#she needs time to work through everything and work on herself!!!!!

[dissapointu]

Arcane characters with a reader (S/O) who helps them release pent-up energy

Jinx

Jinx paced back and forth, eyes wild, her hands twitching with an urge to break something. She was wound so tightly, it was almost a physical thing. “Can’t think straight,” she muttered, agitated.

You stepped forward, gently cupping her face, guiding her focus to you. “I can help with that.”

Without another word, you pulled her into a heated kiss, her breath catching. It was everything she needed—chaotic and consuming, as your lips crushed against hers. She moaned into the kiss, her hands grabbing at your clothes. She didn’t hold back, letting go of everything in the rush of the moment, her body pressed against yours, losing herself in the intensity. Afterward, she collapsed against you, breathless, but the wildness in her eyes had softened.

“Better,” she whispered, a grin tugging at her lips, “Let’s do it again.”

Vi

Vi’s knuckles were sore from the long day of punching through the thickest of walls, the anger and tension in her muscles refusing to leave. She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to show weakness, but you knew her better than that. You reached for her gloves, gently pulling them off.

“Vi, come here,” you said softly, guiding her toward you.

She hesitated for a moment before giving in, wrapping her arms around you in a firm embrace. “You really think you can fix me?”

You smirked, “I’m not fixing anything. Just giving you a way to unwind.”

With that, you kissed her roughly, your hands working on removing the layers between you. She didn’t hold back, her hands gripping your body, as if your touch was the only thing that could make her forget the stress of the day. The intensity was palpable, her frustration melted away with every kiss, every touch. As you collapsed beside her afterward, she sighed, her head resting on your chest.

“You always know how to make me feel better,” she mumbled with a soft smile.

Sevika

Sevika was always cool and collected, but there were times when the weight of everything she carried became too much. You could see the tension in her jaw, the sharpness in her gaze as she stormed into the room. Without a word, you met her, gently pulling her into your arms.

“Bad day?” you murmured, your hands gently massaging her shoulders.

She exhaled, her tense muscles slowly relaxing beneath your touch. “You could say that.”

Before she could stop herself, her lips found yours, hungrily kissing you, eager for release. You matched her intensity, each touch sparking a fire. The power she held outside melted away under your hands, and soon enough, all that was left was heat and closeness. Afterward, she gazed down at you with a rare softness in her eyes.

“Thanks,” she whispered, before pulling you back in for one last kiss.

Silco

Silco had been pacing for hours, his mind never at rest. His ambition, his vision for Zaun, it consumed him. But tonight, he didn’t want to think about it. He just needed release.

You approached him quietly, your hand on his arm, pulling him to face you. “You’ve been working too hard,” you said with a knowing smile.

His eyes darkened, and before you could say another word, he claimed your lips with a desperation that was unlike him. His kisses were fiery, urgent, as though he was trying to burn away all the tension that had built up in him. His hands were rough as they roamed, pulling you close. When he finally let go, his body relaxed against yours, the storm in his mind silenced for just a moment.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed that,” he murmured, his voice low and gruff.

Vander

Vander was always the rock of the group, stoic and steady, but even he had his limits. After a long day of keeping the peace in the underbelly of Zaun, he was more than ready to unwind. He came home to you, his shoulders tight with unspoken tension.

Without a word, you reached for him, guiding him to the bed. You kissed him softly, your hands tracing the scars on his broad chest. He let out a low growl, the weight of his day releasing as your touches became more insistent. The heat between you grew, and soon, the only thing that mattered was the way you helped him forget the burdens he carried.

When it was over, he held you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You always know how to make everything right,” he murmured.

Ekko

Ekko was constantly on the move, always tinkering with his tech or working to improve the world around him. The stress from his never-ending work had started to build, and when he came to you, it was clear he needed a break.

“Got a lot on your mind?” you asked, sitting beside him.

He smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, something like that.”

You leaned in, kissing him slowly at first, then deeper. His hands found their way to your waist as he pulled you closer, finally able to release all the pent-up energy. Afterward, he lay beside you, catching his breath, the weight lifting off his shoulders.

“Guess I needed that,” he said with a grin. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

Jayce

Jayce was always the one to push himself further, striving for perfection in everything he did. But the constant pressure left him tightly wound. When you noticed the look in his eyes, the one he got when he was overworked and tense, you knew what he needed.

You moved closer, your hand gently resting on his chest. “Let me help you relax.”

He didn’t need any more convincing. The kiss was fierce, filled with the frustration he’d been holding back. His hands grasped you with an intensity that matched his drive. As the moments passed, his usual composed demeanor broke down, leaving only the raw connection between the two of you.

Afterward, he lay there, breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling. “You’re… amazing,” he said, still trying to catch his breath.

Viktor

Viktor’s mind was constantly racing with ideas, calculations, and the desire to change the world. But even someone as brilliant as him could burn out from all the stress. When you noticed how worn out he was, you gently pulled him into your embrace, offering him a moment of peace.

“Long day?” you asked, your fingers gently brushing through his hair.

He closed his eyes, nodding, and then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, he kissed you with a quiet intensity. His hands moved with purpose, but there was a tenderness to them that betrayed his usual composed nature. When it was over, Viktor rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

“That… that was just what I needed,” he murmured, a rare, soft smile on his lips.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn had been running herself ragged with her duties as a sheriff, always upholding justice and order. The pressure weighed heavily on her shoulders, and you knew just how to help her release that built-up energy.

You caught her in one of her rare, vulnerable moments. “You need a break,” you said softly.

Her blue eyes locked with yours, and without a word, she pulled you into a kiss. Her hands were gentle at first, but as the tension melted away, so did her usual restraint. The kiss turned heated, her body pressed against yours as she let go of everything she’d been holding in. Afterward, she rested her head on your chest, her breath steady.

“That was… exactly what I needed,” Caitlyn whispered, a small, contented smile on her face.

Each of these drabbles explores how the characters from Arcane cope with pent-up energy and stress in their own unique ways, with the reader (S/O) helping them release that tension, sometimes tender, sometimes spicy, and always with a deep connection.

[grugruel]

Can you do that for me?

Pairings: ruined!Jayce x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Formerly partners, you've started a new business in Zaun after Jayce's disappearance. One day, after hearing whispers of Victor's apparent evolution, Jayce shows up unannounced.

Wordcount: 4.2 k

Warnings: Some canon stuff (beware spoilers), pinv sex, angst, fluff, fingering, slight handjob, choking, biting, creampie, doggy, missionary, cowgirl (a lot of positions), sub/dom/switch!Jayce, power struggle, fight for dominance, praise (f and m recieving), spanking, overstimulation, "I love you", difficult feelings, hot depraved Jayce.

AN: Not proofread, I intend to make a few changes to it later but wanted to get it out. Might be spelling mistakes. I tried to fit a bit of everything into this. ENJOY GIRLIES🎀

Having pulled the curtains aside, a vigilant man inspects the dark streets below. "He's almost here, ma'am," the man says, eyes following the subject. There's a slight stiffnes to his stance, as if he's readying himself for a fight. "What do you want us to do?"

"Let him in," she smiles at him faintly, attempting to reassure the large man before returning to her paperwork. "Dont give him trouble, there's nothing to fear."

The guard nods slowly and crosses the room to leave, he knows she's right. Yet, he stays in the doorway, shoulders slumped and arms crossed.

Warm light creeps in through the entryway, contrasting the faint light that Zauns streetlights provide for her otherwise gloomy office.

Noticing how the strong wash of light remains, she looks up at her guard to find another question lingering on his lips. "I've know you long enough to tell when something ails you." She leans back in her chair.

He catches her gaze reluctantly, facing away before he speaks. The man clears his throat, he knows he's crossing a line. "He's trouble, if you ask me. The boys and I-"

The woman pulls her glasses of and sighs, done with her work for the evening. "Im a big girl, I can handle myself."

The guard leans against the doorway and shrugs in reluctant recognition. "We're worried for you, ma'am-" but catching himself on his words, his hands gesture to remedy his meaning. "Respectfully, of course," he ads quickly, aversed to insult his employer.

The woman stands slowly, walking around her crammed desk to casually prop herself next to him. "I know," she reassures, placing a soft hand on his chest. "But I'll be fine, send him in."

The large man huffs. "We'll be outside then," he begins, but as the next words begin to form on his tongue, he decides against it, solely out of trust for his employer. If he could, he would've added 'when you need us'.

She doesnt doubt it, nor does she take offence. They're a tight knit family down here, she cares for them as much as they do her. But this would be an interaction no family member should hear. "That won't be necessary, keep to the foyer . . . Now go," she hurries him, careful to keep an understanding smile on her lips lest he changes his mind.

With a heavy breath and one last glance, the guard reluctantly closes the door and heavy footsteps recede.

She sighs, moving to brace her hands against the desktop and preparing herself for whats to come, for what she suspects.

She lights the lantern on her desk and waits. Only a moment later the same warm light creeps into the room. She twitches, unprepared for his arrival inspite of her efforts as the squeaking door slices through the eerily silent space.

In her peripheral, a fallen man stands. He's tired and dirty. Cut up and run down. There's a moment of contemplation between her and the newcomer, she does not move and neither does he. It's been a long time.

Squeak, thump, click . . . Pause. He's locked the door. A heavy thud between metal and wood sounds next, there's a faint sound of coarse skin sliding along fine metal before the familiar vibrations of hextech dies out.

All that exists between them now is heavy breathing in two parts, laboring against their own minds and bodies.

The floorboards begin to creek, irregularly, as if the weight placed upon them has not yet decided it's course of action. She grips the desktop harder, fingernails burrying into fine wood. She can only guess why he has come. "It's Viktor, isn't it?" She breathes, trying hard to keep her voice steady.

She gets no response, the only answer she recieves is the creeking of floorboards as the uncertain weight shifts back and forth. But that is all the answer she needs.

Having seamingly made up his mind, determined footsteps approach her in a sudden haste. Srong arms wrap around her body, pulling her toward a hard chest in a tight, tight embrace. His head collides with her shoulderblade as he burries his face in her scent. Muffled by her body, strained breaths blow welcome warmth onto her skin.

"What's happened?" She whispers, not entirely sure she wants the answer for she can smell him now. Metal and gunpowder. But it's not the type raw metal used for smithing or creating, it's not the metal she's used to. No, this is pungent, corporeal. It's blood. "Jayce, please . . . " She begins, 'talk to me' her lips shape, but no sound comes out. Unable to muster the strength.

"Cant- I cant . . . talk about it. Not now, not yet," he manages, voice rough as if he has fought and damp breath raising goosebumps on her neck. "I just . . . Needed you. I need you."

A strong hand slides higher, knuckles intently brushing the underside of her breast. "Can't think anymore."

And inspite of her better judgement. "Ok," she agrees, whispering, as if her consience wouldnt be able to hear. She's missed him, worried for him. So, her body betrays her.

Laying her hand on top of his, she guides him over the hill of her breast.

His breath hitches while his other hand move downward, tracing her ribs, down her waist, stopping on her thigh and squeezing tenderly. Soft flesh dimpling beneath the force of strong fingers. "I've been lost, " his voice breaks. "Missed you." His hands slide further down to slither under the slit in her dress.

"No feelings right now, Jayce . . . Please, just-"

Two fingers slip inside of her and she gasps. "No feelings," he assures, placing a gentle kiss on her neck.

"Good, good . . . " she moans.

While massaging her breast his thumb finds her clit and tongue her neck, gently nipping and sucking on the crook of her neck. Her body grows to weak to hold itself upright so she puts her weight on her arms. Noticing, he holds her tighter and pushes her weight against the desk. "Already?" He whispers, dragging his teeth along the shell of her ear as his fingers steadily thrusts in and out of her. "You're making it too easy for me."

A breathless chuckle leaves her, crammed between heavy groans. "You work with your hands . . . Mmmh, unfair advantage."

He bites her earlobe, tugging, teasing. "So do you, if I remember correctly." A grin twists her lips as her hand reaches between them and palms his enlarged bulge. He hisses as she begins to stroke it, heat immedietly surfacing as the friction between fabric and skin grows. "Mhhg, that's what I thought," he groans. "Good girl."

He pushes a third finger inside off her, curling them at just the right angle.

"Fuck!" Her free hand curls into a fist, joints having nothing better to do than occupy themselves in anyway they can. He puts more focus on her clit, rubbing dutyful circles into and and finally pushes her over the edge. "Mhh, shit-"

His fingers slow down as she hits her high, gently leading her through it as he supports her weight. "Just breathe, that's right . . . "

Her breathing has become a mixture of moans and wheezes, the pleasure stimulating every nerve in her body. "Did you . . . ?" She asks, suddenly remember her hand on his clothed member.

"No," he whispers and kisses her temple. "Theres time." He tries to turn her around. But fear grips her. "No-" she stops him, gripping the edge of the desk to keep herself in place. Seeing the changes up close would make them real, would make whatever he has come from, real. "I can't look at you . . . not yet." She reaches over her shoulder to cup his jaw, and just like that, their bubble of reminiscence bursts. They arent colleagues anymore and havent been for a long time. Nor is their third party longer there to rationalise with them. A shrap jab strikes her heart. "Give me time, and just," her other hand reaches behind her, grabbing the fabric on his hip to pull him closer, pressing his erection against the curve of her ass. "Like this for now, Jayce. Please . . ."

His head lulls against her back, pushing his forehead firmly into her spine whilst releasing a big, shaky breath. She can feel him bare his teeth, silently working through the consequences of his actions.

He doesn't answer, he only obeys.

It goes silent for a short moment, until the warmth on her hips disappear and the metal clanging of a belt buckle sounds behind her.

Quickly, one hand returns to her thigh to pull her dress over her ass.

"Dont hold back," she says.

There's a pause in his movements. "Are you certain?"

She nods and he wastes no time. Pushing himself against her, his knees spread her legs efficiently, just liked they've practiced many times before. With mo further warning, he sinks into her. One hand crossing over her waist as the other grabs her shoulder, then sets a ruthless pace.

Somehow she knows he needs to get this out of him, the pent of fury and need. But she doesnt complain, he always knew what he was doing.

The sound of slapping fills her office, while the lewd squelching from her previous orgasm further spurs them on. He bends over her, changing his grip. Fingers snaking around her throat as his knee and free hand work together to fish one of her legs onto the desk, hitting her deeper, harder. His thrusts are no longer about speed, but of that one special little spot.

He puts pressure on her throat, almost painstakingly so. But it feels heavenly and she wouldn't have it any other way.

With each rut, his members perfectly fills her. His face is next to hers and he kisses had bites around her neck and ear, making sure she knows how good he makes her fell by grunting and moaning right into her ear. It makes that pulsing in her core worse, and he seems to notice.

"Yeah, you like that?" He groans, kissing her soft skin right behind the ear.

"Mmmhmm," she hums, voice vibrating with the bumping of their bodies. Doing her best to keep silent, afraid that one of her guards suddenly decides to check up on her.

"Let me hear you, use your words," he breathes, flexing the fingers around her throat and biting her shoulder.

"Fuck-" her knuckles and nails take turns in destroying her desk, scratching and denting the expensive wood grain. "I like making you, mmh . . . feel good." She manages, words stuttering between thrusts.

He gently pulls on her ear with his teeth. "Good," he whispers, then releases her throat and places his hand on the back of her neck, pushing her against the desktop.

Slap. His hands comes down on her ass, then gripping the plump flesh hard to lessen some of the stinging. A jolt of electricity shoots through her and her insides clench arouns him.

Jayce whimpers from the sudden, godlike pleasure. "Wanna hear you, honey, don't be shy." His hand comes down again, harder this time.

She squeezes around him, nerves on fire as she feels her second climax building up inside her. She moans as tears run down her face, happy pleasurable tears only Jayce has been able to produce.

"That's it . . ." He slaps her ass a third time, and the wall inside her core crumbles. With a whimper, she comes. "You did so good, lovely, im almost there," he assures her. Tears stream down her face as his thrusts grow irregular, but continues to pleasure her body. "Fuck," she cries, squirming from the drawl iut orgasm. One hand holds her steady at the hip while the other slides up her back, rubbing her tender body until he brushes away stray hair from her profile.

"Hold on a little longer, just breathe, baby," he comforts her, such a stark contrast to the rough thrusts he's been dealing her body. Her fingers are jittery from the overstimulation, they aached to touch him, pull his hair, anything. But she cannot reach, so she presses her palms against the table to keep them occupied.

As he sees her tear streaked face, one last blow lands on her ass and he too, comes. He collapses on top of her, they attempt to regain their strength as their sweaty bodies lie flush against eachother.

After a few moments of breathing heavily together, Jayce wraps an arm around her torso and splays his hand over her rips, pulling her with him as he straightens out.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and turns around. Hands finding his face, guiding her lips to his.

"Please look at me, my beautiful girl. Look at me," he pleads, murmuring the words against her lips.

She opens her eyes and his breath hitches. Yellow, brown irises meet her won. They're the exact same ones she knew not too long ago. Except . . . Haunted.

His fingers brush along her cheek, jaw and down her throat. She winces at the soft touch and his brows furrow in confusion.

Capturing her chin, he tilts her head back.

"It's fine, I'm fine," she whispers, assuring him as she sees his expression. Pure shock animates them.

"I don't-" his fingers trace the red marks running around her throat and tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. "Im so sorry." He falls to his knees, hands resting against her chins as he hides his face between them. "I don't know-" he chokes and kisses her legs with remorse. He pecks her delicately, trailing his lips over her knees and up her thighs, hands following behind, tracing the outside of her legs until they reach her waist and encircle her. He hugs her tightly, knees sore against the hard wood. "Im not right," he breathes, head lulling into her lap. She can feel wetness coating her skin, running between her thighs.

She exhales heavily and slides down the desk until the hard wooden floor welcomes her thighs.

They stay like this for a good long while, she's in no rush and neither is he. Over and over again, her fingers comb through his overgrown and unpreened hair while the sensation of his seed drips out of her. Sharp nails gently scratch at the nape of his neck, they trace his bonestructure and play with its halls and valleys. The back of her fingers caress the length of his nose and sharpness of his cheekbone.

All the while Jayce lays wordless, occasionally squeezing her thighs, her hips. Occasionally trailing featherlight touches along her legs, watching with wonder how goosebumps rise and fall.

She chuckles beneath her breath. It's the same expression he used to get when making progress in the lap, just like when they first cracked the hextech runes. "Jayce," she says, attempting to grab his attention.

Crouching beneath her, he looks up from her lap, chin resting on the softness of her flesh. His face glistens and eyes plead. He looks at her with fatigue, wordlessly asking for her forgiveness.

"What happened?" She asks, her voice soft but words demanding. She's not getting dersuled this time, she needs answers.

He shakes his head, reluctantly drawing his lips into a thin line as he breaks away from her gaze.

Her eyebrows twist together. "What have you done?" She asks, anger laces her tone now. But he closes his eyes, the corners of his eyes gleaming again. The fingers burried in his hair curl into a fist and she pulls his head back, forcing him look at her. "What. Have. You. Done?"

His eyes shift between hers, uncertain, unwilling. "He's gone . . . " He begins. "I had to, I had to–the hexcore, it was poisoning him, spreading like a disease." His voice is coarse. "I had to stop him, there was no other choice."

Her eyes grow. Viktor . . . Gone? She could only assume when Jayce suddenly pays her a visit, but never dared believe.

"I never ment to leave you," he says, hand reaching out to grab her waist. "You have to believe me." He rouches the fabric at the waist, white knuckling it out of desperation for an ounce of u derstanding. "Hextech isnt what we thought it was, not anymore. Viktor couldnt see it, he was infecting the undercity, it would've spread to Piltover, the rest of the world if I didn't stop him."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "But he was saving them, freeing them of shimmer."

"No . . . they weren't themselves anymore. I've been away, lost. I've seen–" She waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. "The hexcore mutates them, changes them. I had to stop him. It, the core."

Her eyes drift the Jayce's hammer posted by the door. "Like your hammer?" She studies the now misshapen weapon, once crafted with obsessive precision. Her eyes drift lower along the neck and over its face, blood splatter.

She looks away, closing her eyes to recollect herself. Remembering to strongly the smell of blood Jayce had arrived with.

"Yes," he says. "Like I did." His hand reaches up to loosely cup her face. She notices how the crystal from his old bracelet has fused with his skin. Her fingers run along his arm and slides along the crystal, feeling it, inspecting it. "I didn't chose this," he murmurs. "I didn't chose to leave you . . . I love you." His hand falls back to his side.

She's taken aback. Its not something they've said before, not while still partners, not before all of, this . . . But despite herself, she believes him. They were colleagues for a long time and affection had always kept them together. He wouldn't hurt Viktor without reason.

With hooded eyes and parted lips, he studies her, waiting for her judgement.

"You had to," she nods, seamingly decided.

Relief and disappointment floods his face all at once. He'd expected an 'I love you' back.

She leans in, kissing him for the first time since he disappeared. Finally reunited. "We'll get through this, ok?" her voice is uncertain, what's happened has not been fully processed.

"Ok," he agrees and straightens his back, carefully placing small kisses along her abdomen as he does so, afraid he'll scare her away. "I've missed you so damn much." He levels his head with hers, meeting her gaze head on.

"I've missed you too," she responds. "But I need you now, Jayce. Can you do that for me?" She places a soft kiss on his lips.

"Certainly," he murmurs against them.

She stands, slinding his hand into hers and leads him to the bed. With his back to the bed, she places her hands on his chest and pushes him into sitting at the edge of the bed.

One leg over the other, she straddles him, standing on her knees so he has to look up at her. His she brushes the hair away from his eyes and lowers her lips to ghost over his. Their scared and quivering, needy to be on hers.

His hands slide up her sides and curves around her back, coming to rest in the arch above her ass. Gently, he massages circles into her skin, tickling her intentionaly.

She squirms benea his touch, luring a satisfied grin from him. "You look good like this." Her fingers run through his beard, tracing his new scars. "Dangerous." Reaching down between them and into his pants, she pulls Jayce's member free and lowers herself just enough to tease his tip.

With a hiss, he locks his thumb over her hipbones and wanting to guide her onto him.

She shakes her head, a smirk playing in the corner of her lips. "My turn," she whispers and pull the straps of her dress down, letting it gather at her hips. Jayce's eyes immeidetly fall as his hands slide up her ribs with a specific destination in mind. "Dont touch," she warns. "Now look at me, Jayce." Her chest is inches from his face, but unallowed to look and unable to touch, his eyes appear like that of a wounded stag.

Her nimble fingers work on the buttons of his shirt and quickly slides it off of his shoulders. "Ive missed this," she purs, dragging a finger down his torso, her nail leaving a white scratched up mark behind it. "But this is new," she refers to the chest hair she's never seen before. "I like that, too." Her lips meet his jaw as she leaves kisses all the way down to his collarbone and shoulder. Her continues down his abdomen and below his v-line, then there's a sharp intake of breath as she stokes his member, circling the leaking pre-cum around his tip.

"Devil woman," he groans, but there's a twisted smile to his lips.

She returns it and takes a step back, letting the dress fall completely as if wanting to prove his point and oh, how she revels in the desperation on his face.

Her gaze fixes on his hands, clenching and unclencing in his lap, knuckles white from the strain. She bites her lip. "You look good like this," she repeats. "All, fallen apart . . . " She steps closer, placing herself between his legs. "Bloody and broken."

Never has he taken his eyes off of hers, and as she lowers herself onto his lap once more, she finds his member and lines him up. And finally, she sinks onto his thick inches. Still, he does not touch her. There is only a desperate whimper leaving his lips at the much needed pressure. Obedient, or respcetful? Either way, he deserves his praise. "Good boy. Now, touch me," she whispers and topple them over.

He twitches inside her at the words, but before she can react he's upon her. Fitting one breast into his mouth and the other in his hand, he licks and spits and squeezes. Sucking the entierty of her tender, plush flesh into his mouth.

"Ooh," she braces herself, strings of pleasure and heavy breaths return to them. "You liked that didn't you, pretty boy?" All she gets in response is humming between the lewd, obscene slurping.

Alright, then. Putting a hand on his chest for support, she begins to move, rocking back and forth just watching his expression of pleased torture.

Moving his hands to her hips, lips tear free from her breast for some much needed air, only to replace them upon her lips and kiss her with fervour.

She sits up, getting a better vantage and he follows not long thereafter. Unable to sit by and let her do the work. Leaning back on one hand and wrapping the other around her back, he helps her rut against him while he can't softly thrust up to meet her. "Fuck me- Jayce . . . " She gasps, hardly able to get enough air to moan.

He grins against her lips, sharing their breaths. "You liked that didn't you, pretty girl?" He mocks her.

She laughs breathlessly and digs her nails into his biceps. "Naughty," she murmurs and bites his lip, drawing blood. Again, she feels his member twitch amidst all the rocking between them. Their eyes meet and share a knowing glance. She cocks an eyebrow, he blushes. "That's what I thought," she smirks. It's her win, for now.

Unable to let it slide, Jayce takes the reigns. Flipping them over, he pins her beneath him without missing a single thrust. Amidst the confusion, he interlocks their fingers and pulls her arms above her head, stretching her out and limiting her movement.

She squirms against his restrains, testing the limits but he's rock solid. With her legs around his waist, he thrust perfectly into her and she cant help but roll her hips. She can feel the knot tightening in her core and she furrows her brows with displeasure. Missionary always did her in, he'll win. "Unfair," she moans, throwing her head back as waves of pleasure wash over her with every movement of his hips.

He moves one pair of their locked hands down so ha can stroke her throat with his thumb, placing soft kisses on the damage he caused.

His tenderness alone could cause her to crumble. "Put your back into it at least," she whines, realising she only had her pettiness left. Being beneath him, in his control feels way better than any win she could earn.

A breathless chuckle leaves him. "Yes, ma'am," he grunts, releases her and pulls out before he hooks her legs over his shoulders and thrusts back in. Hands finally free, she cups his face and pulls him in for a kiss concealing the cries bubbling up in her throat. For as it stands, he moves expertly and he's deeper–better than any man ever has been. "Fuck me-"

He smirks. "Tell me I'm good, again . . . " Shes uncertain if this is his ego talking or- "Please, please tell me im good," he whimpers, kissing her inbetween every word.

Without warning her third orgasm washes over her, back arching and nails digging into Jayce's cheeks. "You're so good to me," she sobs. "Such a good boy."

His thrusts falter and then he too, comes. Filling her with his seed, once again.

With shaking limbs he falls to her side, one arm draped over her chest. Both breathing heavily as they regain their senses.

"You win," ge admits and kisses her temple.

Yes she does. "I love you, too," she smiles, heart and teeth achingly sweet.

[rafelandia]

In the Middle of the Night (Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: smut, little bit of cum play, unprotected sex

Summary: Rafe can't sleep. Luckily, the antidote to his ailment is laying in bed right next to him.

Author's Note: I can't stop thinking about Rafe waking Y/N up in the middle of the night for sex. I am addicted to the trope of Rafe being an asshole to everyone except his girl, but this is more of a soft!Rafe moment than anything. If you enjoy, please give a like or reblog. And any requests for blurbs/one shots/etc. are always welcome in my inbox!

Before Y/N came along, there were many ways in which Rafe would conquer the restlessness that crept up on him in the middle of the night. He would go for a run on the beach with nothing but the moonlight to guide him, hunker down in his home office and crunch numbers, read a few chapters in his current favorite non-fiction. There were dozens of outlets Rafe had conditioned himself to do when he just couldn’t fall asleep despite knowing that he should. He was older now and staying up all night like he would as a teenager just wasn’t good for him in any capacity anymore.

All of these outlets, but they suddenly went out of the window when he met Y/N. She was unlike any other woman he had ever been with or even met before, but he supposed that’s how it always was when you were in love with someone. He swore he could stare at her features for forever, that she was more intoxicating than any substance or drink. But looking at her in the glimmering moonlight that shone through the cracked shades was not what put him to bed whenever that frustrating feeling of not being able to close his eyes came insidiously creeping into his head.

There was something about the way her hair was mussed about her head like a halo around her pillow, or maybe it was the way that she was sleeping on her stomach so that the swell of her breast peaked through the comforter. Either way, Rafe couldn’t help but feel his boxers growing tighter the longer he traced his eyes over the shape of her sleeping body next to his.

He slid his body over towards her, turning her and wrapping his arms around her body so that his front was flush with her backside. Warmth radiated from her sleeping form and his hands found their way to her breasts. Rafe began gently kneading them in aim to draw her from her slumber, but the most he got out of her was a shift in her bum on the mattress. A low rumble escaped from his chest at the way she unknowingly ground herself against his cock.

His next attempt was to go for her neck. Rafe always teased her for being so sensitive there but at the same time, there was nothing more that he loved than feeling her turn to putty in his hands when his lips roamed about the column of her throat. He started nipping at her skin with his plush, pink lips, just barely meeting his skin with hers. Goosebumps raised in response to his touch as his kisses grew sloppier. It was when he’d hit her sweet spot with his tongue that he heard the sound he’d been searching for. Rafe swears he’s never heard anything more heavenly in his entire life, that soft, half-moan half-groan that fell from her parted lips. It brought his neediness to the forefront.

“Baby,” Rafe grumbled against the crook of her neck, tickling her with his outgrown stubble.

Amidst her hazy state she was able to hum back at him, though it sounded once more like a broken moan.

“Need you to wake up,” he hoarsely whispered as he began working himself against her backside, slowly but surely rutting his hips into the skin of her bum to ease some of the tension that had built up in his cock.

He couldn’t see the way the corners of her lips turned up knowingly. She was no stranger to this Rafe, the Rafe that woke her in the middle of the night with an itch that he just couldn’t seem to scratch. It was almost comical to her, the way that he’d do just about everything in the book besides coming right out and telling her that he was in the mood. Sometimes, she’d tease him and pretend to be asleep longer than she actually was before turning over and giving him what he wanted, but not tonight. Unbeknownst to Rafe, he had stirred her from quite the dream, so there was no need to dance around the ledge this time.

With a sigh, she resituated herself in the bed, turning in Rafe's arms so that their faces sat mere inches from each other.

“Hi,” she sang through her sleep-ridden voice.

“Hi,” Rafe repeated back to her in the same groggy tone. "Can't sleep?" she asked, a tinge of playfulness in her voice.

He gave no response - just a lazy smirk in return. Even in the darkness, Y/N noticed a flush rising up his neck and cheeks. He'd been caught.

“Need some help?” she quirked her brow and gestured downwards to the tent in his boxers.

“Maybe,” he answered with a sleepy chuckle.

She knocked him on his back so that she was straddling his waist and sitting on his now painfully hard cock; the feathered duvet now pooled at their knees. Rafe hissed at the commotion, but the feeling soon turned to bliss when her hands snuck into the waistband of his boxers and she took his length in her fingers. It felt heavy in her grip as she smeared the silky beads of precum along his tip, coating him in preparation to make home within her tight, warm walls.

“I was dreamin’ about you,” she spoke lowly as she gently twisted her wrist around his cock, reveling in the way Rafe's brows were furrowing together in response to her touch.

“Yeah?” he jested.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, “We were kinda like how we are now. But this is much better,” she finished with a tantilizing pump of her hand.

Rafe's hips jutted into her fist, wanting more than just her teasing touches. It almost made her laugh aloud, how needy he could be in the middle of the night like this. She wanted him just as much, only due to her still-drowsy state, she was able to control it.

She leaned down and laid her body flush with Rafe's as she kissed him for the first time since he’d woke her. They tasted of the remnants of their minty toothpaste and mostly of morning breath, but that was the furthest thing from their minds. Rafe held her close to him as his tongue slipped between her lips, aching to get her going as quickly as he could. His arms slid under the ratty Kildare High School t-shirt of his that she slept in so he could lift it off of her frame, breaking the kiss for only a fraction of a second before they were intertwined again.

Once her chest was free of clothing, Rafe ran his hands along the sides of her breasts and spine, chilling her skin with his cold hands. He ducked his head down to kiss the center of her chest and then outwards to her wrap his plump lips around her erect nipples. Those velvety, smooth sighs of hers turned into the moans that Rafe adored oh-so dearly. Y/N began to feel the wetness from her core pool at the front of her panties. One of her hands cradled his neck, snugly but not tightly as she kissed him, but she was able to move the other down to grip his cock in her digits once more.

“Y/N," Rafe pleaded, his hazy, hungry eyes peering up at her. He needed her to do something, anything before he lost his whits.

She locked eyes with Rafe as she sank down slowly, splitting herself on top of him. Rafe always swore that the way the wrinkle between her brows reared itself and her lips parted just slightly when she first felt his cock first enter her was by far his favorite face of hers. Well, his second favorite, apart from the face she made when she came, he supposed. He gripped onto her hips tightly as she lowered herself fully onto him, exhaling a sigh of relief when she made it all of the way down to the base of his cock.

They soon found their rhythm, Y/n bouncing and rolling her hips against his while they chased their highs. Her early morning sensitivity caused her to melt in Rafe's arms with the way his tip was able to brush against all of the sweetest spots that made her eyes roll back into her head and a shiver run down her spine.

All that was heard in the otherwise silent room were sounds of wet skin meeting harshly each time she pushed herself back onto Rafe. Their lips chased each other in between thrusts, eager to be as close to each other as they possibly could. Sweat pooled in the dip of her back and in the grooves of Rafe's toned stomach, the two of them yearning to reach their ends.

Y/n's bouncing soon turned to lazy, barely motivated rocking as she found herself almost physically unable to continue. The tendons in her thighs were screaming for relief and the heat that surrounded her made her feel like she was trapped in a sauna. She could feel herself right there, right on the brink of getting to where she needed to be, but she was growing frustrated that she wouldn't be able to get them both there on her own.

“Rafe,” Y/N whined as she gripped both of Rafe's shoulders tightly, knuckles growing white from the hold she had on them.

He sensed her weariness, but he was waiting to see how long it would take her to beg for him to take control of the two of them.

She raised her eyes from being buried in Rafe's neck to look at him.

“Please,” she moaned.

“I've got you, baby,” he huffed, barely able to spit the words out between each manual breath.

With one fluid motion, he had her flipped over onto her back and plunged back into her soaking cunt once more. Y/N cried out at the new angle of Rafe on top of her, watching his dainty, silver chain dangle inches away from her face.

“Gonna make me cum if you keep looking at me like that," Rafe muttered into her ear as he mouthed against her neck, “You gonna cum for me first though. Right angel?”

He continued to drill his cock into her heat, each time brushing against the spongey part of her walls that made her thighs shake and reflexively want to close. Rafe caught wind of her trembling and forced her legs open with one of his strong, veiny hands, pressing it even deeper into her chest with his other arm pressed deep into the mattress to balance his body on top of hers. Their stomachs brushed against each other with every thrust, only adding to the overwhelming sensations that they were both feeling.

“Your pussy's so perfect. Like it was made for me," Rafe moaned. "Gonna fuck you like this every night for the rest of my life."

His words of encouragement took her right back to where she was before, right at the brink of breaking. Her moans went up an octave and Rafe could tell by the way she had started to clench around him that she wasn’t going to last much longer. He knew for certain that with the way that her cunt was so expertly gripping his cock that he wasn’t that far behind her.

"Need you to cum, baby. Need to feel it," Rafe was nearing his breaking point, but knew he couldn't be satisfied without feeling her clench around him first.

Unable to speak due to the way he was pounding into her, Y/N gripped Rafe's shoulders even harder than he was fucking her in response. This made Rafe cockily smile and only pushed him to fuck her more fervently and deeper. His hips would certainly leave light purple bruises on hers come morning.

Her release sprung on her quickly, her walls spasming around Rafe's thick, pulsing cock. Y/N let out a sound akin to a high-pitched whine blended perfectly with a scream - it was so beautiful to him. Her orgasm came so suddenly that it caught Rafe off guard as well; he had but mere moments before he found himself filling her up with his warm, milky seed. It was so sudden and intense that it seeped out from around his cock and onto the plush, silky sheets.

They rode it out together, Rafe pumping into her slower and sloppier than just minutes before. Y/N was becoming overwhelmed with the sensation and he was quick to pick up on it. Rafe pulled out slowly, watching Y/N wince as her now-swollen heat contracted around nothing but emptiness. He ran his fingers along her pussy, collecting her wetness and his cum on his digits before gently pressing the mixture back into her core. She hissed at the feeling of him inside of her again and it made Rafe's dick twitch. He could easily go again, but he knew that she couldn't. It was intoxicating to watch her squirm. Next time he thought to himself. He loved to drive her crazy.

They both laid there, Rafe resting his full weight on top of her while they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeats return back to their resting rate. She twiddled with the clasp of Rafe's chain while he pecked soft kisses on her sweat-slick breast with his lips.

"I love you," Y/N sighed, her eyes beginning to close as she teetered the line of consciousness.

"I love you, too," Rafe was just as exhausted as she was. Finally.

When they regained their bearings, Rafe reached across the bed for the shirt he’d pulled off of her body. With caring hands, he cleaned the two of them, tossing the soiled garment somewhere off into the floor to be dealt with in the morning.

“Thank you,” Rafe mumbled into her skin as he crawled back into the covers with her and pulled her into his arms once more.

“Anytime,” she laughed, still somewhat out of breath.

“But will you please go to sleep now? You have a presentation in the morning and you only wake me up to fuck when you can’t sleep so I’m assuming you’ve been awake this whole time,” she sounded like a parent talking to Rafe, which while he would never admit, he adored.

She felt Rafe's laugh reverberate off her chest and shake her body, to which he then promised her he’d be good and go to bed.

Rafe could go on midnight runs and read as much as he could, but nothing could put him to sleep as easily as this.

[barcaatthemoon]

your best girl || alexia putellas x reader ||

You comfort Alexia when she returns after the Olympics.

18+

Everybody had a job. You had nearly forgotten that with the craziness of the Olympics. Alexia worked hard to be the best captain for her country that she could. There was only so much that her on-pitch presence could do. Their issue was at the coach's level, and the team suffered because of that. Alexia had only come back to you a couple days early after being knocked away from the medals, and that was where your job started.

It was always difficult gauging the amount of space to give Alexia. You understood how devastating a blow it was, having lost the chance for a medal at your first Olympics. Back then, you had wished that someone would have helped you pick up the pieces of yourself, but instead, you tried to brave it all on your own. Alexia wasn't like you, and that was where you apprehension about talking to her came in.

The thought of smothering Alexia and pushing her away haunted you constantly. You needed to do something to show her that you were there for her that wasn't over the top of dramatic. And so, you dropped as many little hints that you were just waiting for her to come to you. You thought for a moment that you'd end up driving yourself mad waiting for Alexia, but the silence and tension in the apartment only lasted for a few days at most.

"What is all of this?" Alexia asked as she stood behind your desk chair. You tried to turn, but Alexia was holding you forward. You could feel her lean down a bit, reading over your analysis of the games for work. "You've been busy."

"Never too busy for you though," you told her. Alexia dropped her hands from your chair, finally allowing for you to turn and face her. "I'm glad to see you up and around a bit."

"The bed felt a little cold, and I know that it's not really a big thing, but I was hoping that you had some time to join me," Alexia said. You nodded, quickly saving the small additions you had made to your analysis paper before shutting your computer down and following Alexia into the bedroom.

It looked like she had been cleaning a bit before she came to get you. The nest of blankets that Alexia had created to curl up and wallow in was now dismantled. She had tidied up her laundry from the floor and made the bed, which you knew were big steps. Aside from that, you didn't let the candles on the bedside table or the songs from your R&B sex playlist playing.

"How exactly am I helping you warm up the bed?" you asked teasingly. Alexia played it innocent as she sat back on the bed. She patted the spot next to you, and you all but rushed over to join her. Sex hadn't been on the table for you mentally when Alexia got home, but you were a bit relieved to not be waiting weeks like the last big loss Alexia had faced.

You didn't understand how someone so amazing could get down on themselves so easily. Alexia was under immense pressure from fans, but it was nothing compared to what she put herself through. You felt guilty learning from those around Alexia that it only got worse when you came in the picture. In your eyes, you were washed up and spat out by the game, but Alexia held you in the regard that some had during your prime.

"I did have a couple of things in mind. I think that I need a little reminder of who I am." Alexia ducked her head down until her face was tucked into the crook of your neck. She was being shy, like she was ashamed of really asking for what you wanted. Still, you completely understood wht she needed. It wasn't exactly what had become your normal, but you were still definitely up to reminding Alexia that she didn't have to win everything in order for you to love and cherish her.

"I get that you need this for what happened in Paris, but forget about football and the Olympics completely. Right now it's just the two of us. I am just me, and you are just you." Alexia struggled to take your words to heart at first, but that was expected. You were used to this little speedbump, but it was the most important part of everything in your eyes. "You love me despite the fact that I haven't worn a jersey of my own in three years. I'll love you even if you never put another Spain or Barcelona jersey on again. I'll love you when the day comes that your body can't handle the game anymore, and I will take care of you when you inevitably push yourself too far again. Do you know why?"

"No," Alexia answered. You turned her face so that she was looking at you and you only.

"Because I did not fall in love with Alexia Putellas, the footballer. I fell in love with the woman who doesn't know how to tread lightly, so she wakes me up at odd hours every single time that she gets out of bed. I fell in love with the woman who goes out of her way to take care of her community and everybody that she cares about. I fell in love with the woman who runs into the arm of the couch every single morning because she's too busy watching me walking into the kitchen. I fell in love with you because of what I saw off of the pitch," you told her. Alexia was blushing deeply, unsure of what to do with praise in that sense.

"I just wanted to win and make you proud. You got this new job after working so hard these past couple of years to learn Spanish. You're doing so much, and what have I done to compare?" Alexia confessed. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Alexia was constantly doing things that often made you feel a bit inferior, so it blew your mind a little to hear that Alexia had been feeling this way too.

"Ale, you are the best soccer player in the world. I'm only here because I gave up and called it quits. You're doing amazing things all of the time. You're the best in the world, and let's face it, I wouldn't have gotten my foot in the door if I wasn't your girlfriend. I could have worked and worked and worked forever, but they wouldn't have cared." Alexia's face changed from its formerly soft expression to a hardened one. "I'm not here to argue about my achievements with you, I'm here to remind you that this one setback won't define your worth."

"Just you wait, they'll be referring to me as (Y/n) (Y/l/n)'s girlfriend. Hopefully one of the better ones," Alexia said. She sounded so confident and sure of herself that you had to believe her.

"You'll always be the best one. Hopefully you'll also be my last one," you told her. Alexia leaned in and kissed you, slowly pulling you on top of her. You let the kiss progress naturally, neither of you pushing things too far without the other pressing equally as much.

"Take this off," Alexia requested as she started tugging at the hem of your shirt. You sat back and started removing the pieces of your clothes that Alexia asked you to. In turn, she briefly moved you off of her lap to completely undress herself. The tension in the room thickened a bit as she laid down again, legs spread as you stood at the end of the bed.

"You look unreal," you muttered as you moved onto the bed. You didn't want to leave Alexia waiting. Alexia didn't want to wait either, guiding your head between her legs without any ounce of hesitation. You could see that Alexia was already wet. She wasn't soaked but still undeniably wet.

You didn't have a chance to tease Alexia. She guided your face to her cunt, movements on the cusp of being pushy. Alexia was almost always in control, and she doubled down whenever you were topping. She didn't want to wait around or be teased, Alexia wanted to cum. You still had your chance to revel in the taste of her, even if it wasn't in the same way that she got to with you.

It didn't come as a surprise to you to have Alexia grinding her hips to move against your tongue. She didn't seem to want your fingers at all, working herself up on just your mouth. You loved it, loved knowing that you could make Alexia feel so good with just a few simple movements. Topping Alexia gave you a rush that you'd be riding for the next couple of days, until Alexia felt up to the task of "putting you back in your place."

"I'm so fucking close. Don't stop, please don't stop," Alexia swore. She wasn't usually one for pleading, but you'd take it. Her hands were gripping your shoulders tightly, nails digging in as you savored every drop of her that you could. Alexia let you continue with the strokes of your tongue past her first orgasm, only pushing you away after the second. She rode one high into the next before her brain and body seemed to catch up to each other.

She was sensitive, and her legs jerked shut, nearly hitting you in the process. You didn't sit back and stare, instead going straight into the bathroom to get a warm washcloth. Alexia let you clean her up, not saying anything to you until after she had grabbed new clothes to wear for the night. You stripped the bed and put everything in the washer, slightly surprised to find Alexia waiting for you in the kitchen when you were done.

"I don't think I let you know how important you are to me. I don't know how badly I would have spiraled without you here," Alexia told you. You blushed as she wrapped her arms around your waist and held you from behind. "Tomorrow, I start training again. I've only got a few years until the next World Cup and Olympics."

"I mean, I guess," you sighed. Alexia pressed a kiss to your cheek before she grabbed a snack to take into the living room. You went decided to go to bed, already well aware that Alexia wouldn't get to bed for another hour or so at least. You set an alarm for 1, deciding that if she wasn't in bed by then, you were going out to the living room to collect her yourself.

[thesecondhandwoman]

FRACTURED STEEL

Sevika x f!reader

(Part Two)

Summary: It’s been days, nearly weeks, since you had confronted Sevika about the attack she led without you knowing, leading to the argument that separated the two of you. However, Sevika misses you far too much and tries to get you back.

The rain outside continued to fall, drowning out the sounds of the Undercity. Sevika sat there in silence, the weight of her guilt pressing down on her like a crushing tide. And for the first time, she wondered if she’d finally broken something she couldn’t fix.

The bar felt emptier without you. Sevika sat at her usual spot, her hand curling around an untouched glass. Days had passed since your confrontation, but the echo of your words haunted her like a ghost she couldn’t exorcise.

She hated how quiet it was now, the hum of machinery outside doing little to distract her from the gnawing ache in her chest. You were gone, and Sevika wasn’t sure she had the right to get you back.

But you were all she could think about.

She didn’t bother to finish her drink before standing abruptly and throwing a handful of coins onto the counter. The bartender raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Sevika pushed out into the rain-soaked streets, her cloak pulled tight against the cold. She had spent too many nights running from this, burying her guilt in alcohol and fights. Not tonight.

She had to see you.

You weren’t expecting the knock at your door. You had spent the past few days burying yourself in work, anything to keep your mind off Sevika and the sting of her betrayal. But when you opened the door and saw her standing there, soaked from the rain and looking uncharacteristically unsure of herself, your stomach twisted.

“What do you want, Sevika?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

Her jaw tightened, and she hesitated before answering. “I need to talk to you.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I think you’ve said enough.”

She didn’t flinch, though you could see the flicker of pain in her eyes. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “About everything. About Silco. About me.”

You stared at her, taken aback by her vulnerability. Sevika was never one to admit she was wrong, let alone so openly.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” she continued, her voice low and strained. “I know that. But I can’t stand knowing I let you walk away without telling you how much you mean to me.”

Your heart ached at her words, but you kept your guard up. “You think words are enough to fix this?”

“No,” she said firmly. “But it’s a start. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I can be better.”

The sincerity in her voice caught you off guard. For a moment, you just stood there, staring at her. You wanted to be angry, to hold on to the hurt, but the sight of Sevika standing in the rain, her eyes filled with regret, made it hard to keep the walls around your heart intact.

“Come inside,” you said finally, stepping aside.

Sevika hovered awkwardly near the door as you handed her a towel. She dried her face and ran the towel over her short, damp hair, her movements tense. She looked out of place here in your small, cozy apartment, her broad frame dwarfing the modest furniture.

“Sit,” you said, motioning to the couch.

She obeyed, perching on the edge of the seat like she was ready to bolt at any moment. You sat across from her, your arms crossed, waiting for her to speak.

“I didn’t tell you because I was scared,” she admitted after a long silence. “Scared of what Silco would do. Scared of what it would mean for us.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So you chose him.”

“I didn’t choose him,” she said quickly, her voice thick with emotion. “I chose survival. That’s what I’ve always done. But…” She hesitated, running a hand through her hair. “But I should’ve chosen you. I know that now.”

The raw honesty in her voice softened something in you. You wanted to stay angry, to protect yourself, but Sevika’s regret was so genuine, so palpable, that it was hard not to feel the cracks in your armor widen.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m willing to try. If you’ll let me.”

You studied her for a long moment, searching her face for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was the woman you had fallen for, stripped bare of her usual bravado.

“It’s not going to be easy,” you said finally.

Sevika nodded. “I don’t expect it to be. I just… I just want a chance to make things right.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “You hurt me, Sevika. You let me down when it mattered most. I can’t just forget that.”

“I’m not asking you to,” she said softly. “I’m asking you to let me prove that I can be better. For you. For us.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, you nodded.

“Okay,” you said. “But if you ever pull something like this again…”

“I won’t,” she interrupted, her voice firm. “I swear.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re lucky I still love you, Sevika.”

The faintest smile tugged at her lips, the first you’d seen in days. “I don’t deserve you,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion.

“No,” you said, a soft smile playing on your lips. “But I think you might be worth it anyway.”

The tension between you eased as the night went on. You talked for hours, unraveling the pain and anger that had built up between you. Sevika didn’t shy away from your questions, no matter how difficult they were, and for the first time, you felt like she was letting you see her completely.

By the time the rain stopped, you were curled up next to her on the couch, your head resting on her shoulder. Her metal arm wrapped around you carefully, the cool steel a comforting weight.

“I missed this,” you murmured, your voice muffled against her jacket.

“So did I,” she said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

For the first time in days, the ache in your chest began to fade. It wasn’t a perfect resolution, and you knew there would still be challenges ahead, but for now, you let yourself savor the warmth of Sevika’s presence.

It made you realize, as you laid there with her in the comfort you missed desperately, that, sometimes, steel wasn’t meant to remain fractured. Sometimes, it could be reforged.

Just like your love for one another.

[copperhawks]

You're not the first person to make this comparison on this post, but when I wrote this, I hadn't done a re-read of SOTL yet (and the last time I'd read In the Hand of the Goddess was... a LONG time ago, so I couldn't really make a good comparison between these two scenes), but I have now and I've been sort-of thinking this over and have some thoughts on it.

For me, this isn't so much an indication of them being similar so much as it is just an unusually similar narrative beat. A character chooses to disobey an order about not crossing a border during a war in order to go save someone who has been captured and, in so doing, takes out a major antagonist that leads to the end of the war.

But the MOTIVES behind the two actions seem very different to me. Jon goes to save Alanna because he's in love with her and can't bear to lose her. Kel goes to save the refugees because she's responsible for them and takes that extremely seriously. She does CARE about the people, obviously, it's still being done out of love, but she's not doing it because she can't stand to live without them so much as that she's INSANELY duty-driven. She goes up to save Lalasa for similar reasons after being told that a noble's duty to their servants is basically sacrosanct. Kel goes across the border because she believes it's the honorable thing to do. Jon's motives aren't about honor and are, arguably, somewhat more selfish in origin.

So while this is obviously a very similar storyline, I don't find that it's an example of these two characters being similar to each other.

Kel is willing to give up EVERYTHING out of a sense of duty to the people she's responsible for. While Jon is someone who does a LOT of things for his people and spends a lot of his time and energy making life better for them, I can't recall a moment where Jon is ready to give up everything he wants and everything he's worked for just to save his people. Jon actually tells Kel in Squire that he and Thayet work pretty hard to keep themselves OUT of that kind of danger whenever possible, that's the point behind all of the compromises. All of the arranged marriages for his kids are to try to ensure peace through political connections and stop fighting in wars.

This is where they DO differ because Kel feels like someone who, at least at this point in her life, is willing to die to protect her people. But Jon is someone who will do whatever it takes to LIVE for his people for as long as possible. Jon understands that, in his position, it's more beneficial for everybody for him to make compromises in order to stay alive so he can keep making changes that will make people's lives better in the long run. This is a lesson that, while we do see Kel LEARNING it a little during Lady Knight, isn't one that really plays into the final conflict of the book. It's possible that Kel will end up being even more like Jon in this way as she gets older, more willing to stay back herself and trust others to do what needs to be done in her place, but by the end of Lady Knight, that just isn't who she is yet.

And maybe that's what's interesting about the comparison. Kel isn't all that much like Jon YET, and she's certainly not all that much like Jon when HE was 19, but Kel shows signs of being a lot more like Jon as he is during HER series as she gets older and gains more experience. Kel is very righteous, very inclined to just act and get things done, but over the 9 years we get to know her, she has to learn more and more about when to act and when to WAIT. She has to learn when to push and when to bend a little.

As a woman, she's going to be held to different standards than her male counterparts like Raoul or Wyldon, she'll be dealing with different limitations and setbacks than they ever did. And so her approach to leadership will, by necessity, have to be different than theirs was. She does look to them for inspiration, but in execution, I think she'll likely end up far more like Jon. Jon is obviously not a woman himself, but as King he's ALSO held to different higher standards than his compatriots and he was very young when he took the throne and has been very progressive throughout his reign which means he's dealing with certain limitations and setbacks that more conservative people might not.

Kel has strong opinions and firm ideas of what the world SHOULD be like, and that's going to lead her down a similar path of trying to CHANGE things, but she'll be dealing with all of the same limitations that Jon is, which will force her to approach things the way he does. She's going to have to compromise, she's going to have to bend, she's going to have to learn when a fight is worth having, she's going to have to learn to give a little in order to get a little later.

Kel would probably not have crossed the border for just one person. If it had been Neal, for example, and Neal alone, she may not have decided to take that risk. Neal is a trained knight like herself and probably won't thank her for giving up everything to come save him. Kel could probably have been convinced not to cross the border for him, as much as it would've pained her. And Jon I think would not necessarily give up everything to save a few hundred people the way Kel did, even though it would pain him to have to make that choice.

Kel IS like Jon and will likely become even more so as she ages, but crossing the border just isn't one of those places where their similarities are showcased to me.

The funniest thing to me about Kel, and maybe one of the most interesting because of how understated it is, is that Kel becomes a good commander in the end, not by emulating Wyldon who was cold and implacable and insensitive, or by emulating Raoul who mostly only disobeys orders out of principle or because he has an issue with what the order says about his personal relationship with Jon, but by emulating JON.

Kel doesn't even LIKE Jon, she BARELY respects him as a person. He's a good enough ruler that she's willing to fight for him and swear loyalty to him and to at least mostly believe that he wouldn't work with Blayce to make his own killing monsters, but that's as far as it goes for Kel. If he's kind to her, she finds it uncomfortable and almost untrustworthy because she assumes he doesn't care about her and so his kindness and respect towards her must be fake.

But from the outside, as readers, we know just how much Jon fought for Kel. We know how much he does respect her right to be a knight. Jon is the sole reason that Kel DID get the opportunity to prove herself, if he'd capitulated to Wyldon completely, she just wouldn't have ever been allowed to join. Kel doesn't KNOW THAT, obviously, but we do. We know that Jon did everything he could to find a way to convince Wyldon to let Kel become a page. While Wyldon claims later that the reason he chose to let her stay at the end of the probation year was because his better judgment convinced him she'd earned it, I'd be willing to bet that part of that better judgment also included knowing if he couldn't prove to JON that she needed to go, then he'd be in trouble. Kel was training and working in front of plenty of other trainers and teachers who could easily contradict Wyldon's lies if he'd tried it, many of whom are closer to Jon than they are to Wyldon.

Kel's experiences and feelings about that experience are entirely valid, and she doesn't have the knowledge we do about how hard Jon fought for her, so it's not shocking that she's upset with him for a good portion of her series. She never even discovers this truth by the end of her series, even though she does get a lesson from Jon and Thayet (and Raoul to some degree) about how politics and compromises work in order to make changes happen. So her opinion of him by the end is boiled down to the quote from Squire: "good kings weren't always good men." It makes sense for her to think this, but because Kel's knowledge base is so limited (and her worldview so black and white for much of her series), it makes her an EXTREMELY unreliable narrator about this particular issue.

Kel believes that while Jon generally does his duty and keeps the peace, he doesn't actually care all that much about his people as individuals. But in their only meaningful conversation in Squire, Jon is able to point out that he (and Thayet, who is actually equal to Jon in power, something Kel either doesn't know which would be a failure in her education or just tends to ignore so she can focus her ire on Jon) has to make a LOT of compromises in order to get ANYTHING useful done at all. Sometimes, often, it means making deals with people he doesn't like or people he just fundamentally disagrees with, because it's the first step in a multi-step plan to help more people in the long run. He also points out that just throwing his weight and authority around in order to be able to change everything he wants to change immediately regardless of what anyone else thinks about it is a great way to get himself and his family killed. Because even if he had good intentions, that would be tyranny. It does make Kel think a little, but she doesn't tend to like him much still afterwards, her resentment from her page years will always color her opinion of him a little.

However, then she gets to Haven and she's suddenly tossed into a position of leadership over a lot of other people, many of whom disagree with each other or disagree with her or both. And all of the sudden, Kel has to make compromises. She doesn't LIKE the way the sergeants often treat their men, especially the sergeants whose men are convicts, but there's very very little she can do about it without really pissing off those same sergeants and that's not something she can afford to do. There's a moment when Neal starts getting frustrated about the treatment of the convicts and she takes him out to vent to her so he doesn't vent to the sergeants, something that the sergeants would then take out on their men. Kel's reasoning as she does this is that she "preferred to avoid battles with them now so she would have authority with them later if she needed to use it." Later, Kel is talking to Daine and she says "That's all this job is... Trying to please everyone and pleasing no one. And it will only get worse, not better."

Both of these moments showcase Kel choosing to make compromises. She may not like the way the sergeants treat the convicts, but she needs to stay on the sergeants' good sides because she doesn't have enough resources to butt heads with them nor enough authority to just force the issue, and even if she DID, it could cause the sergeants to become troublesome or take out their frustration with her on the men in ways she can't see as well. But staying on the sergeants' good sides might mean letting some of their maltreatment slide if it's not physically harming the convicts. And even setting that aside, she's dealing with nearly 500 refugees eventually, all of which are from different towns in the area and have different needs, not all of which she can accommodate. This requires compromise. Sometimes she can please some of them and not others, but mostly she probably just ends up not pleasing anybody because that's often how compromises WORK.

She never makes the active connection to Jon and his lesson on leadership from Squire while she's in Haven, but that quote up there about how this job (aka being a commander) is all about trying to please everyone and pleasing no one? It sounds a HECK of a lot like "good kings weren't always good men." You can try your best to help others, but often doing the right thing can involve making everyone unhappy. You can't be everybody's friend if you're going to get anything done.

Some of this she might've learned from Raoul's style of command, but Raoul commands a fairly small amount of people (at least in comparison to a King), and so we see him able to be pretty friendly to the people he commands in a way that Jon is perhaps unable to do. And she might believe that she learned some of this from Wyldon, but Wyldon had a tendency to be very unfair and biased due to his raging bigotry and conservative values, as well as the fact that he doesn't actually even LIKE being a training master and that likely impacted the way he treated the pages (he's almost never that kind to the pages, whereas we see him capable of being quite kind with the refugees later, which is where Kel comes to the conclusion that he hadn't enjoyed being a training master).

But Jon makes an entire speech about how he (and Thayet) have been working THEIR ENTIRE REIGN to change laws that help people. He explains how they have to consider the needs of merchants, nobles, farmers, street people, priests/priestesses, and mages. They have to consider not only what these people might need or want, but also what they could do when they feel sufficiently offended and how that could impact not just the royal family or the nobility but the realm as a whole. Jon points out that they HAVE made changes, for the better, and that just because they don't always succeed at everything or because they have to compromise sometimes, doesn't mean they aren't working at making changes or that they don't care about helping people. Not everyone you have power over is going to be your friend, they might not even be someone you like. But if you're going to take on the job of leadership, that's something you have to be willing to accept and work with, which often means making compromises with people whose needs and values are contradictory to your own.

Jon probably knows when he makes the compromise with Wyldon that it will likely impact a lot of people's good opinion of him. Alanna is right there and clearly angry, and we know Thayet doesn't like the decision, either. And it's entirely possible that Jon knows in the moment that Kel herself will put the blame on him because he's the King. But he also knows that if he insists on Kel being allowed to be a page without trying to compromise with Wyldon, Wyldon will quit over it and he'll end up with ten DIFFERENT problems that could cause a lot bigger issues to far more people than just one girl. So he makes the compromise. He sacrifices Alanna and Thayet and even Kel's good opinion of him in order to ensure that Kel gets the opportunity to become a Knight without turning all of his nobles against him which could ultimately lead to a civil war. Is it fair? No, and he knows it. But it's the best option he has in order to get the outcome they all actually want which is just for Kel to have the chance to prove herself.

Kel has to make similar choices once she's finally in a position of leadership of her own. And whether she realizes it or not, without ever even spending more than a few minutes with Jon, she ends up emulating his leadership style more than anybody else's because it WORKS and it works WELL. She'll probably never admit it, she might never even realize it herself, but she's so much more like Jon than any of the other men she sees as role models. And I love that. I love the dramatic irony of that, that the one person Kel only barely respects because of a compromise he made on her behalf that she'll never even know about, is the person Kel ends up most resembling. Jon is the reason she has the opportunity to become the Protector of the Small in the first place, Jon is the person who created that environment that allowed her to nurture those values, and she'll probably never even really be able to acknowledge that, because sometimes that's what being a good leader means.

[cupidsdolll]

pairings: best friend!Harry x fem!reader

summary: Y/N's having a bad day and who better to help than her best friend

word count: 2.2k

authors note: hi hello!! here’s something that’s been sitting in my drafts for a whileeeee while i work on chapter three! :) hope you enjoy!!

TW: for a mention of self harm but the only thing she does is pinch her arms over and over again, please read with caution or don’t read if it triggers you or make you uncomfortable. i love you❤️

----

Y/N’s always been such a happy person, always there for all her friends, always having a smile on her face and making sure her friends are okay. She’s always been that one friend that no matter what time it is, she’ll always be there to lend a listening ear and provide the needed solace. 

She’s always been that friend that’ll give the ones she cares about the last of her anything, always willing to give the last of her money to help a friend in need, willing to give the clothes off her back if it was necessary. She’s just a giver by nature. She’s always been the friend to go to whenever you need advice, always taking care of her friends, giving them whatever’s needed. 

Because she’s grown to be able to mask her emotions, it’s hard to tell whenever she’s not able to fully give as much, whenever she starts feeling down and gets in her head. No one notices as she starts becoming quieter, smaller, less. 

She very rarely has bad days, her sunshine personality weeding its way through the dark clouds and allowing her to smile and laugh her way through the day. It’s easy to forget why her day was bad when she’s around friends, but it’s especially easy when she’s around him. Her best friend, her right hand man, her everything in a sense. 

Her and Harry had become friends when she stumbled into him and spilled her tea all over his cream flared pants and she over-apologized until he laughed it off and rubbed her head gently. After that, they became inseparable, always attached at the hip. They were close, close enough to where whenever they were out by themselves they were constantly asked how long they’ve been together, they were constantly mistaken for a long term couple. At the question, they’d both blush softly and deny the question by laughing and shaking their heads as they smile and say they’re just friends. 

They’ve always been just friends and neither have entertained the thought of becoming more, not seeing the point of appeasing everyone else as long as they were happy. He’s always noticing her, takes in the small details and keeps them all in a special folder in his brain and his heart. 

He notices how she’ll sway lightly in her seat whenever she’s happy, he notices how her nose scrunches whenever she genuinely laughs, he notices how she never leaves without a hug and ‘I love you’, how she puts her hand over a sharp corner when her friend bends down to get something, how she makes sure to never split the pole and to always give a little snack to any cat or dog she sees on the street. 

He also notices when she starts distancing herself in conversation, how her lip will quiver and her eyebrows furrow the tiniest bit when she’s upset but can’t sneak away, he notices that when she starts playing with her rings that means she’s in her head or she’s uncomfortable, he notices how her glossy eyes will lose the light in them whenever she’s having a bad day. He notices things that she doesn’t even notice in herself and he prides himself in knowing her so well. 

She’s his complete other half, his soulmate, he can’t imagine his life without her and refuses to even think about that. He can just feel whenever her energy shifts ever so slightly and he’s always been there to help her. 

But he knows that when she has the bad days she prefers to deal with it alone, she’ll start excusing herself from the friend group when she’s asked to hang out. Her most used excuse is she’s on her period and her cramps are just killing her, and he knows that’s when it’s bad, when her pain is at its worst and she can’t bother to attempt to mask. 

Her body aches, she can feel the pain rooting itself deep in her bones, she’s tense as her muscles scream at her. Her bloodshot eyes sting painfully as fat and heavy tears stream down her pink cheeks, her lips chapped no matter how many times she licks them. She can feel her head pounding and throbbing from how long she’s been crying, her throat sore and tight as she hiccups. 

Her arms are beginning to form a slight hue of red and she can feel bruises beginning to form as she pinches them quickly, trying to distract her mind from the intense feelings of her own emotions flooding through. The muscles in her stomach are tense and uncomfortable at the amount of heavy sobs and pants that flow through her body and out of her plump lips. 

She can’t remember what triggered all of this, her brain too fuzzy to even remember if she grabbed her list to ground her. As she cries and screams into the empty space, she can feel her lungs expand as she breathes, she can feel the light touch of her loose tank top brush lightly against her skin, she can feel the loose strands of hair brushing against the back of her neck. 

She feels as if she can’t breathe, it feels like her bedroom is caving in on her, the small room only seeming to grow smaller and smaller as her breath gets stronger and shaky. Her hand scrambles around her messy bed, searching for the list containing ways for her to calm down and a shaky sob racks through her body when she realizes she can’t find it. 

She closes her eyes tightly as she brings her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them, burying her face into her legs she can’t help as she shakes her head. She doesn’t know how long this has been going on, how long she’s trapped herself in her room, but she hopes it’ll be over soon. 

She grabs her phone from her beside table and with shaky hands she unlocks it and clicks on her messages app. She quickly taps on the conversation she’s looking for and attempts to write out a message. 

——

Sweet Girl: H, can u come over please

She doesn’t have to wait long for a response from him as her phone dings a couple seconds later.

Haz: Of course sweet girl. Do you need/want me to bring anything for you? Some food maybe?

Sweet: Girl: if u want, just want you rn

Haz: Ok bug. I’m gonna get us some food and then I’ll be over. See you soon x

Sweet Girl: kay, thanks H. love u

Haz: I love you sweet girl, just try to breathe for me, I won’t be too long and I’ll use my key so you don’t have to get up. 

——-

As she tries to focus on her breathing, attempting to take slow and deep breaths, she wipes her face to clear away the tears on her cheeks. She sniffles and wraps her arms around her torso gently as she lies in her bed, the soft material and warmth from her cover enveloping her and makes her smile softly. 

She’s only able to enjoy a couple moments of peace before another painful sobs rack through her body. She sobs into her pillow, the pain searing through her body as the tears stain her cheeks.

She hates this, she hates not knowing why she’s so upset, she hates everything to do with her bad days. She wishes she was able to ask for the help she needs but she’s so much of a people pleaser, she can’t bear the thought of not being there for her friends when they need her. 

A soft knock at her bedroom door jolts her gently from her thoughts. She quickly tries to wipe her face from any tears and snot streaks before telling the person to come on. Her door squeaks softly as it opens and his face appears in the small space. 

As he walks into her small bedroom, he smiles sadly at her in which she returns the favor. Her eyes light up just a bit when she spots the brown takeout bag with her favorite Mexican restaurant logo printed onto the cheap plastic. He leans down and kisses her forehead before sitting down on her bed gently and placing the bag next to him. 

“Hi” she whispers and he smiles 

“Hi, feelin’ any better?” He says and she nods 

“Not really, thank you for uh coming over” she says as she leans her head on his shoulder.

He hums softly as he wraps one arm around her shoulder and squeezes once. 

“Y’know m’always gonna come. You don’t have to thank me. Wanna talk about it?” He asks gently and she shakes her head lightly.

“Not much to talk about, dunno why it happens. I just get really sad out of nowhere.” She closes her eyes gently as she relaxes into his hold. 

He nods in response and they sit in silence for a couple minutes before he reaches over to the bag and holds it out to her. 

“Here, you should eat it before it gets cold.” She smiles in response as he nudges her hand with the bag. She thanks him quietly as she grabs the bag from him, smiling bashfully she begins to open the bag and the styrofoam box inside. 

As she eats in silence, she’s not able to eat as much as she normally would. She takes a couple decent sized bites before she begins to move the food around. 

“M’gonna put this in the fridge, I’ll be back.” He says quietly as he makes a way to grab the box, she sighs softly before looking at him. 

“Sorry..” he shakes his head in return.

“Don’t be sorry lovie. M’proud of you for eating as much as you did.” He says before walking out and setting the box in the fridge before walking back to her room. 

As he comes back into her room, he hums a soft song as he makes his way to her bed and wraps his arms around her, squeezing tightly. He kisses the top of her head before whispering into her ear. 

“M’so sorry you’re feelin’ like this lovie. But you’re not alone okay? You have so many people who care for you and love you.” He can hear her sniffle softly and be squeezes her once. 

“Not your fault Haz. I know I’m not alone but I don’t wanna burden anyone.” She says and he shakes his head.

“You’re never gonna be a burden. We want you to be happy, be okay, we want you to not have to suffer alone. All of us worry about you, it’s okay to ask for help, angel. We’re not gonna judge you.” Her quiet tears slowly become louder as he speaks, she shakes her head and he rubs her back.

“It’s okay not to be okay. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be in pain. It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to accept the love you give out, angel. You give and give and give to everyone else, and I know you don’t give yourself the love and energy you deserve.. let us love you how you love us, let us help you. Let us care for you. We’re not gonna judge you sweet girl.” He says and she grabs his t-shirt tightly before sobbing into his chest. 

She can feel the tears streaming down her cheeks and wetting his shirt as she cries into him. She can’t find it to be embarrassed at how loud she’s being and how she looks, not with his hand rubbing small circles on her back and how his words have sparked a sense of warmth in her stomach. She can feel it fluttering throughout her body while he whispers all these soft and sweet words in her ear. 

She can’t remember how long she’s been crying, and she goes to move away from him and he stops her. 

“Y’okay now? You don’t have to move if you’re not ready yet.” She nods before scooting closer to him, their thighs mashed together and her head resting on his shoulder as he rubs her shoulders softly. 

They stay like that, sitting in the comfortable silence for a while before she yawns softly and catches his attention. 

“Y’tired?” He asks and she nods 

“Sorry you spent your day with a crying mess.” She says with a sad chuckle.

“You’re my best friend Y/N. I’d gladly spend however long with you no matter if you’re sad or happy. As long as you’re okay, I’m happy. Want me to stay with you tonight?” He asks and she shakes her head. 

“Uh uh, go have fun with your other friends. I think I’m okay now. Thank you for everything H.” She says as she squeezes him softly before moving to the head of her bed and getting under the covers. 

“Text or call me if y’need anything angel. I mean it.” He says and goes to tuck her in, resulting is a soft giggle to breeze past her lips.

“Okay, dad. I love you.” She says a smile playing on her lips as he leans forward and kisses her forehead.

“I love you sweet girl. Sleep well and have sweet dreams.”

[merajsblog]

rin never had time for anyone else besides soccer. he was always busy either with school, or more importantly, practicing for soccer.

he never expected to find you on one random friday night. it was well after his practice, and his mom dragging him and his family to the mall to do some last minute shopping for a family party. he was beyond unhappy to be dragged along doing such “NPC” activities on a friday night, as if he was going to go out or something…

“Rin come look at this and tell me if it looks okay!” his mom calls out. he turns the corner, sulking as he heads over to check it out. she’s holding a black velvet dress with a rather large bow on it. she’s holding it up against herself, beaming at him. he’s opening his mouth to say something bland, before you come around from behind her, hands full with clothing.

you’ve got the cutest smile he’s ever seen. your eye contact is sharp, and it feels as though you’ve pierced through him. you give him a soft smile and he is even more lost for words.

“i found these dresses too! i think they’d look wonderful on you!” you beam at his mom. you clearly worked here, the walkie on your belt and badge told him that. he pays close attention now, watching you sway around her, helping her button up her shirts, and conversing about what looked best.

rin honestly had no words. there was something entrancing about you, and he felt as though he needed to analyze everything about you and your actions. he took note of how you’d bite your lip when thinking, when you placed your hands on your hips, how your head turned to the side when considering.

“Please, I insist!” he hears his mom say. it snaps him out of it. he’s engaged in the conversation now, trying to figure out what’s happening.

“When is it?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. rins mom looks at him, and before he even thinks, he’s blurting out the exact date and time. “November 30th, 8pm!” he says, wide eyed. his mom chuckles a little before trying more to persuade you to come.

“Rin, help me persuade her! I want to thank her for her amazing help! I found the perfect dress!” She says, eyes brimming like stars.

he was lost on what to say. no words came to mind.

“yes.” was all he could mutter out while maintaining the most intense eye contact ever. it made you swallow whole.

“Rin, give her your number and send our adress, i will see you there!” she squabbles, while hustling to the check out. you walk over, smile on your face and hand reaching out. rin almost forgets what is happening, this looks like a scene out of an angel movie or something. he only watched horror.

“let me put my number in your phone!” you said, hand extended. he fumbles his hands, trying to pull it out.

“yea hold on..um it’s..wait.” and he pulls his phone out. you quickly type it in, and hand it back, tucking hair behind your ears. he’s never been this starstruck before. he’s stumbling over his words, eye contact faltering. if anyone in blue lock saw him now, they wouldn’t even recognize him.

it’s safe to say he cannot wait until the party.

“i hope to see you then..or i mean my mom is excited to see you..” he mutters, starting to back away. you let out a giggle and he’s lost again, mouth slightly open.

“i’ll see you guys soon then.” you say curtly, before another customer comes hustling in asking for help. he’s almost upset, and wants to tell them to fuck off. though, he thinks you would hate him if he did that. so he doesn’t.

[pricesprincess]

part one | part two | angst | series m.list

silence filled the air on the other side of the phone as you waited for kyle, your foot tapping against the soft carpet, a muffled sound that was something more than just what you had in the background.

"kyle? hello? i'm not in the mood..." you muttered and sunk into the couch feeling the anger melt to concern which was always the first thing you had to deal with when simon didn't answer.

there was shuffling in the background, and then you heard simon's voice come over the phone, rough like sandpaper but it was still enough to calm your racing heart. he was safe and sound for now.

your fingers picked at the loose threads of the pillow that lay in your lap waiting for simon. "sorry love, john needed me and all the guys came over so i lost track of time." he murmured with regret.

"needed you for what? i must've of missed when you and him had a baby. you know what? forget about it, just another mess that i cleaned up and simone deserves the apology, not me." you hissed.

now that you knew he was okay and alive the anger came back ten-fold, zipping through your bloodstream and flushing you with heat as you gripped your phone. "i'll be there for breakfast, sorry luv."

once he was off the call you sighed and wiped at your eyes feeling the tears finally stream down your and wet your shirt as you sobbed in the darkened living room trying to calm yourself down for the time.

if simone came out and saw you it would turn into a never-ending night and you didn't want her to see you like this, red-rimmed eyes and a heaving chest from trying to be silent as you thought of simon.

all the memories you both had were now tainted by the push of divorce, wouldn't it better to live life like this or try to work it out?

picking yourself up from the cushions that threatened to eat you, you stood and made your way to your bedroom feeling your phone buzz in your hand. it was simon. against your better judgement, you answered the call and opened your bedroom door.

"can i see her? i know she's sleeping but i'd like to check on my princess and my wife." his voice was still sandpaper rough and tinted with something that clawed to the surface wanting to be free.

you sighed and took a few steps back to peek into simone's room watching as she cuddled with her teddybear that she had you get a shirt with simon's face on it. "fine, only for ten mintues. max."

even though you still no longer wear your ring you love simon, always have, and feared you always will. no matter who you dated, he would always be in the back of your mind and he'd always be your soulmate.

trudging back into the living room you gathered all the toys and put them in simone's bucket when there was a soft knock on the door pulling you away from the task at hand. "come in!" you called out.

thankfully with how small the apartment was simon heard you and stepped inside kicking his boots off and making sure he didn't track dirt through the place. when he came into the living room you looked at him and pointed down the hallway. "just please be quiet."

you watched as simon made his way down the hall softly and gently which was kind of funny with how big and imposing he was. unable to help yourself you followed after and peeked your head in too.

it felt like old times when you and he would check in on her when it was time to transfer her to her big girl bed which meant a lot of late-night bedtime stories and more kisses and cuddles to soothe her.

"she's everything you are." simon murmured feeling a lump form in his throat as he watched simone, then you rubbed his back.

"what do you mean?" you asked quietly.

simon turned his head to look at you, his lips quirking in a smile as memories played. "she's sweet, kind, loving, and thinks about others above herself." he murmured, his head dipping down a little.

you met his heady gaze and crossed your arms over your chest. "don't be so hard on yourself si, she is tough as hell, doesn't take shit from anyone, last week she stuck up for her friend at school."

there was a moment of clarity and understanding as you nodded your head towards the couch. "simone would love to see you when she wakes." you told him with a smile that didn't meet your eyes.

he watched you slip away from him again putting the wall of space up, but this time it was a door.

[meamiiikiii]

Happy Anniversary In Stars and Time!! Have some Friend Quest based drawings :D

(These have specific quote picks related to them! And there's also a long ramble on why I like those specific quotes below if interested)

(And by long, I mean roughly 2k+ words of proper ramble total, so be warned before clicking keep reading!!)

---

Okay, so honestly this is more or less an excuse to ramble out an appreciation post (of sorts) on everyone tbh, since I do not do that often if ever. I'm just using the quote picks to keep me a bit focused on topics a bit more specific than being completely aimless!

[Also specialist of special shoutouts to my friends Squid and Aya for proofreading all this. Ily guys ever so dearly <3333]

---

Mirabelle

"Avoidance, huh... That feels... a little too cowardly, for me."

The Housemaiden, who would probably fulfill the 'Hero' role if this was a normal RPG, Mirabelle! She has a lot going on that's so interesting to me!! Okay tbf everyone else does too but I really just needed a segue.

She's the chosen one that wasn't really chosen. The reason she was blessed was due to circumstance, and it wasn't even by the Change God either. Because of that, she feels immense pressure/imposter syndrome since she knows the truth of her blessing. Speaking of feelings, she also already felt like she’s failing her own faith for being comfortable with herself, in staying the same forever. For not wanting to Change in that way, when everyone else can, and feeling broken because of it. And, of course, she literally has anxiety and hasn’t had access to her meds throughout the entire quest. That probably also does not help in the slightest!! It's an interesting stewing pot of feeling like a fraud of a 'chosen one' with all that in mind.

And yet, her dedication to her faith and country shines through her actions and words, whether she knows it or not. She’s not someone to avoid her worries. She’ll face them, head-on, even if she doesn't think she'll succeed. I feel like this quote captures it best to me actually! Especially since it's a direct response to Sif saying that they try to avoid their own doubts and worries, in comparison to Mira’s own in her own faith. It almost feels like a subconscious response, and to me that says a lot.

[Side-tangent, but it's also interesting to me that this very dedication works against her, in a sense? Like, notably the bonding proposals. Beyond the societal pressures in play related to the Change belief, she is also the one to take the initiative to ask a dating company for bonding proposals, it didn't just happen around her (as in, no one suggested this to her)? Even when she isn't even interested in dating anyone to begin with! She's not interested in Changing in that way!!! That is to say, her head-on dedication can be to the point of her own detriment at times, to the point of bringing her woe? Not sure if I am wording this properly. Just a thought I had, idk if it has much merit tho. Sorry if that made like no sense!!]

But yeah! She gives it her all in just about everything she does!! She was already known as the most hardworking Housemaiden in the House, always striving to better herself, always taking new classes prior to all this (over 150! and she herself said that she couldn't do anything before coming to the House, which makes it all the more impressive). And when faced with the insurmountable task of saving her home, all of Vauguarde, from being frozen over by the King? She continues on to take on the mantle as the chosen one, the one who will save everyone, and she starts it off completely alone. She's the reason the journey was able to play out, and why everyone is together in the first place. All because she isn't one to avoid her doubts and worries, and willingness to do it scared, yanno? It's just a small part on what I appreciate about her, but I think I'm going to cut myself off here!

---

Isabeau

"Doesn't that feel like someone you wouldn't feel ashamed of knowing?"

Isabeau!! Literally the whole “Change is destruction” convo that Isa has prior to this quote was up to be picked, but I figured picking the end would be easiest. But now that I think about it, I think all my picks are basically at the end of the FQ's so that point is sort of moot. Oh well! It's just hard to pick a singular quote off of these okay!!

Isabeau from the start of the game is shown to be portraying himself as a himbo. Big guy, dumb guy, the like. But, even from the start, there are signs that he really isn't stupid, like at all! First early gameish example I can think of off the top of my head, that distinctly shows this, is the color theory book. Mainly because he sort of kind of drops the facade for a split second there. Without proper context to his deal, it's just a funny moment. But, reflecting after the fact, it's more of an '...OH!' moment, since he seems to have been kinda upset about not knowing about colors (even if he's hamming it up a little bit, saying he's 'failed them all' for not knowing what colors were.) And that's not even going into his emotional intelligence either.

But, delving into his FQ the full picture is shown. That he wasn't always this big boisterous guy. He used to be the nerdiest kid around, incredibly shy, and because of that he didn't like himself much. But then he Changed and is much happier now, compared to back then! Even after his Change though, he's unhappy with some aspects of himself. He doesn’t like being considered dumb because of his act. And, even after Changing, that kid from before is still there, right? As much as he continues to project this air of cool confidence, he can never truly be rid of that part of his old self, can he? The one always paralyzed by fear.

With that, comes the quote pick! Since, to me, he's not necessarily talking to just Siffrin here, but also to himself. Because it all boils down to his own self-hatred, I think? He himself does mention this in the A5 version of this FQ, albeit kinda heat of the moment, that he "...keeps changing personalities like clothes, because it's easier than learning to like myself." He's still a work in progress in that regard. But even still, he is trying to be better, for the people he cares about.

[Small aside, that too can maybe stem from his own self-loathing? Putting the people he cares about first. I mean, he is the one who told Sif to focus on the others first. And even after that, he was putting focus onto Sif at first during his FQ (as in, talking about how he thought Sif would like seeing the stars, only letting the convo slide into focus unto himself after Sif made an obvious topic change.) The quote also kind of reads as an ask of reassurance, in a sense? That him Changing again would allow himself to be someone that people would like, even if he himself doesn't like himself. Idk where I was going with this tbh, but I think it makes sense to keep its inclusion here!]

Overall, I just think it's interesting to revisit Isa's previous dialogues with the context of the FQ!! Especially when thinking on the underlying reasons as to why the way he's acting the way he is, even while seeing signs from the start that he isn't the airhead he was masquerading as.

---

Odile

"I'm Ka Buan and Vauguardian, in ways I do and don't realize... And I am also myself."

The Researcher, Odile! I think I’m just gonna jump right into it without a semblance of an intro since I know it’s going to be a lil less focused. Mainly because I know for a fact I will not be able to articulate this ramble that well, so here we go.

As the oldest party member, it makes sense that she's much further along in her own character development / self-discovery journey in comparison to the others (at least in relation to her FQ centered struggle on finding out more about herself in relation to her heritage), and I think her FQ, in itself, helps portray that. Compared to Mira and Isa, who are still in the midst of their own personal journey on how to address their turmoil and putting it to action, Bonnie, who is the youngest of the group and is learning how to tackle their issues to begin with, and Siffrin who is going through All That™; Odile has come to a conclusion about her own woes, where the others have not. 

That’s part of the reason why I went with the quote pick actually! In a sense, it’s a display of self-assuredness in herself that can really only be gained with time and experience. She’s also able to explain her feelings on her heritage eloquently as well, and the convo prior to the quote helps express them too! It’s the recognition that yes, her mixed heritage helped shape who she is as a person in ways she may or may not realize, that it’s not the only factor at play here in regard to her identity. It’s the fact that, at the end of the day, what matters most is that she is herself, yanno?

Even with her self-assuredness towards herself, it’s also interesting to me how that contrasts her closed-offness to the others, especially in outright saying/showing that she cares? Which also probably also stems from her mother, someone who was supposed to love and care for her, leaving without a trace early on in life. It makes sense to me that she would have reluctance in showing that she cares for the others!! What if she ends up hurting others similarly to how her mother hurt her?  Of course, she wouldn’t want to do that to the others, and is distinctly also why she does NOT want to be called a Mom. 

[Tangent that doesn’t relate as much to the quote, but I want to touch upon anyway since it’s FQ related. I also want to point out that the FQ helps inform us why Odile is more willing to question things around her / be more sus? When her mother left, she left nothing behind, and with it, any links to her Vauguardian roots. This left her with a complete loss of that connection, one that was stolen from her and, with that, the feeling like she didn’t belong anywhere as a result. This led her to be curious enough to seek out a resolution to that feeling, lending more into her inquisitiveness on just about anything. How else would she be able to learn more about Vauguarde, without asking questions, after all!]

All in all, for Odile it’s a bit harder for me to elaborate on why I like her? I dunno, I think it’s just hard to sum it all up as eloquently as she probably could LOL. 

---

Bonnie

"So you can protect me, and I can protect you... And we can protect everyone, too!"

Bonnie!! TBH I had a toss-up on what specific quote the drawing would be based around. The other one being “You got hurt because of me and— And I don’t like it!!! I don’t want it to have happened! You should have stood there and let me be hurt!” . Because of the toss up both quotes will be discussed somewhat, since they go hand in hand with the ramble!

[To note, the toss-up was decided by putting it on a poll to my friends, as a simple “choose !” with the options being “joyful” or “angsty” with ZERO context. I told them after what the poll was for (basically if Bonnie would be crying or not in the drawing) and I got threatened for that one HAHA.]

But, to start, Bonnie has had, not once, but twice, people sacrificing themselves in some way for them (Nille telling them to run and getting frozen, Siffrin losing his eye.) Makes sense, because they're a kid, so of course those who are older need to protect them. Still, they are not happy about this, about people getting hurt because of them, and understandably so! It probably doesn't feel good to have your loved ones putting themselves in harm's way for your sake. But what can they do, right? They're a kid and don't really get a say on the matter. I mean, what else can they do? It makes sense to me that Bonnie is frustrated about that part!! It can be frustrating to have everyone discuss things around you, have everyone do things that you don't want them to, and (unintentionally or not), ignoring your input as a person because you are so young.

Kids are smarter than you think. Even if they may not have a full understanding of what's going on, they can certainly follow along and get the gist. Like, for example, Bonnie always listens in on the burial conversation during the second snack break (first found out either during a FQ run or in Memory of Promise). They even pretend not to hear whatever Siffrin says to make everyone think that they aren't listening in! They also seem to hone in completely to the conversation the second Isabeau says that it doesn't matter what happens to him after he dies, since they stop prepping at that point. Even worse, everyone starts discussing how they won't let Bonnie be killed. Which, if it comes to fruition, would be the third instance of people getting hurt because of them, and would be another thing they get zero say in! And everyone thinks they aren't listening in on it, meaning they were being discussed around. Plus, in Memory of Promise, while they don't have the words to articulate why everyone talking about their deaths is so upsetting to them, this context spells out the picture of them not wanting people to be hurt because of them, time and time again.

So when they get a proper opportunity to have a say on something, their promise with Siffrin on protecting one another, to protect everyone too? It makes the exchange all the sweeter to me! It's the first time, in probably a long time, Bonnie has had proper input on something from someone older than them on an important decision. For once, they get to stand on a more equal footing to an adult, rather than being treated as a kid who doesn't know what's going on. And, it probably means more to Bonnie than Siffrin realizes.

---

There’s probably a lot more of examples/subtopics I am forgetting to add onto all of these but. Please forgive me, but a good chunk of this was written while I was travelling or in one sitting on my singular day off after travel ASDAFSA. I might genuinely be forgetting something I wanted to talk about, esp since I couldn't double check stuff easily. I've been going off a combination of memory and downloaded friend ISAT streams LMAOOO.

Feel free to correct me on stuff I possibly? Completely misconstrued as well?? Since that is entirely possible in happening! Or further add onto thoughts! In short feel free to extend the discussion on any of this! But yeah, wrangling (some) of my thoughts on why I like them has been fun :D

And to those of you who read all of this to the end, thank you for reading my ramblings!! And if you're skipping to the end, FAIR ENOUGH LMAO!!

Regardless though, I'll end this off with a fun lil fun fact about this post! If I scheduled this properly, it should be going up at 11:11... somewhere! I thought it'd be a fun easter egg to myself. Mainly bc I remember people always used to say "11:11, make a wish!" a lot when I was school whenever the clock struck that time. I just thought it'd be fitting to queue this up for that time is all :]

---

[moirindeclermont]

Bridgerton folks, thank you for the warm reception of my new story.

This is "5 times Colin was Pen's first + 1 she was his", second episode. Here you'll find the first episode.

Today episode may also be titled "Pen meets Mr. Fingerton" 🔥🥵

***

Pen thought she might have dreamed the whole night.

No way Colin declared he wanted her and proceed to give her the best first kiss ever, and while she had not experienced it before, she knew the stories... Usually a first kiss was not all of that magical. Maybe it was because it was her and it was Colin. Everything they did seem kinda magical to her.

She was, again, at the door of his apartment and she was almost waiting for the moment he would start to treat her as a friend.

Instead, what happened, was that Colin opened the door, gave her his brightest smile and then a light kiss on her lips. So, maybe it was real.

"Sorry, I should have asked, I didn't know if you wanted-" he was adorable when he rumbled, Pen observed.

"Don't worry Colin. It's just, unexpected. I love welcoming you like this. Every day for the rest of my days".

She didn't have to worry about waiting for such declarations. Yesterday they talked at length about the future and them as a couple.

They both confessed they were yearning for this for quite some time, and they both laugh at their idiocy. But they were on the same page now. And they both know this was not a phase or temporary. They both were fully invested since the beginning.

That was the reason for seeing each other tonight. Well, that... And other reasons, at least Pen was hoping there were also other reasons.

She waited to damn long and she was ready. Possibly in that moment.

They ate and talk, laying out plans for their announcement as a couple (next Sunday on the bridgerton brunch). Pen was to ask her boss if she could do all remote (so she could come with Colin on his travels, as by his ask) and Colin was looking for a permanent place in London, so they could have a home base to stay when they were in the city (and eventually, when they were going to have kids).

Then, they looked at each other and it was like a magnet was at work.

They find themselves on the sofa, Pen on Colin's lap, kissing and touching every part they could reach.

Colin nibbled on her neck, before asking in a very deep voice "can I try something, Pen?"

She nodded. She wanted to try everything with him.

Colin flipped their position, then threw a pillow on the floor and knelt in front of her. She had a camisole and her lacy bra was barely visible. He took his time to unbutton her slowly, and Pen gulped when he was done. "Beautiful," he whispered.

Colin cupped her through the bra, teasing her. "May I?" He asked again and she responded by unclasping her bra herself. "Wow, Pen" Colin exhaled as his fingers were tracing her areola lightly. Her nipple was fastly caught it n between his fingers, making her moan. Colin looked at her with a wicked and deeply erotic smile, as he lowered his head to touch the sensitive skin with his tongue. "Ohh," his were the only fingers outside of her own that played with her breasts, and it felt marvelous.

Colin seemed obsessed by her neck and her cleavage. Pen was on fire, but she needed more. When his hand found hers, she rather directly pointed him towards where she was aching to be touched.

He looked at her. "Sure?"

"Never been more sure in my life," and Colin kissed her again, before finding her thigh and sliding his hand. He found her bare, much to his surprise.

"Miss Featherington!"

She was a bit embarrassed. "I had them on before. But then I thought why not and asked to use the bath."

His eyes were dark with desire. "Oh I do understand. You're an eager little thing, aren't you?"

Speechless. This was a new side of Colin she could not wait to explore. She just nodded as he skimmed over her auburn curls, "yup, eager and wet," he said as he went to touch her folds, using her wetness to lube his fingers.

He touched her lightly at first, watching her reactions, sometimes teasing her nipple s again, sometimes giving her little kisses.

"I can't believe I get to see you like this, Pen" and she wanted to respond but Colin choose that moment to slowly enter her with just the tip of his middle finger. "I can't believe I get to touch you like this," as his finger slide in deeper. Her mouth opened, the sensation so different from the one she was used too when she touched herself. A loud moan escaped her lips and he started a slow rhythm that made her tingle all over.

"Yes, like that love," he told her as he begin to touch with his thumb her clït, adding another level of pleasure. After some time he asked "another?" And she nodded her consent, feeling how herself was responding to his second finger inside her.

"I want to make you come on my fingers, is that okay Pen?"

Dear God in heaven. She might as well be in paradise. "Yes, Colin. Please!" She told him and then her brain went out of service as Colin kissed her.

It was clear he knew what he was doing, as he moved his fingers inside her with a motion that was working very fast for her. That and the light touch on her nub left her breathless, as Colin watched her again. That was the hottest thing. His look on her, as she was breaking into pieces under his touch. Pen used his arms to steady herself as Colin increased his rhythm until suddenly she was on the precipe and Colin remained steady in his movements.

She moaned a loud "Colin" a moment after, coming on his fingers. She moaned when she saw him sucking on his fingers like a it was his favorite dessert. "Next time," he said to her and she trembled.

Colin sat next to her, holding her steady. "That was... Incredible!" He looked smug, and Pen was looking at his very visible erection. "Do you want to?"

He looked at her. "I want to. But I also want to wait. Just a bit longer. It's weird to explain." But she understood.

"it's not. These are our firsts. We might have some in the future, but after so long waiting for each other, pacing these experiences makes them more meaningful."

He looked at her. "You nailed it."

She grinned. "Nope, you did."

Colin laughed loudly. "Not yet, love. Not yet." As he settled her on his side, kissing the top of her head sweetly.

She always imagined cuddle was as good as people told her, but somehow, it was even better than her imagination. These days everything was.

[dissapointu]

Hello, I wanted to ask you a little drabble with all the arcane characters.

Like how they fell in love with reader ( like what captured their attention etc)

It would be pretty cool in my opinion.

Have a wonderful day\night.

Aaaugh, I made of made this a bit long-(really long, that was sarcasm) I'm splitting it into two portions

Jinx-

Jinx didn’t know what to make of you at first. You weren’t loud or flashy like the people she was used to dealing with. You weren’t trying to prove anything, and yet, there was something about you that screamed different.

She first noticed it when you didn’t flinch at one of her explosions—not the way most people did, anyway. The boom had rattled the room, shaking dust from the rafters, and yet, there you were, brushing soot from your shirt like it was just another Tuesday.

“Nice touch with the blue sparks,” you’d said, nodding at her latest contraption. “Adds flair.”

Flair? Most people would’ve called it destruction. Most people would’ve screamed or run. But you? You tilted your head, eyes bright, genuinely impressed, and for a moment, Jinx was at a loss for words.

It wasn’t just that you didn’t fear her; it was the way you saw her. You noticed the little things—the care she put into her work, the way she tinkered endlessly to perfect her machines. While others saw chaos, you saw art, and for someone like Jinx, that was everything.

The next time she saw you, it was intentional. She didn’t need to bring you a gadget she’d been working on��it wasn’t even finished—but she wanted to see how you’d react. Sure enough, you examined it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world, pointing out details she hadn’t realized anyone else would notice.

“This is genius,” you murmured, tracing a finger along a carved design she’d barely remembered adding. “You really think through every detail, don’t you?”

Her heart did something weird then, like skipping a beat but more… explosive.

From there, it snowballed. You became her favorite person to show her creations to, the only one she trusted to see her work before it was ready. You never judged, never laughed when something misfired—just smiled and asked how you could help.

And Jinx? She realized she’d fallen for you one day when she caught herself trying to impress you. The realization hit her like a grenade: she didn’t just want you to like her inventions—she wanted you to like her.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” she said one night, leaning against her workbench, tools scattered around her. Her voice was softer than usual, almost unsure. “Most people don’t get me, but… you do.”

You’d just smiled, that easy, genuine smile that had hooked her from the start. “That’s because you’re worth getting.”

And just like that, Jinx knew there was no going back.

Vi –

Vi wasn’t looking for anyone. She didn’t have time for soft moments, not with everything she had on her plate. But then you came along, and she couldn’t help but notice how you carried yourself—steady, calm, unshakable.

The first time she really noticed you, it wasn’t some grand, sweeping moment. It was quiet. You were helping some kids in the Lanes patch up a rickety swing they used to pass the time. Nothing fancy, just you, a coil of rope, and that determined look in your eyes.

She hadn’t meant to stop and watch, but something about you drew her in. Maybe it was the way you didn’t hesitate to get your hands dirty or how the kids laughed around you, their faces lighting up despite everything the Lanes threw at them.

“You’re good with them,” she said after working up the nerve to approach you, trying to sound casual.

You glanced up at her, wiping sweat from your brow, and gave her a smile that hit her like a sucker punch. “Someone’s gotta be. They deserve better than this, don’t you think?”

It wasn’t just your words that stuck with her—it was the way you said them. Like you meant it. Like you actually believed in something better, even when the world gave you every reason not to.

From then on, Vi found herself noticing you everywhere. The way you stepped up when others hesitated. The way you didn’t back down, even when things got messy. You had this quiet strength about you, the kind that didn’t demand attention but earned it anyway.

She started finding excuses to stick around—helping with repairs, walking the kids home, sparring with you in the courtyard when the opportunity came up. And each time, she found herself drawn to you a little more.

“You’re somethin’ else,” she admitted one night, sitting beside you on a crumbling wall, the city’s broken skyline stretching out before you.

You raised an eyebrow at her, clearly amused. “That so?”

“Yeah.” She rubbed the back of her neck, uncharacteristically shy. “Most people would’ve given up on this place a long time ago, but not you. You stick it out, no matter how hard it gets.”

You shrugged, your gaze softening as you looked at her. “Same could be said about you, Vi.”

That was the moment it hit her—like a punch she didn’t see coming. It wasn’t just admiration anymore. It was something deeper, something she couldn’t ignore.

She fell for you in pieces, each small moment stacking up until it all clicked. It wasn’t about grand gestures or dramatic confessions. It was the way you fit—like you were exactly what she didn’t know she was missing.

And when she finally worked up the courage to tell you, your answer came with that same steady smile that had captivated her from the start.

“Figured it out, huh?” you teased, and she rolled her eyes, though her grin gave her away.

Yeah, she figured it out. And she wasn’t letting you go.

Sevika-

Sevika didn’t believe in love. In the Lanes, it wasn’t something people had the luxury of chasing. Survival came first, and attachments were just liabilities waiting to stab you in the back.

But you were… different.

The first time she noticed you, it wasn’t because you were trying to catch her attention. You were too busy holding your own, stepping into a dispute between two gang members over stolen supplies. She’d leaned back in the corner of the Last Drop, watching the chaos unfold, ready to step in if things got messy.

But then you surprised her.

You didn’t raise your voice or threaten anyone. Instead, you stood tall, calm as you defused the tension with a few sharp words and an unflinching glare. You had this presence, like you weren’t afraid of anyone in the room—not even her.

“Bold move,” Sevika had said when you approached the bar afterward, ordering a drink like you hadn’t just stared down two brutes twice your size.

You glanced at her, your lips quirking into a small smirk. “Someone’s gotta keep things from falling apart.”

That was the moment she started paying attention. You didn’t just survive in the Lanes—you thrived. You didn’t let the weight of the place crush you like it did everyone else. And more than that, you cared. Not in some naive, starry-eyed way, but in a way that made you fight tooth and nail for the people who couldn’t fight for themselves.

It pissed her off at first. The way you carried yourself like you weren’t afraid of the darkness around you. She thought it was reckless, stupid even. But the more she watched, the more she realized it wasn’t recklessness. It was conviction.

You weren’t scared of getting your hands dirty, but you never lost sight of what mattered to you. That’s what got under her skin, what kept her coming back to the same barstool night after night, just to see what you’d do next.

She started finding reasons to stick around. Sometimes it was to share a drink, other times to offer backup when things got rough. You never asked for her help, but you didn’t push her away either, and that intrigued her more than she cared to admit.

One night, after a particularly close call with one of Silco’s rivals, you patched up a cut on her arm, your hands steady as you worked.

“You’re too damn stubborn for your own good,” she muttered, watching you through half-lidded eyes.

You chuckled, your touch gentle as you tied off the bandage. “Takes one to know one.”

It was such a simple moment, but it stayed with her. The way you looked at her—not like she was some feared enforcer, but like she was just… Sevika. It wasn’t something she was used to, and it scared her as much as it thrilled her.

Over time, she realized she was looking for you in every crowd, waiting for the nights you’d sit beside her and trade sharp banter over a drink. She fell for you quietly, begrudgingly, like it snuck up on her before she could stop it.

And when she finally admitted it—to herself, to you—it wasn’t some grand confession. It was a gruff, almost reluctant, “You mean more to me than you should.”

Your response? That same infuriating, endearing smirk. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

Sevika huffed a laugh, shaking her head, but the truth was, she didn’t mind. Because for once, letting someone in didn’t feel like a weakness. It felt like strength.

Silco -

Silco had always been a man of control, ambition, and sharp edges. In the underbelly of Zaun, survival demanded nothing less. Trust was currency, and affection? A distraction. He had long since accepted that power was the only thing worth chasing.

But then you appeared.

You weren’t loud or showy, not one of those people clawing for his attention. No, you worked quietly, efficiently, in the background of the chaos he ruled. You were just another piece in his intricate machine at first—just another person serving a purpose.

What caught his attention first was your unyielding patience. Where others in the Lanes were frantic, desperate to prove their worth, you moved with a calm certainty, like you weren’t afraid of the storm around you. You fixed what was broken—tools, machines, even people—without asking for anything in return.

One night, you’d been tending to one of his injured men after a skirmish, your hands steady as you stitched him up in the dim light of the hideout. Silco watched from the shadows, curious. The man hissed in pain, and you responded with a soft laugh.

“Hold still, or I’ll sew you up crooked,” you teased, your tone warm but firm.

It wasn’t the words that struck him—it was the way you carried yourself. There was no fear in your voice, no need to prove yourself to anyone. You didn’t care about earning his favor or gaining power. You just… were.

For someone like Silco, who thrived on manipulation and control, it was unnerving. People were supposed to want something from him. But you? You treated him like a man, not a king.

It wasn’t long before he started seeking you out. At first, it was subtle. A lingering glance as he passed through the room, a quiet question about your work. You always answered him honestly, without flinching under his piercing gaze, and it left him unsettled in a way he couldn’t quite name.

One evening, after a particularly brutal day, he found you sitting by the docks, staring out at the toxic waters of Zaun. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly at the sight of you, though he didn’t understand why.

“You should be careful out here,” he said, his voice low as he stepped closer.

You glanced over your shoulder, smiling faintly. “And miss the chance to breathe? I think I’ll take my chances.”

It was such a simple thing, but it stayed with him. In a world that demanded constant vigilance, you allowed yourself to simply exist. It was a quiet defiance, one that intrigued him more than he cared to admit.

Over time, you became a constant presence in his life, slipping through the cracks of his carefully constructed walls. It wasn’t grand gestures or impassioned declarations that made him fall for you. It was the quiet moments—the way you never cowered under his gaze, the way you challenged him without hostility, the way you saw him for more than his scars.

One night, as the two of you shared a rare moment of silence in his office, he finally allowed himself to admit what he’d been feeling.

“You’re dangerous,” he said, his voice soft, almost amused.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “Dangerous? To you?”

He smirked, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve managed to do what no one else has.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’ve made me want something I didn’t think I needed.”

Your smile widened, warm and unguarded, and for once, Silco didn’t feel the need to look away.

In you, he found something unexpected: a quiet kind of strength, the kind that didn’t demand attention but commanded respect. And for a man who had spent his life fighting for control, letting himself fall for you felt like the ultimate rebellion.

Vander -

Vander wasn’t a man who fell in love easily. His life had been shaped by too much loss, too much responsibility. The people of the Lanes leaned on him, and he carried their weight with quiet strength. Love, to him, felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford.

But then, there was you.

It wasn’t some grand moment that captured his attention—it was the small, steady things. The way you moved through the chaos of the Last Drop, keeping the peace in your own quiet way. The way you never demanded his time but somehow always knew when he needed someone to sit beside him in silence.

What struck him first was your kindness—not the soft, fragile kind, but the sort that had edges. You didn’t let people walk over you, but you never hesitated to offer a hand to someone in need. In a place like Zaun, where survival often demanded selfishness, you were a rarity.

He noticed it one night when a brawl broke out in the bar. Two rowdy patrons had nearly overturned a table, and before Vander could step in, you were already there. You didn’t raise your voice or throw a punch. Instead, you placed a firm hand on one of their shoulders, your calm, measured tone cutting through the tension.

“Save it for the street, boys. We don’t spill blood where we share drinks.”

To his surprise, they listened. Vander couldn’t help but chuckle as they slunk off, muttering apologies.

“Got a way with people,” he said later, handing you a drink as thanks.

You shrugged, offering a small smile. “Just trying to keep things from falling apart.”

Those words stayed with him. It was how you carried yourself—like you were always holding the pieces together, not because you had to, but because you chose to.

Over time, he started finding excuses to be near you. A quick conversation here, a shared drink there. You had a way of making him feel… lighter. Like he could let go of the weight he carried, even if just for a moment.

It wasn’t until one quiet evening, after the bar had emptied, that he realized how deeply you’d settled into his heart. You were sitting on one of the tables, cleaning up a spill, humming a tune under your breath. The soft glow of the lanterns lit up your face, and for a moment, Vander just… watched.

“You’re staring,” you said, not looking up.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Caught me.”

You glanced at him then, your smile warm and teasing. “What’s on your mind, big guy?”

He hesitated, uncharacteristically unsure. But then, he decided to just say it—Vander was never one for dancing around the truth.

“You. The way you care about this place. The people. Me.” He exhaled, leaning against the bar. “Never thought I’d find someone like you in all this.”

Your eyes softened, and you set down the rag in your hands, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased gently. “Took you long enough to notice me.”

He laughed then, a deep, rumbling sound that made your chest warm. “Oh, I noticed. Took me a bit longer to admit it.”

And when you reached up, resting a hand against his face, he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for just a moment. In you, he found something he hadn’t realized he needed—a steady flame in the chaos of the Lanes.

Ekko -

Ekko didn’t believe in distractions. The Firelights needed him, the Lanes needed him. His days were spent fixing the mess left behind by Piltover’s greed and Silco’s reign. He had no time for anything else—least of all love.

But you? You didn’t give him much of a choice.

It wasn’t a single moment that caught his attention. It was a collection of them, like the pieces of a clock coming together. He first noticed the way you moved—quick and deliberate, like you belonged to the rhythm of the chaos around you. No hesitation, no wasted motion. Whether you were patching up one of the Firelights after a mission or organizing supplies in the hideout, you carried yourself with a quiet confidence that made it impossible for him not to watch.

What hooked him, though, was your laughter. The first time he heard it, he froze. It had been after a particularly rough raid. Everyone was tense, the weight of the day pressing down on their shoulders. And then you cracked some joke—stupid, honestly, but something about the way you delivered it had everyone laughing, including Ekko.

That was when he realized it: you didn’t just survive the Lanes. You thrived in them. You brought light into a place where most people only saw shadows.

It started small—an extra second spent talking to you, a lingering glance when he thought you weren’t looking. He’d catch himself gravitating toward you without even meaning to, drawn to the way you lit up a room with just your presence.

But it wasn’t until one night, long after the others had gone to sleep, that he truly understood how deep you’d gotten under his skin. You were sitting by the glow of a makeshift lantern, tinkering with some piece of tech you’d salvaged. The light cast shadows across your face, highlighting the curve of your cheek, the focus in your eyes.

“Burning the midnight oil?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.

You glanced up, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Someone’s gotta keep this place running.”

He stepped closer, hands shoved into his pockets. “You do too much, you know that?”

“Says the guy who can barely take a break,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Fair point.” For a moment, he just stood there, watching you work. The quiet stretched between you, comfortable and warm.

“Why do you do it?” he asked suddenly.

You paused, looking up at him with a tilt of your head. “Do what?”

“Care so much. About all this.” He gestured vaguely, as if to encompass the entire hideout, the Firelights, the Lanes.

Your gaze softened, and you set the piece of tech aside. “Because someone has to. And because… I believe in you, Ekko.”

The sincerity in your voice hit him like a punch to the gut. You believed in him. In a world that seemed determined to tear him down, you stood beside him, unwavering.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. “Guess you’re stuck with me anyway.”

That was the moment Ekko fell. Completely, irreversibly.

Jayce -

Jayce had always been drawn to brilliance. Invention, ambition, ingenuity—they were the cornerstones of what he admired in others. And yet, none of it had ever prepared him for you.

The first time he saw you, it wasn’t in a polished Piltover workshop or a grand council meeting. It was in a small, crowded market on the edge of the Undercity, where the scent of oil and metal clung to the air. You stood at a stall, bartering for scraps and materials like your life depended on it—because, as he’d later learn, it did.

What caught his attention wasn’t just your resourcefulness or the sharp wit you wielded against the vendor. It was the way your eyes lit up when you held a seemingly useless part in your hands, already envisioning the endless possibilities it could unlock.

He didn’t even mean to approach you. His curiosity had a mind of its own. “What are you going to do with that?”

You turned, a little startled, but you didn’t back down from his inquisitive gaze. Instead, you held up the twisted hunk of metal like it was a crown jewel. “Turn it into something brilliant. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

It wasn’t arrogance—it was certainty. And Jayce, who had spent his life chasing impossible ideas, saw a kindred spirit in you.

From that moment, you became an enigma he couldn’t resist unraveling. Every conversation revealed new layers to your ingenuity, your resilience, your unshakable belief in making the impossible possible. And the more time he spent with you, the more he realized it wasn’t just your mind that captivated him—it was your heart.

You were unafraid to challenge him, to push him, to remind him that the world wasn’t just equations and theories but people and dreams. Your passion reignited something in him he hadn’t realized he’d lost: a love for the why, not just the how.

One evening, as the two of you sat side by side, tinkering with a device in his lab, he found himself watching you instead of the work. The way your hair caught the light, the quiet determination in your expression, the soft smile when something finally clicked into place.

“You’re staring,” you teased without looking up.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just—how do you make everything seem so effortless?”

You grinned, glancing at him with that spark he’d come to love. “It’s not effortless. I just don’t let the hard parts stop me.”

In that moment, he knew he was a goner.

Jayce Talis, the golden boy of Piltover, had fallen in love with you—not because of what you could build, but because of what you built in him: a renewed faith in the beauty of dreaming big, of chasing the spark no matter where it led.

And it apparently led to you.

Viktor-

Viktor didn’t notice you at first, not in the way others might have. He was too focused on his work, his mind consumed by blueprints and equations. But you… you were patient, always there in the background, asking questions no one else dared to ask, seeing things no one else cared to notice.

It was one of those late nights in the lab when you caught his attention. He was hunched over a schematic, frustration etched into every line of his face. You, seated quietly at the far end of the room, had been watching him—though you’d never admit it aloud.

“Did you eat today?” your voice broke through the silence.

Viktor didn’t even look up. “I’m fine,” he replied, a rote answer that wasn’t convincing in the slightest.

You set down your work and crossed the room, standing just out of his peripheral vision. “Fine isn’t food, Viktor.”

When he finally looked at you, there was something in your eyes that made him pause. It wasn’t pity or condescension—two things he’d grown accustomed to. It was understanding, genuine and unyielding, as if you knew exactly what it felt like to lose yourself in something bigger.

That was the first moment he realized you were different.

It wasn’t the last.

You had a way of grounding him, of pulling him out of his own head without judgment. Your presence was quiet but powerful, a steady force that didn’t demand his attention but earned it nonetheless.

What truly captured him, though, was your mind. You didn’t just accept the world as it was; you questioned it, challenged it, sought to understand it. You weren’t afraid to debate him, to push back when you thought he was wrong, and yet you did so with a respect that made him listen.

He found himself looking forward to your late-night conversations, the way you’d linger in the lab long after everyone else had gone home. You’d ask about his work—not just the mechanics but the why behind it, the hopes and fears he buried beneath his relentless drive.

One evening, as you sketched out a rough design on a scrap of paper, Viktor caught himself smiling. Not at the drawing, though it was clever, but at you. The way you bit your lip in concentration, the furrow of your brow, the quiet hum of satisfaction when you got something just right.

“You are remarkable,” he said softly, almost to himself.

You glanced up, surprised. “What?”

His cheeks flushed, and he looked away, fiddling with a wrench. “Nothing. Just… your ideas. They’re… innovative.”

But it wasn’t just your ideas. It was you—the way you saw the world, the way you saw him. Not as a man constrained by limitations but as someone capable of more.

You believed in him, not just in his work, and that was something Viktor hadn’t realized he craved until you offered it so freely.

And as the days turned into weeks, then months, he realized something else: He believed in you, too.

It wasn’t some grand epiphany or dramatic moment. It was in the quiet, shared glances, the lingering touches when you handed him a tool, the way his chest felt lighter when you were near. Somewhere in the midst of late nights and whispered dreams, Viktor had fallen in love.

Not just with your mind or your presence, but with the way you made him feel—seen, understood, whole.

And for a man who’d always fought against the odds, loving you felt like the greatest invention of all.

[fackeraccount]

Staff running from here to there, trying to make sure everything is ready. Directors shouting orders, and fixing up the set. One would think that the set was in utter chaos but this was an every day occurrence for Y/N. She was so used to it, that she just walked through the buzzing chaos, making her way towards her changing room.

Walking into her room, she sat down in front of the mirror while her makeup artist began on her makeup.

The photo shoot was dark yet elegant theme, meaning bold makeup was needed. Starting with the skin prep, the makeup artist began her work while Y/N grabbed her phone, texting her best friends, Yeji, Yuna, Ryujin, Chaeryeong and Lia, also know and Itzy.

While they didn't get to meet often, they always found time to text each other. They were lucky enough to be their own soulmates. Y/N hadn't had any luck finding hers since they soulmarks showed up. With a red string on her finger, words written across her ribs, and a timer on her span of her inner wrist, Y/N had 3 soulmates.

With a sharp wing on her eye with accentuated cheekbones and a daring red lipstick, her makeup artist  switched with the hairstylist.

Her hair down to her waist was, being curled and now sat as waves before she changed into her into her dress.

The shoot was supposed to be a promotion shoot for the collab of Dior's purses and accessories, and Versace's clothing.

She grabbed the dress designed for the shoot, before putting it on. It was a long, off one shoulder fashionable dress which bunched up at the waist before flowing down to her legs with a slit up the left side, paired with open three inch heels, from Versace.

She grabbed her diamond jewelry set, putting on the earrings first before putting on the necklace and grabbing her watch, putting it on. Lastly, she grabbed her purse and stood in front of the full body mirror.

Flashy, she thought, looking at her full fit in the mirror.

Walking out of the room, she headed straight towards the set, texting the girls a picture of her clothes.

Before she could put her phone away, she bumped straight into someone. The  person grabbed her waist before letting go and stepping back.

"Ah! Oh! Sorry!!", she said to the person who's face she couldn't see since she was face to face with his chest.

"Oh, no it's fine! I wasn't looking at where I was walking!", the person replied.

Realizing the person was speaking Korean, she immediately switched languages, apologizing once more to the voice that sounded slightly familiar, even though she doesn't know who it belongs to.

"No it's not, I should've paid closer attention to where I was headed", she said, bowing deeply.

"Where are you headed anyway?", the person questioned.

She stood up straight, still not looking at his face, before answering. "Ah, I'm headed towards the shoot, and you?", she asked.

"I'm also headed towards the shoot. We can walk together, if you want," he replied.

"Sure,"

She finally looked up at the person. It was a man with long black hair up to his shoulder, with minimal makeup and a black suit. The suit was an all black one, obviously meant to match with someone. He was wearing a long black overcoat with the suit, and a silver Dior wrist watch matching my own.

He's pretty and kinda... familiar? He kinda looks like Yeji. She thought before shaking herself out of it.

No I just met him, he can't be familiar other than looking like Yeji

After her internal debate, she turned to him and shook his hand, before introducing herself, glad that she was supposed to wear scent blockers while on set, so he couldn't smell the confusion in her scent.

"Y/n Aziel,  it's a pleasure to meet you,"

"Hyunjin," he replied.

She felt sharp tingles up from the touch but didnt really pay attention. Too busy walking towards the set do as to not be late. Not really paying attention, her mind glazed over the name, looking at her watch before sighing.

'Hyunjin, we have to go. Are you one of the models for the shoot?," She asked while walking towards the set, looking at her phone camera while fixing up her hair from bumping into him earlier.

"Ah, yes, I am,"

She looked back at him before looking back at her phone.

"Well then, we have to go before the directors come get us," She said.

"Oh, you're also one of the models?", After she gave him a nod, he added, "Let's go then,"

Walking into the set, it was much more calmer than earlier. Looking around, she found her manager, Soojin. She walked up to her manager while Hyunjin walked up to his.

"Unnie, which model is the main model of Versace that I'm posing with?", she asked in English, seeing as her manager understood her mother tongue.

"Hyunjin is the main model, so we got you matching clothing to do your duo shoots, then your individual shoots," She replied.

"Okay," She replied before moving towards her position in front of the camera.

After her shoot, she went straight home, taking a shower and changing into some pajamas. While changing, she saw a big black mark around the back of her waist and on the front of her plam. She gasped, quickly changing and laying down before grabbing her phone, searching up the black ink.

During her search, she found out that it was a soulmark, meaning she had more than 3 soulmates. She went straight to the groupchat, messaging the girls.

[irohsteaa]

is it me or I think there is some misogyny within the monster fandom..i mean people treat Eva and Vera as the worst people in the wolrd when I can think of much worser characters,and they boil down Nina to "a nice girl" and ignore all her complexities,symbolism and narrative importance and say "she isnt that well developed and not important to plot"

Misogyny certainly plays a role here, it's esp. evident with how the fandom treats Eva (esp. before she grew as a character; and even after she grows, it's mostly about "she stopped harassing Tenma" and her relationship with Martin, while the more important thing here (imo)—how she started to take care of herself and stopped defining herself through the men in her life—is underdiscussed).

But I think it'd be reductive to say that the way the audience sees the women in Monster is only a result of misogyny; I think a crucial aspect here is the way the female characters are written and how they're treated by the male cast.

I think it's one of the many traps laid by Urasawa, traps that are very easy to fall into (which is perfectly understandable with a complex work filled with so many characters). I also fell into them: my first reaction to Eva was "oh, here we go again, female characters written by dudes" (yeah, Monster taught me to stop yapping about shit without 1) finishing it 2) looking at it carefully, because the devil is the details).

So what exactly are the traps built of?

Cliches

Subtle characterization and/or an apparent lack of information that shows in, for example, the namelessness or very little time on screen.

The fact that a large part of the story is the lack of a story.

Ad 1. I think a big part of Monster is the way it plays with cliches (and it does so boldly; it isn't afraid to introduce us to the most overused cliches and turn them into little storytelling gems), so of course there're also many female character cliches: the love interests, the damsels in distress, the naive & clueless woman, etc.

And when you don't pay attention, it's easy to think that these cliches are everything that can be told about these characters. When we stop here, we miss so many details that reveal the more complex character behind these cliches.

Ad 2. I think Nina is a perfect example of how the subtle characterization can leave many people thinking that she's underdeveloped, irrelevant to the plot, and just an addition to Tenma and Johan.

We also don't have access to her direct point of view, but I don't think it's necessary here and I think we don't have access to it for a very good reason; women are still seen mainly as caregivers, as people who serve others, and are socialized to be nice from a very young age. This can lead to ignoring one's own needs and, in consequence, losing yourself.

And Nina is a character who fits into this role perfectly; she's often shown serving others, bringing kindness where it's needed, being a beam of hope, etc. She's also very often overshadowed by her brother; she's referred to by other characters as "Johan's sister", as if this was the most important information about her.

Heck, Johan even takes away from her the monster title; the reasons behind it are, of course, ambiguous, but it doesn't change the fact that it was her who was kidnapped to the Red Rose Mansion and it was her whose memories were taken away.

And she's clearly upset when Johan tells her that it is his story to tell.

One of my favorite examples of her subtle characterization is the fact that in the beginning of the story, she wants to be a public prosecutor, and by the end, she wants to be a lawyer. It seems like a small change, but it tells a lot about how much her worldview changed.

When it comes to the namelessness and the little time on screen, a good example of it would be Věra. Please keep in mind that we only learn about her possible name in Another Monster; why do I say it's only possible? Because the only source of this name is one person interviewed by Weber, and the person identified Věra via a sketch. I wouldn't call this the most reliable source.

But let's get back to the main topic; what's the reason behind both the lack of a name and the little time on screen? It's Bonaparta.

Bonaparta doesn't let us see much of her, he doesn't let us learn her real name. But even when we see so little of her, we can still see someone compelling and complex, we see a wide range of emotions, we see her determination, we see who she could be if it wasn't for her circumstances, we see her deep guilt and fragility by the end of the story, we see someone who Bonaparta initially dismissed ("you are a funny woman" etc.) only to end up obsessed with her.

But since it's only a matter of a few panels and she's mainly discussed by other characters as the mother of the twins, it's easy for the audience to a) see her as a bad mother, b) think she's unfairly treated by the manga.

I don't think she's treated unfairly by the manga, I think she's one of the most important characters in Monster and it isn't merely because she's the mother of the twins, it's because we can see so much of her in other Monster characters: in the nameless, the dismissed, the robbed of a better future, the reduced to a certain role, all the characters we simply do not know a thing about their minds and that quite possibly, behind the awful clichés, there were in them gardens and twilights, and palace gates.

(I tried to stop myself from babbling about Lolita, but it's not my fault the quote fits so well here.)

Ad 3. I mentioned the lack of the story partially in Ad 2., but there are so many other examples: the little girl who lives with Hugo Bernhardt, Richard Braun's daughter and wife, Lunge's daughter and wife (the difference between how Richard sees his family vs. how Lunge sees his family is shown in the narration as well), Martin's mother and girlfriend etc.

Thanks for the ask! ‎(^人^)

[emjayewrites]

in between the lines • jules kounde (4/4)

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules, instant attraction/fast development. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @saturnville @sinflowersugar @hotfudgeslug @muglermami @serpenttines-library @sucredreamer @julescpu @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @peyiswriting @127hydrangeas @rosiesdior @whoevenisthiz

A/N: Gif by @doinggreat

Not having a return flight felt both terrifying and exhilarating. Senait lay in Jules' bed, watching shadows play across the ceiling as sunlight filtered through the curtains. Her phone hadn't buzzed with work emergencies for the first time in three years. No crisis meetings, no client demands, no Greg's passive-aggressive emails.

Just... freedom.

Scary, overwhelming freedom.

Jules had insisted she take the day to rest, popping in between his training sessions to check on her. Each time he'd find a different way to make her smile – bringing her favorite snacks, curling around her for quick naps, even convincing Maurice to perform an impromptu concert.

"You're hovering," she'd accused during one such visit.

"I'm caring," he'd corrected, pressing a kiss to her temple before heading back to training.

Now, as evening slowly approached, Senait could smell something amazing wafting from the kitchen. She found Jules at the stove, looking so sexy in sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Sit," he commanded, nodding toward the counter. "I have something for you."

"Jules..."

But he was already pulling out a carefully wrapped package. Inside, Senait found a collection of high-end calligraphy supplies – inks, nibs, and papers she'd only dreamed of working with.

"I did some research," Jules said, watching her face. "These are the good ones, right?"

Senait ran her fingers over the supplies, emotion catching in her throat. "They're perfect. But Jules, I can't—"

"Let me help," he interrupted softly. "Not because you need it, but because I want to. Because I believe in you."

She kissed him then, trying to pour all her gratitude and confusion and hope into it. Jules responded immediately, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless.

"So," he murmured against her lips, "when are you going to make an honest man out of me?"

Senait froze. "What?"

Jules pulled back slightly, studying her face. "We've known each other for almost two months. Things are moving fast – which I'm not complaining about – but maybe it's time to make it official."

"I... I just quit my job," Senait stammered. "And now you want..."

"A commitment? Yes." His hands stayed on her waist, grounding her even as panic fluttered in her chest. "Why does that scare you so much?"

"Because!" She pulled away, needing space to think. "Everything's changing so fast. I need... I need to figure things out first."

"Like what?"

"Like therapy," she admitted quietly. "Like dealing with these walls I've built. Like not fucking this up because I'm too scared to let anyone in."

"You're so fucking stubborn," Jules said, but there was fondness mixed with his frustration. "You think I don't see your walls? Your fears? I'm still here, Senait."

"I know." She wrapped her arms around herself. "And I want... I want to try. With you. But I need to do this right. I need to work on myself first."

Jules was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Go to therapy. Work on yourself." He stepped closer, tucking a curl behind her ear. "I'll be here. But don't use it as an excuse to keep running."

Senait leaned into his touch. "I'm trying not to."

"I know, chérie." He kissed her forehead. "Now eat before the food gets cold."

_______________________________________________

Madrid held different memories for Senait now – her first visit for Zuri's engagement party months ago felt like another lifetime compared to being here for El Clásico. The energy around the match was electric, filling every corner of the city.

She met Zuri in the hotel lobby, where her friend was waiting with a woman Senait instantly recognized from social media – Lila Hamilton.

"Finally!" Zuri exclaimed, hugging Senait. "You guys didn’t get the chance to meet at the engagent party but Lila, this is my best friend, Senait. Sen, meet Lila – Lewis' sister and Jude's better half."

Lila's smile was warm, her British accent elegant as she said, "Heard so much about you. Zuri says you're the one who finally tamed Jules?"

"I wouldn't say tamed," Senait laughed. "More like... reached a mutual understanding."

"With Jules?" Lila raised an eyebrow. "That's practically the same thing."

The three women clicked immediately. Senait found herself drawn to Lila's dry humor and genuine warmth. It was clear why she and Zuri had become such close friends – they shared the same straightforward approach to life.

"So you're actually supporting Barcelona?" Lila asked as they made their way to the Bernabéu, noting Senait's scarf. "Brave, considering you're walking in with two Madrid supporters."

"Trust me, I'm as surprised as you are," Senait admitted. "But apparently I have... priorities."

"Jules being one of them?" Zuri teased.

"Jules being the only one," Lila corrected with a knowing smile.

The Santiago Bernabéu was a different beast than the Olympic Stadium. Senait felt the electricity in the air, the tension between the two sets of fans palpable even as she followed Zuri and Lila to their seats.

"Ready for your first Clásico?" Lila asked, adjusting her Real Madrid scarf.

Senait fingered her own scarf – one of Jules' that she'd stolen despite her protests about not being a "football girlfriend." But here she was, heart racing every time she caught sight of him warming up on the pitch.

The match itself was intense. Senait found herself on her feet more often than not, shouting things she barely understood but feeling them deeply. When Jules made a particularly brilliant play, she screamed his name without thinking, earning knowing smirks from both Zuri and Lila.

Barcelona's dominance was clear from the start. Each goal felt like a physical rush, the away section erupting in celebration. Senait watched Jules' confident movements, the way he controlled the midfield, and felt a surge of pride she wasn't quite ready to examine.

By the time the final whistle blew at 0-4, Senait's voice was hoarse from shouting. She linked arms with Zuri and Lila as they made their way down the stadium steps, the Barcelona fans' victory chants echoing around them.

"Never thought I'd see the day," Zuri teased, nudging her. "You really are Jules' number one fan now, huh?"

Senait rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. "Don't get used to it. It's a one-time thing," she quipped, though she couldn't help glancing toward the tunnel where the players would emerge.

The wait seemed endless. Senait watched as Aurélien appeared first, his disappointment evident despite his dignified bearing. Zuri immediately went to him, wrapping him in a comforting embrace. Then Jude, his frustration clear as Lila quietly led him away.

And then Jules – still radiating that quiet confidence she'd come to associate with him, his eyes finding her immediately in the crowd. Heat pooled in her belly at the look he gave her, pride and possession and promise all mixed together.

"Enjoyed the show?" he asked, pulling her close despite her token protest about his sweaty state.

"You were adequate," she deadpanned, but her smile gave her away.

Back at the hotel room later, a celebration took a more private turn. Jules had her pressed against the door almost before it closed, his hands possessive on her hips.

"Been wanting to do this since I saw you in my scarf," he growled against her neck.

"Is that why you let me steal it?" Senait gasped as his teeth found a sensitive spot. "Part of your master plan?"

"Everything's part of my master plan, chérie."

And maybe it was. Maybe this had all been inevitable from the moment she'd met his eyes at Zuri's engagement party. Maybe all her running had just been delaying the inevitable.

Later, curled into his side, pleasantly sore and completely satisfied, Senait traced patterns on his chest. "I made an appointment," she said quietly.

Jules' hand paused in her hair. "For therapy?"

She nodded. "Found someone who specializes in relationship trauma. She's got great reviews."

"I'm proud of you." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "When?"

"Next week. Virtual session." She propped herself up to look at him. "Is that okay? Me staying in Barcelona but..."

"Working on yourself?" He smiled. "More than okay. Though I warn you – Maurice might try to join your sessions. He's very interested in psychology."

Senait laughed, the sound free and genuine. "Your rooster is a menace."

"Our rooster."

She tensed slightly at that, but not in fear. More in... anticipation. Because 'our' didn't sound as scary as it used to.

"One step at a time," Jules murmured, clearly reading her reaction. "No pressure. Just... possibility."

Senait settled back against him, letting his heartbeat steady her. "I like possibilities."

"Good." His hand resumed its gentle stroking of her hair. "Because I have quite a few in mind."

As she drifted off to sleep, Senait thought about how different this felt from every other relationship she'd had. How Jules pushed without pressuring, supported without suffocating. How he saw her walls but didn't try to break them down – just waited patiently for her to build doors instead.

Maybe that's what real love was supposed to feel like. Not the desperate clinging she'd had with Tymir, not the constant fear of not being enough. But this – this steady warmth, this gentle strength, this quiet certainty that whatever came next, they'd face it together.

One step at a time.

Two weeks after El Clásico, Senait sat cross-legged in Jules' home office, laptop balanced on her knees, finalizing another custom wedding signage order. Maurice strutted past the window, the speakers nearby playing what she swore was Vivaldi.

"Your taste in music is getting crazy, my guy," she called out to the rooster, who merely preened in response.

Her Etsy notifications kept pinging – the surge in orders since quitting her job felt almost cosmic. The universe's way of saying "about time" perhaps. She'd spent the morning researching web designers, knowing her business needed a proper site. Her makeshift Instagram business account already had a decent following, helped by Zuri's subtle promotions to her now-massive audience.

The call with her parents had been full of "I told you so" energy, but the loving kind. "See what happens when you finally listen to your mother?" her mom had teased. They were happy to see her actually living her life instead of just surviving it, even if that life currently involved a French footballer and living with him on a different continent.

The therapy sessions were helping too. Dr. Obazi had a way of making Senait see patterns she'd been blind to. "You're not afraid of success," she'd said in their first session. "You're afraid of deserving it."

That had hit home hard.

So had finally blocking Tymir on everything. She'd hesitated over the button for a moment, years of history making her finger pause. Then she'd remembered his comment on her photo, his casual assumption that he still had the right to her attention.

Click. Done.

"Better late than never," she'd muttered, and felt lighter immediately.

The past weekend in Paris had been surreal. Jules' friend Axel had thrown an elaborate Halloween party, and she'd found herself swept into Jules' inner circle. His Dracula costume had been simple but effective – all black with a dramatic cape and subtle fangs. She'd matched him as his bride, in a flowing white dress with intricate lace details, dark makeup, and artfully messy curls.

"We have the most predictable costumes," she'd teased.

"Sexy," he'd corrected, eyes darkening as he took in her outfit.

Meeting his friends had been surprisingly easy. Axel, with his easy charm and quick wit. Wilhelm, quieter but sharp as a tack. Hugo and Manuel, who treated her like they'd known her forever.

"So you're the one who's got Jules actually answering his phone," Hugo had teased.

"Someone has to keep him in line," she'd shot back, earning appreciative laughs.

The party had been a blur of expensive champagne and elaborate costumes. Jules had kept her close all night, his hands growing increasingly possessive as the alcohol flowed. What happened back in their hotel room... Senait felt heat rise to her cheeks just thinking about it. Jules, it turned out, was even more commanding when drunk, and she'd been more than happy to submit to his... demands.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from the memory: The guys want to come over to watch game footage. That okay?

S: As riveting as that sounds... J: You can work in the office. Just want you near.

Simple. Direct. So Jules.

S: Fine. But I'm not watching football. J: You watched every minute of El Clásico. S: That was different. J: Because you're my biggest fan?

Senait smiled, remembering Zuri's teasing about the same thing. I'm hanging up now.

J: This is a text. S: Goodbye, Jules. J: See you in a bit, chérie.

A notification pinged – another order. A massive corporate client wanting custom place cards for their holiday party. The kind of order that could fund a proper website, maybe even a small studio space.

She was settling into a routine she'd never planned but couldn't imagine living without. Mornings with Maurice's concerts, days split between calligraphy work and exploring the city, evenings with Jules that usually ended tangled in his sheets.

Barcelona was beginning to feel like home. Her favorite café knew her order. The local art supply store kept her preferred inks in stock. Even Maurice had accepted her as part of his audience.

More than that, she was happy. Actually, genuinely happy. The kind of happiness that came from choosing yourself, from letting people in, from building something real.

She glanced around Jules' office – now unofficially hers too during work hours. Her calligraphy supplies had their own drawer, her laptop had a permanent spot on the desk, and she'd even added some plants to the space. Small changes that spoke of bigger ones.

The sound of the front door opening announced Jules' return. Soon the house would be full of his teammates, their animated conversations filling the space as they analyzed game footage. She'd pretend to be completely focused on work, but would probably end up watching anyway, just like she always did.

This was her life now. Not the one she'd planned, not the safe corporate path she'd thought she needed to follow. Instead, she had a growing business, a weekly therapy appointment, and a man who knew exactly when to push and when to be patient.

Jules appeared in the doorway of the office, fresh from training with slightly damp dreads. Just looking at him made something warm unfurl in Senait's chest – a feeling she was slowly learning not to fight.

"Hi," he said simply, crossing to where she sat.

"Hi yourself." She tilted her head up for his kiss, meaning to keep it brief. But Jules had other ideas, deepening the kiss until she was breathless.

"The guys will be here soon," she murmured against his lips.

"Mm. Ten minutes." His hand slid into her hair. "More than enough time."

"To do what exactly?"

His smirk was wicked. "To properly greet you."

Before she could respond, he'd pulled her up from her chair, pressing her against the desk. His hands found her hips, lifting her to sit on the edge.

"Jules—"

"Let me just..." He stepped between her legs.

Jules’ lips traced a line down her neck, making Senait shiver as he teased the sensitive skin just beneath her ear. His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt dress, pushing it higher up her thighs until he had a full view of the lace panties she’d chosen that morning. She opened her mouth to protest, but the words turned to a sigh as his hands gripped her waist tighter.

"Just a quick one," he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill down her spine. His eyes were dark with desire, and Senait found herself nodding, anticipation already pooling within her.

Jules stepped back just long enough to fish something out of his pants pocket. Senait couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up when she saw it: a condom.

"You planned this," she accused, her laughter fading into a gasp as he slipped his hands under her thighs, dragging her closer to the edge of the desk.

"Always prepared," he murmured with a grin, dropping both his pants and boxers to lay around his ankles and then ripping open the foil packet. As he sheathed himself, his gaze stayed locked on hers, filled with heat and mischief. Senait's pulse quickened, her body already humming in anticipation.

With a firm tug, he pulled her panties to the side, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of her. He didn’t waste a moment, pressing into her slowly, making her toes curl. Senait clutched at his shoulders, the edge of the desk digging into the back of her thighs as Jules began to move, setting a fast, relentless pace.

"Fuck," she whispered, her breath coming in short, needy gasps. Jules had her pinned in place, one hand splayed across her lower back to keep her steady, the other gripping her thigh. The slight roughness of his fingertips, the way he filled her so perfectly, had her clenching around him, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.

He leaned forward, his mouth brushing her ear. "You feel so fucking good, chérie," he groaned, the strain in his voice making her core tighten. The office was filled with the sounds of their rushed, desperate joining—the rhythmic slap of skin on skin, the creak of the desk beneath them, and the breathless, incoherent sounds that slipped from Senait’s lips.

Her fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him in for a kiss, desperate to muffle her own cries as the pressure built inside her. Jules responded eagerly, swallowing her moans, his rhythm never faltering. The intensity of it all—the risk of being caught, the wild passion in his eyes, the feeling of him claiming her—had her teetering on the edge faster than she expected.

"I’m close," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rush of her heartbeat. Jules’ grip on her tightened, his hips snapping forward harder, his own breathing ragged.

"Let go for me," he urged, his voice thick with urgency. Senait’s body obeyed, pleasure exploding through her, making her shudder and cling to him as her climax washed over her. Jules followed soon after, his groan deep and satisfied as he buried himself in her one last time.

For a moment, they stayed like that, tangled together, breathing heavily. But the moment of bliss was broken by the sound of the doorbell ringing, echoing through the home.

"Shit," Senait whispered, her eyes wide. Jules pulled out of her with a grin, discarding the condom and adjusting his clothes swiftly.

"Go clean up," he said, smacking her ass as she wobbled off the desk, her legs still shaky. The playful sting of his hand made her yelp, and she shot him a glare over her shoulder.

"Asshole," she muttered, though she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. He just laughed, his expression smug and satisfied.

"Better hurry," he teased. "Don’t want the guys to see you looking all… well, like that."

Senait rolled her eyes, gathering herself and making her way out of the office and down the hallway. But the flush on her cheeks and the way her legs trembled with every step were undeniable reminders of what had just happened, and she couldn't stop the grin that spread across her lips.

In the bathroom, she caught sight of herself in the mirror – hair mussed, lips swollen, that unmistakable post-sex glow. The sound of voices grew louder – boisterous laughter as the guys settled in the living room.

After making herself presentable, Senait padded back to the office, settling in with her laptop. She tried to focus on her work, but found herself listening to Jules' voice among them, authoritative and sure as he discussed strategy.

This was her life now. And somehow, impossibly, it fit perfectly.

Sometimes Jules still couldn't believe how naturally Senait had integrated into his life. Watching her work in his home office, Maurice strutting past the window like a personal guard, felt right in a way he hadn't expected when this started.

Her therapy sessions were making a difference – he could see it in how she carried herself, how she was slowly letting her walls down. They weren't official yet, but he could wait. She was worth waiting for, worth giving time to heal and grow at her own pace.

"Ready?" she called from the office. They had errands to run – art supplies for her growing calligraphy business, orders to ship at the post office. Her Etsy shop was thriving, custom orders piling up faster than she could handle them.

The art supply store was their first stop. Jules watched as she carefully selected papers, inks, specialty pens. Her face lit up discussing different techniques with the shop owner, passionate in a way that made his chest warm. This was the Senait he loved seeing – confident, in her element, fully herself.

The post office queue wrapped around the building, but Jules didn't mind. Senait's arms were full of carefully wrapped packages – elaborate wedding signage, custom birthday installations, pieces that showcased her unique style. She'd worked late into the night finishing them, and watching her now, checking tracking numbers and insurance details, he felt overwhelmingly proud.

"Tu novia tiene mucho talento," the postal worker commented, admiring one of the visible designs. ("Your girlfriend's quite talented.”)

Jules didn't correct her assumption. Instead, he helped Senait balance the packages, stealing glances at her focused expression, the way she bit her lip while calculating shipping costs.

The sneaker store was where they slipped up. A small group of teenagers recognized him, eyes widening as they nudged each other. Jules tensed slightly – he was careful about public appearances, especially with Senait. His PR team had helped keep their relationship private, away from the football gossip machine.

"¿Te importaría una foto?" one boy asked nervously.

Jules glanced at Senait, who had already stepped back, understanding without words. He took a few quick pictures, signed some shoes, then they made their exit.

"Sorry about that," he said once they were in the car.

"Don't be. It's part of who you are."

Later, floating in his pool on one of his loungers, the Barcelona sun warm on their skin, Jules thought about Aurélien's text. His friend had been through hell with Zuri lately – family drama, media scrutiny, the works. The suggestion of a group trip to Megève had come with a note about needing peace, about wanting to share that peace with the people who'd supported them.

"Aurélien's planning a trip," Jules said, watching Senait's reaction carefully. "Megève in December. Him and Zuri, Jude and Lila. Thought we could join."

She turned in his arms, water droplets clinging to her eyelashes. "Sounds nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Small steps, but progress nonetheless. Jules pressed a kiss to her temple, content just to have her here, in his pool, in his life. Two months ago, she might have balked at the idea of a couples' holiday. Now she was planning it with him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Maurice's indignant crow from his enclosure made them both laugh. The rooster had taken to protesting when they used the pool, as if offended by their water activities.

"Your bird is jealous," Senait said, shifting to watch Maurice's dramatic display.

"Our bird," Jules corrected automatically, and smiled when he heard her hum noncommittally.

They stayed in the pool until the sun started to set, talking about everything and nothing. Her latest orders – a massive wedding installation that had her excited about the creative possibilities. His upcoming matches, training schedules, team dynamics.

It felt domestic in the best way. Like they'd been doing this forever, would keep doing it for years to come. Jules found himself imagining more moments like this – Senait in his space, planning futures together, Maurice providing the soundtrack to their life.

After showering and ordering dinner, they settled on his couch. Senait was sketching design ideas while Jules watched match footage, her feet in his lap, Maurice performing his evening concert in the background.

Even if she wasn't ready to name it yet, even if she still needed time to heal and trust and grow – Jules knew what this was. Knew that all the waiting, all the patience, all the careful steps forward would be worth it.

Looking at her now, completely absorbed in her sketches, wearing one of his t-shirts like it belonged to her, Jules felt something settle in his chest. A certainty that hadn't been there before.

This was it. She was it. Everything else was just details they'd figure out together.

THE END….epilogue coming soon…..

[tinylongwing]

Vide Noir's dual narrative structure

All right, here it is, me making good on at least one of my meta threats. Lord Huron's album Vide Noir can be interpreted as an album with two parallel, contrasting narratives - that of the lead protagonist Buck Vernon, as well as that of Johnnie Redmayne.

Disclaimer: this is an interpretation I think is pretty sound and well-reasoned, but I make no claim to any of this being proven canon information.

---

For those unfamiliar or who need a reminder, the primary narrative is this: the year is 1967, and we start near the end of Buck's journey, as he awakens from being black-brained (Lost in Time and Space). Having just suffered an overdose on the drug vide noir, his memories are slow to return to him, but return they do - his fiancee, Leigh/Lee Green (from here on Leigh but both spellings have been used), left him without a word one night, and he decided to follow, heading west to Los Angeles from their home town of Detroit, Michigan. He's been struggling to find her, checking every bar in the city in case she was booked to sing at one as her move was the result of her chasing her dream of becoming a singer. He doesn't remember a lot about himself, really, after that overdose, but he remembers her, and his love for her makes him desperate to find her.

We're then taken back to the night he left to find her (Never Ever) and his journey is mostly linear from there - he meets a fortune teller, Lady Moonbeam, who tells him that pursuing Leigh will end in his ruin, but he refuses to accept her advice and pushes on (Ancient Names I & II). He laments that he's been some kind of fuckup, that maybe he chased Leigh away through his own behavior, but that he still loves her and begs for her to return (Wait By the River). At some point around here he also learns of the drug vide noir and contemplates using it himself for clues.

(Note that unlike in the movie, in the album, nothing suggests that Buck suffered from a murder attempt by Z'Oiseau's henchmen but that instead he may have overdosed himself in an attempt to find Lee. However, there's plenty of reason to suspect that the film is the canon interpretation here anyway and the henchmen kidnapping Buck just doesn't make for a song I guess.)

One way or another, he winds up black-brained, where some deep existential truths of the universe are revealed to him (Secret of Life - namely that everyone and everything dies in the end, and that a human life is brief, fleeting, and ultimately meaningless within the context of the universe as a whole). He somehow reawakens rather than dying (Back from the Edge) and, again, understands that nothing he does will ever matter, has never mattered*, but that *even though* he's suffered greatly already on this quest, he's still committed to trying to find Leigh, pitting himself against that careless universe (The Balancer's Eye).

So he keeps searching (When the Night is Over) until he finds a clue, or a helping hand of some sort, that leads him on the right path to his beloved Leigh (Moonbeam). We get one more reminder of the forces at work here - vide noir is some awful stuff, it nearly killed him, Leigh herself is hooked on it now, it shows you terrible truths and nightmares beyond human comprehension (Vide Noir) - and when all is said and done, as Buck thinks he's about to "rescue" Leigh from her fate and bring her back to his fantasy of a perfect happy life together, she rejects him. He came all this way through time and space, and she doesn't love him at all in the end (Emerald Star).

---

I consider this the primary narrative here because it makes use of all the songs on the album, it has a clear start and ending and a mostly linear structure, and the album basically serves as a soundtrack to Buck's fool's errand. The film agrees - every scene is centered around his journey, after all. But we have context from Lord Huron's other albums, as well as the lyrics and musical stylings of multiple songs on Vide Noir, that show us that Buck isn't necessarily the only narrator on this album. Strange Trails, of course, came out three years prior, and features songs by multiple fictional bands performing songs which serve as narration for a diverse cast of characters. Unlike on Strange Trails, where each track has a writer or band specifically named and assigned to it as well as a character narrative, Vide Noir does not give us such conclusive information, but we can still put clues together to understand at least some of who the in-universe performers might be on Vide Noir.

Most likely, multiple of these songs are by the Buck Vernon Band - this is pretty obvious. Buck's semi-autobiographical music is all over Strange Trails, usually referencing a girl he loves, sometimes referencing that the girl left him, often giving her different names, all starting with L (Fool For Love's "Lily", and "Louisa").

But the other band that we can easily identify as performers on Vide Noir are the Phantom Riders. For those who need an introduction, this is the band composed of four members of the World Enders gang, with Dale Redmayne at the helm as lead writer. They were seen previously on Strange Trails as well, with banger surf/rockabilly hits like Hurricane, Until the Night Turns, and The World Ender. As a storytelling tool, they are primarily brought in to tell us about the man-turned-undead horror entity known as The World Ender himself, and then otherwise mostly we get their songs about Dale's brother Johnnie Redmayne, who is introduced to us in Strange Trails as a fun-loving and presumably fairly young guy, a thrillseeker and hedonist, who lives for the moment as if the world could end any day. The Buck Vernon Band jumps in between some of these songs with an interjection to tell us that wait, Johnnie is dead, or was, but he got back up. In Dead Man's Hand, Buck speculates that Johnnie could have been murdered or may have killed himself, accidentally or intentionally, upon first seeing him. It's in Vide Noir that we actually learn more about the circumstances of Johnnie's death.

Before we get to that, let's first identify which Vide Noir songs are by the Phantom Riders. This isn't all that hard to do. Any song that references The World Ender is presumably theirs - that gives us Secret of Life right away ("I sit alone in the dark, and I try to remember the words you spoke when you summoned the Ender"). This is reinforced in the Alive From Whispering Pines webseries, episode 423 - Secret of Life, when played, shows a skeleton prop the band has jokingly referred to as Cobb Avery on their social media posts in the past, and after the song ends in this episode, the tune continues in a slowed and distorted fashion through a clip of a WBUB movie version of Dead Man's Hand showing Johnnie rising from the pavement when Buck is about to bury him.

Ancient Names Parts I and II are presumably written by the same band as a two-part song. In the Vide Noir film, the Phantom Riders are performing Part II in the underground club. Additionally, in Alive From Whispering Pines episode 426, after Tubbs Tarbell is done reminiscing about the band and their nihilism, Ancient Names Part II is the next song covered - and often in this series, the structure of the segments between songs are intentional and related to either the song they precede or the song they follow, so it's likely that the placement of the Phantom Riders' appearance followed by a track they're associated with is meant to help confirm them as the performers. In addition, Ancient Names Part I references a fortune teller, and we know from the film that the fortune teller in question, Lady Moonbeam, is associated with the World Enders and knows the Redmaynes.

The last track on Vide Noir that is most likely theirs is the title track, Vide Noir. We have two points of evidence for this - one lyrical ("Many evils have I enjoyed, prowling the night raising hell with the boys" which feels like a pretty direct reference to the World Enders' nighttime violence) and one musical - the main melody of Vide Noir is identical to that of Ancient Names (and Fortune Teller's Theme, actually). In Strange Trails, using the same melody for multiple songs was an easy way to tie Frankie Lou's songs together, and here we can see that it ties two Phantom Riders tracks together directly, indicating that not only are they both by the same band, but that Vide Noir is a followup to Ancient Names part I, in which our fortune teller did warn us things would go very, very wrong.

(And besides all of that, the Phantom Riders tracks on Vide Noir all tend to be similar in musical style - psychedelia-flavored garage rock with a heavy bass line, in contrast to other songs on the album.)

With those songs identified, we should also be aware of just how much Lord Huron seem to love their dual narratives. In Strange Trails, we have a really concrete example of this with The Night We Met. This song was in-universe written by Frankie Lou, presumably about her doomed relationship with Z'Oiseau and how much she wishes she had never met him to begin with (as she echoes in her dialogue in the Vide Noir film when speaking to Buck in her dressing room). However, the music video for this song shows not Frankie and Z'Oiseau, but instead Buck, driving west, while reflecting on his own failure to keep Leigh, wishing he could go back in time and fix things, and meanwhile kind of hallucinating her as he goes. In the album Long Lost, we get another dual narrative in I Lied, which is performed by Donny and Midge but is also sung by Leigh in Vide Noir, foreshadowing her breakup with and lack of love for Buck. There are certainly other dual narratives in both of those albums to be found as well - so what we should keep in mind here is that often, songs can be written and performed by a character or band in order to narrate for themselves or someone close to them, but that just as in our real-world movie soundtracks or our favorite character playlists on spotify, those songs can be applied to other characters in different (but somewhat similar) situations than the ones they were written for.

So! We have four Phantom Riders tracks on Vide Noir, all of which were presumably not written originally in-universe about Buck Vernon, because why would they be, Buck and the World Enders only briefly cross paths and at the very least we know that Ancient Names Part II was written well before he ever met them. Instead, it makes the most sense if like the bulk of the Phantom Riders songs, these tracks serve Johnnie's narration instead.

---

If that's the case, what does that give us? Winding around and through Buck's journey is this second storyline. Johnnie Redmayne, having used and enjoyed vide noir himself abundantly ("I had a vision tonight that the world was ending" as one probable example), decides it's time to get his hands on bulk quantities so as to get the Enders in on controlling the flow of the drug in LA rather than letting Z'Oiseau maintain a monopoly, thereby also increasing revenue for the members of the gang.

It's Moonbeam who warns him to knock it off first. We know, thanks to the film, that he'd spoken to her at some point about his plans to investigate the source of the drug at Tobey's arcade and try to get his hands on some to sell. Whatever his exact plan was, in Ancient Names Part 1, Moonbeam warns him that pursuing this is going to get him killed. Vide noir isn't just a drug, it's something extremely dangerous, tied to dangerous people, and he needs to get away from "her" (and note that frequently throughout music history, drugs have been personified as a "her" or an unnamed lover, whether for poetic reasons or to evade censorship that might come from talking directly about drug use - and Cursed, off Strange Trails, is one more in-universe example, where "her" refers both to Leigh Green and to drug use, specifically vide noir).

Immediately afterward, Ancient Names Part 2, in addition to serving as a very classic sort of World Enders nihilism anthem, can easily be interpreted as Johnnie saying "fuck that, I do what I want, you only live one life anyway and even if it kills me, I want to make my mark before I go out." Death is something hypothetical - sure, it'll get him some day, it gets everyone, and maybe Moonbeam is even right, but he isn't going to let her warning stop him.

On Strange Trails, Buck and Johnnie cross paths at Dead Man's Hand. On this album they only cross thematically, and the pivotal moment of intersection might be Secret of Life. This song may be the point at which Buck learns some forbidden secrets revealed by taking vide noir as discussed above, but its lyrics speak a lot more specifically to Johnnie's experience, implying some connection between him, vide noir, and the World Ender.

It may be that as we see with Buck in the film, perhaps Johnnie too has suffered the effects of being black-brained prior to taking it due to the time and space-bending effects of the drug (notice, for example, in Strange Trails we get Johnnie's story in a scrambled chronological order) and here he's confronted with the harsh truths of what those past visions of his possible future mean for him: he has been set on a path that is no longer avoidable due to his eventual future overdose. So perhaps it's at this point that he acknowledges that he is going to die sooner rather than later and that his life and death will not have meant anything to the greater cosmos, but this information, which was new to Buck, is not something Johnnie fears. Johnnie is hardly new to this point of view. He's seen past echoes of the knowledge imparted by vide noir throughout his life, both in his future visions of the end of the world (again see Until The Night Turns) and in the knowledge passed on through other World Enders, including their own motto ("The fair, the brave, the good must die", or in Secret of Life here, "The darkness comes for all of us").

(As an aside, there's still a lot to unravel with Secret of Life that I haven't touched on here. It's a fascinating song with some really mysterious lyrics. I've speculated at length in the LH discord about some additional interpretations this song could yield but won't veer off topic here.)

And yet despite what looks like a very certain and dire end, Johnnie maintains hope that perhaps he, too, will live past this. Because if Cobb Avery did, why can't he? This is part of the gang's core mythos - their founder is a dead man. He clawed his way back out of the grave for revenge, they thought it was just so fucking cool that he was unkillable that they had to join him, and together they dismantled the Winthrop Corporation, one murder at a time. When the police finally caught up to him, they lynched him - but the noose did nothing, for he was already dead, and now in the form of a skeleton, he called the gang to his side (see Strange Trails: The World Ender comic book). In the ensuing chaos, he flees, the gang heads west and relocates to east Los Angeles, and in the time contemporary with the events of Vide Noir, he is still present among them but this appears to be unknown to the public (Daily Trails prop, by Kim Berens, used in both Vide Noir and Alive From Whispering Pines where it was modified to Ten years later).

Whether The World Ender is readily visible to and known by most members of the gang at this point is unknown, but we know that those who were black-brained can see him (in the film, Buck sees him approaching, bumps into him, plunges into a hallucination of his own future, and when he comes too, the Ender is gone). Given the Secret of Life lyrics, it's reasonable to guess that Johnnie at least can see the World Ender just fine and one way or another, in speaking with him and in conjunction with consuming vide noir, has learned enough secret knowledge to make some kind of choice - and this is what later enables him, too, to drag his way back to the world of the living.

Fate catches up to Johnnie and as we learn in the film, his death was at the hands of Z'Oiseau's henchmen for trying to gain access to dealing in vide noir. Like Buck, he is black-brained - forced to swallow enough of the drug to kill him. And so the track Vide Noir opens with the Fortune Teller's Theme previously heard in Ancient Names Part 1, and that tune is woven through the track - Moonbeam's "I warned you, I told you so" to both of these fools who disregarded her advice. Although, again, the lyrics are clearly meant primarily to narrate for Johnnie - "Many evils have I enjoyed, prowling the night raising hell with the boys, getting high on a pure black void" sounds a lot more like what Johnnie gets up to than Buck. We are given a glimpse of his last words and final thoughts as life slips away and his consciousness is sent straight to the final edge of the cosmos.

---

So ultimately, this is what we're left with:

Vide Noir is an album that tells the story of Buck Vernon, whose fiancee has left him. His journey culminates in a near-brush with death, in finding Leigh, and in learning that she does not love him and that he's nothing, his life is worth nothing more than dust and that none of it mattered or will ever matter, that once he eventually dies he will vanish and be forgotten in time.

Vide Noir also tells the story of Johnnie Redmayne, who for once tries to do something that isn't just for his own hedonistic pleasure but that might actually help bring in money to support his friends and family, but he's too headstrong and impulsive to listen to the warnings he's given, and is killed in the attempt.

One lives who probably shouldn't have and comes out at rock bottom and now has to work out how to move on from here, and one dies a nihilist who should presumably just accept the inevitability of death, but has the knowledge and absolute stubborn determination to enable his eventual return, following in the footsteps of Cobb Avery.

And what happens to both of them afterward? Well, we don't know. Hopefully some day (SOON?? BEN PLEASE) we'll get the opportunity to find out!