#maybe I’ll come back to them at some point !!

[the-californicationist]

Brisance

When Johnny MacTavish finds the woman of his dreams, he didn't expect her to be strapped with ten pounds of C-4... but he kinda likes it. Or: How Johnny MacTavish learned to stop worrying and love the bombmaker...

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2

Brisance

— August —

Ghost sighed, knocking his bootheel on the edge of the desk where he was perched, smoking his last cigarette, and scrolling through Reddit threads, bored to death and letting everyone know about it. 

“I can hear ye, Ghostie. I’ll jus’ be a wee bit longer,” Johnny called out over his shoulder. 

His masked lieutenant sighed audibly. He thought Soap looked ridiculous in that lighted, magnifying headset, the plastic lenses making his big blue eyes look like saucers. The sergeant had been hunched over an inert explosive device and its mechanical guts for the better part of four hours now, inspecting every inch of the thing, commenting on technical mambo jumbo that Simon hadn’t ever heard - or cared - about. Bombs were not his forte. He knew how to set one, and he knew how to avoid them, but that was about it. 

Soap let out a low whistle of admiration, and Ghost rolled his eyes, knowing some brainy quip was coming next about the “detonation velocity” or the “elastomer bonding” or whatever demolitionist jargon he was moved to speak on. 

“Innit tha’ the bonniest thing there ever was, mate?” Johnny crooned, sounding like a proud father. 

“Does this one kill us real special-like?” Ghost snarled, tired of Soap’s preening exploration of this device.

“You dinnae understand, LT. This is… well, it’s the bloody Mona Lisa of IEDs.”

“Come off it.”

“No, I’m serious. Come see,” Johnny moved his chair over to show off the open, black box where the device’s innards were housed, pointing to a series of tightly-strung wires and cables, “Ye ken how the last one cut through three layers of concrete at the Kadurin silos?”

“Aye,” Simon sauntered over, peering into the mess of wires, trying to divine what his sergeant was seeing.

“See this block here? It would take ten times the RDX to get a high enough brisance to pound through all three layers at once,” Soap sounded like a kid at Christmas, “But, look at how this bastard staggered his fuse layers. He used a visco fuse, cut it like a flying fish, and only had to send one electric match to charge it! Bloody fuckin’ brilliant.”

“English, MacTavish,” Ghost groaned, “Please…”

“This wee box survived because it contains the initial housing, but the bomb itself was in the fuckin’ room, not the detonation package.”

The lieutenant furrowed his brow, taking one last drag of his cigarette, and begging Johnny to clarify,

“So, you’re sayin’ that the bomber was in the cafe before the device was planted?”

“Aye,” Johnny’s eyes got even wider, comical when set behind his magnified lenses, “And tha’s not it. They made this box to last. Someone is sendin’ us a message.”

“What does it say?” Ghost looked back into the wires, expecting them to spell out H-E-L-L-O or F-U-C-K-O-F-F. 

“I dinnae ken. Not yet. But, I think he left me a clue.”

“A clue? The fuck…”

“See this? This is a visco fuse alright, but it’s Cordtex, and its got traces of collodion.”

Johnny was waiting on the edge of his seat, buzzing with anticipation, praying for Ghost to have the same, nearly-orgasmic eureka moment that he was. And yet, bored dark eyes glared down at him, waiting for the punchline. So, Soap gave it to him,

“He’s makin’ these from scratch. And,” Soap ripped off the headset and stared down into the box in amazement, “I think he’s a Brit. He could’ve just used any old visco fuse, but he didn’t. He went bloody far out of his way to make these, and I wonder…”

The headset slid back on and Johnny returned to the device, picking around the mechanisms like a dog hunting for a treat, sniffing his way around for anything to chew on. 

“British,” Simon hummed, “Hm, I’ll tell Cap. Maybe he can get Laswell to send it off for testing.”

Soap didn’t respond. As Ghost left the room, he called back over his shoulder, 

“Don’t stay up all night, Johnny. Got PT at 0430.”

“Mm-hm…” Soap replied, not bothering to look up when Ghost finally made his exit, too busy making eyes at his one true love: a beautifully crafted bomb. 

— October — 

The ticking was the worst part, but as he stared down into the blackness of a rigged, plastic tote, Johnny almost wished he would have something to keep him company, even some of that infernal ticking sound that should be happening. But, it wasn’t. The room was silent like the grave, and if Johnny made one wrong move, it would become his own. 

A voice crackled through his headset,

“Five minutes, thirty seconds.”

Gaz was keeping count for him, checking in at regular intervals, his voice trembling from the stress. Johnny wished he wouldn’t worry. This was a timebomb, yes, but it needed input. Someone was waiting for something, and if he could figure out what, maybe he could stop it.

“Aye, any movement from overwatch?”

A short pause and then his lieutenant’s voice came through, 

“Negative.”

This bomb was truly a piece of work. There was no indicator, and in fact, no traceable fuse. All of the ignition was internal to the RDX modules, and there were eight of them altogether, each with its own unique housing. Johnny had disarmed five of the eight, and he was working on number six as quickly as he could. 

The bombmaker had a great deal of skill, but so did Soap, and it was less of a race than it was a fluid, complicated, one-sided conversation. With every choice in material and fuse design and chemical agent, the bombmaker was telling Johnny all about himself. 

The Semex block and guncotton in housing three, wrapped in flash paper and copper-coated fuse links? This bloke had access to high-quality chemicals. The wooden housing and saltpeter dusting in number five? When he didn’t have access to those high-quality chemicals, he was resourceful enough to know how to make do without them. The way the fuse line lay independent from the center of each housing, and yet initiated from different grafting points? Making bombs was more than just a hobby. The bastard was designing these devices like challenges, giving Johnny puzzle after puzzle, testing his abilities. 

Soap should have been angry, but he wasn’t. In fact, this particular model of IED hadn’t taken a single life. The bombed buildings were strategically placed against Makarov’s forces, almost as if this terrorist was on a mission of rebellious freedom. The Russian oligarch’s people were fighting back against their own leader, rejecting his authority. This was the work of a highly intelligent man out for justice, not a simple murderer. 

Johnny had spent the last two months discovering more and more about this particular insurgent, and now that he could see the pattern of his behavior, Soap was more likely to label him as a true freedom fighter. Laswell didn’t seem to care about labels, but Johnny felt like he almost had the captain convinced. 

“This might be someone we could pull to our side, Cap’n,” Johnny had suggested.

“Just make sure you end the day with all your fingers still fuckin’ attached, lad. How about that?” Price had sniped, but it was toothless. Johnny knew he was starting to see the pattern, too.

Staring down at his hands, all ten fingers still hard at work, he marveled at the commitment to craft in everything from the fuses to the housing shells. The sergeant cut through blocks of C-4 in cubes six and seven before Gaz had given him a seven-minute warning. As he inspected housing number eight, Johnny almost felt disappointed that he and the maker of these bombs would never meet. The things he could learn from an artist like this… 

A green laser trembled and danced in front of his face, pointing directly to the bottom of the eighth block. Johnny’s eyes shot up, finding the source right away. Through the window, a cloaked figure crouched on the roof, dressed all in black, tucked behind an air vent, their eyes pinned to him as he gaped in disbelief. 

It was him. The bombmaker was here. 

“Overwatch, target at eleven o’clock, south rooftop, copy,” Johnny’s voice gave away their position, and as soon as he heard the confirmation from Ghost, his ears also picked up on a soft, almost delicate ticking sound. Gunshots popped wildly outside, and the bombmaker disappeared, his body lithe and quick, avoiding danger and leaving Johnny to die at the hands of his creation. 

As quick as he could, Johnny cut through the eighth housing, searching for the fuse. But, he came up empty. Then, he remembered where the laser had been pointing. He turned the dark layer over and saw a hole in the RDX material. On nothing but instinct, he cut down into it and hit something solid. The housing broke open to reveal a wristwatch. 

There was no fuse. And all of the other housings had been rendered inert, so there was no danger. 

Why would the bombmaker start the timer without anything to blow? Johnny’s mind swam with possibilities, and then he turned the watch over to inspect the back. Written in big, bold pen, Soap saw the letters JFM on the dull metal. His initials. John Fergus MacTavish. Not even Ghost knew his middle name.

Suddenly, Johnny heard more ticking. It sounded like a collection of clocks had just come to life. He dug around in the box, finding it empty, but he discovered the final clue too late. A small lip on the edge of the crate hinted at another layer of explosive material, hidden from plain sight.

“Shite! Fall back!” He shouted.

There was a false bottom, and when Johnny pulled it up, he discovered ten more tightly-packed Semex blocks that were fused up together with that same Cordtex line, ready to explode. All over the plasticine blocks, the letters JFM were cut into the material, recurring like an endless pattern. As he looked down at his initials littering the bomb he was trying to diffuse, his head swam with confusion. But, there was no time for that.

Johnny slammed the lid shut and bolted, running for cover. His legs burned as they hauled him out of the stone building, his feet sinking into the dirt and sand outside of the door. Soap could see the cover wall, and he dug in, using every bit of strength he had to reach it and scale it before he was just a stain on the dirt. He barely made it, and as he tumbled behind the sturdy wall, he could feel the searing heat of the blast on his back and legs. It felt like needles were stinging his skin; it was so hot. 

A few moments went by, and although the world was quiet for Johnny, he knew that was just the hearing loss. In fact, he understood that the reality was quite the opposite. As he looked up, he saw Price stomping over to him. The captain was yelling something, but his voice couldn’t reach his ears. All he could see was the bearded man hollering and carrying on with a wrathful look on his face. Then, bits and pieces came through. 

“... could’ve… killed… fuck.. thinkin’... Johnny?!”

Price tried again, pulling his sergeant up from the floor by his gear vest, 

“Do you hear me? What the fuck was that? Almost lost you, boy. Jesus Christ!” Captain Price sounded like he was underwater, but at least the words were coming through. 

“Sorry, sir. But, I needed to find the last clue,” Johnny held up the watch as if it was his well-deserved trophy.

“You were almost the last clue, you bloody idiot,” Price ran his hand through his hair and knocked his boonie hat onto his shoulders, totally exasperated. 

Soap knew he should feel guilty, or at least a little fearful, but everything was different, now. After the realization that the bombs were designed specifically for him, Johnny found himself actually looking forward to the next one. 

— November — 

The mission had gone sideways right from the start. Their comms had been nothing but staticky garbage while they were clearing out the Kotovo Blocs, trying their best to evacuate civilians while simultaneously managing Makarov’s squadrons. It was a crapshoot every time they opened another door. Half the time, a mother and her children rushed out screaming, and the other half, they were greeted by bullets. 

Even worse, they’d been separated by a particularly nasty collection of smoke-filled pipe bombs. It was nothing nasty, but it was enough of a hindrance that they’d lost formation. The plan was to regroup at an abandoned fueling station one klick southeast of their current position, and that’s where Johnny was heading. He tried to connect on comms again, but all he got was soft static. 

“Ghost, Gaz come in! Bravo-seven to Bravo-actual. Do you copy?”

No one replied. He was flying solo. His senses were on high alert, and all of his movements were carefully calculated, measured, and aligned to his new mission: survive.

Luckily, Makarov’s men had been retreating, and there was enough gunfire to scare off most of the civilians, but it was still a long way to the fuel station. 

Suddenly, in his ears, he heard a voice loud and clear.

“Bravo-seven, huh? I think we both know that’s not your name, soldier.”

Johnny’s mind reeled. It was a woman’s voice. She had a sort of blended accent, something he’d heard all of Laswell’s spies use so that no one would be able to tell where they were from. 

“Who is this?” He asked, checking his six and making sure to stay tucked below the window ledge. It would make moving through the bloc much slower, but if someone was in a sniper position, he couldn’t take any chances. 

“Mm,” she whined, “You wound me, Mr. MacTavish. I thought you’d know me by now, especially after I left you that little gift basket in Levin.”

Soap stopped in his tracks, whispering even though he was very much alone,

“It’s you…”

Her voice turned sinister,

“Vladimir is mine. Stay out of Kotovo. You’re too handsome to be in more than one piece.”

The noise in his headset went dead and he knew that she was gone. When he saw movement out of the corner of his eye – a flash of a black cloak, tattered and torn like a destitute comic book hero – Soap looked to the rooftop to find her. 

The moment his eyes met her face, she pulled back her hood to reveal her eyes, piercing and furious, and a full, pouting mouth. When she caught him gaping at her, crouching far out of cover and in a state of pure shock, her lips turned up into a slight smile before she jumped down the opposite side of the bloc building, disappearing into the pelting snow.

“... –vish! Co– … John– where ar– … Johnny!”

“LT?” Johnny tried to listen in to his comms, ducking back under the window and rushing out of the building, “I found her. In pursuit west north west to the docks.”

“What? Soap, we need to RV at the fueling st–”

“There’s no time! I cannae let her get away.”

“Wha’dya mean her?” Gaz asked, interrupting their back and forth, “The terrorist is a fuckin’ bird?”

“Aye,” Johnny panted, running flat out through the thick snowfall, chasing her across the parking lot of the bloc complex, “Bonnie as fuck, too.”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind, MacTavish?! Get the fuck back to RV. Tha’s a bloody order!” The captain demanded. 

“Aye, sir. Be there in two shakes.”

Johnny muted his mic and ignored the protests from the other end of the comm line. They were coming for him, predictably, so if things did go south, he knew he’d have some backup. 

Suddenly, just as his wee birdie was making her way down the main road to the docks, gunfire popped across her path. On instinct Johnny raised his weapon and returned fire, getting her attention. She peered over her shoulder at him, surprised that he was not shooting at her instead, and pulled her handgun to help him take down the small group of Makarov’s men who were advancing on their position. 

Enemy squads were in direct pursuit, and it was hard to tell if Soap or the bombmaker was their main target. It didn’t matter, in the end. Johnny took out the first squad in a matter of moments, barely reducing his speed to return fire, but there were two stragglers from the second squad, hidden behind a small electrical shed, popping off stray shots in her direction. 

He altered his course, but she stopped him in his tracks. She’d shot at the ground right in front of him, keeping him away from the shed. Soap slowed, but he changed back to his original path, not understanding her motive. It wasn’t until he saw a blinding, golden blaze of fire erupt out of the electrical housing and felt the shockwave of her bomb rattle around in his chest that he understood why she had stopped him. 

“Holy fuck…” he breathed.

Her teasing voice cut through his comms, silencing the chatter from the 141,

“Did ya like that, baby?”

Soap peeled his gaze away from the fiery explosion and found her perched behind a shipping container about fifty meters ahead of him. She was breathing hard, and her body was tense, but she was looking straight at him, a clever smile pasted across her mouth. 

He smiled back,

“Tha’ was bloody beautiful, lass.”

Then, her eyes left him, turning back to her path towards the boat slips, and her tone became resigned,

“You can’t come with me, soldier.”

The line went dark. She had cut his entire communication. He couldn’t even hear Price barking orders anymore. Soap peeled the buds out of his ears and let them hang down by his throat mic. Still, he pursued her. He wasn’t going to give up that easy. 

He was also gaining on her. She was trying her best to weave between shipping crates and huge piles of knotted ropes, but it was no use. He was faster, stronger, and by the time he was ten paces away, she knew she was caught. Suddenly, she ducked into a rundown storage building and disappeared into the room. 

Johnny followed right behind, ignoring his training to stop, assess, and plan his ingress. 

He came into a large, nearly empty room. At the far end, the ceiling was missing from the roof and it cast pale sunshine down into the open area. It illuminated two large wooden crates where his fiery little bird was sitting, waiting for him. The floor was covered in sand and snow, and he couldn’t see the boards beneath his boots. It was like there was no floor at all. The outside was inside, and the destroyed roof let in the wilderness where there should have been cold, clean civilization. 

Johnny stopped in his tracks, holding his gun at the ready position, staring up at her like she was the winged Nike, shaken by her power and amazed by her beauty. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. Her lips were pillowy and expressive, her eyes full of her sharp intellect, her body soft with curves yet heavy with muscle… to mix her stunning appearance with her phenomenal talent with demolition engineering seemed almost blasphemous. No one woman could be so perfect, and yet…

“You shouldn’t have come here.” Her voice was soft like rain, and it hit his skin in the same way, leaving little drops of its effect behind to remind him of it. 

“Why?” He asked, standing very still as if any movement might scare her off again. 

“I’m going to a place where no one ever comes back from. Alone. Vladimir Makarov killed my sister, and he has to pay for that. I will make him pay.” 

As she finished her explanation, she smiled in a sorrowful, resigned way, understanding that she was on a suicide mission but unwilling to change her course. 

“He will, bonnie. We willnae let him get away this time. You have my word,” Johnny promised her, earnestly. 

“My hero,” she teased. Then, after a short pause, she asked, “Do you have a sister, Mr. MacTavish?”

“Aye. Three wildlings, in fact,” he had taken no truth serum and yet it came pouring out of him anyway. 

“Bridgette, Maggie, and Jenny…” She reported back, “All older than you, right?”

Johnny’s heart stopped in his chest, 

“How’d you –”

“When a handsome, young, black ops soldier comes in and defuses a sixteen stage daisycutter that I designed myself, I make sure to learn a thing or two about him. And,” she unzipped her jacket and began to pull it off of her shoulders, “I also know that a man like that, a man with sisters… is not the kind of man who just gives up.”

“No, lass. I willnae give up. Let me help you. If we… oh, Christ,” Johnny watched in horror as she pulled the jacket the rest of the way off to reveal an intricately woven vest packed with explosives with perfectly laid Cordtex wires winding in and out of each of the housings, live and ready to blow. 

“Hands up!” Price’s voice echoed through the empty room as he, Gaz, and Ghost filled in the space behind their sergeant, guns pointed right at her, their red laser sights dancing on her chest like fireflies. 

Johnny held out his hand with the signal to halt, and everyone froze. She, however, slid off of the crate and walked over to him, little white flecks of snow sticking to her hair and cheeks, taking each step slowly and deliberately. As she got closer and closer, Soap could smell her sweat, heady and musky, and he could hear her breaths, hanging on each of her exhales like it was some heavenly edict, memorizing the pace of them like it would unlock all of the world’s many secrets, a passcode to the truth. 

She whispered, inches from his open mouth, 

“You can help me,” she put her hands on his neck, using her thumbs to rub against the scruff of his five o’clock shadow, letting the stiff hairs burn under her touch, “By staying the fuck out of my way.”

Despite the warning timbre of her voice, she was open and pliant for him, letting her lips hang open slightly, like she was expecting his kiss. Johnny leaned toward her, his mouth slotting across hers, tasting her on his tongue and moving his body into her space. He ignored the danger, well aware of the fact that she was strapped with enough Semtex to blow a city block into a dirty crater, and he kissed her deeply, as if they had been lovers for years, as if this was not their first touch. 

She stepped back, pulling away from him, and he took a step forward to follow. 

Click.

Time stopped. Johnny’s skin flashed hot and then cold, all of the adrenaline he had left flooding his system. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…” She chided him, backing away while he remained frozen in place, “Sit… stay…” Then, that same sad smile, “Good boy.” 

She climbed up on the crate and escaped through the hole in the roof before any of them could react to what had just happened. 

Captain Price gave an order to Gaz,

“Go after her!”

“No!” Johnny protested, “All of you, get the fuck out of this room. I stepped on a wee mine, and if I know her, this whole dock will be at the bottom of the bloody ocean the moment I lift my boot.”

Ghost came up behind him, shifting his feet carefully through the sand, searching for secondary devices. Then, he used his pneumatic tool to blow the snow away from Johnny’s left foot to reveal the device. 

“Well, she got you fair and square, didn’t she, Johnny? I’ll tell your mum you died a hero’s death,” there was a joking tone in Ghost’s voice that made Soap peer down at the toe of his boot. 

He had stepped on an empty soda can. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Johnny sighed, feeling the tingle of relief skitter through his limbs. 

Then, panic again as Price’s voice growled darkly behind him,

“I should send you on the first flight back to Glasgow with your papers in your fuckin’ hand, boy. What the hell are you doin’, MacTavish? You’ve got one fuckin’ chance to explain yourself before I replace you with a damn bomb robot. At least then I won’t have to write a letter home when he gets blown to bits.”

“I put a tag in her pocket, Cap’n. Should be able to watch her on the SAT-NAV now. She already mapped where Makarov’ll be next. I think we should help her.”

“What’s your deal with her? Are you…” Gaz asked, bewildered by his friend’s unusually careless behavior.

“I dinnae ken how to explain it, but I need to see this through.”

Price’s exhausted sigh was the only response he received, but Johnny knew that the silence was a form of assent. They would help him, and he would help her, if only he could get to her before she did anything too permanent.

Chapter 2

AO3 Link

[pitchsidestories]

After Midnight II Sydney Lohmann x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1377

summary: Sydney wants to confess her love to reader as the clock strikes midnight on New Year's Eve. requested

author's note: thank you, anon for sending us the request, enjoy. ���️❤️

The New Year’s Eve party was well underway in the picturesque old flat which offered a wonderful view of Munich. Dance music was blasting from the speakers. 

The balloons with 2025 printed on them were either on the floor or the ceiling.

Laura Freigang had set up a little photobooth in the corner of the living room where the guests could take photos with a Polaroid camera. 

“Tonight, I’ll tell her.”, Sydney Lohmann thought.

The Bayern Munich footballer only realised that she had said it out loud when the Frankfurt player replied to her sentence. An unconvinced laugh left the forward’s lips: “Sure, Syd.”

Her doubtful reaction only made it clearer to Sydney that tonight was about telling you about her feelings for you or keeping quiet about them forever.

“What? You don’t believe me?”, she asked the German national teammate.

With an amused twinkle in her blue eyes, Laura shook her head: “You’ve been saying that for months.”

Each of the Bayern Munich players who attended the New Year’s Eve party had an opinion on Sydney’s crush. The crush which was you was the only guest who hasn’t arrived yet.

“Literally. It got to the point that it was annoying.”, Klara teased her.

In a jokingly tone, Georgia added: “And that’s coming from Klara herself.”

“Excuse me? So rude. Maybe I should consider joining Barcelona in the summer.”, she pouted.

“No, you won’t do that.”, Sydney observed smiling.

Excitedly, the Scottish Sam Kerr intervened: “Girls, Syd’s crush is coming!”

“Perfect time, we can finally continue drinking.”, the English midfielder remarked in good spirits.

“I’ll get us a new round.”, Laura announced cheerfully.

You entered the room slightly ashamed, knowing full well that you were the last to arrive, even though it wasn't your fault. While you apologized your cheeks turned hot: “I’m so sorry, I know ‘m late, you can blame the MVG for that, but at least I got the dessert to make up for it.”

“Oh, no problem”, Sydney waved it off before helping you take off your winter coat and revealing your New Year's Eve outfit underneath.

The fellow football player admired the view, then she cleared her throat awkwardly: “Just glad you’re here.”

Her truthfulness caught you off guard, so the next words tended to stumble out of your mouth.: “ Me too. What I mean is.. I’m glad to be here with all of you.”

“Uhm, would you like a drink?”, Syndey offered, licking her lips nervously.

“Yes, please.”, you agreed.

With a silent nod she turned towards Laura who was in charge of the drinks that night: “Lau, can you make her one too?”

“Of course!”, the Frankfurt player replied happily, getting up to start mixing another drink.

“Thanks.”

A few moments later, she came over to you with your finished drink. As Laura handed you the glass, she winked and whispered: “Do everything I would do too.”

“That’s horrible advice.“, Sydney chuckled.

“Honestly.“, you agreed, taking a sip of the sweet drink to hide the blood rushing into your cheeks.

Sydney shook her head with a dismissive hand gesture: “Ignore her, she already had a few drinks.”

You watched as Laura retreated and sat back down with Klara and the other Bayern players: “Laura sounded pretty sober to me. How are you?”

The midfielder seemed to be surprised by your question, her eyes widened slightly and she blinked a few times: “I’m fine. Why?”

“You look a bit nervous. Don’t you like fireworks? Klara said we can do some sparklers later…”

“I’m not nervous, I’m totally fine.”, she said but she started to look even more horrified at your assumptions which made it hard to believe her.

“Okay.”

“Anyone wants some snacks?”, she suddenly changed the topic and your heart dropped at an instant, hoping you didn’t offend her.

“I do!”, Klara yelled from the other side of the room.

You watched quietly as Sydney disappeared into kitchen, followed by a concerned looking Laura.

While Sydney plated some pre-made snacks on a tray, Laura watched her with her arms crossed in front of her chest: “The operation Truth isn’t going too well so far, right?”

“I can’t do it right now, that would be weird.”, Sydney replied with her back to her German teammate.

“Weird? Why? For how much longer do you want to wait, Syd? Forever or until midnight?”

“Laura!”

“You know it’s true.”

Finally, the Bayern midfielder turned around and sighed: “I will tell her at midnight, don’t worry.”

Laura gave one satisfied nod, her facial features relaxing: “Good.”

“Here, take those snacks outside.”, Sydney said and put the tray into the Frankfurt players hands.

“Okay, but it’s getting closer to midnight.”, Laura reminded her.

One more frustrated sigh from Sydney made clear that she didn’t want to talk about it: “Laura, I got it all under control.”

That was the only thing you heard from their conversation.

“Under control? Kitchen emergency?”, you grinned as you walked in.

Sydney quickly shook her head: “No, all good. Would you like Laura to make you another drink?”

“Oh, I’m fine.”, you assured her.

The midfielder sighed relived: “Okay, great.”

“But can we talk?”, you asked her, nervously playing with a strand of hair and waiting for her answer.  

She looked at you, taken by surprise: “Now?”

“I guess it has time until after the countdown.”, you bit your lip.

“Are you sure?”, Sydney raised an eyebrow at you.

“You tell me.”, you replied and passed the ball back to her.

“Okay, let’s talk about it in the new year.”, the blonde decided and ran a hand through her loose hair.

Suddenly you heard yourself speaking your inner thoughts out loud :”Do you think it’s better to be quiet than to speak up?”

 “What do you mean?”, she frowned in confusion.

You shrugged your shoulders, slightly frustrated: “Doesn’t matter, let’s join the others on the balcony.”

To your great surprise, Sydney held on to your upper arm with her hand so that you couldn't go on to the other women, who could hardly wait for it to be 2025 and for them all to start a new chapter in their lives.

“Why are you being so secretive tonight?”, she wanted to know from you alarmed.

You glance calmly into her blue eyes: “I’m not, you’re so weird tonight too.”

“I’m not weird.”, the midfielder huffed.

Your heart sank as you questioned: “When what is it what you’re not telling me?”

“Who said I do?”, Sydney returned the question.

There was a touch of helplessness in your voice while your friends counted down the minutes until it was midnight in the background: “Syd..”

“Fine. I like you, y/n. I really like you.”, she admitted.

You gently framed her face with your hands and confessed: “Sydney, I like you the same way.”

“Wait, you do?”, the light-haired woman mumbled in astonishment.

Your mouth felt dry once you confirmed: “Yes.”

“You mean, not just like friends.”, Sydney pressed on.

“More like lovers.”, you clarified, your heart pondering hard against your chest.

The blonde sheepishly smiled at you: “Can I kiss you?”

A nod of the head was enough to make her do exactly what she had asked. The lights of the fireworks outside and the one inside you caused by the kiss rang in the new year.

“Happy New Year.”, you heard Georgia yelling.

The two of you were in your own world. “Y/n, Happy New Year.”, Sydney whispered into your ear, giving you chills all over your body before kissing you again.

“Oh my God, Klara, get the champagne out”’, Laura first spotted you two, her voice filled with excitement. 

A loud laughter escaped the younger forward’s lips: “Laura, the champagne is already out.”

“Yes, but now we’ve to celebrate Sydney’s confession.”, the Frankfurt player explained smirking.

Sydney tried to sound nonchalantly:” Girls, it’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, please ignore us so we can go back to kissing.”, you added with a mischievous smile.

Klara observed delighted about what just has happened: “Great start into the New Year.”

“We agree.”, Sydney and you said at the same time, each of you erupting into a warm laughter as the sparklers were lit mirroring the lightness you felt when your lips touched hers.

gif source: https://www.tumblr.com/glimmerofawesome/691962444197855232?source=share

[wolfcin04]

The sunlight crept through the curtains in Rafe’s room, casting a warm, golden hue on the rumpled sheets. The soft glow of the morning felt so homey to her—a comforting feeling. Maybe it was the morning sun or the sleeping boy beside her that made her feel as though she was exactly where she needed to be. Y/n loved the early hours of the morning when Rafe was fast asleep beside her and Tannyhill was quiet.

“Creep,” he said in a deep, groggy voice.

Y/n froze; she thought Rafe was still fast asleep. Feeling a little embarrassed, she realized she’d been caught in the act.

“Ugh, you faker,” she muttered, swatting his arm lightly. A shy laugh escaped her lips, betraying her embarrassment.

“Mmm, come here,” Rafe murmured, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close until their faces were just inches apart. Close enough for Y/n to see the stubble on his chin.

“It’s 8 a.m. We need to get out of bed before we’re late to your dad’s brunch,” she said, trailing her fingers slightly through Rafe’s hair. She noticed how his smile twitched upward at her touch.

“No, no, let’s stay like this forever. Just you and me. Forget about them,” Rafe replied, his eyes still closed. He couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy in her embrace. If only Topper and the guys could see him now—they’d never let him live it down.

“As much as I would love to, I promised Sarah I’d help her pick out an outfit before we head downstairs.”

As soon as she said that, a loud knock sounded on the door.

“Y/N, I’m having a hair crisis! Please hurry!” Sarah yelled from outside.

Rafe groaned, burying his face in her shoulder. "speak of the devil", he mumbled, voice muffled

“I’ll be out in a sec” Y/n called back, gently prying herself from his grip.

“Be nice today, okay? I know you and your dad have had some differences, but it is his birthday, after all,” she said, standing up from the bed and walking toward the closet to find something to wear.

Rafe sat up and rubbed his hand over his face, trying to wake up.

“Oh, so now you care about Ward?” he asked in a slightly accusing tone.

Y/n stepped out of the walk-in closet and headed into the bathroom without even looking at Rafe.

“No, I care about Sarah and Wheezie. They’re like the younger sisters I never had. I don’t want them caught in the middle of yet another fight, Rafe. Please don’t fight me on this,” Y/n said, her voice echoing slightly in the bathroom.

Rafe followed her, standing behind her as she added the finishing touches to her hair. He couldn’t help but feel that flutter in his chest again. Placing a soft kiss on her shoulder, he rested his chin on her head and gazed at her through the mirror.

“Okay, you have a point. I’ll try my very best—for you, babe,” he said with a slight smile, giving her head another peck.

“Thank you, amor." she replied with a soft smile, her accent faint but familiar. "Now, please shower and meet me downstairs in 20 minutes,” she replied, turning to walk toward the door.

“What? That’s not nearly enough time to do my hair!” Rafe called out after her.

“Babe, you’re bald, remember?” she teased with a soft chuckle as she exited the room.

[fairyysoup]

it will come back

part 3

a.k.a. sever the blight (eddie’s version)

pairing(s): werewolf!eddie munson x fem!milkmaid!reader

summary: It's May Day, so naturally you'd have a hedonistic time. Except there's nothing natural about any of it.

cw: smut, consensual noncon is negotiated, primal play, literally i cannot stress how consensual it is, public sex (no one gets caught), knotting, biting, marking, possessiveness, reader is bitten by a werewolf, marriage proposal of sorts, dark themes, physical abuse, reader is a servant to an abusive master, misogyny, minor character death, blood, fairytale au, some kind of historical fantasy period, inspired by The Company of Wolves by Angela Carter

a/n: hiiiiiiii :) do I like this? no, but I've been working on it for half a year and if I don't publish it now I don't think I ever will, so pls enjoy it and if you don't shhhhh don't tell me ok love you bye

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The bouquet of flowers on your doorstep is beautiful, and not lacking in symbolism. Purple lilacs, for the first emotions of love. Bluebells, for consistency and everlasting love. Red roses, for true love.

In the center is one singular, bright yellow marigold. You figure you know who left them.

You’re stunned by them when you first open the door. Your hairline, already covered by your flowers from last night, prickles with sweat. You had hoped for something, some kind of affection or gesture this year, as you do every year, but you hadn’t imagined it would actually… happen. You’d hoped a bit like a child hopes for rain on a clear day. It’s possible, but it would take a lot, in the grand scheme of things. 

You turn it over in your hands, your heartbeat thudding in your chest. You’re not sure what to think. You don’t know how Eddie would have known that this particular shack, in all of your Master’s sprawling estate, was yours. You don’t know what he means by this gesture. Is it an apology for turning you away last night? For embarrassing you? Is it a promise of some kind, that he intends to do something tonight? Is it a real declaration of love, or is it something else entirely? 

You sniff, getting a waft of fragrant lilac when you do, and turn to place it inside. There’s nothing to be done with it now, aside from finding a vase for it. You don’t know where Eddie lays his head at night. You don’t know where he is now, or where he’ll be later. You have to trust that he’ll find you. 

I’ll always come back to you. That’s what he said, before you walked away last night. You have to believe him, because otherwise you have nothing else.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” snaps a stern voice when you jauntily march out the door of your shack. Your Mistress stands with a sour look on her face, eyeing your day dress, free of an apron.

“To the town square, ma’am,” you tell her honestly, your head bowed. “For the… festival.” 

“Just because it’s May Day does not mean you are exempt from your daily chores,” your Mistress reminds you, shoving a pitchfork in your hand and ordering you to go bale the hay. 

You do as you’re told; you always do. You also know that you’ll probably be baling the hay until nightfall, when the festivities are sure to be picking up. 

It gives you time to think. You don’t know what you’d do if you ran into Eddie at the bonfire tonight. Or, maybe you do… you have some ideas about what you’d like to do, anyways. But you can’t speak for what he wants. 

He told you not to go near the woods, which he also said is where he lives. If he wanted to take you somewhere… wouldn’t it be to his own home? If so, has he already given you his answer, that he doesn’t want you in the way that you want him? It’s hard to believe, based on everything he’s done up to this point. 

Well after noon, and several hay bales later, you’re sure the maypole in the center of town has been decorated by now. You’re sure that the town square has been covered with flowers, and you’re sure that Victoria and Hyacinth and the rest of the maidens in the town have determined which eligible bachelor they want to celebrate with tonight. 

A flame of jealousy sparks in your gut. You hope that none of them have set their sights on Eddie. The mere thought of it is enough to make you see red. 

As the sun sets on the horizon, shining golden light in through the open doors of the barn, you’re sure that people have noticed your absence from the festivities. It’s common knowledge around town that your Master is crueler than most. Less lenient, more forceful. You’ve heard whispers behind your back, and you pay them no heed, usually. That the Master intends to take you for a wife after your Mistress dies, whenever that may be. That he keeps you close for his own twisted purposes. And, you suppose, there’s merit to those rumors.

You’re not unaware of the way the Master sets his eyes on you sometimes. He isn’t good at hiding it, you should say. Not that he really tries; on more than one occasion, you’ve incurred the Mistress’s wrath simply because the Master stared at your chest for a little too long. Yes, you could say that the Master is attracted to you, in some way. And, once, you might have counted yourself lucky.

If he wasn’t attracted to you, he could be crueler. And you could do worse than to catch the eye of a powerful, wealthy landowner. If he married you, you would be financially secure, and you would never have to seek a place to live. You would never worry about being labeled a whore or being thrown out on the street. At one point, you’d accepted that this was the best case scenario for you.

But something has changed your perspective, recently. Something that has dark eyes and a mischievous smile and rings on his fingers. Fingers that, you know, are very skilled.

And what if… What if you were to marry Eddie? As you had imagined in the field last night, your mind wanders to the idea of being Eddie’s wife. Tending to his house, you imagine, a stone cottage in the woods. To lie in bed with him on a rainy night, warm against his burning chest. Being able to gaze into those sparkling eyes as often as you like, being able to wake up to him. 

For the first time since you were a young girl, you really consider the possibility of being… happy. Your happiness. The idea of a happy future is something that has been such a foreign concept for so long, it almost makes you uncomfortable to dream about it. 

When you were little, you’d dream about being a beautiful princess in a tower, saved by a knight in shining armor, who also happened to be a prince. These dreams went away once your family sold you into indentured servitude; princesses don’t work. Princesses aren’t covered in shit and filth on festival days, baling hay in a cow pasture. Princesses would be dancing the maypole and crowned the may queen–

“And I crowned her my sweet queen of May.”

–Princesses would be showered with flowers and gifts–

Bluebells for consistency and everlasting love.

–Princesses are whisked away in the night from their troubles and marry princes. 

I am not a princess.

You throw your pitchfork down beside the last bale of hay. The sun has set, finally, and the moon is already high in the sky. The bonfires in the town square will be burning down. If Eddie was there, he’s sure to have found someone else by now. 

Your cheeks, dusted with dirt, feel crusty and filthy when you cry. You are no princess, despite the crown of flowers on your head. Eddie isn’t going to save you. And really, what would it say for your honor if he did? Can you not defend yourself? Are you so helpless that you need a strange man from the woods to save you from your life?

Marching out of the barn, you feel hungry, and tired, and you figure that you would probably be best suited to go to bed. But there will be food and drink at the festival, even if it’s late. There could still be time to meet someone, anyway.

“And where do you think you’re going?” It’s a deep and gruff voice that asks this time, and you’re about sick and tired of hearing that same question. But your irritation is easily replaced by dread, when you turn to find your Master standing by the entrance to the barn you just stormed out of.

“The bonfire,” you reply, with less heat than intended. “It’s May Day, and I’ve done my chores.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” your Master says. 

He’s not a tall man, but what he lacks in stature he makes up for in intimidation. He has cold blue eyes and a sneer that could freeze a King in his place. You know what it’s like when he’s on the other side of a cane, and you don’t relish the idea of a beating just because you wanted to go to a festival. When the Master steps up to you, he smells like liquor, so strong it stings your sinuses.

“You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to?” He growls at you, a nasty sounding thing in the back of his throat. You flinch. “That girl from the Werther’s house– Victoria, is it? She told me all about you and some… some boy in the woods. The one they call the Beast in town. Is that what you’re doing now? Dallying with any boy who comes around? Even ones from the woods?” 

Your cheeks burn hot, and you step back just as he steps forward, looming over you in his drunken state. “No, I… I don’t dally–” 

“Not from what she says,” he snaps back, and you briefly consider wringing Victoria by her stupid neck. And then you think, Hyacinth would have never betrayed me. “Running around in your night clothes, fooling around with some woodland freak. I ought to whip you where you stand.” 

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as he backs you into a corner. The fence for the pig pen meets the edge of the barn where you end up, your back hitting the barn door and earning a loud creak from the hinges. 

Your Master reaches for you with a snarl. Instinctively you curl into a ball, your arms coming up to protect your face and neck. Your instincts don’t take into consideration that he doesn’t have a cane in his hand, and he’s too drunk to throw a good punch. You cry out when his hand clamps tightly around your wrist, and he yanks you toward the barn. 

“What are you doing?” is your undignified shriek when he throws you into the barn, and you fall into the pile of hay bales you just stacked.

“You’ll sleep with the cows tonight,” the Master growls, and spits a glob of phlegm at your feet. “It’s what you are.” 

“No, please–” you rush forward just as the barn doors slam shut in front of your face, locking you in darkness with the stench of manure and dirt. The cows are down at the other end of the barn; you hear them jostling unhappily in their restraints as you bang on the door with the flat of your hand. 

You finally let yourself cry. You’re filthy. Covered in sweat and grime, mud all over your skirt from working all day, the crown of flowers on your head wilting. You don’t know what you expected. You’re not Cinderella; you don’t have a fairy godmother, and you don’t have anyone coming to save you and let you go to the ball. This isn’t a fairytale. The stories you were told when you were a child were just that.

Even as you continue to bang on the door, you’re already starting to accept it. You won’t be getting out of here anytime soon. They’ll let you out of the barn in the morning, sure, but you’re not going to leave this farm, or your Master, or this life of servitude until you’re dead, or otherwise ripped from your mortal life. 

Then there’s a scuffling. On the other side of the door, you hear your Master shout once, shortly, before it’s muffled and frantic. Footfalls in the dirt. A growling, snarling. Yelping. And then something bangs on the barn door, making it jostle so hard you scream and jump back. 

Your Master, just on the other side of the door, like he’s been thrown against it, screams loudly. Something snarls, and then there’s a wet squelch, like the sound of something alive being torn open. A chicken being gutted. You stand away from the door, your eyes bulging in the darkness, your hands clamped over your mouth to quiet your frantic breathing. 

Something just killed your Master. The fact sinks like a stone in your stomach. He’s no longer shouting. There’s no movement, nothing to indicate that there’s anything alive on the other side of the door anymore. Only dead silence. 

And then another scuffle. A heavy thud, like something being thrown aside. And then something, or someone, is unlocking the door.

In the darkness, you panic. You back away quickly, your hands searching, feeling for anything that you can grab to defend yourself with. You find nothing, but collapse into the stack of hay bales just as the doors swing open, and you come face to face with your Master’s killer. 

“Eddie?” 

It’s him, all right. He stands with his arms outstretched to either side, holding the barn doors open with the light of the full moon shining in behind him. You don’t know how it’s happening, but his eyes reflect the moonlight with a bright red hue to compliment the red blood that’s all over him. 

It drips down his face, his neck, his chest. It’s on his hands. When he smiles at you, it’s in his teeth.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, and you feel like your heart could leap out of your chest with how hard it pounds in its cage. He tilts his head, seeing your tear streaked face, the way you cower against the bales of hay in your muddy dress. “Rough day?”

“You– you–” and your brain has stopped working. You know what you’re looking at; Eddie killed your Master. Eddie is covered in his blood. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, is a killer, a murderer, looming over you with a smile that could scare ghosts back into their graves. 

“Yeah, me.” He takes a step forward. You scream and jump back, putting a bale of hay between you and the man covered in blood at the door. Eddie puts his hands up in defense. “I’m not going to hurt you, princess–”

“Stop calling me that.” You grab your pitchfork off the ground, and hold it up at him. “You killed my Master. I don’t even know how you did it– but do you know what that means?” You thrust the pitchfork at him. He jumps back. “Do you?”

Eddie blinks. “It means… you’re free?” 

“It means I get passed off to his next of kin,” you snarl at him. “Like a fucking cow. That’s all I am to them. I’m cattle. And the next person who gets me may decide to slaughter me. Do you understand?” You jab the pitchfork at him again, and he backs away into the moonlight. “Why would you do that to me?” 

“Because he hurt you!” Eddie retorts, flailing his outstretched hands, exasperated. “Because he locked you in a barn! I could– I could smell the rage on him. He wasn’t going to leave you here, he was going to do something worse. Just give it another drink, he would have been back out here. And I wasn’t going to let it happen. I couldn’t… I couldn’t watch it anymore.” He drops his arms with a sigh, and his hands smack loudly against his thighs. “You’ve helped me twice. Let me at least return the favor.” 

“I helped you once,” you snap.

Eddie shakes his head. “No, sweet pea. Twice. You just didn’t know it.” 

He raises his right hand, his bloody fist tight. He shakes his arm until his sleeve falls, and exposes the light pink scrap of fabric tied around it– the one you swore was yours. The one you swore you tied around the leg of the wolf you nursed last month. 

“You–” the pitchfork in your hand lowers. You think you’re halfway to crazy. Or, maybe you’re already there. “You’re the wolf.” 

Eddie nods. “I am.”

“You’re a… a wolf-man?” You’re shaking your head, but even so, the entire thing makes sense. It’s why you’ve been so suspicious, why something seemed so off about him. Why his smile is always so sharp. Why you always feel a little bit like a frightened animal around him, in spite of it all.

“I am,” Eddie repeats, and he turns to look over his shoulder.

You shake your head. “I don’t believe in that. I don’t believe in fairytales.”

“Doesn’t matter what you believe in, sweetheart.” He spits something out of his mouth, grimacing as he licks his teeth. “The moon will peak at midnight, and then I change. I need to be far away when that happens.” He looks at you, his eyes pleading. “Come with me.” 

As incredulous as you are, as slowly as you’re coming to terms with what’s been in front of you the whole time, you still drop your pitchfork to the ground. “Where?” 

“To the woods,” Eddie shrugs, his smile disarmingly sweet beneath all the blood. “Maybe I can be your new Master, hm?” 

“Fuck you, Munson.”

“That’s the name of the game.”

“You’re a goddamn demon. I shouldn’t have trusted you– I shouldn’t have talked to you.” 

Eddie crosses his arms. “Listen. I think God’s got a sick sense of humor; otherwise, I wouldn’t be what I am, and you’d be a lady in a castle far away from any of this. So why don’t we make the best of a bad situation, hm?”

You narrow your eyes at him. You can feel yourself doing something stupid even before you say it. “I’m… listening.”

“Great!” He claps his hands and launches into a spiel that leaves you wondering if he’d spent the entire time since last night concocting it. “I’m gonna turn into a rabid beast in, oh, I dunno, maybe two hours. Give or take. But if you want to stay in my home, safe, where wolf-me can’t work a latch, I’ll be back in the morning. And then we can get married and fuck and have lots of babies and be that old couple who lives in the woods. Or something. Really, I haven’t thought that far. Maybe just stay the night? Or forever. I’m not picky.”

You’re frowning when he turns to you with a half-crazed grin. “That’s the worst proposal I’ve ever heard.”

Eddie gestures to himself. “Not exactly a poet.”

“So, what are you, then?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “No riddles this time. Tell me, honestly. What are you?”

Eddie sighs. He tilts his head to the ceiling, kicks the ground with the heel of his boot, and then he says, “I’m a monster. I’m a man. I’m a woodworker and I’m a charlatan. I cheat, I lie. I turn into a wolf and I kill men because they’d do the same to me. I can’t help it, comes with the territory. I have a family of other wolves who look after me and I look after them, and you’ll meet them if you want. But…” He peers at you for a moment, and then averts his gaze, “But really, I’m yours. I’m in love with you. I have been since you helped me that time Thatch shot me, and I’ll be yours even if you run to town and turn me in, and I’ll be yours if they hunt me down and throw me on a pyre. That’s all I am, really.”

You can barely find it in you to breathe. You’re still shaky on your feet and you don’t think you’re quite in your right mind, but you find yourself thinking about the last night, about his hands and his lips on you, about how it was so easy for you to get lost in him. How you spent all night and all day thinking about him, wanting him, wishing for precisely this. 

Just not with the caveat of fur and four legs. 

“You’re looking at me funny,” he muses, his eyes flaring. His smile is wider than it should be. His teeth are more pointed than they should be. 

“I’m not looking at you any sort of way.”

He laughs. It runs clear down your spine and shudders through your limbs. You have to swallow past the dryness in your throat. 

“Always so proud– you know you don’t have to stand on ceremony anymore, right?” He tilts his head at you. “There’s no one around to judge you here, princess. Least of all me.”

 “I’m not standing on ceremony,” you press, but you feel like an indignant child the more you argue with him. “If I was, I wouldn’t be talking to you. I’d be trying to get out of here.”

“You want to leave?” Eddie asks, his voice clear and frank. He points over his shoulder. “Don’t let me stand in your way.”

He holds his hands out at his sides, palms up. His fingernails are long and sharp– like he’s slowly transforming into a monster, right in front of you. He stands aside, and there’s a clear path between you and the door. 

You could leave. You could run. You could find a place to run and hide, disappear by morning. 

But you don’t. You don’t want to leave. Not him. Not yet. 

His eyes are different now as they peer at you. They seem iridescent, glinting in the darkness. He sizes you up and down, and you feel more and more like prey. You… should be scared.

“Am I to take that as a no?” Eddie asks after a lengthy pause. 

You don’t exactly have anything to say in your defense. If he was wrong, you would already have tried to bolt. 

“Will you chase me?” You watch his eyebrows shoot up when you ask the question. You wet your lower lip with your tongue, an inch away from gnawing on it. “If I run, will you come after me?”

“Do you want me to chase you?” 

Your breath sticks in your throat. It would be so easy to just say yes. Yes, I want to be chased by you. I want to be pursued and I want you to make me yours in every way possible. But the words won’t come. They can’t come, as if it would soil you just to say them. It would be admitting defeat.

“I don’t want to be given a choice.” 

Eddie shakes his head, his frown of confusion deepening. “You always have a choice with me.”

“Eddie,” you say slowly, inclining your head. “I don’t. Want. A choice.” You stare at him heavily, willing him to gather your meaning without having to say it. I want you to force me.

You watch as the fire of recognition ignites in his eyes, and he opens his mouth with a noise of understanding. Ah. Yes. This is your choice. He smirks at you, then looks down at his foot as he digs his heel idly into the dirt. 

“I’ll count to three,” Eddie mutters without looking up at you. Still, you can see the ghost of a playful smile on his face. “One-”

You take off like a shot. You don’t have time to hear him continue counting. You’ll probably make it to the pasture before he catches up with you, unless he’s stronger than a normal man. If the bloodied carcass of your Master is anything to go by, though, you imagine that he is. 

You don’t make it to the pasture. You don’t even get close. You come to the doorstep of your pathetic little shed, your feet slamming the dirt, kicking up dust all the way, the air in your lungs burning with the labor of your breath, when your back is hit by something solid and unforgiving. Your legs are ripped out from beneath you, and you topple to the ground in front of your door with a thud.

“How fitting,” Eddie’s voice says in your ear, deep and husky, while his hand cups your chin, yanking your head up from the dirt. “Right where we met, isn’t it?”

He crowds you, half-laying on top of you, his weight pressing into your back and his hips meeting yours from behind. You gasp at the feeling of sharp claws pricking your cheeks where he holds your jaw in his hand, while the other creeps beneath your skirt and along your thigh.

“I never got to finish what I started last night,” Eddie purrs, his voice resonating in his chest. It’s enough to make you shiver, while goosebumps erupt on your skin. “I never like to leave a lady wanting.”

He scrapes his nails along your inner thigh, coaxing your legs apart. You jerk a little in his grip and whine when his claws dig in. Your face burns, your skin feeling like it’s on fire. It would be so easy for someone to find you here, flat on your stomach with a monster at your back. 

A whimper escapes your lips when his finger circles your clit, just like he did the night before. You shouldn’t want him, especially not like this, but it’s almost as if everything about Eddie begs you to go against your own nature. It began when you invited a wild animal into your home. It doesn’t seem like it will ever end. Nor will your want for him. 

“Eddie,” you sigh out shakily, and he shushes you while his finger plays through your wetness. He touches you like he knows exactly how to set you on edge. He’s cruel with his gentility, even while you want him to tear you apart. 

You arch against him, driving your ass back against his hips. You feel his cock press against you through the layers of fabric still separating you, and it makes you want to whine in frustration like a spoiled brat. It’s not enough to have him here, pinning you, touching you. You need him everywhere. You need him to consume you entirely. 

Gasping, you open your mouth to say something else– urge him or taunt him, you’re not sure which– but his hand clamps down over your mouth before you can manage it. 

“I told you to be quiet,” he growls, grinding his hips down into yours harder. “I’ve already been shot once, I don’t need it to happen again because you can’t keep it down.”

Eddie flips your skirts up over your hips, and your bare skin meets the cool air. There’s a moment of heavy anticipation, of Eddie’s harsh breathing against your ear, of the scrape of his trousers against your thighs. And then there’s the press of his cock against your entrance, and you tense. 

“Do you believe in me now?” Eddie whispers in your ear. His voice has taken on a ragged tone, like he can hardly contain the animal lingering beneath his surface. His fingers have just started to tremble against your cheeks– just enough to let you know that he, damn him, is holding himself back. 

Your eyelashes flutter. You have a mind to grind against him, to spur him on. “I have to, don’t I?”

He chuckles, and the sound raises goosebumps on your skin. Your heart pounds in your chest, and Eddie takes a long, slow inhale. “Your heart’s beating so fast, princess. Something on your mind?”

“Fuck you,” you seethe. 

“As you wish.”

He grabs your hips and pushes in deep. You cry out, digging your fingers into the dirt to steady yourself, scrabbling for a sense of stability. Eddie holds you close by the throat, pulling out and pushing back in with the same brutal force. 

The sounds coming from your mouth can’t be real, can’t be you. You aren’t proud of yourself, but you can’t stop while he’s being relentless, fucking into you hard and fast. 

Eddie groans low in your ear, his hand around your throat slipping down. His claws wrap around your neckline and he tears through the fabric, ripping the layers of clothing to expose your shoulder to him. You feel the whisper of his sharp teeth along your skin, tickling at your pulse point, and it’s all you can do not to cum right then. 

Your eyes roll, your back arching against him. “Eddie, I–”

“Don’t be afraid,” Eddie tells you. His words vibrate on your skin. “I won’t bite.”

You reach back, and your hand finds his hair, thick and curly between your fingers. “I want you to,” you pant, while your orgasm mounts, pleasure gathering between your legs with every move that he makes. You moan, your breath catching in your throat. “Please, Eddie–”

His nose pressed to your shoulder, Eddie shakes his head. You can’t see the way that his pupils dilate, his limbs shaking with the effort of holding back. 

Instead, his hand slips between your legs again, and when he circles your clit with his gentle touch and his sharp claw, you cum with a silent scream of relief. 

He keeps going, hard and fast as you ride out your orgasm. And finally, Eddie lets out an animalistic growl loud enough to shake the earth, and he spills inside you. 

Your legs threaten to buckle out from under you, but Eddie catches you at the last second just before you both slump to the damp ground. Gasping for breath and still coming down from your high, you barely have the energy to object when your clouded mind registers the swell of a knot keeping him inside you. 

Eddie wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer, until you fit against him like the missing piece of a puzzle. The full moon overhead douses the pastures with silver light. Far off in the tall grass, crickets sing. 

“You didn’t bite,” you croak, your voice sounding distant and hazy. He shifts, and it makes you squeak when it moves the knot inside you. 

“Didn’t want to do it to you if you didn’t mean it,” he murmurs. His breath is hot on the back of your neck, and you find yourself wishing that you could turn and look at him in the moonlight. 

“I meant it,” you tell him earnestly, running your hand along his arm. “I want… I want it. Make me yours, Eddie.”

He makes a weak noise in his throat, his arms tightening around you even further. “Don’t say that unless you want me forever.”

You laugh. It surprises you, but you can’t help it. “I don’t think I could let you go even if I wanted to, baby.”

He stills for a moment, like he’s trying to process what you’re telling him. “So… so you’ll come with me?”

You sigh, with a gentle smile curling at your lips. You consider the dreams you’ve had, of running away with him, of living with him, of having him whisk you away like a knight in shining armor. Even if he isn’t a knight, it is what you’ve been wishing for, isn’t it?

“Yes,” you tell him softly. “I’ll come with you. Just make me yours.”

When he pulls your hair away from your neck, Eddie’s touch is so tender that it could make you cry. His lips touch your skin, and your eyes flutter shut in anticipation of the sting of his teeth. 

“I’ll always be yours,” he tells you again, this time so quiet that it sounds like a prayer for you alone to hear. “Always.”

And when Eddie sinks his teeth in, the world goes black.

You wake with your head on a pillow of soft cotton and your back on a mattress filled with hay.

Wherever you are, there isn’t much light in the room. There’s an open window somewhere over your head; you hear birds outside. The forest sings in the morning. 

The cabin you’re in is much like your own, except it affords more room to move around. The floor has a decadent rug thrown across it, something that you wouldn’t expect a cabin like this to have in its inventory. It isn’t much bigger than your own shack. You old shack, now, you suppose. 

The more you look around, the more things seem… eclectic, to say the least. The bed is simple wood, but the blankets and linens are fine, like something an aristocrat would use. The ring dish on the window sill is an abalone seashell, shining iridescent purple and blue in the morning light to reflect the rubies and sapphires on the rings inside of it. The humble dining table is worn and covered in knicks and scratches, but the silverware is finer than any you’ve ever seen. 

When you finally pull yourself out of the bed and take a look around, you see Eddie’s burgundy blouse tossed across a rocking chair in the corner by the hearth. So, you conclude, this is Eddie’s domain. His home. The cabin in the woods you’d been dreaming of. 

And with a bit more snooping, you conclude something else. Eddie Munson is a goddamned thief. 

He has pocket watches engraved with names of nobility from all around the country. The platter on the table is monogrammed H.R. Cheshire. Eddie’s wardrobe has a large amount of men’s and women’s clothing piled in it, and all of it is fine silk, taffeta and lace– not something a simple woodworker living in the woods would be able to afford. 

You stumble to the door almost like you’re drunk, and when the door bangs open on its hinges, it’s Eddie who startles backwards in the bushes this time. He yelps, and you see just enough of him to catch him losing his balance and toppling ass-over-head over a log past the treeline. 

“For god’s sake, Eddie,” you chastise him. 

“Wasn’t expecting that,” he retorts, his head popping up over the top of the bush. He’s cleaned himself up, at least, so his face isn’t covered in blood anymore. He still looks so beautiful, though, and you still feel your heart skip a beat to look at him.

“You– you’ve stolen half of everything in here.” You gesture vaguely over your shoulder at the cabin. Your shoulder aches and stings when you move it, leading you to believe that everything that happened in the night was not a dream. It was real. 

Everything you’ve thought didn’t exist is real. 

Eddie is just a flicker of a shadow through the trees as he rounds one and steps into full view. “Had to make a living, somehow.” 

“And yet you walk around in the woods naked?”

He holds his hands out at his sides. “Um. Didn’t have time to get changed after I brought you here. It's kinda… it’s hard to hold it off when it happens.”

“When you turn into a wolf, you mean?”

“Yes.” 

You nod slowly, trying to only look at his face. It’s inordinately difficult. “Am I going to turn into a wolf?”

“Eventually.” Eddie tilts his head and looks at you warily. “Did you… not want it after all?”

“No, I–” you pause. It’s hard to put into words what you’re feeling, but you know it’s not regret. Your voice wobbles when you finally say, “I think it’ll just take some time to get used to it. Things have been the same for so long, and now…”

“Hey,” Eddie says, sounding almost the same as you had when he showed up the first time, crying at your door. He holds out his hand, his palm facing upward. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Okay? Let me help.”

You look at him through misty eyes, and you almost laugh at how blatantly your roles have reversed, now. You, standing at his door, crying. Him, trying to be of service to you. 

You give him a meager smile, placing your hand in his. “Can I stay?”

“Stay forever,” Eddie tells you, looking up at you with kind eyes. “But I can’t promise I’ll be polite for all of it.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m in love with you,” you admit, and watch as he absorbs your words slowly, almost as if he never imagined he’d hear you say it. 

And when he kisses you this time, you don’t even mind the sharpness of his teeth.

[loverslantern]

Mirror- Dean Winchester x f! reader oneshot

Description: Reader doesn’t feel pretty so Dean tries to show her what he sees in the way he knows best: praise.

Warnings: It’s hot and heavy in here, inherently sexual but nothing happens, manhandling?, praise

Word count: 2k

Note: This is not only my first time writing something like this but also my first time writing something not related to The Hunter and The Witch series so please leave feedback!

  I catch my reflection on the screen of my laptop and groan. My face looks weird today. It’s just one of those days where I just couldn’t feel…pretty or nice or any other adjective. It shouldn’t matter now when I’m alone in my motel room and researching for the next hunt. There’s no one to impress in the desolate room other than the four beige walls and a creaky bed. 

  It shouldn’t matter. To be fair it shouldn’t matter in general when beauty is an objective concept, and yet it does. I do not know the psychology behind it, maybe it’s a biological thing as animals would choose the mate that’s more appealing or strong to have offspring that can survive. I shake my head, ridding myself of the thought. This would just spiral into a psychological analysis that would only make me think of it further rather than ignore it. 

  It’s an obsessive thing, isn’t it?

  Either way, I don’t like the way I look today. I couldn’t get my hair to look just right this morning and I tried so many up-do’s that my arms got sore. It still didn’t look right, so I left it down. 

  And my face just looks wrong. Maybe my eyes are too big or too small in proportion to the rest of my face. Or, maybe my jawline is too soft, perhaps I’m not rough enough. Perhaps I’m too rough. Somehow, every possible thing feels true. 

  I groan again, leaning my head back against the headboard of the bed, and squeeze my eyes shut as if it will get rid of it all. I’m meant to be focused on research. It was supposed to help. But stupid screens and their stupid reflections.

  The jingle of keys forces my eyes open, my eyes landing on my door as it clicks open. “Hey, sweetheart,” Dean greets, casually inviting himself in. 

  “Hi,” I breathe. I suppose the consequence of giving someone a spare key is that they will use said key. But, I’m not that bad of a thing considering it’s Dean who’s walking in. “I’m gonna head to a bar, you in?”

  “Eh,” I answer. “You go ahead. ‘Not feeling it tonight.”

  He eyes me for a moment, squinting just slightly. “Not even as an excuse to dress up and listen to music?” he pushes. “‘My treat.” Of course, his treat meant a fake card or money he got from hustling. But, god the way he smiles and holds his hands up as he tries to convince me is cuter than it should be. “Sorry, Dean,” I say despite the sight, “Just not feeling it.”

  His shoulders and smile drop, “Come on I’ll buy you as much (favorite drink) as you want.”

  “You can go without me you know?” I point out as he saunters over to the bed and plops himself down. “We both know you’re gonna be leaving with some random girl anyway.” 

  He rolls his eyes as he leans back on his elbows, his black shirt flexing against his muscles. He knows I’m right. “I thought Sam was the nerd,” he comments, ignoring what I said by lifting my laptop off my lap and discarding it in the empty space next to him. “Why don’t you wanna go out? ‘You feeling okay?” he asks and for a moment as his eyes scan my face, I can see the concern pass through them. 

  “Oh, I’m fine,” I insist, trying to be as convincing as possible. Yet, he sees right through me, giving me a pointed look. He’s hard to lie to. I break, shaking my head, “Fine. I just…I don’t feel pretty today so I don’t really wanna go out.”

  His eyebrows raise, his lips parting a bit as if that’s the last thing he expected me to say. “You?”

  My eyebrows furrow, head tilting in confusion, “….Yeah….” Who else?

  He studies my face again and I worry he’ll see what I’m seeing. He’ll see I’m not pretty. His features soften regardless. “Come with me,” he announces, gesturing a hand to follow as he gets up from the bed. I don’t listen, giving him a confused and cautious look. “Come on,” he insists, his voice firm. 

  I hold back my sigh as I stand from the bed. I almost didn’t want to know what he had in store. But, he doesn’t leave me with much choice but to turn back as he takes hold of my hand. His hand is big and warm as it envelopes mine, butterflies erupting in my gut at the simple touch.

  He leads me into the bathroom, his hand leaving mine to travel up my arms and to my shoulders, positioning me in front of the mirror. My hips press against the sink, his hands on my upper arms and his body close behind mine. He nearly looms over me with his tall stature, his head and eyes tilted a little down as he uses the mirror to meet my eyes. “Don’t look at me. Look at yourself,” he directs. But my eyes linger on him, on his pretty green eyes, sharp sculptured jaw, and his straight nose. His fingers tap against the skin of my upper arm, “Come on,” he encourages, his voice a little gravely. 

  I give in. He makes it so easy to give in. I pull my eyes from him and land on myself. A frown pulls on my lips as my eyes jump around my features, even my frown looks wrong. He squeezes my arms, gaining my attention back in the same second my gut lurches. “Uh-uh,” he hums. “Eyes back on you, baby.”

  Jesus. 

  Again, I force my eyes away and I can feel his burning gaze on me. “What do you see?” he asks. I scuff and roll my eyes, “Dean, I’m not—“

  His hands rub up and down my upper arms. “Just—what do you see?”

  I bite on my bottom lip. I look unamused. That’s what I’m seeing. I sigh, trying to humor him. “Myself,” I answer plainly.

  He tuts, “Not what I meant, sweetheart. What do you see that you don’t like?”

  Everything. That seems like an appropriate answer. But I can’t just say that and I don’t. I hardly want to share what I feel when it’s hard to put words to it. “How about this?” he says, his head dipping down to occupy the space by my neck, putting himself closer to my level than far above me. “I like your smile,” he admits, his voice so soft it’s like a rough whisper. “I like when you smile at me…” he squeezes my arms, “like I’m damn important.”

  “You ar—“

  “Uh-uh,” he hums again. “This is about you, baby.” 

  One of his hands drifts upwards, the muscles in his forearm flexing. The sight is nearly intoxicating as I watch it move in the mirror, resting at the base of my neck as he stands to his height again. His thumb brushes back and forth against my collarbone, his eyes downturned to his movements. “Keep watching yourself,” he reminds me. I hadn’t realized I was watching him but could you blame me?

  He presses me back against him, his body solid and warm. I wonder if he can feel the increase in my heart rate. “And your skin…always so smooth. Hardly any scars.” He presses down on the base of my neck, encouraging my head to lean back against his chest. My breath hitches.

  “Shows how careful you are, yeah?” I can almost feel his warm breath as clearly as I can feel my heart beating against my ribs. “You a careful girl?” His gaze is burning as it travels down me. “Yeah…” he drawls, eyes traveling back up. “You are.” His thumb taps once against my collarbone, reminding me to keep my eyes on myself which seems like an impossible feat now. “There you go,” he praises, his voice low. 

My skin feels warm. My everything feels warm as if I am a furnace with the sole purpose of burning and he stokes the fire, poking at it, adding wood to keep it going. 

“Those eyes,” he mumbles, and I can feel the rumble in his chest as the words protrude from his lips. “‘Damn pretty eyes. Then you give me that look…fuck.”

  My eyes flick to his, something burning deep within my gut. He doesn’t scorn me for looking away from myself. “Yeah…” he whispers, eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “That look right there. Eyes all big, your lips parted just a little.” His hand drifts up from my neck, gracing my jaw. His thumb presses on my bottom lip. “So pretty…” he mumbles. “‘Don’t know what you aren’t seeing. Can you look at yourself again baby?” 

  I do as told and my knees feel wobbly with the heat that pools within. It’s the sight of him rather than me. The sight of him practically playing with me. “Want you to know how pretty you are,” he mumbles. “How good you are. God, you’re so good.”

  His thumb is a little wet as it slips from my lip onto my chin and my neck. His lidded eyes watch the slight mess he makes, his breath a little shallower. He hums, his chest rumbling with it. “Do you know what I think?” he asks.

  “What?” I answer the single word sounding like a sigh. My eyes drop to my lips in the mirror, my bottom lip coated in a thin layer of my own saliva like a coat of lip gloss. My breasts press against my tank top, seemingly wanting to spill over with each shallow breath. The soft swells of skin peeking from the neckline. His hands drop to my hips, pushing me forward until they’re pressing into the sink with a force that knocks me forward a little, a gasp escaping my lips. I grip the sides of the sink to catch myself. His fingers press into my hips as he holds me firmly. His body looms over me as his eyes take in my bent-over form. Those stunning green eyes that usually resemble the greenery of a forest when the sun is shining through the canopy of leaves just right, now a darkened green like the parts of the forest the sun can’t reach. 

  His hands massage my hips roughly, pushing them forward before drawing them back. His eyes are downturned to the movement, his mouth parted a little in the same manner mine is. My breath is quicker, and my heart is pounding in my chest like it’s trying to escape the space behind my ribs. “What’d I say about keeping your eyes on yourself?” He says roughly despite his own distraction. I swallow roughly, forcing my eyes back on myself for the umpteenth time.   

  He continues his actions, eyes burning into my hips and my ass like nothing else matters. “I think…” he starts, circling back to answer the question he asked me before, one I forgot about. “I think it should be sinful,” the word is like a purr coming from his lips, “to look this good. To be so fucking pretty.” It should be ironic coming from him but why would he go through all this trouble, all this guiding, pushing, pressing to convince me of something he didn’t believe in? And I can see it. I can see it, through the fog of a bad day, exactly what he’s seeing, or at least part of it. 

  “Are you seeing it?” he asks in a low voice as if he saw the change in my eyes. “Yeah,” I breathe, nodding, “Yes, I see it.”

  “Good,” he answers firmly, and yet I can hear the cocky smile that no doubt threatens his lips. Then, his hand circles around the back of my neck, tangling into my hair. He squeezes just once before he’s guiding me up, straightening me out ‘till I’m standing straight again. I spin in his hold, his large hands immediately going to my hips to keep me pressed into the sink. His eyes meet mine, something written in his irises that I can’t decipher. Then, they drop to my lips and then to my chest, that cocky smile finally making its appearance as his eyes drag back up to my lips. “Where’d you learn that?” I ask.

  His smile widens as he answers, “You don’t wanna know.”

[backtofiction28]

Ar lath ma, Vhenan

“How are the knives coming?” Rook asked as she entered the pantry.

          Lucanis had been pacing but stopped when he saw her. “Rook, this isn’t going to work. They moved the moon!” he exclaimed, gesturing to the ceiling as if the moon was there. “We are in over our heads. This is not magic you can fight with a blade. You’re putting your life in our hands.” He took a shaky breath. “My hands.” He looked down at his hands, brows furrowed in pain. “All I know is death.”

          Rook stepped closer to him and gently encased his hands with her own. “These hands knew how to comfort me when I almost broke down after rescuing the Dalish. These hands know how to make the best churros in all of Thedas. And these hands will not let me down for the final fight with the gods, because I trust in them. Just like I trust in you.” She smiled, trying to reassure him. “I know we can do this.”

          Lucanis brought her hands to his lips, kissing them gently. “Optimism is your best and worst quality.” He gripped them tightly. “If I have to kill every blighted creature in Thedas to keep you safe, I will.”

          Rook smirked. “Just two will be enough. And you know you don’t have to do this alone.”

           “I’m never alone anymore,” he said, meaning he meant Spite.

          She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. I’ll be here for you.”

          “Don’t make promises you might not keep.”

          Rook was quiet. She stared at his chocolate brown eyes—eyes that stared at her with such deep fondness and worry. She was such a sucker for those eyes. How did she end up caring for him so much? This wasn’t in her plan to save the world. But then again, when have her plans ever gone her way?

          Rook could feel her heart racing. She had planned on telling him at some point after they had defeated Illario. Stolen chances and her own cowardice had gotten in the way. And now the gods had hastened their plans to create their own dagger.

          Now would be a good chance, right?

Rook steeled her nerve. “Lucanis, I—”

          “Don’t,” he interrupted.

          She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest. Did he know what she was going to say? He released her hands, the cold of the pantry seeping into her skin.

          “Whatever it takes,” he said. “I won’t miss this time.”

          Rook placed her hands behind her back, trying to act casual and ignoring the stab of disappointment in her chest. “Right.”

          Inside her head, she was screaming. Why couldn’t she say it? And why didn’t he let her finish? Maybe if she had said it, it would distract him from his task. She needed him focused—she needed everyone focused. This was their last chance at stopping the gods.

          Maybe this really isn’t a good time.

          But if she didn’t say then when? And how would she know they were going to make it back from this?

          If I don’t say it now, then I’m going to regret this.

          “Rook, are you alright?” Lucanis asked, his eyes shining with concern.

          Damn. She had been staring at him for too long with nothing to say. Figures she would make this whole situation awkward.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” she said suddenly. She could feel the flush of embarrassment coming on. Shit, why did she say it in Elvin?

          Lucanis raised a brow. “What does that mean?”

          “Um…it’s an ancient Elvin saying for good luck,” Rook said, scrambling for a way out. “You know, kind of like how performers say ‘break a leg’ before a performance?”

          “Does that make you my good luck charm?” Lucanis gave her a teasing smile.

          Rook blushed at his compliment. How could he say that he wasn’t good at flirting when he said it so effortlessly? She smiled. “Only if you want me to be,” she said. “I’ll see you at the eluvian.”

          She swiftly turned around and left the pantry, trying to slow down her heart rate and hoping that Spite didn’t catch a change in her scent. She was definitely going to think about that all day, but at least she told him. Granted, it was in Elvish, but that had to count. Right?

          (after the events of Tearstone Island)

          Ar lath ma, vhenan.

          Those were the last words that Rook had said to him before Solas pulled her into the Fade prison. Lucanis paced in the pantry, Spite’s voice a grating sound in his mind. No matter how many times he told him that Rook was gone, it only seemed to anger the demon more.

          There was no method to calm Spite down when Lucanis couldn’t even calm himself. He was just as devasted that Rook was gone. Emmrich had been working tirelessly to find her, but could he? From his limited understanding, the Fade was huge and seemed endless. How could Emmrich find her?

 Lucanis was getting restless. It had been two weeks since she had disappeared and the last words she had said to him plagued his mind. He tried asking Spite if he understood, but the demon did not. Rook had told him that it meant good luck, but Lucanis had a feeling that she had lied. But why? He growled, frustrated. He had to know the truth. So, Lucanis left the pantry to find Bellara. She was in Neve’s room, blankly watching the wisps fly.

          “Bellara?”

          She blinked and slowly smiled as he approached. “Oh, hey Lucanis. Don’t mind me. Just…” She trailed off, her eyes shining with tears.

          “I am sorry,” Lucanis said, “this is a bad time. I’ll go.”

          “No! It’s okay!” Bellara quickly wiped the tears from her eyes. “Was there something you needed?”

          Lucanis wasn’t sure if it was alright to even ask Bellara for anything, considering her state of mind. But, then again, after the damn island, everyone’s mood was low.

          Even his.

          “Rook said something to me before we left for the island. It was in Elvish,” Lucanis explained.

          Bellara cocked her head. “What did she say?”

          “Ar lath ma, vhenan,” Lucanis said, his accent stumbling over the words. “Rook said it meant good luck, but I have a feeling that it is not true.”

          Bellara had gone still, eyes wide and shining with tears. “It doesn’t mean good luck.”

          Lucanis frowned, noticing her body language. “What does it mean, then?”

          A tear escaped. “It means…I-I love you, my heart.” Her voice cracked at the last word.

After Rook had separated the dagger from Ghilan’nain’s body, she had disappeared. Lucanis called out her name over and over again, searching for her in the ruins. But he couldn’t find her. And neither could anyone else. Instead, they found Solas, freed from the Fade prison. Lucanis’ world had collapsed underneath his feet when the Elvin god told them that Rook was never to return. Instead, she was trapped in the Fade prison.

Now, it felt like Lucanis was falling deeper and deeper into a dark hole that he wasn’t sure he could escape. He stumbled a bit and had to grab the edge of Neve’s desk tightly, trying to use it as a way to center himself as Rook’s words once again echoed inside his mind.

Ar lath ma, vhenan.

          I love you, my heart.

          Rook had told him that she had loved him before heading to the island. Why? Why didn’t she say it to him in the language they both understood?

           Her scent. Changed. Smelled like. Roses. And hesitation.

           Is that why she had that strange look in her violet eyes?

          “I-I do not understand,” Lucanis said, his chest constricting. “Why did she say it in Elvish?”

          Bellara was fully crying, fat pools of tears dripping down to the floor. “I-I don’t know.” She sniffed and wiped away her tears. “But what I know is that Rook really did care for you, Lucanis. I-I think she truly meant what she said.”

          Bellara covered her mouth, eyes closed tight and shoulders shaking as she was wracked with more tears. In any other circumstance, Lucanis would not have hesitated to comfort her, but not this time. He could barely comfort himself. He wished he could have cried and screamed and raged or felt something other than the hollow feeling inside of his chest.

          How much more heartache could he take before he was finally broken? He spent a year tortured and imprisoned, but he, somehow, was able to keep himself sane. He was determined to set himself free and kill those responsible for his imprisonment. But this? This was not something he could solve with a knife.

          You. Should have. Told her too.

          Lucanis could never hide what he was truly feeling from Spite.  How could Lucanis hide away the feeling that he had been harboring for weeks? The feeling that he had been hesitant to say. He was an assassin. He should have known better. He was taught to never miss the moment to strike.

          But now it was too late to tell her.

          Too late to tell Rook that he loved her too.

[misswynters]

Jinx comforting depressed reader...as best she could

featuring. jinx x platonic! sister reader

requested by anon

Jinx wasn’t the best at handling emotions, well at least not the messy, quiet ones that didn’t come with explosions or screaming matches. But when she saw you, curled up on the edge of the old couch in the hideout, staring at nothing in particular, she couldn’t just walk away. It wasn’t the first time she’d found you like this, but it still hit her like a sucker punch to the gut every single time.

She approached cautiously, her usual chaotic energy dialed back to something softer. The quiet shuffle of her boots against the floor was the only sound as she made her way over, dropping down beside you with a loud plop. She stretched her legs out in front of her, slouching dramatically, trying to fill the space with her presence alone.

“You know,” she started, twirling a strand of her blue hair around her finger, “I was gonna blow something up today. Had the whole thing planned out—fireworks, kabooms, the works. But then I thought…” She leaned her head back and tilted it to look at you. “Maybe explosions aren’t what we need today.”

You blinked slowly, finally glancing her way, your expression unreadable. “We?”

“Yeah, we,” she said with a shrug, nudging your leg with hers. “You’re my partner-in-crime, remember? What’s the point of causing chaos if you’re not there to laugh about it after?”

You let out a faint snort, the first crack in the wall of silence that had been surrounding you all day. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make Jinx’s grin widen.

“Ah, there it is! I knew you still had some life in you, sis.” She pulled herself up into a cross-legged position, turning to face you fully. “Okay, let’s make a deal. You talk to me—about whatever’s got you all doom-and-gloom—and I’ll make it worth your while.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s ‘worth my while’ supposed to mean?”

She smirked, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Guess you’ll have to find out. But you’ve got my full attention, which, let’s be real, is worth its weight in gold.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Jinx always had a way of breaking through your walls, no matter how high you tried to build them. You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands, which were twisting nervously in your lap.

“It’s… hard to explain,” you murmured. “I just feel… heavy. Like I’m stuck in this fog, and no matter what I do, I can’t get out of it.”

Jinx’s expression softened, the teasing glint in her eyes replaced by something gentler. She reached out and took your hands in hers, her grip warm and grounding. “Yeah, that fog sucks,” she said simply. “I’ve been there. And it feels like it’s never gonna go away, right?”

You nodded, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

“Well, here’s the thing,” she continued, squeezing your hands lightly. “That fog? It’s a liar. It wants you to think you’re stuck forever, but you’re not. You’ve got me, and I’ll keep dragging you through it if I have to.”

Her words were unpolished, maybe even clumsy, but they hit exactly where they needed to. You felt a tear slide down your cheek, and before you could wipe it away, Jinx was leaning over to wrap you in a tight, slightly awkward hug. She smelled like gunpowder and oil and something uniquely her, and it was oddly comforting.

“Okay, okay, no more crying,” she said, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Because I’ve got a plan.”

You sniffled, your curiosity piqued despite everything. “A plan?”

“Yep!” She stood up and offered you her hand. “We’re gonna do something that makes you smile, even if it kills me. And I’m not talking about one of those fake, polite smiles you do when you’re pretending to be okay. I mean a real one.”

You hesitated for a moment before taking her hand, letting her pull you to your feet. “What did you have in mind?”

She grinned, her excitement infectious. “Oh, you’ll see. But fair warning: it might involve paint, glitter, and me being an absolute menace.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you laughed. A small, genuine sound that made Jinx’s chest swell with pride. “There’s my sis,” she said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go make a mess.”

taglist. @writingwisterias @ekkosh @inguuuuu @themostlesbianever

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Art of Surrender | LN4

❀˖°𓍼♡ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N, dealing with back pain, reluctantly lets Lando, give her a massage. As his hands work through her tension, an undeniable chemistry builds between them. The massage becomes a turning point, revealing unspoken emotions and desires.

❀˖°𓍼♡ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❀˖°𓍼♡ word count ━━━━━━━ 3.1k

❀˖°𓍼♡ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The evening air was warm as Y/n sat on her couch, wincing every time she shifted. Her back still ached—four days later, and the damn furniture delivery was still haunting her. She’d tried everything: hot showers, over-the-counter painkillers, even a heating pad. Nothing worked. The thought of calling for help crossed her mind, but who would she call? Her friends were busy, and her family… well, they were miles away. She sighed, leaning back into the cushions just as her doorbell rang.

She frowned. Who could that be? Groaning, she pushed herself up and shuffled to the door, peeking through the peephole. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him standing there, his signature lopsided grin and those piercing blue/ green eyes. Lando.

“Hey, Y/n,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing as always. “Miss me?”

She opened the door, trying to keep her expression neutral. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, holding up a bottle of wine in one hand and a bag of snacks in the other. “Thought you might need some company. And, let’s be honest, I missed seeing your face.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. She stepped aside to let him in, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered. Stop it, she told herself. He’s just being nice. Lando had been nothing but persistent since they met a few months ago, always finding ways to show up in her life, always making sure she knew how much he liked her. But she couldn’t let herself believe it. Not really. Someone like him? It didn’t make sense.

“You look tense,” Lando said, setting the wine and snacks down on her coffee table. “Everything okay?”

“Just my back,” she muttered, sitting back down on the couch. “I had to move some furniture the other day, and now I’m paying for it.”

Lando’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you call someone for help?”

She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Didn’t think of it.”

He shook his head, chuckling softly. “You’re too stubborn, you know that?” He moved closer, sitting next to her. “Here, let me help. I can give you a massage.”

Her eyes widened. “What? No, that’s—”

“Come on,” he interrupted, his tone playful but insistent. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Besides, I’ll go get some massage oil or cream. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Before she could protest further, he was already heading for the door, leaving her gaping after him. “Wait, Lando—!”

“Be right back!” he called over his shoulder, disappearing into the hallway.

Y/n groaned, flopping back onto the couch. This is ridiculous. But deep down, a small part of her was relieved. She trusted Lando—maybe more than she wanted to admit. When he returned, she hesitated again, but the determination in his eyes made it impossible to refuse.

“Fine,” she mumbled, leading him to her bedroom. “But just the back.”

He laughed softly. “Sure, just the back.”

Y/n disappeared into the room, shutting the door behind her. She stood there for a moment, her heart pounding. What am I doing? Slowly, she undressed, leaving only a pair of short shorts on. She glanced at herself in the mirror, biting her lip. This felt… intimate. Too intimate. But she climbed onto the bed anyway, lying on her stomach and burying her face in her arms.

“Ready?” Lando’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly.

The door creaked open, and she heard him step inside, the soft rustle of the bag he carried. Moments later, she felt the bed dip as he kneeled beside her. His hands, warm and gentle, pressed against her back, spreading the cool massage oil over her skin. She shivered, not just from the temperature, but from the way his touch seemed to ignite something deep inside her.

His fingers worked expertly, kneading the tension out of her muscles. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. It felt incredible—too incredible. Gradually, his hands began to wander lower, skimming the sides of her waist, brushing dangerously close to her breasts. Her breath hitched, and she felt a warmth pooling between her legs.

“Relax,” Lando murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Let me take care of you.”

She nodded weakly, unable to form words. His hands continued to roam, moving toward her hips, then down her thighs. Each touch was slow, deliberate, sending jolts of electricity through her body. Her shorts felt damp, sticking to her skin, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice.

But of course, he did.

Lando’s fingers paused near the hem of her shorts, his gaze fixed on the thin fabric clinging to her. He swallowed hard, feeling his own arousal building. Fuck. He hadn’t expected this, but now that he was here, all he could think about was how badly he wanted her.

“Turn over,” he said suddenly, his voice husky.

Y/n blinked, lifting her head to look at him. “What?”

“Your front,” he explained, his eyes dark with desire. “If you want, I can massage that too.”

She hesitated, her heart racing. This was crossing a line—a line she wasn’t sure she was ready to cross. But the way he was looking at her, the heat in his gaze… it was impossible to resist.

Slowly, she turned onto her back, her cheeks burning. Lando’s eyes scanned her body, lingering on her chest before meeting her gaze. Without a word, he applied more oil to his hands and began massaging her stomach, his touch feather-light yet electrifying. Every brush of his fingers sent shivers down her spine.

Then, without warning, his hands drifted higher, cupping her breasts. Y/n gasped, her back arching instinctively. Lando’s thumbs circled her nipples, teasing them until they hardened beneath his touch. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the moan threatening to escape.

“Look at you,” Lando whispered, his voice thick with desire. “So beautiful.”

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. For the first time, she allowed herself to truly see him—the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered, the way his body reacted to hers. Her eyes flickered downward, noticing the obvious bulge in his jeans.

Lando followed her gaze and smirked. “Like what you see?”

She blushed, but there was no hiding the truth anymore. “Yes,” she admitted softly, surprising even herself.

His smirk softened into a genuine smile, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Good. Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Y/n’s breath hitched as Lando’s fingers traced the hem of her shorts, his touch feather-light yet deliberate. “Should I stop?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his lips still close to her ear. His warm breath sent shivers down her spine, and she could feel the heat pooling between her legs.

She shook her head, barely able to form words. “No.”

His smirk returned, and his fingers slipped under the fabric, grazing the sensitive skin of her thighs. Her body tensed momentarily, but then relaxed as his hands moved higher, massaging the curve of her hips. “You’re so tense,” he whispered, his voice laced with concern. “Let me help you relax.”

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into the sensation of his touch. His fingers worked their magic, kneading the muscles in her lower back before trailing down to the small of her back. She could feel the wetness between her thighs growing, a testament to how much he was affecting her.

Lando’s hands paused, and she heard him draw in a sharp breath. “Y/n...” he said, his voice husky. “You’re soaking.”

Her face flushed, but she didn’t open her eyes. “I know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He gently tugged at her shorts, and she lifted her hips slightly, allowing him to slide them off. The cool air brushed against her exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from his gaze. She felt vulnerable, yet completely safe in his presence.

His fingers grazed her inner thighs, and she trembled. He continued his exploration, moving closer to her core, his movements slow and deliberate. When his fingers finally reached her wetness, she gasped, her hips instinctively arching towards his touch.

“So wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He circled her entrance with his fingers, teasing her without giving her what she truly wanted.

She whimpered, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. “Lando... please...”

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her. “Please what?”

“Touch me,” she pleaded, her voice trembling with need.

He obliged, sliding a finger inside her slowly, watching her reaction intently. She moaned, her walls clenching around him as he began to move his finger in and out. Her breaths came in short, uneven gasps, and she could feel herself spiraling closer to the edge.

But just as she was about to reach her climax, he pulled his hand away, leaving her yearning for more. She opened her eyes, glaring at him. “Why did you stop?”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers. “Because I want to taste you first,” he whispered before capturing her lips in a searing kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, mimicking the way he wanted to explore her body.

When he finally broke the kiss, he trailed his lips down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses along her collarbone. He paused at her chest, taking one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing until she was squirming beneath him.

But he didn’t linger there for long. His lips continued their journey downward, kissing a path across her stomach before reaching her inner thighs. He gripped her hips firmly, holding her in place as he positioned himself between her legs.

She could feel his breath on her most sensitive area, and she shivered in anticipation. “Lando...” she breathed, her hands tangling in his hair.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with lust. “Relax,” he said, his voice soothing yet commanding. “Let me take care of you.”

And then his tongue was on her, licking a slow, torturous path up her slit. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as pleasure coursed through her veins. He lapped at her hungrily, savoring every drop of her essence, his hands gripping her thighs to keep her from squirming away.

His tongue flicked over her clit, and she saw stars, her entire body trembling with the intensity of the sensations. He alternated between swirling his tongue around her sensitive bundle of nerves and thrusting it inside her, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

She couldn’t hold back anymore. With a final cry, she came undone, her orgasm washing over her in waves of ecstasy. He didn’t stop until she had ridden out every last tremor, his tongue continuing to tease her even as she collapsed back onto the bed, spent and breathless.

He crawled up her body, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. “You taste amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

She smiled weakly, still recovering from the mind-blowing experience. “You’re incredible,” she replied, her voice hoarse.

He grinned mischievously, his hand trailing down her body once more. “And we’re just getting started.”

Y/n lay on the bed, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Lando hovered above her, his eyes dark with desire, a small smirk playing on his lips. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension between them so thick it was almost tangible.

“You’re beautiful,” Lando murmured, his voice low and husky. His fingers traced a slow path down her arm, sending shivers rippling through her. “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—for so long.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, but she still hesitated, her walls firmly in place despite the intimacy they had just shared. “Lando…” she started, unsure of how to respond.

He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers in a tender kiss that made her head spin. When he pulled away, his eyes locked onto hers. “Don’t overthink it, Y/n. I know you feel it too. This.” He gestured between them, his hand trembling slightly. “It’s real. And I’m not going anywhere.”

She swallowed hard, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his sincerity. “I… I do feel it,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it scares me. You scare me.”

His expression softened, and he cupped her face in his hands. “Why?” he asked gently, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Tell me.”

Y/n took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “Because you’re you. You’re this amazing, successful, larger-than-life person. And I’m just… me. I don’t want to get hurt if this doesn’t work out.”

Lando’s eyes searched hers, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he sighed, resting his forehead against hers. “Y/n, you’re everything to me. Don’t you see that? It doesn’t matter who I am or what I do. When I’m with you, I’m just a guy who’s completely and utterly in love with this incredible woman.”

Her breath hitched at his confession, and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You mean that?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Every single word,” he replied without hesitation. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

For the first time, she let herself truly believe him. Let herself trust him. Her hands moved to his shoulders, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed together. “I’m in love with you too,” she whispered, the words feeling like a release after holding them in for so long.

A wide grin spread across Lando’s face, and he kissed her deeply, pouring all of his emotions into it. When they finally broke apart, he chuckled softly. “Took you long enough,” he teased, his tone playful.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help laughing. “Shut up,” she said, smacking his shoulder lightly.

He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips to place a kiss on her knuckles. “Make me,” he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze, a spark of mischief lighting up her eyes. Slowly, she shifted beneath him, her hands sliding down to his waist. She could feel the hardness pressing against his jeans, and it only fueled her courage. “Maybe I will,” she murmured, her voice sultry.

Lando’s breath caught as her fingers grazed the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, Y/n,” he groaned, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily.

She smirked, enjoying the effect she had on him. With deliberate slowness, she undid the button of his jeans, then the zipper, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his boxers. He hissed through his teeth, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as she slid her hand inside.

Her fingers wrapped around his length, and she savored the way he shuddered at her touch. “You’re so hard,” she whispered, stroking him slowly.

“Only for you,” he managed to choke out, his eyes blazing with need.

She pushed him off of her with a playful smirk, watching as he landed on the bed with a soft bounce. Sliding between his legs, she locked her gaze with his, the intensity in her eyes making his breath hitch. She smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his cock before taking him into her mouth. Lando let out a strangled groan, his hand tangling in her hair as she began to move. Her tongue swirled around him, teasing and tasting, driving him wild.

“God, you’re perfect,” he panted, his hips bucking slightly. “So fucking perfect.”

Y/n moaned around him, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through his body. Her hands roamed over his thighs, her nails digging lightly into his skin. She could feel him twitch in her mouth, hear the way his breathing became ragged.

“Y/n…” he warned, his voice strained. “If you keep going like that, I’m not going to last.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “And what if I don’t want you to?” she asked, her tongue darting out to lick a stripe along his length.

Lando cursed under his breath, his grip tightening in her hair. “You’re killing me,” he groaned, but he didn’t stop her when she took him back into her mouth.

Her movements became more fervent, her lips sucking and her tongue caressing him in ways that left him utterly undone. He could feel the pressure building, his entire body tensing as he teetered on the edge.

“I’m close,” he gasped, trying to warn her again.

But Y/n didn’t stop. Instead, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with devotion, and in that moment, Lando felt his control shatter. With a guttural moan, he came, her name on his lips as she swallowed every drop.

When he finally regained some semblance of composure, he pulled her up to him, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. “You’re incredible,” he murmured against her mouth, his hands roaming over her body. Lando’s chest heaved as he pulled her up, his hands trembling against her skin. His voice was rough, still catching on the edges of desire. “I want to fuck you so bad, Y/n. But I need a minute to get hard again.”

Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile as she shifted her weight, her thighs pressing against his hips. She leaned down, her breath warm against his ear. “I can wait. It doesn’t matter how long—whether it’s seconds or minutes—as long as in the end, I get to feel you inside me.”

His eyes darkened, a low groan escaping his throat as her words sent a fresh wave of heat through him. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer.

She laughed softly, the sound vibrating against his chest. “Good. Then we’ll go out together.” Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, her touch feather-light but electric. “Take your time, Lando. I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhaled sharply, his body already responding to her nearness, her words, her touch. “Fuck, Y/n,” he whispered, his voice thick with need. ��You have no idea what you do to me.”

Her gaze locked with his, unwavering, filled with a quiet intensity that made his heart pound. “Show me,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his. “When you’re ready, show me exactly what I do to you.”

Lando’s hands tightened on her waist, his breathing uneven as he felt himself hardening beneath her. “I won’t make you wait long,” he promised, his voice rough with urgency. “Not when all I want is to be inside you.”

She smiled, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed herself against him. “Then take me, Lando. When you’re ready, take me and don’t hold back.”

[httpsdana]

Balde fic where hes normally super smooth and confident but the reader has him all nervous and stuttering for the first time ever and his friends are teasing him for it 👀

Unscripted~Alejandro Balde

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: I LOVED writing this so much!!

Balde was known for his charm and confidence between his teammates, especially when it comes to the topic of girls. However, when he met y/n, it was as if all his confidence vanished in seconds.

y/n was the best friend of Berta, Fermin’s girlfriend, and while she and Alejandro only exchanged a few polite words at one of the matches she had attended with Berta, something about her lingered in his mind.

Maybe it was her beauty, or kindness, maybe even confidence. He couldn’t exactly point out what it was, but ever since their first encounter, Alejandro found himself bringing her up to conversations more than he would like to admit.

And of course, his friends noticed.

“I swear she’s all you ever talk about,” Gavi once said, as the group of them were sitting at Pedri’s apartment, enjoying a chill evening.

“That’s not true,” Alejandro scoffed, knowing damn well he was lying.

“Yes you do” Lamine joined him, smirking as he gave Pedri a wink. “Last week you asked Fermin if she was single four times. In one conversation,”

Alejandro groaned before speaking again. “I didn’t–”

“You did,” Fermin interrupted with a smile. “Don’t worry though. It’s cute to see ‘Mr smooth with the ladies’ being shy about his crush”

“Leave him alone,” Pedri added with a teasing smile.

“It’s fun watching him malfunction for once,” Ansu said, making the others laugh.

“I’m not malfunctioning! You guys are annoying” Alejandro shot back, glaring at his friends

“All I’m saying is that if she’s going to be at the barbeque, we’re gonna need some popcorn for the show,” Gavi said, leaning back on the couch with a smirk.

“Please y/n. Fermin’s friends are pure chaos, and I need you to be here with me. Plus Balde is gonna be here” Berta’s teasing voice said through the phone , making y/n roll her eyes.

“I’ll come, but only because I know you can’t handle any set ups on your own” she said, making Berta hum in sarcasm

“Mhm sure” she teased making y/n chuckle

“Shut up. I have to go now” y/n said before hanging up.

“Hey guys?” Fermin said, approaching his group of friends. “Berta said that y/n is gonna be with us at the barbeque” 

Gavi let out a whistle as Pedri laughed, watching how Alejandro nearly dropped his bottle, the plastic container slipping from his hands and spilling on his shorts.

“Joder” Balde mumbled, furiously patting the wet spot on his shorts (fuck)

“Oh man he’s already losing it” Lamine burst into laughter

“Relax, Romeo,” Ansu said, smirking. “You’re gonna be fine, just don't faint when she talks to you”

“I hate you all” Alejandro said, throwing his water bottle away and going to the other part of the team, the ones who didn't know about his secret crush

By the time the boys arrived at Fermin's house, Berta and y/n had already set up everything in the backyard. Balde spotted her from the door, watching how she laughed at something Berta had said.

“She’s right there” Pedri whispered in his ear, nudging his shoulder

“I have eyes” He hissed, making Gavi chuckle from behind them.

“So go say hi to her,” Lamine urged, grinning like a kid who's just been given candy

“yeah let's see that famous Balde charm you've been bragging about in action”Ansu teased, making the group laugh once again

“I haven't been bragging–”

“Oh please,” Pedri interrupted, “I've lost count of the times you've said ‘i don't get nervous around girls’,”

Alejandro groaned, shoving his sweaty hands in his pockets

“can you guys just…stop?”

“Oh not a chance,” Fermin grinned. “you’re gonna go talk to her”

“I’m not doing it right now,” He shook his head, making Gavi snicker from behind.

“This is gonna be an interesting night,” Gavi said, rubbing his hands against each other as if getting ready for some action.

Throughout the evening, Alejandro tried his best to act normal, but it was impossible with her being so close to him.

She seemed to float through the party in her sundress so effortlessly, helping Berta out with last-minute details and chatting with everyone.

Everytime she looked his way, his heart rate skyrocketed, and he looked away immediately.

“you've been awfully quiet tonight,” y/n said with a curious smile, walking up to him as he stood awkwardly by the grill 

“I'm fine!,”he said way too quickly, his voice cracking slightly

She raised an eyebrow, her amusement evident.

“you sure about that?”

Before he could respond, Lamine appeared beside him, grinning from ear to ear 

“He's fine. just distracted by a very specific person”

Alejandro groaned, running a hand over his face.

“Lamine stop,”

“What?” Lamine grinned, “I’m just trying to help you”

“By embarrassing me?” Alejandro muttered under his breath

y/n tilted her head, clearly entertained by the exchange, “you guys are fun” she said with a soft laugh.

“Fun is one word for it” He said, shooting a glare at Lamine as he walked away, chuckling.

And as the night went on, the teasing only got worse. 

“He hasn’t tripped over his feet yet,” Pedri said, watching as Alejandro nervously handed her a plate of food before starting to make his way to them

“Give it time,” Ansu added, barely holding back a laugh.

“He’s definitely going to mess up soon,” Lamine chimed in, grinning.

“Can you all stop?” Alejandro hissed, his ears burning red.

From across the yard, Berta caught y/n's eye and gave her a knowing look. She blushed slightly, biting her lip.

Berta leaned closer and whispered something to Fermin, who burst into laughter.

“She knows,” Fermin said, nudging Alejandro. “You’re doomed, bro.”

“shit”

As the night started to wind down, y/n found Alejandro leaning against the fence, staring out at the backyard with a faraway look in his eyes.

“Hey” she said softly, walking up to him.

He jumped slightly, turning to face her with wide eyes. “oh, uh, hi”

“So you're gonna tell me what got you in the mood tonight?” she teased, a small smile playing on her lips.

“yeah…uh just tired, I guess” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

She laughed softly, before speaking again. “you're a terrible liar”

He let out a nervous chuckle, shrugging. “maybe”

“Well,” she said, stepping closer to him. “we should hang out soon. you know, just us”

Alejandro blinked, clearly caught off guard. “really?” he started, watching how she raised her eyebrows in amusement.

“I mean…yeah that'd be great. I'd like that”

She smiled at his shy state, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“Good night Ale”

Before he could recover, she turned and walked away, leaving him frozen in place.

From across the yard, Gavi let out a loud whistle. “She made the move, and he’s still standing there like a statue!”

“He’s broken,” Pedri added, doubling over with laughter.

“I think she likes you, mate,” Fermin teased.

Alejandro groaned, burying his face in his hands. But even with all the teasing, he couldn’t stop smiling.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaa (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[oqwomyo]

3rd Anniversary. Bellen's card translation.

Part 1.

 

Some time after the audience with Mr. Elboa… In the ancient forest village… We decided to take a rest.

 

- Ancient Forest Village –

 

One day… I was walking together with Belen in the village.

 

Bellen: Ancient forest… It’s a beautiful place, rich in nature.

Bellen: Maybe it’s the purity of the air… I feel like I can become healthier just by breathing.

Bellen: Master, do you think so too?

 

You: Of course, I understand you a little.

 

Then… A voice, that sounded like a sob, was heard from somewhere.

 

Ancient Forest Residents: Sob… Sob… Ugh…

 

You: Someone… is crying?

 

 

Bellen: …It looks like they are. Besides, it looks like there’s more than one person crying.

Bellen: I'm worried... Can we go and see?

 

You: Yeah.

 

Bellen: I hear voices from the other side.

 

We walked in the direction where the crying was coming from.

 

*Step step step*

If you follow the sound of the crying... You can see the villagers gathered. And in the middle... The ancient people, motionless as if sleeping, were lying in a coffin.

 

You: This is...

 

Belen: ……….

 

Aro: Ah, Bellen-san, Name-san.

Chenoa: Good afternoon.

 

You: Hello...

 

Aro: Why are you two here?

Bellen: While walking around the village, we heard a voice... We were curious, so we came to see you.

Bellen: This is... A funeral, right?

Aro: Yes... A villager died yesterday.

Aro: So now... We are burying him, returning him to the earth.

Aro: In the Western Land, when dead people are buried in the ground...

Aro: They return to the ground... And they say that they become forest spirits and watch over people.

 

You: I see...

 

The ancient people placed flowers in the coffin. The person who slept in the coffin looked very young.

 

Villager: Sob... Sob... Dad...

Bellen: Dad?

Aro: Yes... This baby is his child.

Bellen: I see... People in the ancient forest, it seems, do not know how old they are.

Aro: For us, people of the ancient forest... Physical growth stops at a certain point...

Aro: Who is an adult and who is a child... Knowing who is who can be difficult for people who come from other lands.

Now that I think about it… When I visited the Western Land with the basement butlers… Miyaji explained that the ancient people's growth stops halfway through their lives. And… Also that they don't live long.

 

Villager: Sob… Sob… Uuugh…

Bellen: ……….

Bellen: ….I want to pick flowers.

Bellen: I want to mourn him too. I don't know anything about him, but…

Bellen: When he becomes a forest spirit… I want him to continue watching over everyone.

Aro: Thank you, Bellen-san. I'm sure he'll be happy too.

Bellen: Then… Master, I'm sorry, but can I ask you to give me some time?

 

You: I'll go pick flowers with you too.

 

Bellen: No, it's okay. Master, rest here.

Bellen: I'll pick some for Master too and come back.

Bellen: Be a good child and wait for me here.

 

You: …Okay, be careful.

 

Bellen: Yes. Then I'll go.

Chenoa: Bellen-san. If there are flowers, they'll be blooming over there.

Bellen: Thank you. I'm going.

 

And Bellen left me... He went to look for flowers.

 

- A few minutes later -

 

Bellen said he'd be back soon, but... He took longer than we expected.

 

Aro: I wonder how far Bellen-san went to pick flowers?

Chenoa: Is he having trouble finding flowers?

Chenoa: I said where the flowers were… But they were probably all picked by now…

Aro: Hm~m… There were a lot of flowers in other places…

Aro: After everyone picked them all… I’m not so sure about that anymore…

 

You: I’m a little worried…

 

Chenoa: I agree… I don’t think anything happened, but…

 

You: I’ll go look for Bellen.

 

Aro: Oh, okay.

Aro: We’ll be here… If anything happens, don’t hesitate to reach for us.

Chenoa: Be careful and don’t go too far into the forest.

 

Thanks to Aro and the others… I’m going to look for Bellen.

 

*Step step step*

 

I walked into the forest in the direction Bellen was going. And soon… I found him near the bushes.

 

Bellen: ………

Part 2.

 

Bellen holds a flower in his hand… He has a bit of a gloomy expression.

 

Bellen: …….

Bellen: …..Hah.

 

You: Bellen, are you okay?

 

Bellen: Wha…

Bellen: Master, you scared me.

Bellen: Why are you here…. Did you come for me?

 

You: You haven’t returned for a long time.

 

Bellen: I see… It seems like I made you worry.

Bellen: Sorry, Master. Are you feeling lonely?

Bellen: I can’t believe it’s been so long… I was so caught up in the flowers that I didn’t notice how quickly time passed.

Bellen: Then… Let’s go back to the village together?

 

You: You sighed a while ago…

 

Bellen: Sighed..?

Bellen: Ah… Did you hear…

 

You: Something happened?

 

Bellen: Hmm~m…

Bellen: If I continue to worry Master like this… It won’t be good.

Bellen: …To be honest, seeing the funeral earlier… I remembered Mr. Goetia’s death.

Bellen: Surrounding the motionless Mr. Goetia… Everyone was crying.

Bellen: …People’s death… People are saddened when they see it…

Bellen: …I still can’t get used to it.

Bellen: Even if someone who has nothing to do with me died… My chest tightens.

 

You: So that’s it…

 

Bellen: …Oh, I’m sorry.

Bellen: I wanted you to stop worrying, but… Hearing that made you even more worried, right?

Bellen: I’m fine. Don’t worry.

 

If he doesn’t like funerals... Maybe he doesn’t have to force himself to come back. Why not just give Aro-san the flowers and go somewhere else? Having thought so, I decided to tell my thoughts to Belen.

You: If it's hard, then don't force yourself...

 

Bellen: ...No. I want to mourn properly too.

Bellen: I'll come back and give flowers.

 

You: Is that so... Okay.

 

And we... We're back for the funeral.

 *Step step step*

 

Aro: Bellen-san, Name-san. Welcome back.

Chenoa: You were so late... Did something happen?

Bellen: We're back. Sorry for making you worry.

Bellen: I wanted to pick the most beautiful flowers... I took my time choosing, and it seems like too much time has passed.

Bellen: Thanks to Master who came... I made my choice.

Aro: Heh... I can't believe you care so much about the beauty of flowers... Bellen-san, you're really kind.

Bellen: That's not true. In fact, I'm sorry for making you wait.

Bellen: If Master hadn't come... I might not have returned yet...

Bellen: Thank you for coming for me, Master.

 

You: Y-Yeah.

 

Bellen: So... Then...

Bellen: Right away... Can we lay flowers?

Chenoa: Yes. We haven't laid anything yet, so let's go together.

 

Approaching the coffin... We carefully laid the flowers.

 

Bellen: ………

Bellen: Rest in peace...

 

Bellen closes his eyes and prays silently. The way he prayed earnestly for the stranger... I felt his kindness. Like Bellen, I close my eyes... I offer my prayers straight from the heart.

 

You: (Please watch over everyone.)

 

Bellen: ……..

Bellen: …..Master...

Bellen: …….Heh...

 

And... After praying, we decided to leave the burial site.

 

- A little later -

 

After saying goodbye to Aro-san and Chenoa-san… Bellen and I were walking in the forest together.

 

Bellen: ……..

 

You: …Belen, does it still hurt?

 

Bellen: …No, everything is fine.

Bellen: …If I say that, it will only make you more worried.

Bellen: Sorry, Master. I am really fine.

 

You: Is that so…

 

Bellen: Uh-huh.

Bellen: …..

Bellen: Fufu… Master, why are you looking like that?

Bellen: You are so worried… Master is a truly kind person.

 

You: I think it is natural.

 

Bellen: That is not true.

Bellen: Getting close to another person’s heart… You pray earnestly even for a stranger.

Bellen: It is not natural… Master is a special and wonderful person.

Bellen: Because there's such a kind person by our side... I think that's what saved the hearts of all the butlers.

 

You: All the butlers..?

 

Bellen: Because... The devil butlers are hated all over the world... People say terrible things, don't they?

Bellen: No matter how much we risk our lives to save people... We'll still be despised.

Bellen: Even thinking about it... It's too painful.

Bellen: But everyone... They have Master they care about.

Bellen: Every time something happens... We have Master who worries about us and is grateful to us.

Bellen: The existence of such a person... I'm sure it's a support for everyone.

 

You: I wish it were like that...

Bellen: Fufu... Be confident, master.

Bellen: It's been a while since I met Master...

Bellen: When I'm with Master... I think I can understand what other butlers feel..

Bellen: Without realizing it... I feel like I'm starting to be drawn to such a wonderful Master.

 

You: Eh?

 

Bellen: I want to protect this person… There’s a certain charm about Master that I can’t help but think about.

Bellen: Strong and kind… Such a sweet Master.

Bellen: I’m so lucky to have met such a person.

 

You: Um… Thank you.

 

Bellen: … Fufu. Master, your face is turning red.

Bellen: Did I make you flustered?

 

After saying that… Belen gently stroked my head.

 

Bellen: There, there …

Bellen: Master really is a very sweet child.

 

You: …Are you teasing me?

 

Bellen: I would never. That’s not true.

Bellen: I’m not saying that as a joke.

Bellen: I’m glad I met you, Master… I’d be happy if we could be together forever.

Bellen: I really think so.

 

Bellen looks at me with kind eyes. I couldn’t… I looked away.

 

Bellen: …Listen, master.

 

You: What is it?

 

Bellen: Remember what I told you about the future the other day?

Bellen: After all the angels disappear… What would I like to do?

 

You: Yes, I remember.

 

Bellen: As I told you then… There are many things I would like to do.

Bellen: I want to open an orphanage, and I want to open a bar. I would also like to travel.

Bellen: And…

Belen: If Master was here… I’m sure it would be more fun.

 

You: Bellen …

Bellen: If I had said that when we first met… It would have caused you problems.

Bellen: But… I seriously think so.

Bellen: The future with master… I want to see it.

Bellen: What about you, master?

You: I...

Bellen: ....

Bellen: ...Fufu. Okay, it seems you're very confused.

Bellen: There's no need to answer now.

When Bellen said that... He gently touched my lips with his index finger.

Bellen: Confused and lost... And when you find unwavering feelings within you...

Bellen: Tell me.

Bellen: I... Will accept any answer.

You: (...Truly any answer..?)

Seeing my confused face... Bellen winks at me mischievously.

Bellen: ...Well, of course...

Bellen: In order to get the answer I desire... I'll do my best.

Bellen: From now on... Let's spend a lot of time together, Master.

Bellen strokes my head again. His gentle and sweet smile... I imagined a future with him.

[dragonfly0808]

TimeBomb (Fix-It?) Fic with a side of Zaun Revolution

The inspiration really hit today, I feel like I blinked and all of a sudden I had 7k of a new fic.

what is it about? Well…

Whilst I really enjoyed s2 of Arcane and I loved almost everything about it, I will admit there was one specific plot point I was really disapointed didn’t go anywhere and one character decision that I just couldn’t get behind.

First off; watching Arc 1/2 and especially episode 4 I was fucking pumped at the idea of a Zaun revolution plotline, and, since i watched the seasons back to back, I’ll be honest, watching episode 4 combined with the fact that in the opening credits we see Jinx waving a flag, my immediate thoughts were OH MY FUCKING GOD JINX IS GONNA LEAD A REVOLUTION AND FULLFILL SILCO’S DREAM OF AN INDEPENDENT ZAUN…

Obviously I felt like a clown when that did not happen

and then for the character decision… I’m not really a fan of the ‘you’re too far gone the only thing you can do now is sacrifice yourself for the greater good/to save someone’ character arc. Especially because I really wanted to see Jinx get better since, at the end of s1 her identity crisis is over, she choses Jinx and then I thought that maybe we could get maybe not a redemption arc but at least see her get better whilst staying partially chaotic

A part of me really likes what they did (up until her sacrifice) but a greater part of me is just- disappointed. Especially after the whole ‘No matter what happened in the past it’s never too late to build something new’ bit. It just felt a little cruel.

And i know of the Jinx is alive theory and I believe it but still- I just don’t like that this was the end for Jinx in Arcane, I would’ve loved to see her and Cait having to come to terms with both their crimes and what they allowed their respective grief to turn them into.

also Ekko didn’t deserve to end the series alone, not after everything he did and everything he gave up.

and so, with these two specific things in mind, pondering on it I found myself writing a little smth.

A fic that takes place right after the Stillwater breakout BUT- Jinx, Sevika and Isha escape before the Beast gets there AND Ekko returns from the alternate timeline early, pushing Jinx along with Sevika to convince her to be a part of the rebellion.

So far, I’ve got 7k words on this and I’m thinking on how to involve Vi (another thing is that I felt we should’ve gotten a bit more time with her) since, in my mind, the revolution of Zaun should’ve been led by Vi, Ekko and Jinx.

Ekko to represent the fight for the future and as the face of the Firelights.

Jinx to represent the fight for the present (since her arc would involve starting to heal and finding smth worth fighting for) and of course to also represent Silco and his dream

And Vi to represent the past (since a big part of her character is being stuck in the past) and Vander

Jinx and Vi get to right the wrongs of the past and join forces like Silco and Vander never got to! (Because why include that letter if nothing really came from it?) also, as a sister who’s had a lot of ups and downs with her big sister, I would’ve KILLED to get to see more of their new dynamic ‘Here’s to the new us’.

Also Isha lives because she deserved better and also Ekko gets to be her dad.

still unsure on how/if I incorporate Cait cause I LOVE her arc and would love to write her and Jinx/Ekko interacting

but yeah basically, this is a Timebomb fic with a heavy focus on Jinx becoming the leader of a revolution (since at first it’s more, Jinx is the symbol, Ekko is the brains. And maybe at some point it’s more like; Ekko is the heart, Jinx is the symbol/leader and Vi is the strength OR Ekko is the leader/brains, Jinx is the symbol/leader/face and Vi is the heart, you know cause- YOU HAVE A GOOD HEART DON’T EVER LOSE IT)

Also a big part of chapter 2 somehow wound up being a look into Sevika’s mindset and why she’s lowkey the biggest supporter of Zaun? So if you like Sevika I got you!

so uhh… yeah.

i’m thinking on the name and just to know what yall think, knowing what the focus would be what title do you think would work best?

Will prob start posting once I’ve got 5 chapters, which, if I keep up the pace will prob be in 2 or 3 days

also, should i tag it as Fix-It? Not sure if I should tbh

Here’s a few little peaks! A tiny part of Ekko convincing Jinx to be a symbol (that was a LONG scene)/Part of the speech that starts it all/Isha being adorable in the Firelight’s base

Ekko adjusted his coat on her, she hadn’t really noticed him getting close enough to do so, “I fought so long to make the undercity a better place, or to at least create a safe place in it, but I got so wrapped up in all the ways that we’ve been screwed over, failed, in all the ways that it wasn’t even half of what I’d dreamed of no matter how hard I tried that I was starting to lose hope. But seeing that world… it helped me realize that… no matter what happened in the past, it’s never too late to build something new.” 

Jinx forced herself to met his eyes, unsure of what to do under the weight of his soft eyes and the careful way he’d somehow gotten his hands in hers, stopping her from digging her nails into her palms.

“…someone worth building it for.”

Jinx felt something in her starting to crack, “I don’t know if I know how to build anything.”

“That’s alright,” he quickly assured her, his own eyes glittering with tears, “we can learn. This right here Jinx… this is our chance. I saw the murals, the posters, what you said back in the airshaft- if Piltover is targeting us… then maybe- just maybe, this could be our chance to bring all of the undercity together. To stand against Piltover, make them finally see us. I’m not saying we burn them to the ground but- we can fight back, fight for respect, for a seat at the table.”

Jinx took a step back, shaking her head, “I can’t- I’m not like you- I’m not a leader or- or some inspirational figure. They’re just desperate for anything to believe in. I’m not- I don’t deserve their faith.”

“But you’re the first to take a real stand in a long time. Sure it was an… explosive stand but a stand regardless. Directly against the Council, the people who have passed all the laws to try and make us less than them in the past. Who have had no trouble ignoring our struggles and claiming blissful ignorance when they screw us over. You have the chance to help bring people together. If we can stop killing each other over Piltover’s scraps and for territory… we can stand our ground. This could be the start of a rebellion. A revolution.”

“…I’ll screw it up. I always do.”

“You won’t… and if it does go wrong… it won’t be on you. We can do this Jinx, together.”

Jinx looked back out to the city line.

It’d been Silco’s dream.

To be recognized by Piltover. 

He hadn’t been able to bring Zaun together, sure, but everything he’d done had forced Zaun into progress… even if it wasn’t always in the best of ways. His biggest dream had always been of Zaun being it’s own nation.

It was the dream that’d been within his grasp, close enough to touch but that he had meant to reject in the end.

For her.

She’d bombed the Council as a way to honor him.

To finally show them all.

Everything had gone to shit the moment he was gone.

But now… now all of Zaun had a common enemy. 

There had been no singular group in Stillwater. Instead a coglamoration of Jinxers and Firelights and members from every gang Jinx knew of.

That meant that there had been no division at Sevika’s rally.

That for once, every part of Zaun had been open to the possibility of fighting for the same cause and had been promptly punished for it.

Jinx slowly turned back to Ekko.

Building something knew… he’d said Powder used her abilities to create instead of destroying… could she do the same?

Someone worth building it for… she thought of the hopeful look in Ekko’s eyes. Of the way the people of Zaun had, for a moment, embraced her, wrapping her in gratitude and misplaced but real hope as they passed by her. And of course, she thought of Isha, who deserved so much more than… this.

“I’m not saying I’ll be good at it… but I suppose I could give it a shot.”

Ekko reached out quickly, Jinx barely having time to flinch before he was tugging at her and-

Pulling her into a hug, all but crushing her against him, arms wrapped tightly against him.

She exhaled, falling against him, hiding her face against his chest.

They stayed like that for what was possibly an embarrassingly long time.

When she eventually managed to pull back, she turned away to wipe away her tears.

“So… how exactly does one start a revolution?”

—————————

“This is the time to stand together!” Ekko’s voice came as he stepped out from the crowd, wearing his firelight mask, going to take it off as he went to stand next to Sevika, “To leave aside the labels and separation and to work together, it’s the only way we’ll survive what’s coming next. Piltover wants us divided. They have always benefited from us killing each other, being at each other’s throats, fighting for territory and for their scraps. Not anymore! We need to stand together! To show them that we will not backdown! That they can’t invade our streets, our homes and expect us to just lay down and take it! That-”

“Where is Jinx?!” Demanded a voice, thought she couldn’t tell exactly where it came from.

Ekko sighed, casting a glance her way, waiting.

Jinx took a deep breath.

“Right here!” She called out as she went to take off her cloak, the people around her quickly going to clear a path as she sauntered on forwards, stopping next to Ekko for a moment before going to stand on the metal box Sevika had left on the floor, “You wanted to see me? Well here I am!”

Most of the crowd gathered around her, after a moment of stunned silence, started applauding, whilst some other looked like they wanted nothing more than to shake her and ask her what exactly her plan was.

Jinx glanced to Ekko, who gave her a quiet encouraging nod.

Welp, she didn’t really have anything to lose.

“Now… I don’t know much about leading, or about being some- revolutionary… but I do know about fighting. And I know about Piltover’s crimes.”

She recalled all of Silco’s sermones and every story and complaint he ever told her about all Piltover had and constantly took for granted.

This had never been her dream. But it had been her dad’s. And maybe it had started becoming her own the moment Isha had dropped into her life.

“I know that Enforcers have killed hundreds of us, a lot of times, for no good reason other than to show us that we are lesser than them, for us daring to stand up for ourselves, for doing what we gotta do to survive. That they have thrown dozens of us in cells without a trial just because they can. But the second we lay our hands on a single one of their precious Council members they suddenly have the right to invade our streets? To cry for justice to be delivered? It’s bullshit!”

A lot of them started nodding along, she could see the anger rising up in them.

——————————

Jinx took a deep breath before gently placing Isha on the railing, keeping a hand on the back of her vest, “Look at that kid. You like it?”

Isha’s eyes widened in a way that would’ve been comical if it weren’t heartbreaking. This was probably the first proper tree she’d ever seen.

Jinx set her down on the floor and the girl started jumping from foot to foot, clearly thrilled.

Ekko chuckled as he went to crouch down, “You see that platform to the right?” He asked as he pointed, Isha following before nodding, “That’s where the kids we have here play. We even managed to get our hands on some Piltover toys if you wanna go check it out. Jinx and I will be by the base of the tree if you need us.”

Isha hesitated, going to grab Jinx’s leg.

The girl had gotten a lot more confident since Jinx had first met her but it was obvious she had some anxiety about being apart.

Jinx went to crouch as well, gently running her thumb over Isha’s eyebrow before playfully pinching her cheek, Isha trying to act annoyed and push her away but smiling, “You should go kiddo. See if they got any good stuff. I’ll be right down there, I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Isha inspected her for a long moment before nodding along, adjusting her metal helmet as though it were armor before starting to make her way towards the platform.

“She seems like a good kid.” Ekko said.

“She is. She’s the best.”

[doodler16]

Thinking about Ghostfuckers and it's villain Rolando, an Infestor demon, made me realize how shoddy Vivziepops worldbulding truly is. Let's take the succubi as a better example, mostly because they have actual demonic lore behind them, but can wary from writer to writer. In most cases, succubi are written like the sexual cousin of a vampire, where they have to take life force or maybe just energy from their target to stay alive. It's questionable whether this is the case in Helluva Boss tho or if this is just to spread lust or because they want to. Back to Rolando, and it's clear that he is doing something like this, but with negative motions, but again why? Is he substituting a meal with this, or are Infestors just eating like this? Why and how is he even on earth? Is there a way besides a goetian artifact or asmodean crystal to go there? Was Stolas book even more useless, when that guy was just on earth somehow? Is he like the drug dealers from the camp episode also working under Asmodeus? What would Asmodeus gain from that, when the guy clearly only terrorizes people and then kills them brutally? What even is an Infestor demon!? Is that something Viv made up? Are they terrorizing everyone in hell, if they can't get to earth? Why did both Millie and Blitzo know what he was almost instantly? Did they both had an encounter or is that something they learned at some point from their families? Is every Envy-demon an Infestor or just a few of them? What makes an Infestor different from other envy-demons? I can probably come up with more questions, but having already this many unanswered ones, just because of one (1) character, feels excessive.

That infester demon part felt like it came out Brandon’s ass. 😭 This is the first time ever, the audience is shown what infestor demon looks like and their powers. The funny part is many thought this man was Leviathan which in hindsight I really wish Ronaldo was Leviathan at this point. Because the actual one’s design sucks.

This is not something that was foreshadowed or established in previous episodes. It came out of nowhere. So, when Millie and Blitzø were like “ohhh it’s an investor demon” like what?? Brandon, please catch us up. I know it’s mainly Vivziepop and Adam doing the writing but at least foreshadow it during the beginning of the episode or something. I’ll gladly take a throwaway line. But yeah, similarly to Loona’s actual hellhound form, it asks more questions than answers.

[katethetank]

The Dungeon - Chapter 2

Rating: 18+ minors gtfo Chapter Summary: Eddie comes back, Steve is brave and clueless, the pieces fall together CW: Steve is oblivious, mentions of oral sex in regards to song lyrics Tags: Alternate Universe - modern setting, Rock Star Eddie, Counselor Steve, Eddie is gay, Steve is bi, Steve has no idea who Eddie is, slow burn, idiots in love Word Count:2189

Chapter 1<<>>Chapter 3

The rest of the night seems to drag on, every minute passing by like another hour. And Steve keeps looking back at the door, waiting and hoping for it to open and bring his beautiful stranger back.

Steve was knocked a little off kilter when he first saw him standing on the other side of the counter. Dark hair piled on top of his head. Half his face hidden behind some serious Audrey Hepburn shades, but beneath those, the most pillowy, kissable lips. And god, he looked so soft and cozy. Something about a man in sweats just made Steve want to nest. Cuddle up on a couch under blankets, exchange soft and lazy kisses, maybe take a little nap and snuggle. 

God, he’s not beating those ��mom” allegations anytime soon, is he?

But Jesus, when he whipped those sunglasses off and batted his big old doe eyes at Steve, smirked, called him sweetheart…He was a goner.

He hoped he played it cool, but in the back of his mind he knows better. He used to be able to charm the pants off of anyone, but all of his time spent with the kids-who-are-no-longer-kids have robbed him of his cool points, and Robin had turned him into a rambling mess much like herself. 

There was some kind of spark there though, right? He wasn’t imagining it? Steve was rightfully bummed when he…Eddie…ordered his drink to go. He was hoping to work on his charm a little more, attempt some flirting of his own, see if he could bring out a blush on Eddie’s cheeks too. 

But fate just doesn’t work that way for Steve. He doesn’t get the romantic meet cutes that lead to true love. He doesn’t get the happy ending. Lord knows he tried. He’s a sucker for love and has tried to find it in not always the best places. He’s left every single one of his hookups hoping for something more, that maybe this one would be the one. But they either ghost him or only want to fuck again. 

Steve wants something more. Something deeper. He wants to be happy. He wants to find his person. Robin does her damnedest to hype him up and they both believe his person is out there, somewhere. He’s just been having to kiss a lot of frogs trying to find them.

The clock ticks on and Steve starts to lose hope that Eddie will come back. Why would he? It’s a weeknight, he said he had to work, the last thing he would want after a long day and late night is more caffeine. 

He busies himself around the shop, doing the chores the kids asked him to. He’s got Billie Eilish’s new album playing over the speakers, and it’s helping to chill him out a bit. No way metal could have the same effect, fuck your very much Mike Wheeler.

He’s wiping down the machines behind the counter, singing along with Billie about eating pussy, and doesn’t hear the door open. He doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching. Doesn’t hear someone slump onto the counter. 

“I’ll run a shower for you like you want! Clothes on the counter for you, try 'em on! If I’m allowed I’ll help you take them o-o-o-o-off!

“Well hot damn, that’s the nicest offer I’ve had all week!”

Steve, not being startled in the slightest, shrieks like a girl and throws his rag at Eddie’s face.

“Oh my god! Do I have to put a bell on you?! You scared the shit out of me!”

Eddie is laughing so hard he’s bent over the counter, his face is red, crinkles appearing around his eyes. Steve can’t help but laugh with him.

“Sorry!” Eddie gasps and raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to scare you! Oh my god, you said earlier that you could scream, but that honey? That was something else!” 

Leave it to Steve to make a total ass of himself in front of a gorgeous man. Now that his heart rate is coming back down, he’s registering how gorgeous Eddie actually looks. 

Gone are the cozy sweats and Hepburn glasses. His hair is down, wild and untamed and Steve wants to bury his face in it. He’s got some black eyeliner smudged around his eyes, making them look even darker and deeper. A black leather jacket covers his broad shoulders and peeking out from underneath…is that mesh? Dragging his eyes down further, he lands on a handcuff belt buckle resting above skin tight leather pants that look like they were painted on. Lord help him. His mouth goes a little dry. 

Clearing his throat, he meets Eddie’s eyes again - which are dancing with mischief. A Cheshire grin plastered on his beautiful face. Fuck. He caught Steve gawking at him, didn’t he?

“Uh. Yeah. Sorry. You want a..?” He points, intelligently, to the menu while he tries to get a fucking grip Jesus, Harrington!

Eddie just smiles, shakes his head, and leans on the counter.

Damn, that man knows how to lean.

“So what uh…what brings you back?”

“Well Stevie, I said be back to see you later, and I am nothing if not a man of my word. How was your night sweetheart?”

Steve is going to die. He’s going to simply pass away while this insanely hot man is leaning and smiling and giving all of his attention to Steve. “Fine. It was fine. Kinda boring actually. Not a lot of action around here on a Thursday night, you know?”

“Aw, honey, a man as pretty as you should have no trouble getting all kinds of action.”

Steve almost audibly rolls his eyes. “Wow that was awful! Does that kind of line usually work? I’m almost embarrassed for you!” 

Eddie’s face falls. 

Shit. He was going for cheeky and it came off bitchy.

“Fuck. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m so-“

Eddie, throws his head back and cackles. “Steve! You’ve got some claws, sweetheart!” He slaps his hand over his heart and admits, “You’re right! You’re right, that was horrible! My deepest apologies m’lord. I do appreciate your honesty, and I promise I’ll workshop some of my material a little more for next time.”

Steve breathes a sigh of relief. Thank god he didn’t fuck this up so quickly! “Next time, huh? You making plans for me already?”

Pulling a lock of hair over his full lips, Eddie looks almost bashful as he says,”I don’t know, how willing are you to be subjected to more heinous pickup lines?”

You could lay them on me forever. Lay on me forever.

“Hmm… depends. How willing would you be to have lunch with me tomorrow?”

Eddie perks up and Steve swears if he had a tail, it would be furiously wagging right now. ”I - yeah! I could do lunch! Where uh… where are you thinking?”

“There’s a place on the other side of town, by the community center. Wayne’s Diner? They make a mean grilled cheese. Have you been there before?”

Eddie gets this look on his face that Steve can’t pinpoint. Something almost…fond. “Yeah. I think I know the place. I can meet you there around 1:00?”

Steve’s heart is doing fucking backflips in his chest. He can’t believe this guy actually wants to go out with him. “It’s a date.”

There’s the blush Steve was hoping for. It looks really pretty on Eddie. 

They just kinda gaze at each other for a moment when Steve realizes that he’s supposed to be closing up the shop soon. “Ah shit, it’s getting late. I better finish up here, make sure I got everything done so I don’t catch hell from the shitheads.”

Eddie snickers and nods his head.”I’ll get out of your hair, sweetheart. My carriage is about to turn into a pumpkin anyway,” he says while pointing to the clock in the wall reading nearly midnight. Before heading out, he reaches for Steve’s hand, slowly brings it to his lips, and places a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.”

Steve? Swoons.

Nobody has ever set off fireworks like that in him before, especially not from something as simple as a kiss to his hand. He watches Eddie saunter out of the shop and Steve has to brace himself on the counter before he passes the fuck out. 

No sooner than the door closes that it flies back open again and a whirlwind of chaos comes barreling in. 

“Steve!  Why did we just see Eddie fucking Munson leaving our fucking shop?!” This is the most hysterical Steve had ever seen Dustin. All of them really. Even Max and El, clinging to each other while jumping up and down, are apparently losing their minds.

“How do you guys know Eddie? He was in here earlier today and he came back to uh… well. I’ve kinda got a date with him tomorrow.”

If it wasn’t for Billie still playing on the speakers, you could have heard a pin drop.

Steve looks around the cluster of faces, seeing shock, surprise, elation, disbelief, and (ok fuck off Mike) disgust. The kids have known forever that he’s queer as fuck, so he can’t fathom why they’re all reacting like this. Dustin seems to snap out of it first and slowly steps up to the counter.

“Steve. Buddy. Pal. You need to tell me everything, right fucking now.”

Steve quirks his eyebrow. What the hell has gotten into these dipshits? Oh fuck, they didn’t actually end up doing drugs did they? “Are you guys high? Did you take something at the concert? I fucking told you, don’t take shit from people you don’t know, it’s not safe!”

They all collectively roll their eyes as if they’d been rehearsing it, which he wouldn’t be surprised if they had. Max pipes up from behind the boys, “No mom, we didn’t take anything! Now spill, I want the dirty details!”

“Not much dirty about it kiddo, he came in earlier while you guys were leaving, ordered a drink to go, talked about music, and he kinda…flirted a little bit. I mentioned I’d be here till close and he said he’d try to stop by after work. I totally didn’t think he’d show up again, but he popped in just a little while ago and I asked him out. We’re going to lunch tomorrow.” Steve shrugs at that and turns around to gather his shit from behind the counter. The kids can lock up, he’s exhausted and is ready to climb into bed.

The silence from them is loud so he turns back around to see them staring wide-eyed back at him.

“What? Why are you guys looking at me like that?”

Mike shakes his head in disbelief. “Of course. Of fucking course Steve would be the one manning the shop while Eddie fucking Munson comes in. And you seriously had the balls to ask him out?! Unbelievable. He’s like a dorky mother hen and he manages to get a date with a fucking rock star.”

Wait. What?

“Wait. What? The fuck are you talking about?”

A collective groan fills the room. Dustin, looking at him like he’s an idiot, asks “Steve, what drink did he order?”

“Uh…The Corroded Coffin?”

Dustin nods his head slowly and asks, “And what concert did we go to tonight?”

“…Corroded Coffin…”

Oh fuck. No. No no no.

The pieces all begin to fall into place. The incognito outfit, the questions about the band, him showing up again later looking like…yeah, looking like a rock star.

The color drains from his face.

“Oh shit. Oh my god. Guys, I think I really fucked up.”

Mike’s eyes go wide. “What did you do??”

Steve grimaces. “I might have…talked shit about his band. Called it ‘noise’ and said his singing just sounded like screaming.”

The outburst from the kids makes him wince.

“What the fuck, Steve?!”

“Are you serious??”

“You did NOT?”

“This is hilarious!”

“You’re dead to me”

Steve runs his hand down his face and says, “Guys, I didn’t know! I don’t listen to your weird music, ok?! What the fuck do I do? I can’t believe I screwed this up already.”

The girls step up to the counter, always more logical than the boys thank god, and offer some reassurance. El, the angel of the bunch, rubs his shoulder and tells him, “I’m sure it’s not that bad. He still came back right?”

Max agrees, “Yeah, if he was totally repulsed by your idiocy, he would have bailed. But he didn’t. And for some reason actually agreed to go out with you. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Steve nods his head. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe you’re right. What do I do though? I’m meeting him for lunch tomorrow and I’m gonna feel like such an ass when I see him.”

“Apologize, dumbass!” says Dustin. “Seriously, do we have to tell you everything? You’re not a child.”

This kid’s gotta get his ego in check.

And Steve has got to prepare himself to do some serious groveling if he has any hope of salvaging whatever this is.

Chapter 1<<>>Chapter 3

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Comment if you'd like to be on the taglist! It's my first time doing this, so let me know if I screw it up. This is also posted on my ao3 account if you wanna check it out there.

@annachronisme

[deus-ex-mona]

my five surviving braincells when something remotely good happens:

[bloggrgirl]

it’s my birthday tomorrow and i recently rediscovered an old flame of mine (went down memory lane of my emo phase and got the sad kind of nostalgic). double kill. need to see ptv in concert to feel better

[euthymiya]

The heater’s out. December’s cold is unforgiving as it seeps between the cracks of your doors and through the windows, forcing you to huddle closer.

Sukuna grunts as your freezing, icy feet press against his calves. “Your feet are fuckin’ cold. Get’em off.”

“No,” you whine, “You’re warm.”

Just to prove your point, you press them harder against his skin, making him hiss in irritation. “Quit it! It’s fucking freezing.”

“Yeah? Why are you wearing nothing but boxers in this cold, then?” You challenge, raising a brow as if you’ve sufficiently turned the tables on him. He glares at you—a bit cutely at that, given that his tussled hair and the blanket tucked beneath his chin both make him look far less intimidating than he hopes.

He pulls his legs away as he mutters, “Because I’m too used to sleeping like this.”

Your feet follow them as they move away from you, pressing them against his heated skin once more stubbornly. “To used to what, sleeping half naked? I wonder what that says about you.”

Money has been tighter. Enough that when you and Sukuna shower together, it really is to save water and not as an excuse for…well, other things. You don’t buy your little goods from the bakery on your way home sometimes anymore. He doesn’t go through his cigarette packs as quickly when stocking up on more isn’t as simple as it used to be. Things aren’t as easy as they used to be, but never hard.

It’s never hard with Sukuna.

Sure, the heater’s out. And December feels like a harsh, unrelenting reminder of that. The apartment is cold, but Sukuna is warmer, so maybe, when you count your blessings, you’re not doing all too bad.

“We should get the damn heating system fixed,” you say softly, smiling as he curls under the blanket further. He glowers over the edge of the comforter, just the tip of his nose peeking out as his muffled reply comes.

“Yeah, as if I hadn’t already thought of that. We ain’t got the funds, idiot.”

“Maybe I can pick up a few more shifts,” you murmur. He frowns at that—because really, that means more late nights where you’re not home where you should be. Safe and sound and not out there.

“Nah,” he mutters, clicking his teeth. You fight back a grin as he pulls you closer and tangles his legs with yours, grimacing when your painfully icy toes torment his poor legs again. This time he lets you, though. “I’ll figure something out.”

“That’s okay. You should use your money to get some clothes, or something. Sleeping naked in winter is not doing you any favors,” you giggle cheekily.

He raises a brow—that familiar, smug, almost nauseatingly handsome smile erupts across his lips as he chuckles lowly. “Yeah? You’re sayin’ you don’t appreciate the view?”

“Well, I guess that would be a pretty harsh loss,” you sigh deeply, pretending to wipe a tear. He rolls his eyes. You wink slyly. Heat trickles along your body from under your ribcage where the heating system could never reach.

“Cheeky, aren’t you?” He says gruffly, and a large hand comes to grab your face gently and press your cheeks together. Your puffed up lips make him crack a small smile.

“Mhm,” you nod, grinning (as much as you can through squeezed cheeks) before offering a muffled reply of, “I keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

“More like on my deathbed,” he snorts.

You don’t answer—it’s too cold to think of a reply right away.

You let out an involuntary shiver as a small wave of frigid, chilly air breezes through the room. You shuffle closer, and his arms are wide and open and waiting. He smells like cologne and coming home. Feels like warm flesh and your favorite place. You lean in and kiss him to share your body heat, pressing your lips against his and letting his tongue invade your mouth briefly. He tastes like mint mingled with cigarette smoke and oddly enough, that’s all you need.

“We kind of suck at this adulting thing,” you whisper as you pull away.

“What gives you that idea?” He hums as rough, callused fingers stroke the skin of your back under your shirt. You shiver again—this time from heat igniting your skin instead of the cold, though.

“We can hardly afford to stay warm,” you shake your head, “What does that say about us?”

“That we’re victims of this stupid fuckin’ economy. They should compensate us for our suffering.”

You roll your eyes and grin. You’re cold, but not devoid of heat. Sukuna is warm, and so are your toes against his calves, and so is that place in your chest that happens to do a squeeze here and there. You think it might be your heart—think he may have found his way to that weird, necessary organ in your body that keeps you going. But the difference is now that he’s here, you’re alive and not just living.

And yeah, the heater’s out. December is as cold as it is every year, and nothing’s going to change that. You can’t make yourself warmer, but you can be cold with Sukuna. That’s more than enough to make things bearable.

“I’ll keep you warm,” you offer, batting your lashes sweetly. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his cheeks in a flurry of kisses.

His face does a small, red flush.

“Quit it,” he snaps. He doesn’t mean it because his arms grip your hips tighter as if to keep you firmly in place. Right there where you are and where you belong and where he needs you to be.

You shouldn’t be anywhere else but here, keeping his body warm in this sorely harsh weather.

“Why? It’s already working—you’re overheating,” you tease.

He pulls the blanket up and between your faces to create a barrier as you come in for the next kiss, and when you laugh, bright and warm, he forgets he was ever cold.

————————————

Wrote this bc my place is freezing. Not because the heater is broken though it’s just because I’m too lazy to get out of bed and turn the heat up so I am suffering the same problem yes, but I do have a solution. That doesn’t mean the solution will be used though. I fear I am but just a girl