand to your chest, taken off guard but smiling at his appearance as he stood by the doorway, calmly watching you. “Sorry… I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Of course not, dear.” He was wearing his classic maroon sleep shirt with dark linen pants, and your heart softened as he offered you a warm smile. “I was merely worried when I heard you on your laptop. It’s nearly four in the morning.”

“I know, I know…” You said, partly ashamed. You looked back at the page, which was bathing your tired eyes in harsh white littered with tiny black lettering that looked, admittedly, a bit manic and unorganized. “I just couldn’t sleep, and then I thought about work, and…”

“I understand. However, whatever it is, I am sure it can wait for tomorrow morning. I have something to help you sleep.” He stated, watching you as you hesitated, sighing before eventually caving and bringing your delicate fingers to the screen before pulling it down and shutting your laptop.

You slowly peeled yourself off the tall chair, hissing in pain as your joints creaked at the movement. Hannibal looked at you sympathetically, assured you hadn’t seen anything he needed to worry about, before waiting for you to cross the kitchen and join him. You walked to his side before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, giving it a few rubs with his slender hands.

“Let’s get you to bed.” He muttered, walking you back to his room. He allowed you to lean on him slightly as you finally felt exhaustion start to course through your body. He stopped you on the edge of the stairs, and as you swayed slightly with barely open eyes, he swept his hands under your legs and tucked you into his chest, now holding you up with his forearms and making his way up the stairs. You smiled lazily, allowing him to carry your bridal style back to sleep. Man, he’s strong, you thought to yourself. He layed you back down on the plush bed, allowing your limbs to untangle from him and flunk onto the soft fabric beneath you. He climbed in beside you, kicking off his slippers next to the edge of the bed and digging through his bedside drawer for some hydroxyzine to help you stay asleep once you dozed off. He offered you the pill, and you lightly took it from his hand. You placed the pill on your tongue before he held a glass of water to your lips, allowing you to tilt your head back before letting the liquid flood your mouth. You swallowed the pill, and after he placed the glass back down, you snuggled up against him. You pulled yourself into his chest, already feeling 10 seconds away from sleep. He brought his fingers to your delicate cheek, brushing stray strands of hair off it and allowing you to cuddle up to him. Relief came over the both of you for two opposite reasons, but either way, you both were able to contently slip into sleep without any issues this time.

↳a/n: thank you so much for reading! keep them requests coming since i'm home for the holidays...and bored lol

thank you again to anon for the request too!

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal one shot #request

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r4fe-cam3ron · 2 days ago

Text

CHRISTMAS STORY FOUR | DRIVE - e. munson x reader

w; mentions of s4 — follows but it’s a fix it fic!, mentions of blood and death, angst & fluff!

an; this was simply random and i honestly enjoyed writing it BUT im also not sure that i like it as well :( i hope you all like this!! soft eddie <3 mwah

Eddie’s still in bed — it’s been one month since Steve had struggled to pull him from the Upside Down, Eddie’s body limp even though he tried to help when he could.

His feet only dragged behind as he tried to take a step, creating a track in the dirt.

Steve had help on the other side, luckily, Dustin and Lucas on the other side. You had dropped through to help the two teens. It was rough deciding on where to go — though Hawkins was safe because of some teens and adults in their early twenties, Eddie’s still a wanted man.

Hopper’s cabin wasn’t far, luckily, Steve had practically broken many laws to get there, eyes glancing in the rearview mirror at you.

His blood was stained on your clothes, mixed with your own and along with the dirt and soot that covers everyone from head to toe. Your fingers had tried to work out the knots in Eddie’s hair on the floor, but it was no use. Max had sat next to you, a lingering feeling that feels quite familiar to what she had at the mall.

But you’d gotten there, safe, and Dustin had helped Steve with Eddie up the steps. He was still holding on.

You’d stitched him up that night, cleaning the wounds and dirt from his face. He looked so…

He looked as if he was a dead man walking.

Your heart broke when you looked into his eyes that were hazy with tiredness. “Told you it was my year.” He breathes out, chest slightly heaving.

You smile softly and nod, gripping his hand with yours. “Yeah. It’s your year, Eddie.” You whisper. Steve had then moved him to the small bed he had cleaned up. Eddie grunts when he tries to situate himself on top of the mattress. You pull off his boots, tossing them to the other side of the room.

“You need me to stay with you?” Steve turns to you. You shake your head, eyes lingering on Eddie as his eyes widen slightly, trying to stay awake.

“No,” You say softly. “I’ll be okay. Take the kids home and take a shower — you stink.”

Steve lets out a small laugh, lips pulling into a smile. He pulls you into a tight hug. Your arms wrap around him, hands splayed flat against his back as you pat him softly. “Go.”

Steve nods against your shoulder, pulling away. “I’ll be back a little later with some clothes for you both and food.”

“Okay. Thanks, Steve. Be careful.”

“I will. Lock the door behind me.” You watch as he turns the corner before looking over at Eddie, walking over and placing yourself next to him. Your hand grabs his — you’ll lock the door in a moment.

“You didn’t have to stay.”

“And leave you here by yourself when you can barely even keep your eyes open, much less walk? You’re insane if you think I’m going to leave you here alone.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “I’m so tired.” He whispers.

“Then sleep,” You pull up the covers. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” His eyes open slightly and you can see a bit of his pretty brown eyes. You push his curls from his cheek, placing your hand against the stubbly skin and brushing the pad of your thumb under his eye.

“I promise.”

He nods in your soft hold, tilting his head slightly towards your palm, nose grazing the skin. It was slightly ticklish, but you wouldn’t pull away from him until he was asleep. He says your name softly.

“Yeah?”

“You forgot to lock the door.”

Your lips pull into a smile as you shake your head.

A month later and he’s able to sit up a bit on his own in the bed. Although he still winces and has trouble getting comfortable, it’s better than having someone come help him twenty-four seven just to fix the covers.

You never minded, but he did. He was so used to doing things on his own, he never wanted to be this bad where he couldn’t even stay by himself.

Hopper was working on getting his name cleared. It caused an uproar is what Dustin had told him. But he didn’t want to think about that. He couldn’t go away for life for something he didn’t do.

Wayne doesn’t even know he’s hiding out. He wants to see Wayne — wants to hug him tight and tell him everything will be okay. But he can’t and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to.

It’s about as scary as what he had seen a month ago.

It’s as scary as looking death in the eyes.

You’d have been the one to stay with him - morning and night - only leaving when necessary but always coming back when promised with some food or new clothes.

You’d even come back with a small christmas tree this time, placing it on the stand next to the bed.

“It’s small, but,” You glance over at him, shrugging slightly. You look away when you notice he isn’t going to be the one to look away first. “I thought I’d bring a little christmas to you.”

His heart warms and his soft plush lips pull into a smile. “You’re sweet, you know that?” His head tilts back onto the wall as his eyes remain on you. One thing about Eddie — his looks make you feel as if you and him were the only ones in the room.

Well, the only ones in the world really.

At first, the intense look is what made you nervous around him - not the fact he’s pretty, with curly hair, with perfect teeth and a perfect smile that creates dimples, absolutely not!

But now, what used to make you nervous and dizzy, makes you feel calm. It makes you feel as if he’s committing you to his memory. That thought should scare you, but for some reason, it doesn’t.

You glance back at him, smiling softly. “I try to be,” You nod. “Oh, would you like a cookie? They’re freshly baked - double chocolate chip and snickerdoodle.”

He continues to stare at you, his brow slightly lifting. “Did you make my favorite cookies?”

You smile. “I’ll be back,” You walk out of the room, grabbing the tin that was on the table along with a small bag. You make your way back, dropping the bag at the end of the bed before opening the tin and holding it out towards him. “For you.”

He smiles and takes the tin into his hand. You toss the lid to the side, reaching for the bag. “You know me so well.”

“Of course I do,” You shrug, glancing over as he takes a chocolate chip cookie first, biting into it with a soft hum, eyes sliding close. “Good?”

“Oh, so good.” He whispers with a mouth full of cookie. You smile in amusement, grabbing the blanket from the bag and spreading it out over his lap before grabbing the lights.

You step back over to the tree, twisting the lights around. “I didn’t bring any ornaments, I’m sorry. I just thought maybe the lights would be okay.”

“It’s perfect,” Eddie nods. He reaches out and grabs your forearm, making your hands pause their task, head turning to him. “Really. Everything you’re doing is perfect. You’re perfect.”

You duck your head bashfully, shaking your head before finishing the lights, feeling his warm palm leave your arm. Once finished, you plug it into the outlet, smiling as the warm colors brighten the room even more.

Eddie hisses playfully, covering his face with his ring-less hand. You laugh, walking over to the light switch and flicking off the light. “Better?”

He drops his hand. “So much,” He nods. He reaches for the lid, making you quickly walk over and grab it for him. He stares at you. “I could’ve grabbed it.”

The tone in his voice makes you quickly retract your hand when you feel his fingers wrap around it. “Sorry. I just…” You motion towards him. “I don’t want you accidentally reopening your wound. That’s all.”

Eddie looks away and pushes the lid onto the tin, pushing it onto the nightstand as he scoots down slowly to lie back. He looks over at the tree as you stand there awkwardly.

You finally turn to leave before he finally speaks up.

“Can you lie with me?”

You stop quickly, turning to look over at him. He doesn’t make any move to look at you, he doesn’t want to push you. Toeing off your boots, you slowly walk over and crawl up from the edge of the bed, lying on your side.

You stare at the tendrils of curly, brown hair, the soft up and down of his shoulders as he breathes. His nose looked perfect from the side — his face carved from the warm, dark blue lights. Lifting a hand up slowly, not to scare him, your fingertip drags down the slope of his nose softly.

His eyes slowly flutter close, and the jealousy for his eyelashes grows more within you. Your finger traces towards his temple, before tracing across his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He whispers softly.

Your movements stop and your finger lifts from his face a tad. “I was just…” You stop. You don’t know what you were doing, really. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Your hand begins to retract from his face, his fingers quickly wrapping around your wrist when it’s close enough.

“It’s okay,” He nods. His head turns to look at you. “It was nice.” You nod softly.

“Do you want me to keep going?” He nods and allows his eyes to close. Lifting your hand with a bit more confidence this time, they trace under his eye softly, before dragging down his cheek and her his cheek bone.

He lets out a soft sigh when it begins to trace over his jawline, a small smile pulling at your lips. “You okay?” You whisper.

“Better than okay.” He says softly.

Your eyes drop down to look at his lips as your fingertip drags dangerously close. Tracing over his lips, his eyes slowly open. Your eyes lift, meeting with his droopy ones. He turns his head slightly, pressing his lips to your palm, before brushing his nose against the skin when it lays against his cheek.

“Can…” He stops when his voice cracks slightly. “Move closer.” Nodding, you move closer to him as he had asked, knees bumping against one another, foreheads pressed together. His nose brushes yours softly.

Your heart speeds up. Even if Eddie is the type of person to make you calm, you're nervous now, breath hitching when you feel his rough fingers brush against your own lips.

He leans closer, brushing his lips over yours as your eyes flutter shut. He stares at you quietly in this moment, the blue covering the room makes you look like you’re an angel, cheeks highlighted from the color.

His hand cups your jaw, thumb pressing under your chin as he tilts your head up a bit more, pressing his lips against yours.

It’s soft, slow, and consuming.

Absolutely earth-shattering.

He can taste a bit of the candy cane chapstick that lingers over your lips - smell it when he inhales deeply, tightening his hold on you. His thumb slides up to your chin, pressing slightly. He feels your fingers wrap around his wrist, gripping softly before slowly dragging towards his hand, folding your fingers over his.

He slowly pulls away, the dip of his nose dragging up yours slightly. You release a shaky breath, leaving your eyes closed and your lips slightly parted.

Your heart still beats quickly and you’re sure Eddie can hear and feel it against his own chest.

“Too much?” He asks after a while.

Your eyes open and you quickly shake your head. “No. No,” Your nose brushes against his cheek slightly. “Not too much.” You whisper, allowing your top lip to brush against his bottom lip.

His fingers tangle into your hair, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I love you.” He mouths over your lips, eyes staring into yours.

You stare at him for a moment longer, squeezing his hand softly. You smile against his lips.

“I love you.” You mouth back.

| tags — @ali-r3n ; @oceanblvd111

| please do not copy my work! comments, feedbacks, reblogs, & requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated! ❅

| border; @/silkholland

#joseph quinn x fem!reader #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

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communicationthroughlyrics · 1 day ago

Text

I Work Too Hard, Can You Fuckin' Pay Me?

Part 9 - Y/N moved to escape some of thier looming troubles from Westview, to the place that their best friend said would make a difference. New job, new digs, will Y/N make a change for the better, or leave another city with their tail between their legs?

A/N: Struggle bus is in town, and decided to make a stop on this one. Here y'all go.

TW: Angst, Intersex reader, reader has some... not so great coping habits, sexual tension, smut

Word Count: 1.7K

Read Pt. 1 HERE Read Pt. 2 HERE Read Pt. 3 HERE Read Pt. 4 HERE Read Pt. 5 HERE Read Pt. 6 HERE Read Pt. 7 HERE Read Pt. 8 HERE

Just Tell It Straight To Me

You awoke to the sound of the rain pattering against the window, the early morning light casting a soft glow across the room. Wanda was still nestled against you, her warmth seeping into your skin. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this content, this... whole. You brushed a lock of hair from her face, marveling at the way she looked in the soft light. Her breathing was even and peaceful, a stark contrast to the turmoil you had felt just hours before.

For a moment, you just watched her sleep, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath your palm. It was a feeling that was both foreign and familiar, like slipping into a warm bath after a long, cold day. The rain outside seemed to be whispering a gentle melody, echoing the rhythm of your own heart. You didn't want to move, didn't want to break the spell that had been cast over you both.

But eventually, the call of the day grew too strong, and you gently extricated yourself from her embrace, sliding out of bed. You pulled on a t-shirt and pants, the fabric brushing against your still-sensitive skin. The house was quiet, and you padded softly down the hallway, not wanting to disturb her. In the kitchen, you start a pot of coffee, the aroma filling the air. The mundane task felt almost sacred, like a promise of a new beginning.

As you waited for the coffee to brew, your mind drifted back to the night before. The way she had looked at you, the way she had touched you, the way she had whispered reassurances into your ear—it was all still so vivid, so real. You felt a swell of emotion, a mix of happiness and fear. Could you do this? Could you let someone in again? The question lingered in the air, unspoken but ever-present.

When the coffee was ready, you poured two mugs, adding a splash of cream to hers just the way you had observed before. You carried them back to the bedroom, the warmth of the mug a comforting weight in your hand. She stirred as you approached the bed, her eyes opening slowly to meet yours. The smile that spread across her face was like the sun rising over the horizon, chasing away the shadows of doubt.

You handed her the mug, and she took it with a murmur of thanks. The warmth of the liquid seemed to meld with the warmth in her eyes as she took a sip. You sat on the edge of the bed, sipping your coffee, watching the way the rain painted patterns on the window. It was a silent moment of understanding, a quiet acknowledgment of the shift that had occurred between you.

"Thank you," she said finally, her voice still thick with sleep. "For last night."

You took her hand in yours, lacing your fingers through hers. "Thank you for... everything," you replied, your voice equally soft. You chuckled at the memory of last night. "So much for taking it slow."

Wanda sat up, her eyes never leaving yours. "We'll take it as slow as we're comfortable," she promised, her thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "We'll face whatever comes together."

You nodded, feeling a weight lift from your chest. "Together," you echoed, the word feeling more right than it ever had before. You knew it wouldn't be easy that there would be challenges and moments of doubt. But with Wanda by your side, you felt ready to face them all.

The rain continued to fall, but it no longer felt oppressive. Instead, it was a gentle reminder that the world outside was moving on, and so were you. You took another sip of coffee, feeling the warmth spread through you, a symbol of the warmth that had been kindled in your heart.

You leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, feeling the promise of the future in that simple gesture. The fear was still there, lurking in the shadows, but it was no longer in control. With Wanda, you had found someone who understood the complexities of your soul, someone who didn't shy away from the messiness of your past.

The rain grew heavier, the sound of it a comforting symphony that surrounded the room. You lay back down beside her, your legs entwined as you sipped your coffee. "What do we do now?" you asked, the question hanging in the air like the mist that clung to the windows.

Wanda took a deep breath, her eyes searching yours. "We take it one day at a time," she said, her voice strong and steady. "We communicate, we support each other, and we don't let fear dictate our decisions."

You nodded, feeling the truth of her words resonate within you. The rain grew louder, a soothing lullaby that seemed to whisper of new beginnings. You set your mug on the nightstand and pulled her closer, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. "I like the sound of that," you murmured.

Her hand found yours, her fingers interlacing with yours. "We'll figure it out," she said, her voice filled with determination. "We're in this together."

The day stretched before you, filled with the promise of rain-soaked walks and lazy Saturday afternoon movies. You knew that outside the walls of Wanda's house, the world was waiting, full of challenges and uncertainties. But in that moment, you didn't care. You had Wanda, and she had you.

You lay there, the rain a soothing backdrop to your quiet conversation, sharing stories and dreams, your hearts beating in sync. The storm outside mirrored the tumult you had weathered within, but here, in the sanctuary of her arms, you felt at peace.

As the rain began to taper off, you both grew restless, the desire to explore the newness of your relationship overwhelming. Wanda leaned over and kissed you, her eyes shining with excitement. "Ready for round two?" she asked, her voice filled with mischief.

You grinned, feeling the heat of her kiss still lingering on your lips. "Always," you said, pulling her back down to you. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was the warmth of her body against yours, the way her breath hitched when you kissed her just right. You tangled your hands in her hair, deepening the kiss, feeling her respond with an enthusiasm that matched your own.

Wanda's fingers trailed down your chest, her nails leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She pushed the t-shirt up, her eyes dark with lust as she took in your bare skin. You shivered, the anticipation making your cock twitch with need. You broke the kiss, looking into her eyes, searching for any sign of doubt. But all you saw was desire, a mirror of your own feelings.

With a growl, you rolled her onto her back, the mood shifting from tender to carnivorous. You kissed down her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath your lips. You nipped at her collarbone, her gasp of pleasure making your cock throb. You kissed across her chest, teasing her nipples before taking one into your mouth. She arched her back, her nails digging into the sheets as you suckled her, feeling her body respond to your every touch.

Her hands found the hem of your pants, pushing them down as you kissed your way down her stomach. You could feel the wetness between her legs, and your mouth watered at the thought of tasting her again. You spread her thighs wider, kissing the inside of her thighs before finally pressing your mouth to her pussy. She tasted even better than you remembered, and you felt your arousal spike as she moaned.

Wanda's legs wrapped around your head, her hips moving in time with your tongue. You licked and sucked, her cries growing louder with every stroke. You could feel her getting closer, the tension in her body tightening like a bowstring. And when she came, it was like a symphony, her body shaking with the force of it. You didn't stop, though, wanting to wring every ounce of pleasure from her.

Her orgasm subsided, leaving her panting and trembling. You kissed your way back up her body, feeling her soft skin against your own. Her eyes were hazy with satisfaction, but there was still a spark of hunger in them. You positioned yourself at her entrance, her eyes never leaving yours. And with one swift movement, you slammed into her, filling her completely.

Her nails dug into your back, her legs wrapping around you tightly as you began to move. The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, a rhythm as old as time. You felt the tension build again, her walls tightening around you as she neared her peak. You could feel yourself getting closer, too, the pleasure building to a crescendo.

You leaned down, capturing her mouth with yours as you felt the coil of your orgasm begin to unfurl. Her moans grew louder, her hips rising to meet yours, urging you on. And with one final, desperate thrust, you came, filling her completely. You collapsed on top of her, her body still spasming around you as you both rode out the waves of pleasure.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your panting breaths and the fading pattern of rain outside. You felt her heart beating rapidly against your chest, the thud of it matching your own. You rolled onto your side, pulling her with you so that she was nestled into the crook of your arm.

Her head rested on your chest, and you could feel her breathing slowing as she dozed off. You kissed the top of her head, feeling something inside you shift. This was it—the start of something new, something that could either burn with the

You lay there, stroking her hair gently, feeling the rise and fall of her chest against yours. The rain had stopped, leaving the world outside quiet and still. It was as if the universe had held its breath, waiting for this moment. The weight of your decision, of what you had done, felt heavier than it ever had before. But there was no regret, only a strange mix of excitement and anxiety that filled every fiber of your being.

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