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mv1simp · 5 months ago

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I love it you last smut with max!!! I would love some more about sucking him off and he film you while he praises you.

Thank you so much💖💖💖💖💖💖

I gotchu anon here u go 🫶🫶

Popular ♥️

Max Verstappen x Enemy Reporter!Reader

money on top of me, money on top of her, yeah, shawty fuck with me ‘cause she know I’m popular

As Sky Sport’s latest F1 reporter, you’re determined to do whatever it takes to stand out amongst the crowd. You’re notorious for your ability to make Mad Max break out of his media trained facade, all your interviews with him going viral. But after his 10th PR debriefing over you, Max has had enough. Next time, it was your turn to be in front of the camera.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, filming, enemies to lovers , blowjobs, size kink, dom! Max and brat!reader 😼, 4k WC

And there you have it folks, another disappointing 2nd place for Redbull’s golden boy for the 3rd race in a row here in Spa, you say into the microphone with a smirk. Let’s go directly to him now, shall we?

Walking over to the post race media room, you make your way to the primary interviewer position, right on the front row, ignoring the jealous stares from other reporters scattered in the rows behind you. You’re chatting to your cameraman, instructing him to make sure he gets your good side, please, I don’t want to be on Channel 3 looking like a rat compared to these model drivers again when the podium winners walk in. Max Verstappen’s ice blue eyes immediately narrow as they lock onto yours, and he has to resist the scowl that threatens to appear on his face. He fucking hated your boss for always sending you - his most aggravating reporter - to make any bad race Max has even worse.

To the left of him, Charles and Lewis shared an amused glance as they watch their fellow pilot shoot daggers at you, who in turn greeted him with a predatory smile that would put a great white shark to shame. You decide to toy with your food a bit, turning your gaze to the other drivers, welcoming them sweetly and asking how they found the race. The many cameras on Max’s face didn’t fail to pick up how the so called flying Dutchman continued to stare at you brazenly as he contemplated your tumultuous history.

It wasn’t that you were a bad reporter. If anything, Max thought you had a knack for matching your questions to the athlete that you interviewed, and spoke in a charismatic and engaging way that had most of the grid happily stop on a race weekend to chat with you. You always made an effort to get genuine stories from the drivers, compared to many other news outlets, and it had been noticed amongst the grid, who preferred you as one of the reporters they engaged with - making you quickly skyrocket in popularity with viewers and establish yourself as a front row media figure. And it certainly helped that you were easy on the eyes, quickly become a familiar sight in well picked classy but flattering outfits to suit the Grand Prix locations.

Max could still remember the first time he saw you - dressed in a long sleeved, full length crimson dress that flattered your shorter figure, with long, dark curls framing your face and full lips as you laughed at something your colleague had said. He’d noticed you immediately in the media room, a pretty figure amongst the usual crowd, even going so far as to ask his PR manager who you were. But for all your charming media skills or cute outfits, you had made an enemy very quickly out of Max Verstappen the moment you opened your glossed lips and asked him how he felt after crashing into Hamilton’s car, yet going onto celebrate 1st on the podium while Lewis had to be taken to hospital.

It was almost a complete personality switch. While the other drivers got your thoughtful questions, Max was repeatedly hit with the most provoking shit from you. It was like you knew exactly what to say to turn him into that seething, infamous Mad Max, brows furrowed and a scowl on his face as he scoffed out replies to your invading questions. To your credit, you were able to elicit a lot more information and honesty from Max than other reports could, despite his angry tone. And while others backed down immediately when the reigning world champion started to get agitated, you would just lock in with a deceivingly innocent smile and escalate your questions.

Social media absolutely loved it, making endless videos of you interviewing Max go viral, countless memes emerging every post race debrief when you would ask some ridiculous question and Max would respond with something equally ridiculous, often resulting in back and forth bickering. It had gotten to the point where Max had had over ten - ten! - interventions with his own PR team who had begged him to please just ignore your provoking statements, just rise above, don’t engage -

Fuck that. Max Verstappen wasn’t a coward that backed down from a fight - but at the same time, he didn’t want to give in and give you what you wanted. He knew your type - just a clout chaser, going after him specifically as he was the fastest driver on the grid and would get you the most views. He was no stranger to being hated on and antagonised after toppling the Mercedes winning streak. His attention draws back to the present as he sees you finally turn to him, tilting your head coyly as you open those deceivingly sweet lips of yours again. That was some incredible driving out there today, Verstappen you say innocently, making Max narrow his eyes again as he didn’t buy it for a second. Incredibly dirty, some may say - judging by the 5 point penalty the stewards gave you. Why do you think you struggle to race wheel to wheel fairly?

Max felt his jaw clench at your provoking accusation. Behind him, his PR manager sighed and already started trying out a draft Instagram thirst trap that would hopefully do some damage control as Max heatedly dismissed your statements, insulting the steward’s decision in the process. This was going to be a long, long afternoon.

Max sighed, rolling out the tension in his neck as he sank down in the VIP area of the Monaco club, sculling his G&T. Beside him, Lando laughed at the sorry sight the current F1 champion had been reduced to after last weekend’s post race debrief had, as usual, gone viral due to a certain crafty reporter who had played the hotheaded Redbull driver like a fiddle. Mate, you let her wind you up too much, Lando said, smirking. It’s just classic journalist clickbait, you’ve dodged shit like that hundreds of times. Why do you keep letting her get inside your head?

Max didn’t respond, choosing to slam down his first glass and pick up a second G&T. Lando leaned in conspiratorially. Don’t tell me you secretly have the hots for her, mate. Is that why you two are always going at it? Too much sexual tension? She’s pretty fit and all, but you could easily get any hotter chick -

This time Max turns to glare at Lando, his furrowed brows clearly telling him to fuck off. Lando throws his hands up in mock defense, Just jokes, just jokes. But hey, speak of the devil and she shall appear. He says, looking behind Max and letting out a low whistle. And damn, the devil didn’t come to play tonight, that dress should be illegal. I get it the appeal now Max-

Rolling his eyes, the older blonde driver finishes his drink and stands up, telling Lando to come find it when he’s done being a prick. Striding off to the opposite end of the club, he doesn’t bother looking in your direction even once. He’d had enough of your annoying presence on the track to be able to deal with it off it.

Across the neon dance floor, you laugh cheerfully with your friends, cheersing to shots together. Tossing your shot glass back, you reach for another, hoping your friends don’t notice the disappointed flicker on your face when you had heard Lando’s laugh from the VIP section, only to look up and see Max’s wide shoulders disappear off into the crowd, no doubt leaving the club as soon as he saw you.

Honestly, you couldn’t blame him, you thought glumly. You weren’t entirely sure just how the dynamics between you too had ended up so rife with tension. You had been so excited to interview the Dutch champion for the first time, spending ages picking out your most flattering outfit and matching gold accessories, and had even picked the perfect question to let him showcase his empathy. You had a soft spot for the driver racing with the MV33 tag growing up as you related to having strict parents yourself. Seeing Max shine at such a young age against much older, experienced competition had been so cool you’d instantly become a fan. So you had asked him about his infamous crash into the reigning champion, Lewis Hamilton, hoping to give him an chance to share his side of the story about how he was forced to continue the race due to team orders - but instead found yourself at the end of a scathing reply from the older athlete.

It’s always the people who have never been behind the wheel of a race car who have the most to say, Max had replied that day, on live TV with a condescending look, I don’t tell you how to be an influencer and you shouldn’t tell me how to be a driver, okay sweetheart?

You had flushed, too embarrassed to even stutter out a reply, and as another reporter mercifully took over you excused yourself from the room. The memory of your first F1 interview still radiated crystal clear in your mind and brought you back to the present as your friends waved their hands in your face to get your attention. Oh yeah, that’s right - that’s why you hated the cocky Dutch driver, you thought darkly, tossing back another shot. And why you’d never do him the service of being a courteous reporter to him ever again.

Vowing to put all thoughts of your biggest annoyance to the back of your mind, you let yourself be dragged onto the dance floor. For the next 3 hours you drink and dance, celebrating the start of the summer break. You slipped away from the group at one point to go to the bathroom. You’re walking back down the dim hallway to the club when a hand reaches out to tap your shoulder, and you turn around to find a guy you’d seen eyeing you up earlier grinning a bit too sleazily at you, introducing himself as Rossi and asking if he can buy you a drink. Politely rejecting him, you turn back around but he grabs your arm this time, spouting some bullshit about playing hard to get, huh, dressed like that?

You scowl, immediately turned off, and forcefully twist his arm around and push him away, telling him very firmly to piss off. He look startled at your reply, and you roll your eyes at his performance before moving away but apparently this asshole just couldn’t take a hint, cause this time he grabs both your shoulders and pushing you into the wall. You’re starting to get a little panicked now, knowing you two are in a quieter hallway and the shots you had taken earlier have caught up and made you weaker -

Then he’s all but thrown off of you, crashing into the opposite wall in a display of pure strength. I’m pretty sure she told you to fuck off, cunt. Keep your hands off of her.

You’d recognize that deep Dutch accent anywhere. Your jaw drops as you look up to see Max Verstappen’s back, dressed in a fitted white tee, now standing in between you and Rossi. Peeking over his broad shoulders on your tip toes, using your small hands to grasp Max’s bicep and steady yourself on your heels, you see Rossi angrily stalk towards Max, opening his mouth - then close it as he realises he’s much shorter and this was a dumb idea. Max smirks as he watches the other man sulkily storm away. He turns around, an almost gentle look on his face as he asks you okay, schat? Are you hurt?

You stare up at him, a little dazed by how handsome Max looks in this lighting and how hot it had been seeing Max protect you. The driver’s gaze turns to your hand, where your pink manicured nails are still holding onto his large bicep. Flushing, you move your hand and stutter out an affirmation that you’re fine, don’t worry, thanks so much -

Max hmms in response, pulling back from your space and immediately making you miss his warmth. You shouldn’t wander away from your friends all alone, he says, It’s not safe. Especially for someone your size.

His steely blue eyes are raking up and down your petite form, sending butterflies swirling but you’re also annoyed at his condescending tone. I had it handled, you say defensively, crossing your arms and looking away, missing how Max’s gaze flickers to your tits which are now pushed up.

Yeah, I’m sure you had it handled, he snorts. What were you going to do, throw one of your heels at him? Seriously, you need to be able to protect yourself better if you’re going to go out looking like this.

He pointedly glances at the glittery mini dress you had on, with a sweetheart halter neckline, ending mid thigh with matching lace up strappy heels. A perfect club outfit, the gold matching your tanned skin, and brought to you by Versace.

What the fuck, Verstappen you hiss, seething as he immediately ruins the two seconds of tranquility you two had shared. Why do you always have to be so goddamn misogynistic? Blaming the woman’s choice of outfit? Seriously? You’re no better than that creep Rossi!

Your voice starts to rise as you glare up at him defiantly. Suddenly, loud voices make you both look down the corridor as some clubgoers start approaching. Not done with your argument but not wanting another PR fiasco all over Page 6 tomorrow, Max grabs your waist and pulls you into one of the staircases leading upstairs.

You end up on a private, dark balcony overlooking the quiet Monaco marina. The club’s bass vibrates through the walls against where a small sofa rests with an ashtray nearby, designating it as an intimate smoking area.

Max slams the door behind you two, locking it for good measure as you whirl back around, still keyed up. You’re comparing me to that piece of shit? Seriously? Max scoffs, rolling his eyes and resuming your argument. Let me guess, tomorrow morning you’ll conveniently have a new headline about how I hate women and I’m a misognistic pig, blah blah blah.

You glare at his dismissal, stepping closer to back him up into the door behind him. Well, aren’t you Verstappen? What do you expect me to wear, sweatpants? It’s a fucking club, everyone dresses like this! The first time I ever interviewed you, you literally thought I was some random makeup obsessed influencer when I’m an Oxford educated journalist!

I know that now! Max snaps. You just asked me about the one thing I didn’t want to talk about and I got mad. I didn’t realize you were going to bite my head off every interview after that and just use me to to blow up online!

You pause, then begrudgingly mutter that you supposed you’d dragged out the grudge a touch longer than necessary. It was the Leo in you, after all. But Max wasn’t done - Fuck, all I meant was you look good tonight and a lot of guys have been checking you out, so just watch out, okay?

Your eyes widen at the unexpected compliment, as althought you had always found him attractive, you’d never thought Max found you to be. Oh, you say, unable to hold back the blush in your face. Thank you. I owe you one, I guess.

You realize in the heat of the moment you had pushed right up against him, your soft chest up against his toned abs - giving him the perfect view as you calmed down from your heaving breaths. Max’s eyes darkened as you glanced from your chest up to his eyes, realising the compromising position as well and biting your lip.

Well, you could start by apologising to me, he says with a smirk as he pushes off the door, making you stumble back towards the sofa. That’s bullshit, Verstappen. I already said thank you. If you’re just gonna be a dick again I’m leaving, you respond automatically, but you let him continue to gently guide you back.

We both know you could have left anytime you wanted, schatje, Max breathes, bending down to your level as you come to a stop in front of the sofa, his lips grazing your ear and making your pussy throb from how goddamn sexy he sounded. Fuck, you were down bad. He grins cockily, not missing how you gasped sweetly and squeezed your plush thighs together at his words. Your gazes meet heatedly, and he finally ends the agonising tension by tilting your head up and joining your lips in a deep kiss.

You moan into it, his tongue swiping across yours skilfully and sending sparks shooting down to your pussy which was getting wetter by the second. Max pulls back, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your glossed lips. Why don’t you be a good girl for once and apologise to me nicely, yeah?

You refuse to budge. I’m not saying shit, Verstappen you say brattily. Just try and make me. Max smirks as you seal your fate. Let’s put that filthy mouth of yours to good use for once, he commands, and next thing his strong hand is pushing you down to your knees, making you come face to face with a very sizeable bulge. You gasp, looking up at him as he unbuckles himself, the clink of his belt buckle audible even over the thumping bass. His thick, veiny cock bounces out and lands across your pouting face with a smack. He grins as your eyes go wide at his size, jaw dropped as you begin to salivate at the sight. You’d definitely has one (or two) wet dreams like this - not that you would ever admit it to him.

God, you’re such a fucking slut, practically drooling for it already, huh? He teases condescendingly. You moan when he smacks your chubby cheeks with his warm length. I’m not, you whine, Stop being such a bully-mmmfhh!

He shuts up your pathetic whinging by nestling his tip against your pretty pink lips. Go on then, he mocks. You owe me one, right? Help me relax after all the stress you caused me last weekend.

You huff, still glaring at him through your dark lashes but obediently swipe a kitten lick across his leaking cockhead. Mmm, he tasted so good, you could easily see yourself become addicted. You move down his shaft, leaving teasing, gentle kisses and lipgloss marks along his length. He clenches his jaw at your deliberate teasing, telling you to quit it, but you just smirk and suckle on the very end, moving your tongue in circles to overstimulate his sensitive tip. Max moans, his hips bucking forward involuntarily but he quickly regains control and tangles a strong hand through your curls, dragging you forward to nestle in between his wide legs as he settles back comfortably on the sofa. I need to teach you some goddamn manners, huh?

You squeal from the rough treatment, your hands automatically grabbing to those thick thighs of his, opening your mouth in protest but you don’t get a chance to as he slams your plush lips down onto his length, burying himself in one go. Oh, fuck yeah, he moans, even better than I imagined, liefje. You whine and splutter, struggling to breathe at the unexpected intrusion and tap at his legs but he hold you down, blissfully enjoying your tight throat enveloping his cock. You can take it, right baby? Gonna be a good girl for me and keep my dick warm?

His condescending words should be making you angrier but instead you find yourself moaning against him, finding his dominating nature sooo hot. Tightening his hold, he now controls the pace as he jackhammers away happily, without a single care for your muffled squeals. You feel yourself melting at each thrust, looking up at him with starry glazed eyes. He smirks at the sexy sight, using his other hand to fish out his phone and hit record, blinding you temporarily with the flash.

Fucked the brat right out of ya, huh? He teases arrogantly, the camera picking up all the dirty, wet noises you’re making as you deepthroat him. Go on, time to go viral, tell everyone how much you wanted this. You look so much better in front of the camera and not behind it.

He yanks you off his length for a minute, letting you gasp and greedily suck in air as you give in completely to his demands. I do! I do want it, so bad Maxie, you whine. He tuts, slapping your lips with his thick length again and leaving streaks of pre cum all over your face. You can do better than that, sweetheart, you normally have such a way with words.

You whine at his ministrations, instinctively chasing after his tip when he withdraws it, making him chuckle at how cockdrunk he had made you. P-please Maxie, I’m sorry, so sorry for being a bitch, please let me suck you off and make it up to you, please-

Oh, he could get used to the sound of you begging and sweetly moaning his first name very, very easily. Ending your torment, he glides back through your eager lips at an angle, poking through your cheek. He zooms in to capture the filthy sight - tears that drip down your face, messily smudging your mascara and mixing with the trails of precum on your cheeks. Imagine if your boss saw this, huh? Shall I send him a dirty film? He’d lose his goddamn mind seeing his favourite reporter on her knees begging for a dirty driver’s cock.

You bob your head frantically, moaning as your eyes roll back from the intensity of it all. Your lacy panties are glued to your pussy with how wet you are. You’re taking me so well, schat, he pants, cursing, Fuck, it’s like you were made for me. If I’d known you were s’good at suckin me off I’d have you doin’ this after every race. Throwing his head back, he pushes you all the way down, your nose buried into his sweaty abs as he finishes, releasing thick ropes of cum down your eagerly awaiting throat. He holds you there as he roughly orders you to take it all for him, that’s right, just like that. He slides out of you with a wet sound. Open that gorgeous mouth for me, baby.

You obediently drop your lips wide open, tongue poking out so the camera can capture that you’ve swallowed every drop, just like he asked. Satisfied, Max tosses his phone to the side and easily lifts you up with his strong arms to straddle his lap. You immediately grind your desperate pussy against him, hands tangling in his hair as you sloppily make out. His large fingers grip your glittery minidress as he pulls back to grin down at you. Wear this outfit again, he says huskily. In fact, wear whatever you want, anytime. I can fight.

You laugh at his sweetness, heart fluttering at the thought of always having Max by your side to protect you. You know I’m never going to stop annoying you on the paddock, right? You threaten, although you’re smiling. It makes for great content. My boss would never forgive me.

Wouldn’t have it any other way, darling. We have a reputation to maintain, Max replies easily, grinning back at you as he pulls you back in. After all, you two had a lot of apologies to make up for and had found the perfect way to say sorry 💖

—————————————————————————

A/N: so I can never just write a short lil quick fic it always has to be an essay apparently?!? Anyways GLAD YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS THEME EHEHEHE I LOVED WRITING THIS SEND IN MKRE REQUESTS!! 🫶🫶🫶

#max verstappen smut #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #smut #max verstappen x oc #f1 x reader #18+ mdni #mv1 #mv33 #enemies to lovers #but not really lol

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temis-de-leon · 9 months ago

Text

Love potion and Dateables - Part 3

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon (x reader, separately)

Intro , Part 1 , Part 2

Masterlist

CW: fluff, hurt, insecurities, Barbatos is living in a horror movie for a hot minute, boys are crushing hard and MC is implied to be crushing hard too, pre-established relationship

A/N: I didn't know what to do for Simeon's part and it turned out to be the longest

Diavolo

His extensive knowledge on etiquette begged him to knock the door, but his longing asked him otherwise. He didn’t have much time until Lucifer came looking for him and he really, deeply, needed to see you.

RAD’s latest festival had been a massive hit, various stalls displaying regional costumes, homemade food and games, and he had been naïve enough to think he finally had the chance to take you on a real date. A moment with no interruptions for him to show you how he felt and for you to, hopefully, love him back.

Sadly, spirit week passed by and Diavolo barely had any time to see you. All he watched, from your stunning features to your sparkling eyes, had been from afar. And now, days later, he still felt a tingle in his chest whenever he remembered how you looked during the festivities.

So he knocked once, twice, thrice, until his impatience got the best of him and made him open the door.

The room was dark, but your scent still lingered. It felt weird, however. What was it? Your blood and sweat? The products you used on your body and your clothes? Scented candles, perfume, food…? What was it? A mix of everything, it seemed.

The guilt of intruding your private space mildly subdued when he saw the cauldron on the table.

So that’s what it was. Surely homework for Solomon, although he’d had to ask the sorcerer what was the purpose of this particular assignment.

The potion looked like blood covered velvet and it immediately reminded him of his future: a rich fabric drowned in danger. On the other hand, its warmth soon embraced his face, allowing him to imagine your fingers caressing his cheekbones, your lips covering his in a smile with ridiculous care.

Diavolo sighed and walked away from the table, not sure of what to do. He couldn’t stay and risk being caught by you, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night if he went back to the castle without talking to you first.

He checked his uniform, straightening his tie before brushing his hair with his fingers.

If he was lucky, he’d cross paths with you on the hallway.

Barbatos

The House of Lamentation was introduced to a new routine the moment Barbatos saw that rat. Mandatory deep cleaning once a week and very recommended evacuation once a month for disinfecting purposes. Barbatos would refuse to enter the house otherwise, which was the last thing he wanted to do because he hadn’t spent any quality time with you in days.

There had been chit-chat in RAD whenever he saw you, as well as short trivial conversations on the phone. He’d also tried to invite you to his tamest shopping trips and as much tea parties as he was capable of organizing, but damn the brothers for being jealous and making everything so difficult.

Never in his life he would’ve believe he’d feel thankful for a rat’s existence.

However, MC, if you didn’t open your door in the next ten seconds he would open it himself.

Barbatos knocked again, mouth full of saliva and heart jumping out of his chest. He could feel something crawling up his back, whiskers and soft fur exploring his skin under the uniform and tiny claws scratching whatever they could.

Unable to keep waiting in the deserted hallway, wide enough for any rodent to run up to him without being detected, he rushed inside your room and closed the door with a bang. He felt deeply embarrassed, thankful that you weren’t there to see his dishevelled state, but his demeanour changed when he smelt the room.

It was something he was very familiar with: the tea blend he made just for you! Smiling softly at the realization, he created an image in his mind; you trying to do the blend on your own and succeeding. It made his heart soar in pride and apreciation.

His mood quickly changed without him noticing and soon the only thing occupying his mind was you. How thankful you were of his actions, MC, how happy you made him feel by simply existing.

Feeling stronger than ever and giving himself a few more seconds to breathe and regain his rationality, Barbatos opened the door and stepped out of your room.

His fears be damned; he was in dire need of your presence.

Solomon

Your smell vanished soon after your departure and Solomon had to grip the edges of the table to stop himself from grabbing the vial again. He knew what would happen then, as it happened before. He would lose himself in the potion and the memories within, every reason he had to love you and to feel loved by you.

Your humanity, tainted, but still present, the colour of your eyes, the softness of your skin; the lack of horns and wings and tail. How you trusted him against everyone’s advice, like you knew there was more to him that no one else bothered to see.

And he refused to feel threatened by someone like Mammon; Barbatos or Simeon he could understand, but why Mammon? Why did he have to sit and stare whenever the Avatar of Greed reached the limit of his jealousy? And why did that limit lower when Solomon was present?

He frowned in anger and frustration. Ironically, the thing he knew would make him feel better was the one he was viciously trying to avoid. Was he even an option for you, MC? Asmo did tell him from time to time to go for it, but he also inserted himself in those fantasies, so Solomon tended to take his words with a pinch of salt.

Unable to resist the temptation of your comfort, he walked towards the cabinet and grabbed the vial again. How could such a small container radiate so much warmth? For so many years he had it and in just a few months it grew stronger than ever.

Reinvigorated.

That’s how you made him feel. You may call him an old man and he may be an old man, MC, but he wasn’t one to bend the knee and he wouldn’t start doing that now.

Feeling determined, Solomon vaguely waved his hand and watched as his room tidied up itself. Books flying to the shelves on the walls, spell equipment returning to its original place in the table and clothes resting in hangers.

You once called him Mary Poppins and he had yet to understand, but never mind that for now.

He’d give you enough time to make your own potion during the evening and then he’d go to the House of Lamentation. Having your friendship was enough, but King Solomon the Wise never settled.

Simeon

The moment he heard Solomon’s door close, his heart went up his throat, blood rushing through his body in excitement. The table was full of vegetables, meats and fruit native to the Devildom, the result of experimentation as a cure to boredom, and he deeply hoped you could stay for dinner. He needed more testers other than Luke’s sweet tooth and Solomon’s destroyed palate.

To his disappointment, the only thing you did when you entered the kitchen was wave goodbye.

“Gotta leave, Simeon! Enjoy dinner!”

“Wait! MC!”

You turned around, fighting to force your arm inside the jacket with your schoolbag tightly secured between your legs. You looked at him silently, embarrassed? Probably due to the unnecessary effort when gathering your things.

“Why don’t you stay for dinner? There’s more than enough for all of us”

You smiled back at him, suddenly bashful, before pointing at your bag.

“I have homework to do, blame your roommate”

He laughed and rolled his eyes, trying not to show his dissatisfaction at seeing you leaving once again, but he could try another time. Probably best to ask in advance, though.

“What did he ask you to do?”

His hands went back to the food, cleaning, cutting and slicing with carefulness, but his eyes were set on you. Simeon couldn’t help but feel anything other than delight when he noticed you leaving the bag on the floor and coming closer.

“It’s a love potion, he said it might come in handy in the future”

“Did he now?”

For what, he may wonder. He hoped you never felt the need to use it; your heart was more than enough to enchant anyone you encountered.

“He showed it to me once, too” he confessed, not really thinking through what he was saying “It smelled rather nice; although I suppose that’s its purpose…”

His mouth stayed open, unsure of what to say next, before finally closing with a snap. Simeon’s attention went back to the food once more, failing to see your uncertainty at his words.

“And what did you…?”

He raised his gaze when you stopped talking and your shy demeanour took him by surprise. Did something happen? Did he say something wrong? He was about to ask, worried at your silence, but you beat him to it.

“Forget it, it’s nothing. I’m going home, okay? I need to study”

“Stay safe, MC”

You nodded, then grabbed your bag again and left the kitchen. Barely a minute later he heard the front door open and close one final time.

Whatever happened? Everything seemed to be doing okay, although he did stop looking at you for a short moment. Did the love potion have something to do with it? Solomon better pray that wasn’t the case, otherwise he’d be learning a new method of teaching very soon.

Fortunately for the sorcerer, thinking about the love potion again made him remember what he smelled when he saw it for the first time. A faint scent of old books, like a memory, and a stronger coat of cinnamon, cocoa powder and whipped cream.

He had a great idea.

Maybe a couple of pastries would make you feel better! He’d need to notify Lucifer in advance so someone could hide the desserts from Beel until you were finished.

Or should he deliver them in person? Simeon couldn’t avoid imagining you opening your bedroom door, smile wide in your face upon seeing him and offering him to eat his baking together, like many times before.

He’d make sure to prepare your favourites; he knew them by memory.

@hello-gloomy @the-sassiest-toaster @hero-nii-blog @yourlocalyin @elaemae @eliciria @darkflowerav @zarakem @yuuvis32 @anxious-chick @commets-space @deepestartisanhumanoidshark @ourfinalisation

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

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Please would you be able to write an awfc x teen!reader fic based on the photos of the girls playing Aussie rules today in training? Maybe a bit of annoying younger sister energy (kind of like kyra)! I love you stuff thank you for all of it :)

not completelyy happy with this but it was something different to try! drop kick II awfc x teen!r

"oh you're not bringing that are you?" steph sighed as you stretched over to grab the bright red ball from her back seat. "yeah! why not?" you grinned as the two of you stepped out of her car.

"well because we don't play afl we play football." steph shook her head, though she knew better than to even try and argue the case knowing all too well how stubborn you were.

"then it'll be a fun learning experience for the girls! wheres your australian spirit steffy?" you gave her a toothy grin, the older girl clearing her throat as you spun around. "forgetting something?" steph raised her eyebrow and subtly nodded to your bag.

"oh! yeah that might help." you grinned, jogging back and grabbing it, kissing stephs cheek in thanks who pushed you off with an amused roll of her eyes.

"all this time off and she's forgotten what sport we play!" caitlin teased watching you stuff the ball with some difficulty into your gym bag but eventually succeeding, ruffling your hair as you smacked her hand away.

"sorry hard launch i couldn't hear you over the massive closet of your latest relationship?" you cupped a hand over your ear as steph snickered and you grinned, though catching the look which flashed across caitlins face you wasted no time sprinting off.

"ya could have four legs and i'd still outpace you foordy!" you yelled over your shoulder as she gave up chasing you, pausing to fall back into step with steph and flipping you the finger.

"i'll get you later skippy just you wait! i know where you live!" caitlin yelled menacingly after you, and of course she would considering you bounced between her place and stephs, not allowed to get your own as much as you'd begged and pleaded.

you were so busy gloating you didn't watch where you were going and wheezed as your body slammed into someone elses. "speed racers back in town then! who we runnin from now?" jen grinned, hauling you up and over her shoulder.

"i've missed these delightful walks of ours jb." you patted her back affectionately feeling her body vibrate with laughter as you flipped caitlin the bird before jen turned a corner, earning yourself a disappointed look from steph.

"lee!" you called out happily as the two of you entered the change rooms and you spotted her sitting at her cubby dressed for training, the blonde looking up from her phone as jen put you down. "you're back training properly??" the taller girl stumbled a little at the speed in which you crashed into her for a hug.

"much as i can be. missed you skippy!" the blonde ruffled your hair, kissing your cheek and shoving you over toward lia who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, wrapping you in another tight hug.

"hi wally! happy new year." you mumbled into her shoulder making her laugh. "happy new year winzig, did you have a nice break?" the swiss woman walked you toward your cubby which was between kyra and vics.

"yes! god i miss australia so much already. the beaches, the tan, the food, my family. its cruel that i come from warm sunny beautiful summer to this, english winter fucking sucks!" you huffed unhappily, wincing as a hand collected the back of your head.

"language little miss. thats a fiver!" beth wagged her finger at you with a stern look as you rolled your eyes and hugged her girlfriend instead causing her to scoff. "what? you know i am her favourite." viv shrugged as beth made a noise of disbelief and you sent her a smug smile.

you hadn't even separated from the pair for more than five seconds before a body hurtled into you sending you flying, kyras body latched onto you as stina hurried to grab you, stopping you from hitting the floor.

"get off me you rat!" you wrenched off the girls hands and sent stina a grateful look who gave the pair of you an amused smile, turning back to her conversation with amanda.

"rat! you're the little rat, did you forget about the pictures of-" kyra started as your eyes widened and you hastily covered her mouth. "you swore on calvins life you would take that to the grave." you growled quietly, pulling your hand away in disgust as kyra licked it, wiping it on her jersey.

"but i'm the child? grow up cooney-cross." you scoffed, letting out a yell as again kyra leapt onto you, this time successfully taking you down to the ground as the two of you rolled around wrestling until you were seperated by leah and steph.

most of the girls having filed out toward the pitch and steph impatiently tapping her foot in waiting you hurried to get your boots on, grabbing the afl ball out afterward.

"you can't bring it to training." "why not?" "well-" "see, you can't even think of a good reason stephanie."

and with that you tucked it under your arm and strode out of the change rooms as steph groaned. "can you see any greys jenny? she's been back for three days and its already falling out from the stress!" steph huffed gesturing to her hair as the tall scottish woman chuckled and slung an arm over her should.

"what is that!" vic pulled a face as you appeared with the foreign looking ball. "aussie rules ball!" you beamed, kicking it at kyra who dove to catch it, earning yourself the attention of a few more of the girls who looked on curiously.

"right i'm game. give us a go then skippy!" leah clapped as you tossed her the ball and explained how to hold and position it to be drop kicked. "yeah yeah its a ball, i'm an athlete. i got it!" she brushed you off as you held your hands up and took a few steps back.

you slumped into lotte who appeared by your side, pulling you into a hug and kissing the top of your head. "go on lee while some of us are still young, kimmy might have to retire by the time you kick this thing." you grinned cheekily, hiding behind lotte at the look sent your way by your captain across the pitch.

"oh brilliant! she's a natural." you threw your head back with a laugh as leah completely missed, nearly kneeing herself in the face as the ball bounced away. "shut up!" the blonde warned you with a glare, hurrying to grab the ball again.

"show me again." leah demanded firmly as lotte let you go and you grabbed the ball. "oi ireland!" you yelled, katie looking up from her conversation with gio and grinning as you held up the ball and she readied herself to catch.

"like this." you huffed as you kicked the ball with all your might, the red leather sailing up into the air and right into katies awaiting arms. "you know i might need to recruit you to take some of my goal kicks. how much do you really like being a striker?" manu messed up your hair with a gloved hand as you pushed her away with a smile.

"how the fu-" leah shook her head as katie booted the ball toward caitlin perfectly. "its cause she's got a bit of aussie in her, literally." you smirked quietly, leah turning to you with wide shocked eyes at the comment.

"i'm telling steph to wash that filthy little mouth out with soap tonight skippy."

you barely heard her as you were already taking off racing toward kyra who was trying to teach gio how to kick, your body hurtling into hers. "tackle!" you cheered as kyra groaned from beneath you and you plucked the ball from her hand and took off again.

"they don't tackle in afl you little shit thats nrl!"

"nope!" you were suddenly off the ground again as caitlins arms wrapped around your waist and took you down to the ground, tossing the ball to katie and getting off of you.

"piggy in the middle!" you cheered happily jumping to your feet and racing off toward an unsuspecting cloe who was merely holding the ball, the blondes eyes widening as she hurried to toss the ball toward sabs who frowned in confusion before your body hurtled into hers.

"hey steph." the defender looked up from where she was watching you as jen appeared by her side.

"yeah mate, i can see those greys now."

#woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #awfc x reader #arsenal women #awfc

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wysteriamagus · 2 months ago

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watched Winsweep's latest video, his pov of the finale. These are just my thoughts :]

I only now noticed that Blake is constantly being referred to as a puppy/dog by Lux and Rat. Idk there's gotta be implication there.

Blake's the one constantly referring to their rivalry as a war, even if it's really just him against Rat from the start, which yeah makes sense. But I'd also wanna add that the way Lux's death sinks in for him is reasonable in the sense that it's war. No one wins in a war, no one ever does. It feels like you win when you see your enemy lose something, but in turn everyone is losing something.

Blake constantly sees his way as the only way too. He thinks it's the only "good way", never once does he see his actions as actually worse than better.

Small detail that I found interesting, Rat chose Winsland as the battle ground. Blake wanted it to end at Market.

AND DAMN it ending with him saying "Why do I feel so empty?"

While one of Rat's last lines before the vid ended was "But now I get it, I'm a monster."

smth smth about loss and realization. How even after experiencing loss that hit hard, they realized different things after it, but both are (in the sense) consequences of their actions until now.

#content smp #doctor4t #winsweep #luxintrus #mcyt #wys posts #i put off watching winsweep's vid because lux's death keeps replaying in my head and i wasn't ready to hear rat go thru it again #i have so many thoughts about this #AGH THIS SMP HAS OVERIDDEN ANY INTERESTS I HAD AND MAKES ME THINK OF ONLY THIS #which isnt bad cause it got me writing again #i feel like i said way too much but i also have too much thoughts here

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drowned-captain · 29 days ago

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The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch.1

A/N: Hellooo this idea came to me in my mind brain. This is going to take place during the time of Vi’s pitfighter era (duh). I’m kinda hitting the ground running with this one, so bear with me lol. I’m aiming for some angst and drama! This is pretty much the first fic I’m writing so I hope you readers enjoy! I’m also writing this on mobile (and I’m kinda new to posting on tumblr) so I apologize for any possible weird formatting. This will most likely be a multi-part story :) Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

MDNI! (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, possible drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts

Summary: You are a Zaunite going through a breakup. Your partner was once your entire world for nearly three years until you had enough of them going behind your back. After being reclusive in your home for weeks, you decide to rejoin society. You find yourself curious about Zaun’s latest fighting champion, but she might have other intentions with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are laying in your bed like you have been for the past few hours. Or has it been days? Weeks? Who knows. The only time you made yourself get up was to grab a snack or to go to the bathroom. Other than that, being curled up in a bunch of blankets has been all the comfort you can give yourself without the usual embrace of your ex-partner. You have a photograph of the two of you pinched between your fingers, the image blurry from the pooling of tears in your eyes. You adjust your head on your pillow slightly to lay your cheek on a dry spot, inhaling deeply through your nose and cringing at the snot retreating back into your nostrils.

You roll over on your bed, facing the empty spot next to you. Your face crinkles in sadness at the absence of the person you considered your everything. In frustration, you shove the pillow next to yours and it falls off the bed, hitting the floor softly. Your mind wandered to how many people that lying rat had laid down in the bed you two shared. Your fist clenches in rage, and you merely slam your fist at the spot next to you. Your hand just bounces easily, encouraging you to sit up and toss the picture you were holding elsewhere as you slammed your fists into the bed. A frustrated scream escapes your lips before you tire yourself out, leaving you panting and wiping tears, snot, and saliva off of your face with your already soggy sleeves.

You remain seated there on your knees, just staring at the ruffled mess underneath you. The anger and sadness in your mind tore each other apart like a couple of fighting cats, and you slump into yourself. You finally pick your head up and look around your room, and all you see are reminders of them. Photographs, trinkets, and clothes that they couldn’t come collect because you were serious when you told them to never come back. You know that you’ll have to return them eventually, but it’s just too painful to even touch their possessions. You’ve had enough of surrounding yourself with these painful memories.

You bring your shirt to your nose and take a congested whiff, and despite having your nose compromised your head recoiled at your own stench. Groaning, you scooted yourself off of your bed. Your knees and ankles popped from not being used in a while as you walked to the bathroom. You glanced at yourself in the mirror and sighed at your state.

Your hair was stuck to your face from the tears, your eyes were swollen and red, entire face shiny from the oil buildup. You have to pull yourself together, girl!

After a much needed shower, you felt a little bit better. You wandered off back into your bedroom, briefly glancing out of the curtain on your window to see what time of day it was. It appeared to be later in the day, maybe too late to go out and actually do something. However, the pain from your surroundings was enough of a deterrent to encourage you to step out anyways.

You threw on some casual clothing, finishing it off with some light makeup. For the first time in a while, you felt pretty. It was almost like a little makeover for your depressed self… but you would’ve felt a lot better about it if the makeup you used wasn’t one of your many “I’m sorry” gifts from your ex lover.

You sigh, slipping some shoes on before locking your place and heading out into the streets of Zaun. It didn’t seem like much changed around the street except for the growing trend of people dying their hair blue.

Zaun’s noises were a much needed change from the echoing of your own sobs in your bedroom. You keep your head low as you wander around. You don’t really care where you end up— you just have to get some (not so) fresh air. You pretend not to hear whistles that you know are directed at you. In another world, the attention might have been nice. You left your apartment feeling pretty, but your mean mind once again beats you down.

‘If you were as pretty as you think you are, you wouldn’t have been cheated on. You weren’t pretty enough to them since they did what they did MULTIPLE times.’

You shake your head, feeling tears threatening to gather along your waterline. You sniffle and pick your head up, looking up at the darkened, foggy sky to blink the tears away. As your head returns to a neutral position, your eyes catch a glimpse of some posters on the wall that you walked along. The wall had many of the same poster, but most of them had been drawn on with blue spray paint. Your analytical eyes were quick to find a readable one.

It said something about where to place bets for tonight’s match in The Pit. There were the names of some contestants listed below, but you couldn’t care less about the names of the people getting their teeth punched out tonight. Judging by the distant noise, it doesn’t seem like it’s too far at all. However, the crowd of people coming towards you— some cheering and some angry — tells you that you just missed the fight. Oh well.

You walked against the crowd, letting yourself keep walking. There was distant music that was getting closer and some colorful lights coming from many buildings. You looked around, realizing that you had wandered into the ‘livelier’ strip of Zaun. People walking by smelled of alcohol, sex, and cigarette. This would normally bother you or warrant your face scrunching up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

With your shoe dragging to a stop, you look around the area and contemplate going back home for a few seconds. But you shake your head.

“No, I’m tired of being at the apartment. I’m going to treat myself,” you say to yourself with a determined look on your face.

“Treat yourself to a psych ward if you’re going to stand there talking to nobody,” says a random guy to your left. A bouncer.

You turn to face him, your face twisting into an awkward smile.

“You gonna go in or not?” He asks, crossing his arms. You look past him, your eyebrows raised at the amount of people in there. You can hear the bass of the music booming through the walls.

“Uh.. sure. Yeah. I’ll give this place a shot,” you say, clicking your tongue and winking at him for your lame pun. He just scoffs and stands aside, opening the door to let you in.

When you step inside, you contemplate turning right back around. There are so many people in here that you can feel sweat landing on you from all the dancing people. You awkwardly shimmy your way through the crowd until you reach the bar area. A groan escapes your mouth when you see that the bar is also pretty backed up. But alas! Someone gets off of one of the barstools. You shove your way past people and take a seat, sighing at the slight relief of not being elbowed or having your shoes stepped on by people lost in the music.

The bartender makes eye contact with you, and you yell out for two shots of raspberry vodka. After a few moments, the bartender slides two shot glasses of the tinted liquid in front of you.

As you reach for the glass on the right, a bandaged hand has already grabbed it.

“Thanks,” says the woman, throwing her head back and downing the shot before slamming it down on the counter. Her forehead bonks onto the counter as well, black hair sprawling out.

Your mouth is agape and your hand is still in midair above where your now empty shot glass rests. Your eyebrows furrow in irritation, and you nudge the drunk girl’s shoulder with your hand.

“Hey! That was not for you. You’re going to have to pay for that shot,” you say. The woman rolls her head to the side, an annoyed scowl on her face.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she growls, her words slurring. She peels her face off of the counter and runs a hand through her hair, fixing her bangs into place.

Before you can say something to defend yourself, you close your mouth upon seeing those wrapped up hands of hers; the bandages on her knuckles were stained with blood. Her glossy eyes meet yours, the scowl on her face relaxing a bit upon seeing your face.

‘This girl is probably one of those fighter people. Better not agitate her even more.’

You quickly break the eye contact and grab your only shot left and down it, feeling the burn all the way down to your stomach.

“Who are you anyways? You don’t look like you belong here at all,” she says, leaning in a bit so you can hear her past the music.

You honestly can’t tell if she’s trying to find a reason to escalate a fight or if she’s genuinely trying to have a conversation. Glancing at her, you can see bruises on her face even underneath her smeared, black makeup.

“This was the only free seat,” you say, not making the contact with her in fear that you’ll get socked in the jaw. What if she perceives eye contact as a threat?

“Lucky me,” the girl says with as she plops her chin onto the counter. You breathe a sigh of relief now that her posture is a bit more relaxed.

“So do you have a name or not?” she asks again.

Finally turning your head to look at her properly, you answer, “It’s definitely not as important or well known as yours might be.”

Her silvery eyes glance up at you, “You watch the fights then?”

“I can assume that you’re one of those pit fighters judging by your, um…” you look at her bloody knuckles once more and at the bruises on her face, “demeanor.”

The woman lets out a laugh, “You’re a such a dork,” she slurs, picking her head up. “You could just say no. But I’ll have you know that I’m at the top of the food chain in that pit. You should come see me.” She flexes her bicep, and you glance at her beefy arm before looking back at her smug face. Drunk people are so damn weird.

“….Right,” is all you can say.

“Now how about that name of yours?” She asks with a smile, “I would like to know the name of the lady who bought me a shot.”

“I didn’t b— ugh.. whatever. It’s (y/n).”

“I like that name. Caitlyn is such a pretty name,” she says, smiling weakly.

“I said (y/n).”

“That’s what I said. (Y/n).”

You roll your eyes and disengage from the conversation by turning slightly away from her in your seat.

“You’re not going to ask me my name?” She asks, using her foot to turn your barstool back to her.

“…What’s your name?”

“Vi,” she answers, resting her head on her hand. You just nod, feeling awkward. Needing more liquid confidence, you wave the bartender down again and order a lemondrop martini.

“A martini, huh? Aren’t those usually called princess drinks?” Vi says with a wink.

“Since when?” you raise one of your eyebrows at her. Vi just laughs.

After the bartender brings you your drink, you take a sip and cough a bit at the strength of it.

“You don’t drink very often. I can tell,” Vi says with a playful smile.

“You seem to drink too much judging by your behavior,” you retort. You somewhat chug the rest of the martini, already feeling the buzz in your head. You order shot after shot, not really paying attention to the flirtatious stuff that Vi is telling you. You wonder if your ex lover did the same shit to the people they brought to your bed.

“I’m just having fun,” Vi says, having ordered some beverage for herself and taking a swig.

“No you’re not,” you say, the alcohol helping you speak your mind, “If you’re anything like me, you’re here to forget. To numb some type of pain.”

Vi’s face and body language went from drunken flirt to mild shock.

“Yeah,” you say, looking at her, “I don’t belong here, you’re right. But neither do you, is what I’m thinking. That’s what I’m reading off of you.”

Vi lowers her drink, staring at you.

“See, you know I’m right ‘cause you have nothing to say,” a smile on your face as your words slur.

Vi’s face turns into a scowl again, “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I don’t want to know a damn thing about you,” you bark, narrowing your eyes at her, “So stop flirting with me and get a grip.”

Vi stands up from her seat, her body tense. A bearded man who sat on the other side of her put his hand on her shoulder, making her sit back down. You were scared for a brief second, but you didn’t let it show. Thank goodness Vi had some sort of friend with her to keep her in check.

You reach into your pocket and pull out your wallet, leaving some cash on the counter.

Vi looks at her friend, briefly coming to her senses. She then huffs, her attitude completely changing. She takes a few gulps of her drink before saying, “You should really get a grip on yourself too, then. Don’t let it get like this,” she glances down at herself.

You don’t say anything in response, but you know she’s right. You have to practice what you preach.

You wave the bartender down once more, making a gesture. The bartender comes back with two plastic cups of clear liquid, and you push one towards Vi.

“Sober up, Vi,” you say. You stand up from your seat and take your cup of liquid, making your way through the crowd towards the exit.

Vi grabs the cup you left, taking a sip and expecting it to burn, but it doesn’t. It’s just water.

End of Ch. 1

Part two is here!

#vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane #pit fighter vi #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane vi x reader #arcane vi x you

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redsrooftopprincess · 2 months ago

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Kintsugi

200 Followers Thank You Fic!

Winning prompt: “Christ on a fucking bike, I could kiss you right now.”

Raphael x GN!Reader

No warnings

"Kintsugi (golden joinery) is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, a method similar to the maki-e technique. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise. Lacquerware is a longstanding tradition in Japan, at some point it may have been combined with maki-e as a replacement for other ceramic repair techniques."

— Christy Bartlett, Flickwerk: The Aesthetics of Mended Japanese Ceramics

"Shit!"

The sound of ceramic hitting cement rang through the lair like discordant bells.

"Fuck! No! Damn it!"

You make your way out of the lab where you'd been helping Donnie with one of his latest projects.

You'd excused yourself when you heard his exclamation ricochet against the cement in the open space, and follow the now near constant stream of expletives to the kitchen, where you find the biggest of the Hamato brothers on hands and knees, gathering the shattered pieces of what was once his father's favorite teapot.

Black pottery with white calligraphy and white and pink cherry blossom boughs. It belonged to Yoshi, and is one of the few remaining pieces of his Master's old life.

Raphael hisses and rips his hand from the floor. "Fuck! Damn it!" his voice is thick with barely leashed emotion. Crossing the kitchen quietly, you snatch a paper towel off the roll on the kitchen table, and make your way to him. You crouch down in front of him, grateful that you started the evening in the lab, and are currently wearing thick jeans and boots.

He's maneuvered himself to sitting, and is pulling a triangular piece of the lid from his palm. He stares at the piece for a moment, jaw tight. This means so much more to Splinter than just tea. It isn't usually even kept in the kitchen, but the calligraphy had chipped, and Splinter had taken great care to repair it. The kitchen is the room with the best light, second only to Donnie's lab, and the constant buzzing of electronics gives the old rat a headache.

Raphael bumped the table with his shell, that's all. He swallows hard, clenching his teeth. He's too big even for his own damn home. How the hell is he going to tell his dad?

A sting in his palm brings him back to himself, and he looks up at you ashamed and at a loss. You're pressing the paper towel to his palm, looking down at it, unseeing. He can see the crease in between your eyebrows which usually means the gears are turning. And he's never been more grateful you were so much like Donnie.

You're running through options in your head. It'll have to be repaired and there are a number of ways that would still keep it food safe. Then you think about Master Splinter, and what he will think when he finds out about the mishap.

Hope blossoms in his eyes when he sees your look of concentration soften into a smile and you pull the bloody paper towel away from the now closed wound. You're glad it wasn't too bad, but gripping his sai will be uncomfortable for a few days.

You squeeze his good hand, "We can fix it."

....

You never had a dad, but if you did, you'd want him to be like Splinter. Patient, kind, and always ready with a pricked ear and a warm cup of tea to talk through your bullshit, especially when you don't want to. He has a way of pulling those pesky truths out of people, and probably knows more about you now than anyone else on the planet.

He also has a habit of taking in strays. Yourself included. Of finding the scattered and the broken and bringing them together into this beautiful amalgamation of functional chaos.

Kintsugi, was really the only option.

The traditional method would take too long, the breakage was complex and you didn't have a year to complete the project. But you managed to find a food safe alternative using modern materials.

You take your time setting out the powders and epoxies you'd spent the morning gathering, and pull up a tutorial video on Raph's tablet. It's the middle of the day and Splinter is asleep, which gives the two of you the perfect opportunity to put the teapot back together.

It takes hours, there are so many pieces, and Raphael is meticulous. At one point going back into the kitchen to spend twenty minutes searching for a missing piece no more than 3mm wide, eventually finding it under the fridge.

When you are finished, you both take a step back to look at your work. He's nervous. It's a big change to something that's been the same for as long as he can remember. It looks like it's made of lightning or leaves, veins of flashing gold, as thin as stands of hair, spiderweb through matte black and gloss white, seeming to make the blossoms on the sakura branch glow.

No going back now.

...

Every evening, after waking up, Raphael has coffee with his dad before starting the "day." Most nights, Splinter starts the kettle, so he's surprised to smell coffee before even opening his eyes.

When he makes his way to the kitchen, Raphael is already waiting for him, holding the teapot in his hands. You're at his elbow for support.

"Dad..." He starts, before pausing to take a deep breath as his father crosses the kitchen toward him, "I broke it... I'm sorry. I hit the table and it just fell off. I tried to fix it..." he trails off when Splinter holds out his hands to receive the heirloom.

The old rat's eyes look over his Master's teapot. It was old, possibly older even than Yoshi, and had survived so much. He runs his fingers over the smooth surface, tracing the veins of gold, bright and warm against the cold black, and tears sting his eyes.

A beloved relic broken by fate or circumstance, put back together with time and care by his progeny, to continue it's new life, shining.

His father's wet eyes catch the light and Raph panics, "I know it's not exactly like it was. I'm sorry, I tried to-" he quiets when Splinter holds up a hand.

"My son, it's perfect, and more lovely than ever. Thank you, Raphael," he says, His voice warm with gratitude for this and so much more, "Please join me for tea. Both of you."

You spend the evening learning about the history of the Hamato clan, and listening to stories of life in Japan. He tells you about Tang Shen, his Master, Yoshi, and the love they shared. You can't help glancing at Raphael when he's not looking, and he can't resist doing the same. You miss each other by seconds. His father doesn't.

Once the teapot runs dry, Master Splinter excuses himself for meditation and you and Raph make your way to the living room.

Once the door latches, Raphael's knees almost give out with the rush of relief.

“Christ on a fucking bike, I could kiss you right now.” he laughs, gratefully, before it occurs to him what he said, and then it's a very different kind of laughter, "I, uh... I mean..."

You laugh, you hope casually, as roses bloom in your cheeks. "Hey, no problem," you say, "I'm just glad it worked."

His heart is pounding, as he chuckles uncomfortably, and looks in your eyes. It was a slip up. Just a turn of phrase, but he glances down at your mouth for just a second anyway, and there's a moment that feels heavy with... something.

You'd spent the day working closely beside each other, and the evening drinking tea and hearing stories about a love whose ripples are still moving through time, and as his eyes meet yours again, you can't help but feel the itch of empty hands wanting to pull him closer.

But then he's called away by Leo to his nightly duties, and the moment is over. You're left in the warm comfort of the lair and eventually fall asleep on the couch waiting for the boys to get back.

He finds you there upon his return, and stops for a moment just to look at you. *Really* look at you. Something he wouldn't even attempt if you were awake to ask him why he's acting like a fucking creep.

The whole time his father was talking about his Master's love story, the persistent what if's that tend to follow in your wake were whispering false hopes. He was still trying desperately to ignore them, but some of the gold powder had ended up in your hair, and it sparkles in the colored lights, making you look ethereal. He brushes some of your hair from your cheek, and the dust wisps into the air like starlight.

His guardian fucking angel. Not only did you save his ass, but his father actually seemed more pleased with the result than he was upset that the teapot broke in the first place. Somehow, you have a way of always fixing things and making them so much better. Even him. Especially him.

Somehow, you have a way of always knowing exactly how to put him back together.

.....

A/N:

Currently putting myself back together. Thank you, everyone, for all the love and validation that is helping me so much with that. ❤️

.....

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hungryistrying · 2 months ago

Text

something here (i'm biding time 'til it disappears)

summary:

What is Jinx scared of, you might ask? The chewed holes which are obvious signs of a rat infestation? The warnings from their new landlord that they should keep the toilet lid shut in case of cockroaches? Or maybe the array of loud and extremely suspicious sounds at night? Nope. Not even close. Jinx was born and raised in Zaun, then spent the last four years of her life in a college dormitory the size of a peanut. She could deal with a shabby, cheap first apartment. Especially when she’s still trying to find a job that she actually studied for. But moving in with Ekko fucking terrifies her.

In which Jinx and Ekko move in together and she feels very calm and normal about the ordeal.

rating: teen

word count: 9706

status: completed

crossposted to ao3

“Do you wanna move in together?”

That was the fateful question that might potentially ruin Jinx’s life.

Because when Ekko casually asked her that very question– after lamenting that his lease was ending and his roommate planned to move away– Jinx just as casually agreed, too preoccupied to properly consider what living with Ekko could mean for their relationship.

In her defense, they were in the middle of binging the latest telenovela she picked up, so her priorities had lied elsewhere at that moment… Specifically with whether or not Bianca's evil mother-in-law would successfully ruin her marriage (well, that's probably what she was trying to do).

That aside, her graduation was right around the corner, she'd already cleared out her dorm room, and her only plan was to move in with Vi to leech off her and her wife until she could afford her own place (it's a younger sibling privilege, alright).

However, given that Jinx honestly couldn't stand her sister-in-law– despite Vi's impassioned attempts to remedy that fact– moving in with her boyfriend seemed way more appealing than essentially becoming Vi and Caitlyn's permanent third wheel.

Especially when he beamed at her when she said yes, showing her that smile that spread so wide it made his dimples show. Jinx would've joked that she needed a pair of sunglasses because of him, had her stomach not been preoccupied with doing backflips at the sight.

That, combined with his excitement as he showed her different apartment listings they could apply for, made it hard for her to consider how this could be a bad idea. Now that they’re actually here, however, Jinx's mind is racing, her heart is pounding, and she comes to a singular, damning realization.

She's scared.

The feeling hits her belatedly. Akin to the sensation of getting stabbed and the pain only hitting hours later when the rush of adrenaline has worn off (...which is totally not something that actually happened to her). It only occurs to her when she and Ekko are already in their new apartment, moving in dozens of boxes with their belongings.

And what is she scared of, you might ask? The chewed holes which are obvious signs of a rat infestation? The warnings from their new landlord that they should keep the toilet lid shut in case of cockroaches? Or maybe the array of loud and extremely suspicious sounds at night?

Nope. Not even close. Jinx was born and raised in Zaun, then spent the last four years of her life in a college dormitory the size of a peanut. She could deal with a shabby, cheap first apartment. Especially when she’s still trying to find a job that she actually studied for.

But moving in with Ekko fucking terrifies her.

“Fuck, I'm tired,” Ekko groans, setting down the last box of their haul. They've had to move everything by themselves since none of their friends had time to help them– the downside of moving on a Tuesday afternoon.

Jinx doesn’t spare him a glance while putting down a box herself, reaching for a pair of scissors on the kitchen counter so she can cut it open. Her body moves on autopilot, mind still racing with concerns.

Why the fuck is moving in with Ekko so nerve-wracking all of a sudden? Jinx didn't feel a sliver of doubt before. Not while they were apartment hunting; Nor when they had to collect a headache-inducing amount of documents to apply for this place; Not even when they were actually signing the lease. But now she's standing in their new apartment and can only think of all the ways this could go wrong.

“...inx? Jinx!” She startles at the sound of her name, a resounding clatter echoing across the still-bare apartment as the scissors fall out of her hand and onto the tiled floor.

Cursing under her breath, she bends down to pick them up, her hand brushing against Ekko's – since when was he standing beside her? – who bent down to do the same.

“Careful.” His tone is gentle, but it only sets her nerves further alight. “Are you alright?”

She looks up to find his gaze already trained on her, a furrow forming between his brow at her lack of response. Fucking fantastic, they just moved in and she's already stressing him out.

Jinx snorts as nonchalantly as she can. “What? You think a pair of kitchen scissors is gonna take me out?”

Ekko gives her his signature unimpressed look, the one he only gives her when they're bantering, and Jinx feels something in her chest ease at the potential landmine she just averted. But then, because he's Ekko and can never let things go without looking for a problem to solve, he continues, “You know that's not what I meant.”

“Of course I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?” Jinx lies because she's a fucking liar, even adding an exaggerated eye roll to sell the bit. Honestly, she should get an Oscar.

Ekko doesn't look convinced, however, so maybe she should kiss that make-believe Oscar goodbye. Before he can open his mouth and keep pushing, Jinx says, “What did you call me for anyway?”

At her not-so-subtle diversion, he gives her That Look. The one that, over the last two years, Jinx has learned to read as “We're not done talking about this.” And that's perfectly fine with her, because unbeknownst to Ekko, they are done talking about it. In fact, there's nothing to talk about. It's just her having first apartment jitters. Or something.

After all, Jinx has never lived by herself, and that in and of itself is already nerve-wracking. She's fresh out of college, still job hunting, and her cooking expertise is limited to grilled cheese sandwiches and instant ramen. So surely it's perfectly normal to feel this way. She'll get over it and they'll go back to the way they were.

Jinx innocently looks at him as if there's nothing wrong (because there isn't!). Eventually, Ekko just sighs and answers, “I asked you what we should get for dinner. Ionian? Pizza?”

“What? You're not cooking a three-star Michelin meal for our first day together?” she jokes.

Leveling her with an unimpressed stare, Ekko walks further into their desolate kitchen, still looking at her over his shoulder. “Right, how could I forget?” He blindly reaches forward, grabbing at air. “Let me just grab some ingredients from the– Oh.” His head swivels to look at the space in front of him, before he turns back to her with feigned surprise, and says, “Oh, that's right. We don't have a fridge!”

She snorts at his dramatics before she frowns and thinks. “Didn't you already have a fridge, though?”

“I did.” He walks back to her, leaning back against one of the counters. “I let Scar take most our furniture. He has a baby on the way, so he's losing enough money as it is.”

Jinx blinks, surprised at the revelation. She's not sure why. Of course Ekko of all people would do something so stupidly selfless.

Despite the warm flutter in her chest, she groans and says, “You know you're disgustingly nice, right?” He rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny it, so she pulls herself up to sit on the counter beside him and asks, “So now what? We go fridge-shopping tomorrow?”

“We could.” Ekko shrugs. “Or we borrow my dad's minivan and drive to the dump to see if some sucker from Piltover threw out a perfectly good fridge.”

“Now there's a good idea!”

“Know what else is a good idea?” He moves to stand in front of her, resting his hands on her knees and gently pushing them apart so he can stand between them. Without thinking about it, Jinx rests her arms on his shoulders as she inquisitively hums so he'll continue.

“Dinner,” he concludes. “Now tell me what you want so I can pick something up.”

With a sigh, she looks up at the ceiling while considering his question. It’s covered in yellow stains. Gross. They should repaint the walls. Maybe she could even add some fun designs…She’s pretty sure Vi has spare paint cans lying around somewhere.

The hands on her thighs briefly tighten, drawing her attention back to him. Still undecided, she shrugs. “Just get whatever, it’s fine.”

Ekko stares at her entirely unconvinced, but doesn't say anything. Eventually, she cracks and asks, “What?”

“So you'll eat whatever I get for dinner. Am I hearing that right?”

“Yes! It’s fine, I'm not that picky.”

“I swear,” he sighs, “if I come back with takeout and you say you don't feel like eating it again–”

“What?!” Jinx interrupts, indignation flaring. “I never do that!”

“You do this every single time!” Ekko argues, pulling away from her. Jinx reluctantly lets him, despite the coldness seeping into the growing space between their bodies. “I’m not buying shit until you pick something.”

Jinx groans, but knows better than to doubt Ekko's stubbornness at this point, so she concedes, “Okay, fine! Get the fish stew from Jericho then.”

Ekko's already reaching for his jacket by the entryway when Jinx yells “Wait!” and jumps off the counter, running to him. Grabbing both his cheeks, she squishes their mouths together in a chaste kiss before pulling back and adding, “And get your own fries this time, you glutton.”

“Man, whatever,” he grumbles, shrugging on his jacket while Jinx just laughs. “I'm leaving, be back soon, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jinx shoos him away. “Go get dinner already! I'll start on the bed so we can sleep tonight.”

The door closes with a thud that feels much louder than she realistically knows it is. She turns back to look at the apartment. Their apartment. Despite its modest size, without Ekko here, it feels much too large for her liking.

With a sigh, she tries to exhale the last of her doubts, reaching for the abandoned kitchen scissors so she can cut the bubble wrap off their disassembled bed.

She can shake these feelings off. They're just first apartment jitters, right?

Sadly – by the time they managed to procure a fridge from the city dump, haul it up the stairs and into their apartment – the nerves have not faded. The aggravating argument they had in the downstairs hallway did not help matters: Ekko bemoaning they should've gotten a trolley while she insisted the two of them would be able to drag it up the stairs just fine without one.

Luckily, their landlady overheard them and did in fact have a trolley, sparing them the trouble of finding out (but Jinx knows for a fact they could've made it work anyway). She would've argued as much, but one look at Ekko's face had her swallowing any more arguments, along with the bile suddenly rising in her throat. Because Ekko looked annoyed with her. And sure, that wasn't an uncommon occurrence, but it felt different now that they were living together.

What if he regrets it now? Regrets her. They've barely started living together, but what if he's already tired of her being in his space all the time? Of her always messing things up; of her chaos; of her stubbornness; of her impulsiveness; of her always ruining things– What if it’s too much now that he has to be around her constantly?

Jinx glances at Ekko and considers asking. Maybe it’ll be better just to rip off the bandage.

“Let’s never do that shit again,” he says, standing up from where he sat slumped against the wall after they nearly got taken out carrying a fridge up two flights of stairs. He catches her eye before she can look away and raises a curious eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Do you hate me now? Am I annoying? Do you want to break up? The questions try to rise to the tip of her tongue but get stuck in her throat, suffocating her.

“Nothing,” she ends up saying. Because what if she rips off the bandage and finds a gunshot wound? Or what if her brain is just setting her up for failure again and she creates a problem where there never was one?

Ekko nods as if there’s nothing wrong; As if he didn’t just look at her like he hates her and regrets this–

Alright, she might be spiraling and has to calm down.

“I’m gonna return my dad's van and give this to Babette while I'm at it. Be right back, alright?” He grabs Babette's trolley and heads out before she can respond.

Jinx does not flinch at the resounding thud after he closes the door.

She’s not spiraling. Definitely not spiraling. He said he’ll be back and she believes him and everything will be okay.

Sitting here trapped with only her thoughts, which predictably, fucking suck, is making her jittery. She has to do something to turn off her brain and redirect her focus. Something useful so Ekko won’t hate her.

She looks at their newly acquired fridge and feels a light bulb turn on over her head, nearly tripping over her own feet in her excitement to race to the fridge.

Before he headed out, the two of them had managed to put it in the right spot and plug the power cord in. By now it should've been running for long enough that Jinx can start figuring out what's wrong with the damn thing.

Opening the fridge (and nearly gagging at the smell), she looks around and tries to figure out what’s wrong with it. She’ll fix the fridge and they’ll have one less thing to worry about.

By the time the front door opens, Jinx has four boxes hauled into the kitchen, electronics and mechanical parts spilling out (because she's a hoarder and keeps everything just in case it's useful one day), her phone blasting Pentakill on the counter, and is sitting hunched inside of the fridge.

At the creak of the door, she peaks her head out of the fridge and grins at the sight of Ekko…Well, as close as she can get to a grin with four nails precariously trapped between her teeth.

“Hey.” He closes the door with one hand, balancing a tub of tupperware in the other. “You been busy?”

Jinx spits out the nails so she can respond, “Yup! Fridge is almost done. I fixed up the compressor, the seals, replaced the vents, and now I’m just changing some broken lights.”

She carefully places the nails down on the counter, right next to the tupperware Ekko had just set down, prompting her to ask, “What about you, huh? Whatcha got there?”

Before he can even answer, Jinx is already ripping off the lid, revealing pasta covered in chicken and a creamy sauce, steam still wafting off the food. A satisfied hum escapes her mouth at the fragrant smell.

Ekko laughs at her palpable excitement. “My mom made us pasta. I'll let her know it was a hit.”

“Absolutely. Her cooking is the best part about dating you.” Jinx grins, popping the lid back on.

He scoffs, mock-offended. “That’s the best part? Not the fact that I'm smart, super funny, handsome, and always buy you those disgusting drinks?”

Jinx scrunches her nose as she pretends to consider his question for a moment, before she concludes, "Nope. Definitely none of those things."

“I see how it is…” Ekko clicks his tongue. “Know what? Let me just take this and go.” He moves to pick up the pasta, but Jinx practically launches herself at the container before he can get very far.

“Wait, wait, wait! I take it back. I'll even tolerate your Mountain Dew hatred.” Seeing his unimpressed look and steadfast grip on the tupperware, Jinx grumbles and adds, “And the best part of dating you is that you're smart and funny and hot and a great kisser– Now stop making me say embarrassing shit!”

Ekko hums in consideration, before nodding and finally releasing the pasta from his clutches. “Alright, the delivery wasn't that great but you get bonus points for the great kisser thing.”

Jinx scoffs, grabbing the forgotten screws off the counter. “You suck.”

“Thanks, love you too,” he answers with a saccharine smile.

In a tragic turn of events, her heart flutters at his words, despite their obvious sarcasm. But she refuses to give him any more leverage over her, so just grumbles, “Whatever, I’m gonna finish up these lights so we can eat.”

“Alright, I’ll go ahead and plate this up then,” he answers, rummaging through their several unpacked bags, presumably in search of plates and cutlery.

For a moment, quiet settles over them as they get to work on their respective tasks. The apartment is filled with sounds of rustling bags and metal touching as Jinx drives the screws back in, carefully maneuvering her head so her shadow doesn’t block the dying light of the sun spilling through the windows.

She hears Ekko begin humming to the next song on her playlist– the music scarcely loud enough to block out the rush of traffic and passing trains just outside their apartment– and her heart swells at the sound. Or maybe it’s from the realization of how…normal this is.

Because Jinx has never really had anything normal or stable in her life. She fucks things up and people leave her and end up hating her. But maybe, just maybe, if it’s with Ekko, she doesn’t have to feel that way.

Of course, just as she has this epiphany, Ekko innocently asks, “Why’d you get started on the fridge anyway? I figured we’d do it together some other time,” and the feeling crumbles and disperses with the wind, like it was never there in the first place.

Dread fills its place instead, and Jinx has to force herself to swallow it down before she responds, her voice carefully neutral, “Oh, you know, I just figured it’d be better to get the damn thing over with.”

She can’t glean much from his responding hum, the sound too dispassionate for her to analyze how he feels. And how she should respond in turn. So, cautiously, she asks, “Why? Are you mad I did it without you?”

“No?” The genuine confusion in his voice fills Jinx with a contradictory sense of relief and shame. “I just thought it would be easier if we did it together, but if you already got it that's great.”

So it's nothing. Great. He's not mad at her. See? Everything's fine and she did a super helpful thing and he's taking it well and so is she and–

“Fuck,” Ekko curses, breaking her train of thought.

…Shit, maybe he is lying.

“Jinx.” This is it, she thinks, holding her breath as she waits for the other shoe to drop. “I…may have forgotten to bring any plates.”

…

Well.

That was anticlimactic.

Jinx blinks and turns to look at him across the room, a sheepish smile on his face, as he sits on the floor surrounded by a dozen ravished bags and unpacked boxes. A beat of silence. Jinx blankly stares at him. Then laughter spills from her, bursting uncontrollably from her under all the pressure.

Ekko looks at her nonplussed. “Jinx?”

“No, no,” she wipes a stray tear from her eye, “it’s nothing.”

Jinx just shakes her head, her brain doing its best not to lag behind this ridiculous turn of events. She begins setting her tools aside and shutting the fridge. It’s as good as done anyway, might as well take a rain check on that and leave cleaning it for tomorrow.

"Well, do we have forks?" she asks, pausing the music before walking over to Ekko. He remains seated on the floor, his back turned to her as he stubbornly continues to check all the bags despite what he just told her.

“Uh, yeah,” he raises a hand to vaguely gesture in the direction of three other bags, while the bag in front of him has his undivided attention, “somewhere in there, I think. I just can’t believe I forgot to get plates of all things.”

“Well, no point crying over spilled milk, right?” Jinx shrugs, leaning forward and resting her hands on his shoulders. He looks up at her with a frown; his face looks funny upside down like this. “How about you grab your laptop, I get those forks, and we can watch a show while we eat?”

He sighs and gently removes her hands so he can stand up, giving her a knowing look as he asks, “You mean that telenovela we should just find subtitles for?”

“It’s more fun when you don’t know what’s going on!” Jinx argues, shoving him in the direction of their bedroom. “Now get your laptop already so we can enjoy our three-star Michelin meal.”

He ends up laughing at her words, the sound breaking his facade of exasperation. Jinx just rolls her eyes as she turns to rummage through the other bags until she finally manages to spot the forks.

With a hum, she washes the forks clean before popping the lid off the tupperware and artfully sticking the now-clean forks in. Jinx steps into their living room – if it can even be called that in its sorry state – with the tupperware in one hand, briefly bending down so she can pick up a leftover six-pack of cola with the other.

She takes a look around the bare room, trepidation filling her at how empty it is. Will this last long enough for her to see it filled with their belongings? Or will this relationship reach its inevitable end before they've even painted the walls and hung the curtains?

Two years. That’s how long she’s been dating Ekko now. Ekko, who has been in her life since that one fateful summer when she was eleven. Back when she was still filled with childish naivety and had hopes that one day somebody would love her just as she is.

Of course, then life happened and she got a rude reality check.

Because Jinx didn't have healthy and committed relationships; Jinx texted hot guys on Tinder and flirted with pretty girls on campus she didn’t give a shit about; Jinx had toxic situationships that were bound to crash and burn, to remind her that no one could ever really love her.

How Ekko's managed to put up with her for so long – enough so that he'd ask her to live with him – she has no idea. But she's never done this before with anyone, never been in a relationship with anyone as long as she has been with Ekko. And a treacherous part of her mind always insists that this can’t last.

Yet Jinx can’t bring herself to leave before she gets burned either. So she lives in dread, awaiting the day he finally realizes what he's gotten himself into. She's always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to decide he's tired of her.

“Alright, ready?” Ekko’s voice startles her out of her thoughts. She whips her head in his direction, his smile shining through the clouded parts of her mind like a ray of sunlight.

“Yeah.” She nods, plopping down on her bean bag and taking a deep, calming breath through her nose. “So, uh, what episode were we on?”

Ekko sets the laptop on the floor between them, frowning at her while Jinx innocently plays with one of her braids and pretends she doesn’t notice.

Unfortunately, she must not be very successful, since he insistently meets her eyes anyway and asks, “What's up with you?”

“Hm?” She raises a curious eyebrow, feigning ignorance. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” He sighs. “You’ve just been acting weird these last couple of days. Are you–

“No.” She doesn’t know what he was trying to ask her, but she has a feeling she doesn’t want to know either.

Ekko looks unconvinced. In fact, he looks like he wants to argue more; like he wants to fix whatever’s wrong. Typical Ekko, always ready to solve everyone else’s problems even when he already has too much on his plate. And he really has his work cut out for him when it comes to her.

With a sigh, she stands in front of him and rests her hands on his shoulders, using the leverage to guide him to sit on the other bean bag. “Look, I’m fine, okay? Just a little tired after today. Can we relax and worry about the rest tomorrow, please?”

For a moment he simply frowns at her, then his expression softens. He raises her hand off his shoulder, drawing circles on her inner wrist with his thumb, before he raises it to his mouth and places a gentle kiss there. Jinx feels her stomach flip at the soft press of his lips on her skin.

“Alright.” He nods at her abandoned bean bag beside him. “Now sit down, I'm starving.”

Any witty quip she might've come up with dies at the tip of her tongue as she's filled with warmth all over, mutely nodding as she sits back down beside him.

“Hold on,” Ekko says, scrolling down his phone, “I gotta turn on my hotspot. I called the internet provider but they can't hook us up ‘til next week.”

Jinx hums in response, popping open a can of cola for herself and setting another one aside for Ekko. Something nudges at the back of her mind at his words, but she can't quite put her finger on it.

“Okay, got it.” Ekko presses play on the telenovela, the opening song playing while he grabs one of the forks to scarf down a generous bite of the pasta.

Jinx snorts. “Sheesh, didn't know you were starving.” Suddenly a light bulb turns on over her head. “Oh, we should do groceries tomorrow! You know, now that we actually have a fridge.” She makes a face. “After we clean the damn thing, that is.”

Ekko swallows down his food, before responding, “Didn't you say you wanted to relax and forget about all this?”

“Ugh, whatever.” Jinx weakly smacks his arm. “I'm just thinking ahead and all that. Really, you should be proud of me.”

“Oh, definitely.” Ekko sagely nods, before reaching out to flick her nose, eliciting an indignant yelp from Jinx. “Now if you really wanna make me proud, eat some dinner already. I know for a fact you only ate a pop-tart today.”

She scoffs. “Like you’re one to talk, spaceboy. You ate froot loops straight out of the box this morning and you’re gonna school me on healthy eating?”

“...Let’s just watch the damn show and eat.”

It takes Jinx two whole minutes to stop laughing so hard that she can in fact watch the damn show and eat.

They’ve been standing in front of the herbs and spices aisle for ten minutes now.

“Your mom text back yet?” Jinx asks, turning to Ekko.

He puts his phone away with a sigh. “Nope.”

“I don’t get it. I thought you knew how to cook.”

“I do!” he insists. “But Scar usually did the groceries so I didn’t have to think about what I should buy. I just grabbed what I needed from the cupboards.”

“Hm.” Jinx squints at him. “So you’re a conman.”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t wanna hear that from you, you can’t even cook.”

“But I can bake!”

“Doesn’t count, baking is just chemistry.”

Jinx glares at him for a moment, before giving up and redirecting her attention back to the spice aisle. “Whatever! Let’s just grab some shit and go. We can just come back if we need more spices.” She grabs for salt, pepper, cinnamon, cajun, smoked paprika, garlic powder– whatever she can get her hands on– carelessly tossing a myriad of spice jars into their shopping cart.

“Assuming we can come back,” Ekko says, holding the cart steady so Jinx can climb back inside.

“Oh, not this again.” Jinx groans, rearranging the groceries so she can comfortably sit around them. “You get banned from a grocery store one time–

“Most people don’t get banned from grocery stores at all,” he interrupts, rolling the cart towards the checkout queue.

“Okay, but it was a Piltie store, so that doesn't even count.”

“True,” Ekko concedes, “but I got banned too even though I didn't do shit! I was just collateral damage.”

“That's cause you're my baby,” Jinx sing-songs in the most annoying voice she can muster, leaning forward to grab Ekko's face and planting a wet kiss on his cheek. The motion nearly causes him to steer them into a wall. “If I can't go, you can't either. Ride or die, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ekko grumbles, rolling his eyes, but Jinx can see the way he presses his lips together, suppressing a smile.

They join the check-in queue, Jinx remaining seated in the shopping cart as she and Ekko work in tandem to place all their groceries on the rolling band. A lady in front of them sneaks curious glances at her. They come to an abrupt end when Jinx pointedly turns her head around to stare the woman down.

Ekko doesn't comment on the exchange, but she can hear him laughing under his breath. In response, she sticks her tongue out at him, before continuing to place their groceries on the rolling band.

By the time they finish, their things have taken up all the space on the band, and Jinx has a mini heart attack when she's in the middle of packing their fourth grocery bag and she sees the total come in over five hundred dollars. She eyes Ekko incredulously, who just shrugs and takes out his card to pay for their groceries.

“...I didn’t think it’d cost that much,” she mutters when they’re outside, raising her arms so Ekko will lift her out of the shopping cart.

“Well, inflation is a bitch,” he grunts as he picks her up, carefully setting her down on the ground, “and we had to buy pretty much everything under the sun since our place is empty.”

Jinx knows it's irrational, but she still can't help but worry that she's a burden. That this is yet another reason why he'll inevitably tire of her. Her arms remain wrapped around his neck and Jinx uses the physical contact to steady her nerves as she asserts, “I’ll pay next time, okay?”

She nervously bites the inside of her cheek as she waits for Ekko’s response, but he just stares at her nonplussed. Then he chuckles, squeezing her cheek between his fingers and pulling the flesh free from her teeth. The action startles an indignant whine from her.

“I'm your boyfriend, Jinx, I'll take care of you,” he assures. “Don't worry so much about shit like that, okay?”

Her heart feels so warm and full at his declaration that it threatens to burst out of her chest. So Jinx channels the feeling by grabbing his face and peppering it with kisses. When she finally reaches his mouth, she lingers and feels him smiling against her lips in response.

She breaks the kiss, stepping out of his space and assenting, “Okay.”

“Good.” He smiles and ruffles her hair. “Now let’s go,” he says, grabbing half of their bags from the shopping cart, “next train leaves in fifteen.”

Jinx grabs the other two bags and falls into step beside him. Despite what she just said, she can’t help but still feel a deep-seated doubt that compels her to say, “...What if we return some of the spices? It should save us at least some cash.”

Ekko looks at her, affronted. “Hell no, we are not eating unseasoned food like Vi’s Piltie wife.”

The laugh that startles out of Jinx melts away the remainder of her nerves.

When they finally make it back to their apartment (which still feels weird but Jinx is warming up to the concept more and more) night has fallen. Neon lights from the street signs outside cast a faint glow over the otherwise dark room. Yeah, they should invest in some good curtains.

Jinx struggles to drag the bags into the kitchen, ungracefully dropping them on the floor. “Oh thank god,” she groans, rubbing at her sore arms. “I’m gonna go…” she trails off, shuffling her way into the living area and collapsing face-first onto one of the bean bags.

She hears Ekko laugh at her dramatics, turning on the lights and locking the door before making his way over to crash down beside her.

“Hi,” he says.

She turns her head to look at him. He's smiling at her, compelling her to smile back. “Hi.”

His hand inches towards her face and Jinx feels his thumb brush against her forehead, wiping a bead of sweat away. “You should take a shower.”

“With you?” she jokes, with an exaggerated wiggle of her eyebrows.

“No, not with me.” He huffs an amused breath, leaning out of her space to get up. He rises with a tired groan, pressing a hand to the back of his neck to rub at the soreness, before giving her a reassuring smile. “I’m serious, go ahead. I’ll unpack the groceries in the meantime.”

“Well, then I’m serious too,” Jinx decides, pushing herself up to stand beside him. “We’re gonna unpack this mess together, and then we’ll take a shower. Also together.” She shoots him a cheeky grin. “It’ll lower our water bill.”

“Oh, that's why?” Ekko smirks, raising an eyebrow at her. “You don’t have some ulterior motive?”

“No!” Jinx insists, faux-offended. “Why? What were you thinking about, you pervert?”

“Whatever,” Ekko laughs, grabbing one of the bags and putting it atop the counter. “Come on then, let's get this over with so we can keep that water bill low.”

She happily joins him in the kitchen and they work in comfortable silence as they unpack everything, filling up the previously empty cabinets. Jinx allows hope to fill her heart along with them; allows herself to finally believe that this can last and their home will only become fuller and fuller with their shared memories.

After all, they've already made it this far. Who's to say they can't do this for the rest of their lives?

“Hey, what if we pick up some paint tomorrow?” Jinx says, passing Ekko a bag of sugar so he can put it in the cupboard. “We could spruce up those boring walls a little.”

Ekko turns to look at her, taking the bag from her. “Oh, good thinking–

Darkness falls over the room, putting an abrupt stop to Ekko’s words.

…She really can’t have shit, huh?

“What the hell?” she hears him say while her eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden darkness. Then a bright light shines in front of her. Ekko turned on his phone’s flashlight.

Jinx blinks nonplussed. “Did…Did our power just go out?”

“Looks like it.” Ekko turns to look out the window, where the neon lights still shine bright. “And it’s just us.”

“That can’t be right.” Jinx frowns, that sense of foreboding creeping up on her again. “I’m gonna go check our meters.”

Ekko nods in agreement, swiping down his phone. The bag of sugar lies forgotten next to him. “Okay, I’m calling the energy provider in the meantime.”

She tries to ignore the uneasy feeling that grows in her gut as she reaches for her phone, turning on the flashlight before making her way to their supply closet. Upon opening the door, a cloud of dust bursts out of the supply closet, nearly sending her into a coughing fit. Jinx ignores it, simply swiping away any cobwebs so she can step inside and look at their meters.

Shit. There are no digits on it. In a panic, Jinx flips various buttons up and down to see if anything will happen. However, the apartment remains dark and it steadily gets colder because their gas no longer works either.

Eventually– when she tires of attempting to magically turn their electricity back on while being held hostage by her own panic– Jinx gives up. She tries in vain to breathe out her nerves as she steps back into the living room. Ekko has wrapped up his call and is frowning at her.

“Jinx,” he starts, rubbing at his temples. She thinks she might throw up. “I thought you called the energy company last week?”

“I did!” she insists. Didn't she? Oh no. The thought that’d been locked into a corner of her mind rushes to the forefront, slamming into her like a train. She didn't.

“If you did, I'm pretty sure we’d have electricity right now.” Ekko sighs, exasperated. “I just called them and they say you never called back when they left a message that they’d cut off our power.”

“I…” She fucked up. She always fucks up.

“Did you really forget? Or…or is this why you’ve been acting weird? Do you actually not–

“I did forget!” she shrieks, her breath becoming shorter and shorter. “I always ruin things, so I messed up again. What else is new?” The cruel laugh that escapes her throat gets smothered by an ugly sob. “And– And I know you hate me. I know you’re tired of me. Just like everyone else. I…” she trails off, her throat closing up and preventing her from continuing.

The beat of her heart drums so loudly in her ears that it drowns out everything else. She can’t even hear how Ekko must be berating her, now that he’s finally had enough of her. His voice is strangely far away. Like her head has been dunked underwater.

Tears and a lack of oxygen blur her vision. But Jinx stubbornly holds her breath anyway, tightly pressing her lips together so she doesn’t break down right here and now.

“Hey! Jinx! Look at me!”

She flinches when she feels something touch her. Ekko. His hands on her arms. But his touch feels vice-like, suffocating her. She can’t do this right now. She pulls away from him as if burned, her stumbling steps turning into a full run.

Jinx wants to crawl out of her skin.

She has to get away from this.

Away from another person who hates her guts.

Another relationship she’s ruined.

She rushes into the bathroom, frantically slamming the door behind her and fumbling with the lock. Her breath comes out shallow and shaky, leaving her so light-headed that she ends up sliding down the floor.

Her head is pounding. Or is it Ekko pounding on the door? She can’t tell the difference anymore. She covers her ears with her hands, nails digging into her scalp as she desperately tries to drown everything out. She's squeezing her eyes shut so hard it forces the tears to slide down her face.

It’s her fault.

Always her fault.

She’s just a jinx, after all.

And now Ekko hates her, just like everyone else.

When she finally gathers the nerve to open her eyes everything is agonizingly quiet. She has no idea how much time has passed as she slowly picks herself up from the ground, her body sore and cold from how long she’s sat there.

Her reflection in the bathroom mirror is a mess, her eyes swollen, streaks of mascara running down her cheeks. She would’ve laughed at the fact that she resembles a raccoon if she didn’t still feel like crawling out of her skin.

With shaky hands she opens the medicine cabinet, unscrews the cap on her medication, and swallows the pill dry. The ensuing silence has her slamming the cabinet shut with more force than necessary.

Ekko must be sleeping already, assuming he’s still there. She’s too afraid to find out; too afraid to leave this bathroom and face the inevitable end of their relationship.

Instead, she kicks off her shoes and then strips off the rest of her clothes. They lie abandoned on the floor as Jinx steps into the bath and turns on the water.

The shower is frightfully cold, but Jinx is grateful for it. This is what she deserves, after all. She's shaking all over and her teeth are clattering, but at least her tears blend right in with the pour of water raining down on her skin.

Her fingers are pruning by the time she finally turns off the faucet. The iciness of the water no longer affects her, instead she just feels numb to the core. Water drips off her and onto the floor, as she steps out of the tub, leaving a wet trail in her wake when she finally gathers the courage to unlock the bathroom door and push it open.

In the dead of the night, its creaky hinges are like nails on a chalkboard. But the silence that follows is far more painful. He left. Of course he did. What did Jinx expect? She ruined this just like she ruined everything in her life. Why did he even ask her to move in with him? So he’d finally have a fucking excuse to leave her?

She makes her way to the bedroom and finds he’s not there either. One last bit of hope, that she didn’t realize she still possessed, shatters at the realization; at the confirmation that he really did leave her.

She doesn’t even have the energy to sob anymore. Her tears just quietly slide down her face as she shuffles into the room and scavenges through the dressing drawer containing Ekko’s clothes until she finds his favorite hoodie.

She’s tempted to set the thing on fire; to cut it into pieces and throw it into the trash. But honestly? She misses him. And it smells so much like him. So instead she just pulls it over her head and crawls into bed.

Jinx firmly wraps the blanket around herself to fight off the chill, but it's little use. The duvet is a poor substitute for the warmth Ekko always radiates when he's wrapped up around her. The fact that she’s still wet from her shower isn’t helping matters either.

It takes her several hours to stop crying. Even her tear ducts end up getting exhausted. Though she inevitably passes out, it's a fitful sleep. Jinx can hardly remember the last time she slept alone, but she'll have to learn how to get used to it again.

To put it plainly: Jinx wakes up feeling like shit. Her head is killing her, her skin is dry, and her hair is a damp, tangled mess.

And worst of all, Ekko isn’t lying beside her.

She reaches for his pillow, squeezing it to her chest and breathing in his smell. Maybe if she keeps lying here, it’ll turn out that none of this is real. It was all just a nightmare and Ekko will be in the kitchen. He’ll be eating those stupid fucking froot loops as fast as he can before he has to run to catch his train to work.

She spends several more minutes in bed, before deciding to get up and rip off the bandaid. He’s gone. Maybe instead of staying here and drowning in her misery, she’d be better off if she just left too.

Even if the thought makes her want to cry all over again.

Her head is spinning when she gets out of bed, but she forces herself to shuffle to the dresser anyway and pulls out a pair of sweats and socks, quietly slipping them on before leaving the room.

She stumbles into the living room. Her heart hurts being in here without Ekko. The unhung curtains, the TV still sealed in bubble wrap, the posters they securely tucked away– All of it for nothing. The home they were supposed to share would be emptied before they could even fill it.

She pauses when her foot bumps into something hard on the floor and looks down to see her phone. Jinx must’ve dropped it last night without noticing. With a frown, she picks it up, tapping the screen and cringing when she sees her battery at fourteen percent.

Then she sees her notifications: Seven missed calls, four voicemails, and six unread messages. All from Ekko.

Jinx drops her phone as if burned. It clatters on the floor, but she can’t bring herself to pick it up when she feels panic overtaking her again. She doesn’t want to know what he has to say. But at the same time, she’s dying to find out.

The dilemma has her pacing the room for ten minutes before she groans and snatches her stupid phone off the floor again. With her heart in her throat, Jinx opens the messages.

BEST BOY ❣️ Hey I get that you don't wanna talk to me rn so imma stay with my folks for now I'm really sorry abt what happened can we talk about it? Just tell me if you want me to come back or nah Please I love you

Jinx can only blink as she reads his messages. Then she makes herself stop so she doesn’t tear up again. She moves to sit back on the bean bag and opens the first voicemail.

“Hey.” Her heart squeezes at the sound of Ekko’s voice. It’s barely been half a day, yet somehow she feels like she hasn’t heard him talk to her in an eternity.

“I’m, uh, really sorry for hurting you. Oh. And I emptied the fridge cause, you know, no power and all that…And I just-” He abruptly stops, and all Jinx hears is a loud sigh. “Man, I suck at doing these things over the phone. Could we talk about it? In person? I’ll, uh, give you some space, but please let me know if you’re okay, at least.”

The other voicemails echo similar sentiments. Jinx listens to them over and over again, despite the way her heart aches.

He sounds so distraught. Stumbling over his words and his voice cracking in a way that’s so uncharacteristic of him. Just when she thought she had no tears left to cry, more fall from her eyes as she listens to Ekko speak.

Jinx aggressively wipes her tears away with her sleeve and assesses their apartment again through a different lens.

Maybe…maybe she can still try and fix things. She might not succeed but, fuck it, she has nothing left to lose at this point. At the very least– even if her relationship with Ekko is doomed, even if he’s already realized he’s better off without her– maybe she can try to make this less bad for him. Because he always made things better for her.

She picks up her phone, reopens the messages Ekko left her, and begins typing. And deleting her words. And typing again. And deleting her words again. The cycle only ends when her phone interrupts it by notifying her that her battery level is at ten percent.

…Alright, she should seriously wrap this up. She types out four simple words, then locks her phone and gets ready to go run some errands.

You come over at 6

A drop of paint falls to the newspaper on the floor when Jinx lifts the paint roller too quickly in her excitement to finish the job. The sun is already beginning to set, casting deep shadows and a warm orange glow over the room, but Jinx is so close to the finish line that she refuses to quit now.

She’s so caught up in the job, that the sound of a lock turning has her freezing on the spot and staring at the unmoving paint roller on the wall, before she forces herself to keep rolling, not looking in the direction of the front door.

Up and down. Up and down. She focuses on the motions of her paint roller; on the hyper-pop music blaring from her phone; on anything but the sound of Ekko's nearing footsteps.

“You started painting?”

She still can't help but take a sharp breath when she realizes how close his voice sounds, looking over her shoulder to see him standing behind her.

He looks as groggy as she feels, with deep eyebags set under his eyes and frown lines marring his forehead as if they’re permanently etched on his face.

“You look like shit,” she blurts out.

He lets out an incredulous laugh. It gets rid of those frown lines on his forehead like a tidal wave washing away footsteps in the sand. “You always know just what to say.”

Jinx lets out a weak chuckle. It really does suck how even at a time like this, talking to Ekko is as easy as breathing.

“So,” he continues, while Jinx sets aside the paint roller and turns off the music playing from her phone, “black, huh?”

She looks back at the wall she just finished painting. “Yeah, I thought…” she nervously picks at her cuticles, “I just thought it'd be cool to spray paint art on it after.”

“Great minds, huh?” Ekko awkwardly chuckles.

Confused, she turns to see what he means and realizes he's holding a bag full of spray paint in one hand, and a bucket of white paint in the other.

“Oh.” Now it’s her turn to feel awkward. “Yeah, I guess they do.”

She waits for him to respond, but Ekko looks as lost as she feels, his eyes nervously flickering between the candles decorating the apartment and her.

Seeing him like that would normally make her feel more anxious, but at this point, Jinx has already made peace with the fact they won’t be able to salvage this. So fine, guess she’ll be the one who takes the plunge.

“I called the energy provider too.” She sighs, pacing around the room. “They can hook up the power again in two days. So I figured candles are better than nothing for now.”

She stops, closing her eyes to focus on forcing her next words from her mouth. “And I went over to Vi's place. She, uh,” she's still picking at her cuticles and it's starting to hurt, but the pain is the only thing grounding her, “she said I can stay at her place. I already packed my things, so you don't have to worry about me overstaying my welcome and stuff.”

“Wait. What?!”

Her eyes widen at the sudden outburst. She whips her head in Ekko's direction, nearly stumbling backward when she sees how close he got to her.

But what really throws her off is the expression on his face. Ekko looks…devastated. But this is what he wanted, isn't it? And she was even gracious enough about the whole thing to give him an easy way out.

He reaches out a hand as if to touch her, but suddenly falters mid-air.

“Why–” His voice cracks, forcing him to clear his throat. “I thought you asked me to come here so we could talk. You know, and figure this thing out.”

She grinds her jaw in frustration. Did she mess up again? She spent the whole day trying to make things right, to get out of his hair with as little mess as possible. But he still looks upset with her, she still fucked this up somehow.

“Jinx,” Ekko nervously looks down at the floor before he continues, “do you…Do you wanna break up with me?”

Wait.

What?

She gapes at him. Before she can ask how in the hell he reached that conclusion, he continues, the words spilling from his mouth, as if her suggestion broke some invisible dam.

“You've been acting off the whole week. And every time I tried to talk about it, you'd just shut me down. And I thought, I don't know, maybe I'm just overthinking. Maybe I should just let it go, but I couldn’t. ‘Cause the only other conclusion I could reach is that maybe you didn’t wanna live with me. That I’m moving too fast and let it ruin this thing we got going.”

Her entire world tilts off its axis at his confession. Flustered, Jinx can only say, “But aren’t you mad at me? You hate me.”

“What? No! Never.” He aggressively scratches the back of his head. “I did lose my cool. And I’m so fucking sorry about that…but, Jinx, me getting mad at you will never mean that I hate you. If anything, I was scared you hated me now.”

Oh. She’s so stupid. This entire time, she was so caught up in her head, so damn worried that Ekko’s behavior meant that he regretted this decision, that it never once occurred to her that he might feel that way too.

She quietly gasps when she feels his hand touch hers, his tentative hold on it preventing her from picking at her cuticles anymore.

“Jinx…” he quietly starts again, “I think it’s kinda inevitable that we’re gonna get mad at each other sometimes. Normal, even. But that doesn’t mean I'll stop loving you.

“We should have the comfort of knowing that despite pissing each other off sometimes, the love will stay. And if I do or say something that makes you feel like it won’t…then please just tell me.”

His words make her choke up, but she does her best to swallow it down as she finally gathers the nerve to ask the question that has been haunting her this entire time, “But aren't you tired of me?”

Ekko opens his mouth to respond, but Jinx continues before he can get any rebuttal in.

“And do you still love me?” Her voice is so small, it makes the question even more embarrassing than it already is.

Because she knows she’s being annoying and a burden, but she can’t stop the words from spilling out anymore, the dam breaking at the force of her insecurities.

“Sometimes, I just can’t tell,” she continues. “And then yesterday I was here all alone. And then I woke up this morning and thought what if tomorrow I’m alone too? What if I have to wake up without you every day now? What if I pissed you off one too many times, did too much stupid shit and–”

And she’s so overwhelmed by her own feelings, so emotionally exhausted, that she falls to the floor, too tired to hold up her own weight. She clutches onto Ekko’s hand like a lifeline, who grips hers back tightly before sitting down in front of her.

“Yes, I love you, Jinx.” He says it with such confidence, with so much conviction that, for a moment, it completely halts her train of thought. “I loved you yesterday and I’ll love you tomorrow.”

He reaches forward with his other hand, gingerly brushing his thumb across her cheekbone and it’s only then Jinx realizes that she’s crying again.

“And I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, okay?” he assures, and the only thing Jinx can do is fervently nod, clumsily crawling into his space and burying her head in the crook of his shoulder as she quietly sobs.

“In fact,” he holds securely despite her tremors, his touch grounding, “I’ll tell you so often you’ll probably get annoyed. Let’s start with five times by breakfast. Then maybe another ten by lunch.”

An ugly sound leaves her at his declaration, something between a laugh and a sob. Even at a moment like this, he’s so stupid. And she loves him so much for it. So much so that sometimes she fears her heart might actually beat so fast it’ll break out of her chest and kill her.

“Me too,” she cries. “Me too. I love you so much. And I’m sorry.” Those are the only words she manages to get out before she breaks down in his arms.

When she’s finally calmed down enough to steady her breathing, and her sobs have waned into quiet sniffles, she looks up at him and says, “You know this will never get easier, right? That I'm always gonna be like this.”

“I know.” He brushes the remaining tears off her face, his own eyes shining with unshed tears as well. “I don't want easier. And I’m not going anywhere.” She opens her mouth to retort, but he beats her to the punch, adding on, “Yes, even when you piss me the fuck off.”

She snorts, resting her head on his shoulder again while he brushes her hair. She feels so much lighter after everything that’s been weighing her down these last few days. Jinx closes her eyes and breathes in his scent, allowing it to steady her after the emotional whiplash she’s endured.

“...Are you wearing my hoodie?” Ekko suddenly asks, breaking the comfortable silence they were sitting in.

“Well.” Jinx awkwardly clears her throat. “Yeah. And I’m keeping it too.”

At her declaration, he throws his head back and laughs, the vibrations of it traveling from his body through hers. It’s a sound so loud and bright that it leaves Jinx in awe. “You laughed…”

The mirth dancing in his eyes softens into something sweeter as he says, “Yeah, 'cause you make me happy.”

Her heart feels like it’s bursting at the seams. She grabs both his cheeks and kisses him, using the contact of their lips as a conduit to express everything she feels to him. Her love for him is simply too overwhelming to ever put into words.

When she finally breaks the kiss, she nods to the wall, wet paint still drying. “Can we finish it together? We…we should both paint on it, I think.” He nods, picking himself up off the floor and holding a hand out to help her up.

“Bet my shit will look cooler than yours,” he says, picking up a bottle of spray paint and tossing it at her.

She laughs incredulously, popping the lid off the can and shaking it. “In your dreams, mister!”

By the time they finish, neither of them can agree on who actually had the best graffiti (but Jinx knows it’s her). A day later, they find out that they accidentally broke their lease agreement with all the graffiti, so they’d have to paint over it anyway.

Jinx can’t really bring herself to worry about it though, not when they’re both so happy.

#timebomb #ekkojinx #ekko #jinx #arcane #league of legends #writing #fanfiction #modern au #hungry posts

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bluedogxl · 2 months ago

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holy fucking shit i just got done with doctor4t’s latest content smp video. now i thought i’d never get invested enough in any sort of minecraft smp to feel the need to post about it but my god. i get it. i sat down to a 3-and-a-half hour minecraft smp slash modmaking video and it handed me my ass and a box of tissues.

(uhh. spoilers under the cut. also a lot of rambling i just have a lot to say about silly block game guy #8247247)

r4t usually being casual and jokey about the lore and story of the server is kind of what made him fun to watch, to me? like it’s obvious he cares about it, but he’s just detached enough to make him, well… approachable? i guess, as a casual viewer. a good on-ramp. i mean, his grudge with arathain (the thing tying him to basically everything in the story) started over netherite spawn rates of all things. it never felt too dense. and it’s fun to see him scheme over his revenge plots and code mods to facilitate them, but it was obvious it was all a game to him. he has fun with the lore (see the anchorblade video) but it feels like an excuse to make cool mods and play some good minecraft.

at the end of this one? holy fucking shit. i was actually about to start crying in empathy.

r4t lost basically his best friend. she sacrificed her life to save his, the same way he sold his soul to save her, and she’s gone. her anchorblade, too, easily the most significant symbol of their friendship and the tool that she used to save him, was taken or erased by a glitch or something, and the whole time he’s processing it and snapping at arathain (who’s here again? somehow?) and dragging her skull back to the cabin and building her grave and mourning her, he just… felt like he stopped doing a bit and became fully immersed in his world. the way he says how he didn’t really take the other deaths seriously, and then calls himself a monster? killed me. pronounced me goddamn stone dead. this man has acting chops. this man, for a whole like ten minutes, truly had me mourning someone who was banned from a minecraft server like she was actually six feet in the ground.

and just. the way it’s put together. so beautiful. the man’s a master of editing. i kept noticing throughout the whole thing that the portal transitions were getting so smooth. and i mean, it’s nothing super flashy or anything. it’s just… good, and solid.

to be honest, i think the video’s length helped sell it all for me. time and time again, dramatic turn after dramatic turn, we see these low points, and yeah they suck, but then you check the bar and there’s still like an hour left and you go ‘aw man i wonder how they’re gonna get out of this one!’ and then you get to lux dying, and you see r4t build her grave and bawl his eyes out and you check the bar and there’s minutes. this is the end of the book. this is the note we’re leaving off on. like, there’s still more to do. blake’s out there still, arathain’s back(?), asai is apparently in on this (i just remembered r4t offhandedly mentioning asai being on with winsweep what the fuuuuckkkkk), and so on and so forth. but that’s for next time. today’s chapter is over. get out of the theater. for some reason that just made it all hit harder.

god at the end of the day i just love this insane goddamn soap opera of a minecraft server. how did this happen to me i just wanted to see funny maid rat guy make silly mods to blow up his friends

#minecraft #content smp

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arece · 2 years ago

Text

Late Arrival

♤ John Wick x platonic!f!reader (father/daughter duo???) series masterlist

(𝟷)

♤ Summary: You accidentally kill a man after he attacks you, only to discover he's the son of a very dangerous and powerful gang leader. Your safety is now entrusted in the hands of John Wick. (2.6k)

♤ Warnings: Attempted assault (not successful or too detailed), John Wick violence and death, descriptions of injuries and blood.

♤ a/n: This is possibly one part of many. I roughly have a whole series planned out but would like to see if others are interested in it before I fully commit to it. If you have any thoughts or requests of what you'd like to see with these two, request away!

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

The bright crimson leaked a trail down the alley towards you and you threw yourself back in a last ditch effort to keep it away from you. There was already enough blood on your hands which you desperately tried to wipe away, it was too late they were already stained.

What you did finally hit you as you caught sight of the bloodied pipe tossed to the side of the now mangled body. “Fuck.” You almost start heaving as your breathing begins to pick up. Where did he even come from?

You were on your latest job for Aurelio, stealing whatever parts he needed for his latest design. He came upon you when you naively tried to steal from him months ago, when he caught you he seemed the furthest thing from pissed.

Highly amused he thought a crafty thief of a fourteen year old was good for his business. He took you in dubbing you the ‘street rat’ and you ran his errands. It was better than living on the streets, surviving off of scraps like you’d been for the last two years. Although weary of the man and his definitely not-so-legal work, you agreed to join.

Being discreet was your biggest ally, being so young you were mistaken for just a regular kid which made it easier to hide away in plain sight, stealing from the unsuspecting. After living on the streets for so long you liked to think you knew the city inside out.

Twisting through alleyways was the perfect way to remain out of sight, it was also the perfect way to get attacked. You were leaning against the wall, catching your breath after almost getting caught from your latest heist.

You may have laughed at the guy when he walked right past you, pissed off, clueing him on who stole from him. You could only think about how annoyed Aurelio was gonna be with you as you ran two extra blocks.

You noticed a shadow moving closer to you from the corner of your eye, before you could move one arm wrapped around your midsection yanking you to a chest and another covering your mouth.

You jab your elbow straight into your attackers ribs, causing them to release you but not before tossing you further back into the alley near a dumpster. You scrambled up and managed to catch sight of the person.

It was a guy, roughly in his twenties. He was tall but lanky and dressed in a way that screamed ‘douchey-rich’. The type of kids who thought they were the shit before getting robbed by the small group of street kids.

“What the fuck do you want? I didn’t take shit.” You had assumed he was one of the guys' lackeys. You realized you were wrong when a sickly smirk grew on his face, his eyes slightly crazed.

He walked closer to you and you backed up until you bumped into the dumpster. He seemed to only get more excited when he saw how scared you grew which only increased the sick feeling you felt festering. “I’m only here for some fun.”

He lunged at you, knocking you to the ground and your head slammed against the concrete. Vision blurred as you watched his wandering hands reach for you. No, no, no. You couldn’t tell if you were screaming but he still covered your mouth with one hand.

Your head turned to the side and by the corner of the dumpster you saw a lone metal pipe. Slowly, your left hand reaches for it, fingertips brushing against the cold metal before you fully have it in your grasp.

You move your hold to the middle of it and use all your strength to hit the end against the side of his head. He falls against you and you cry out, shoving him off you in a panic. Everything feels hazy and faraway.

You stand on unsteady feet now holding onto the pipe with both hands, raising it above your head you let out a sob and smash it down on his head. Again. Again. Over and over till you lose your strength and your lungs give out from your wails.

You dropped the metal beside his caved in head and fell back to the ground. Wiping the blood away desperately you scooch back from the swirling crimson puddle coming from him. Something catches the light momentarily.

A silver pin was on his jacket now tainted with his blood. You choked on your breath when you caught sight of the symbol on it - a card spade. Now you were really in for it, you just killed the son of one of the most influential gangs. Aurelio said they were second to The High Table. You didn’t know much about either but the fear in his eyes spoke volumes.

Pocketing the pin, you stumble up still in a daze. You smear trickles of blood over your face when you roughly shove your hair back. You had a lot to explain to Aurelio, maybe he’ll decide you weren’t worth the risk. Afterall, you’re as good as dead now.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

You stood in front of the garage shop, the definition of a mess. Clothes ripped, hair knotted, drenched in blood, and you were pretty sure your head was busted open from the earlier fall. Aurelio rushed out, pushing past the others to reach you.

“What the fuck happened?” He eyed you over, his worry breaking through his angered demeanor. You numbly reached into your pocket and held out the bloodied spade pin, “I didn’t mean to.”

He did a once over of the pin and you before shoving one of the chairs beside him, “fuck.” You slightly flinch back but remain unaffected otherwise as you stared blankly ahead. He rubs a hand over his face, catching sight of a gold coin atop his desk.

“I have a favor to call in.” He walks off into his office quickly, muttering to one of the guys about getting you something to clean up with as he reaches for his phone. You're handed a damp rag but just hold it as you listen in to bits and pieces of Aurelio’s phone call.

You mostly make out rough grumbling but catch some words. “Favor…come and see… accident - he tried to…” You stop listening in after that, shutting your eyes tightly in an attempt to block out everything that just happened.

You don’t know how long you stood there but were interrupted by Aurelio clearing his throat. Your eyes snap open to see him awkwardly gesturing to the rag you held in your grasp. “Not gonna clean up?”

You shake your head and toss it to the side, it didn’t matter no matter how much you scrubbed the blood would remain, hands forever tainted with a reddish hue. “Who were you talking to?”

He pulled up the chair he pushed to the side earlier and brushed your question off.

His hands clasped together, his leg bouncing up and down in an anxious frenzy, “do you wanna talk about-”

“No.” You snapped firmly. You shocked yourself with the aggression you showed towards him. You shrunk back in guilt. Aurelio seemed to understand as he changed back to the question you asked earlier.

“I called in a favor. Who you killed, you’re gonna need someone to keep you safe and he can.” Your heart dropped in realization, you were right, Aurelio thought you were too much of a risk and was pawning you off to some stranger.

In the end you couldn’t really blame him, you had severely fucked up yet you couldn’t help but feel the burning sting of betrayal and hurt. He had taken you in, fed you, housed you, and taught you. Now you were being thrown out so easily. “If the Spade’s are so powerful, how is some guy supposed to protect me?”

It felt like a childish jab, like you were one step away from pouting your bottom lip out. Aurelio sighed and brushed a hand over the top of his head. “He’s John Wick,” he slightly scoffed, a ghost of a grin on his face like he’s on some inside joke.

Your brows furrowed, now frustrated by how amused he seemed at the prospect of your imminent death. Your hands formed fists, the now dried blood flaking off at your knuckles reminding you of the state you were in. “Who the fuck is John Wick?”

“Him.” You looked behind you to see a tall man standing at the entrance in an all black suit. You hadn’t even heard him come in - you really needed to work on people being able to sneak up on you so easily.

He was older, late forties to mid fifties. Shoulder length hair and a full beard that had odd patches dipping near his mouth. The man was stoic, a displeased frown that you could tell sat permanently on his face from the way it suited him.

His displeasure seemed to grow as he observed you before turning back to Aurelio, “she’s a kid.” You huffed out, not liking how he brushed off your presence, “yeah, real observant asshole.” Aurelio glared at you while John continued to ignore you.

“She is. Look, they're going to come after her and we both know I can’t do shit - but you.” John surveyed you again. You felt uncomfortable under his gaze but refused to back down, standing tall. You weren’t gonna let him intimidate you, not after what happened today.

He seemed to find what he was looking for, nodding at Aurelio. “Let’s go,” he grabs the coin from Aurelio before heading out the garage, waiting for you to follow. You began to feel panic crawling up your throat at the idea of leaving with this guy.

You turned to Aurelio, begging with your eyes as you felt your eyes burning, a threat to possible tears. You were scared, god were you scared. Aurelio shook his head, muttering a small, “go” before heading back into his office.

You sniffed, grabbing the stupid part you stole for him and threw it at one of the windows, shattering it. You were hoping for a reaction but was met with complete silence. He gave up on you.

You followed after John in defeat. He got you into the passenger seat of his Boss 429. While he pulled out he reached into the center console and tossed you some wipes to clean off the blood. You had a feeling it was something he frequently experienced.

You roughly wiped at the dried blood, you wouldn’t be able to clean all of it off but this will do for now. “Where are you taking me?”

He stared at the road ahead, only sparing you a small glance through the rearview mirror, “the Continental.” His answer was short and blunt, getting information out of him will be hard but you’re persistent.

“What’s the Continental.” Without a moment passing, “a hotel.” You frowned and carelessly let the blood stained wipes fall to the bottom of the car. If he was bothered by it he didn’t say anything. “How’s a hotel supposed to protect me?”

“It’s discreet.” The way he answered in riddles further annoyed you. Your trust in him was short, you don’t know what Aurelio gave him, just the gold coin? Either way it seemed small considering the gang he’d have to go up against and just for you.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” He shook his head. You leaned back in your seat and lifted your legs to rest on the console. No point in fighting this now, you were trapped in the car with him.

Without looking he pushed your legs back down, paying no mind to your glare. “Not safe.” You scoffed, yet listened to him and kept your feet down. “I’m being hunted down after killing some asshole and have to rely on you. I think the car is the least of my worries.”

He lightly snorted at your jab but was cut off by a car slamming into you guys from the back. His arm shot out in front of you, holding you back from flying forward. “You alright?” You breathlessly nodded, watching as he looked back.

He reached back into the console, this time pulling out a gun. He unbuckled you and pushed you down below the window view. “Stay down,” he orders you before getting out of the car, the sounds of gunshots firing immediately.

You weren’t able to follow his orders for long when the cracked back windshield was shattered. You flinched back down, covering your head with your arms. One of the men in all black tactical gear crawled in towards you.

Your eyes widened, frantically you reach blindly behind you until your hand manages to grab ahold of the door handle. You yank on it just as the man reaches to pull you by your leg, falling out of the car backwards and hitting your already injured head.

You kick at his wrist in an attempt to break free though it was little use. With blurred vision he reached for your arms and pulled you upright. You punched at his shoulders, arms, ribs, anything you could reach as panic filled you at the all too familiar scene playing out.

John turned back from cutting one of the men down with their own knife at the sound of your scream. He was met with you in a mercenary's grip, trying to escape while he tried to search you over.

He flipped the knife around, tightening his grip around it as he strode back over to the car. His steps were silent enough that the mercenary didn’t look up until it was too late. He pulled at the arm wrapped around yours, bending until he heard a satisfying snap.

The man yelled out and you were released from his grip. You fell to the ground and John grabbed the man by his now broken arm until he was close enough to plunge the blade straight through his throat.

Blood sprayed over the both of you as you frantically crawled backwards. John let the body drop and turned to see you looking at the bodies all around with a crazed look in your eye. He knelt down to your level and reached for your shoulder.

You began to thrash around wildly, shrieking for him to let you go. “Stop- hey, hey,” He tried to call out to you as he wrapped you tightly in his grip, preventing the possibility of you accidentally hurting yourself.

He held on as you sobbed. You gripped onto him as you came to, not wanting him to let go. “I got you, kid. I got you now.” You heaved into his chest and he clutched the back of your sore head in a soft hold.

After you had settled he cautiously released you and looked you over to make sure you weren’t physically hurt. He gently moved your face to the side, wiping the fresh blood away to take a closer look at the back of your head.

“We’ll get the Doctor to look at that,” he stood up, pulling you with him. He wrapped his arm around you to guide you back to the car that was now severely damaged. You didn’t have the energy to question him, you just let him buckle you in and place his jacket over you.

You curled up in your seat and let yourself fall asleep under his watchful eye. You don’t know how the Spade’s have found you so quickly. All you did know was that trusting him was all you had left.

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x fem!reader #keanu reeves x reader #john wick #keanu reeves #platonic #fem reader #john wick father figure #fanfic #one-shot #imagine #imagines #arece writes #keanu reeves one shot #keanu reeves imagine #john wick imagine

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burnin0akleaves · 9 months ago

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Here's the draw six fanarts meme I decided to participate in 4 years late

In true burnin0akleaves spirit I didn't ask anyone for requests and just went ahead with all of the characters that have been the most impactful/important to me, so there is a high chance you've seen me draw these guys before.

By the way, unlike the rest of the blorbos here Siyra is an original character and belongs to @nineteen-rats!

Close-ups and rambles under the cut because it's my blog

Ohh the Dark Urge. My latest obsession. I love his design so much, I'm a slut for white/red color schemes, but I feel like it's a double edged sword that takes you out of the horrors he's commiting at the same time?

Durge is supposed to be murder incarnate, someone that does every fucked up thing related to death imaginable; but when you see a giant lizard eating babies or humping corpses, it dulls the effect a bit since you automatically view it as an animalistic act. Dragonborns are obviously a fully sentient humanoid race in-universe; but when the violence you're seeing is already toeing the line between horrifying and hilarious, seeing a scalie doing it just pushes it over the line. I still think it works really well most of the time and I'm very glad that this is the default durge we get! It's just funny to me that when you choose to play as the giant lizard, the dark and disgusting horror story turns into the hilariously edgy bloodfest.

Reminding everyone again that Siyra belongs to @nineteen-rats! I love this man so so so much. I am the Siyra fandom. I am the number one Siyra fanartist. He did nothing wrong and I will defend his every decision. I also hope terrible horrors befall him and that his actions keep him awake for the rest of his life. Pookie bear xoxo

COMING IN WITH THE STEEL CHAIR IT'S WILL TREATY

He is on my mind, always. I don't talk about him as much but he's probably still the fictional character who had the most impact on me as a person.

PATROCLUS! PATROCLUS!!! SIR I'M YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN!!

I got into patrochilles and the Illiad in general thanks to "The Song of Achilles". It was one of the first queer books I got to have in real life and the prose captivated me instantly, I still have it on my shelf. After reading the Illiad itself however, I hate that book so much. I'm sorry it's genuinely beautiful and I get why people like it but I can never forgive that horrible Patroclus characterization after seeing what he was originally like. Achilles too for that matter.

Hades swooped me up into its arms like I was a sick baby bird and nursed me back to health with its portrayal of the two though and for that I am forever grateful. I can't wait for Hades 2, death to Chronos.

God Half-Life is such an important series for me. My dad would let me play through a few levels since I was a child, he grew up with the games, but I REALLY played through the entire series one summer shortly before dad moved out. He was there watching me play most of it and getting to enjoy someone actually translate the game's dialogue for him for the first time.

Gordon may not speak once but I like the hints of his personality we get throughout the games, most importantly from the way Alyx talks to/about him. I have my own characterization of him obviously but I do really think you can get a good understanding of the kind of man he is meant to be in-universe just by paying attention to his surroundings. Also another reason the games were so immersive for me is that I'm just as in love with Alyx as Gordon is. I must have let her get hit only once or twice the entire time just out of how protective I was over her. I'd topple the entire Combine empire just for her hand in marriage. I rewatched the ending of Half Life Alyx recently and cried.

I read the entirety of LOTR in one week in 11th grade, carrying that damn brick of a book everyday to school and back. I'm so glad I did honestly. Frodo and Sam are my important little guys and I find myself going back to them when I need something to calm me down in a way no other series except LOTR can. I've read most of Tolkien's work at this point, but nothing captivated me like those two little hobbits. Everytime I read a bad take about their relationship I sketch them making out.

People liked seeing my drawing process before so here's the original sketch and the little notes I wrote to myself trying to set the mood. I followed like half of them.

#the dark urge #durge #will treaty #patroclus #gordon freeman #frodo baggins #default dragonborn durge #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #rangers apprentice #the royal ranger #hades game #half life #half life 2 #lotr #lord of the rings #🍃 fanart #that was a lot

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lovekabaneri · 29 days ago

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Mini Magnus in Mecha AU

A fun idea I had for the TF Mecha AU by @keferon.

So, at least in my version of the storyline, Optimus is still the leader of the bots and Shockwave is a mad scientist on Earth with absolutely no morals and acting like a b-movie villain. So, no plotline with Shockwave and OP being friends BUT I started thinking about other characters and then another idea hit me: What about Ultra Magnus?

The pilot of Ultra Magnus is a dwarf human and the Magnus armor is the biggest and heaviest mech humanity has managed to build. It is even more armed and powerful than Vortex and the pilot is… just this tiny, mustachioed Italian man. It would be quite the shocker for everyone, since Magnus is not stationed in the same base as the main cast and he's mostly protecting Washington and is called only for emergencies.

Ultra Magnus is not only one of the oldest mechs but also considered a legend, since it has been protecting USA for so long and has never fallen in combat. Imagine the marketing team using pictures of Magnus and saying stuff like "The invincible mecha!" or "Ultra Magnus - proof of humanity's infallible spirit!" but never actually shared pictures of UM's pilot. So, naturally everyone imagines a classical American movie hero, a jock with square chin, to be piloting the biggest mech ever. But actually because the mech has become something of a mascot, like Blurr is the face of the pilots, the Ultra Magnus mech is always getting new improvements and is always equipped with the latest heavy weapons the R&D has released, so despite being one of the first mechs UM is actually very modern... and a b!tch to pilot because of all the new stuff they always put in!

They never show the pilot not only not to hurt the image of the "Infallible Mech" by attaching a human face with flaws to it, but because like Vortex, UM has changed several pilots during the years. Not as often as Vortex, mind you, but because of the strain of a single person driving UM, there always are health complications after prolonged use. The first Magnus died after fending off a lot of aliens from Washington on his own and defeated them all, but was brought to the hospital afterwards and died due to the link overloading his brain and causing bleeding. After him, all other pilots lasted around a year, year and half before their worsening health forced them to retire or they up and died! That is... Until 3 years before the "Jazz lost in space" fiasco.

Minimus is a dwarf, his family came from Italy when he was young, around 20 or more years pre-invasion. He though he'd have to work a desk job or take over his father's pottery business, but then the invasion happened and his home was destroyed in the first attack, his mother died. He wanted revenge, since after that his family almost fell apart, but due to his... stature, his enlistment was denied multiple times and eventually became a cook for the Washington base. He got lucky, however, when they were desperate to find new pilot for Magnus and accepted literally any applicant, as long as they were already employed in said base and signed the NDA for UM's secret. He had done both, so he was accepted for the trial runs. Everyone laughed but then that darf, that tiny mustachioed Italian, not only made the UM armor move but his compatibility was the best of the applicants! Obviously, the higher-ups didn't want to let him do it, but eventually relented, since they had no one better and needed a pilot for an upcoming event!

That's how Minimus became the pilot for Magnus mech and has held the position for the longest time(3 years), after the original Magnus (4 years), at least up to the point where Jazz is yeeted through an alien portal.

I imagined the eventual reveal of who pilots UM would be kind of like Minimus' reveal in the comics but with a dwarf human! So, everyone expects some tough guy, then human Minimus pops out of UM like a rat with his gorgeous, bushy moustache and starts scolding everyone about discipline with a deep voice and doing the signature 🤏 Italian hand gesture as he's shouting. Both humans and cybertronians would be shocked!

Just imagine this absolute unit of a mech, even taller than Prime and Vortex, comes with lumbering steps and the pilot is this *tiny* human! The bots thought humans were tiny, then they see Minimus, who is definitely under 150cm and are like "You humans also have Miniboths?!".

#transformers #tf mecha universe #tf minimus #ultra magnus #mech pilot jazz au #fic prompt

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ratgrinders · 10 months ago

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i know people like the idea that the rat grinders are actually ineffectual at combat and the bad kids could wipe the floor with them because all they've been doing is grinding rats, but i don't actually believe that to be the case?

i mean, disregarding the fact that they've still gone on SOME actual adventures (logging multiple trips to the mountains of chaos for instance), it feels like the whole point of the rat grinders is that they are power gamers. these guys have min-maxed, grinded, and optimized their play through every rule and loophole they can find. they have mary ann adding a plus 20 to her athletics checks, kipperlily is nigh undetectable as a rogue when spying on them, ruben is clearly very gifted as a bard with his song of the summer. barring some convoluted circumstances like the rat grinders meticulously lying and conning people about their prowess for all of this, they clearly have substantial skill. they're the epitome of that one type of player with meticulous spreadsheets calculating the exact xp to monster killed ratio whos decided to kill monsters for 8 hours instead of do dungeons because thats the fastest way to max level.

and you could say that the bad kids are closer as friends and work better as a team, but i dont really believe that is true either? or at the very least i don't think that was always case (i.e. pre-lucy frostblade's death). now, there's some evidence of cracks in their group (kipperlily hiding her dealings from oisin, the latest episode with oisin, ivy, and the others trying to break up the fight with the bad kids) but we're also not privy to every instance of the rat grinders' lives, and honestly i believe they've been conspicuously absent enough that its hard to get a read on how they act as a group. whatever it is they are doing with the dead god clearly requires a lot of coordination and whenever we see them they are still ultimately working together. you can't get a group of people to go out and grind rats for hours after school and even more on the weekend if you didn't have full buy-in.

plus, and this is purely personal preference, but it is more interesting to me having the rat grinders maintain their status as a narrative foil/dark mirror to the bad kids if they were still ultimately skilled adventurers and players who have simply become misguided. their hatred of the unfairness of aguefort's ruling system would hit a lot harder if they were still excelling in some way but being held back by the rules, as opposed to just petty unfiltered jealousy of the bad kids (not that that isnt also a factor lol).

#of course they could actually still be shit lol we still haven't seen them fight #dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy spoilers #original post #rat grinders

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hairmetal666 · 2 years ago

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Steddie paranormal investigator modern day au

I watched Buzzfeed Unsolved and this happened. Sorry?

Eddie's got his phone up, focused on Steve as he drives. "We should hunt ghosts, Stevie."

"What?" Steve says. He's being safe and concentrating on the traffic in front of him, not on Eddie's latest TikTok antics.

"Paranormal Investigation! It would be fun."

"Absolutely not."

"We're doing it."

"Eddie. No."

"Steeeeeeve, c'mon! It's like you've trained your whole life for this."

Steve looks at the camera then, hazel eyes serious. "Yes, and I've retired from active duty."

Eddie pouts until Steve rolls his eyes.

👻 Investigation 1 👻

Steve has one hand in his jacket pocket, the other holding his phone at it records his surroundings. "Hey, ghosts. Feel like talking?"

"Really? That's all, Harrington? You promised you'd act like you care."

"This is me caring! What else do you want, Munson?"

"Care with enthusiasm."

"Please enlighten me on how to do that." Steve keeps his voice even and deadpan, giving his head a pigeon-like tilt.

Eddie bounds forward, a bright and real smile lighting his face. "Hey, ghosts!! I'm Eddie. This is my best friend, Steve. We're here because we wanted to talk to you. Maybe you can start by introducing yourselves?"

Steve glares. "How is that different from what I did."

"How--Steve you--oh my god. You didn't even introduce yourself!"

"To the ghosts?"

"I thought you were raised to be polite."

"Yeah, to people, dude."

"Ghosts are people!"

Steve snickers, eyes glistening, and Eddie slaps at his bicep.

"Don't hit me," Steve says. He knocks Eddie away with his hip.

"Well, don't nudge me." He elbows Steve in the ribs.

There's just a flash of blinding smile from Steve before he launches himself at Eddie, full blown slap fight erupting between them. They giggle and shriek, and then Steve pins Eddie's hands together. They're breathless, panting and flushed, hair mussed.

"Is this respectful to the ghosts, Munson?"

"You started it," Eddie sicks his lower lip out. Steve tosses his head back and laughs, misses how Eddie's eyes linger, drink him in.

👻 Investigation 7 👻

Steve walks into frame, holding his phone as he records. "Hey, hi. My name's Steve, and this is my buddy, Eddie. We're here to chat, if you feel like it."

"Yeah, we just want to learn about you. See what you're doing. Did you die here?"

"Is that respectful?" Steve hisses.

"Shut-up," Eddie hisses back. They momentarily get distracted shoving one another.

"If you're around, let us know," Steve says. "There's this rocking chair here, could you maybe move it for us?"

"Yeah, and hey," Eddie fiddles with the flashlight in his hands. "I'm gonna set this flashlight right here on the ground, and if you can't move the chair, why not turn this flashlight off for us, okay?"

He leans down to put the light on the floor, his phone camera capturing a few seconds of Steve watching him, a little smile on his face. A beat passes and Eddie's movements slip Steve out of frame. There's a shrieking scream and Steve shouts, "EDDIE?" followed by the skittering clank of things being dropped onto the concrete floor.

The view changes to a static shot, from a camera set up behind them. It shows Eddie bend down, setting the flashlight in front of him, before he screams. He leaps--fully leaving the ground--into Steve's arms. Steve catches him easily, dropping his phone, so he can brace Eddie against his chest in a bridal carry. Eddie's arms wrap around Steve's neck, his face buried against the other man's collar.

Steve laughs. "You okay, Eds?"

Eddie responds, but it's not picked up by the mics. It makes Steve laugh harder. "There was a rat, huh? I think I can take a rat."

"Don't make fun of me," Eddie grumbles. He peels his head off Steve's shoulder and the camera just catches the corner of his flushed face and his bashful grin.

"I would never," Steve shakes his head. "You good to get down now?"

Their gazes meet for a few long seconds. "Definitely," but Eddie's voice shakes.

Steve puts his friend on his feet, but takes a second to push some of Eddie's hair behind his ear. "You okay?'

"Yeah, yeah, it was nothing."

"You sure?"

Eddie scowls. "I knew it!"

"Knew what?"

"You're making fun of me!"

"I am not!"

They miss the chair rocking on its own behind them.

👻 Investigation 15 👻

Steve digs through a backpack before spreading a sleeping bag over the scratched wood floors. Eddie films on his phone.

"Okay, Stevie, this is the first investigation where we're staying over night. How you feeling?"

"Fine," he responds. He doesn't look away from his task.

"Fine? We're staying overnight, where there are ghosts, and you're fine!?"

"Well, sure, Eds. I've faced worse than ghosts before."

"How are you not freaking out right now?"

Steve turns to the camera, a tiny smile on his face. "Because I'm not freaked out?"

"Ugh!" Eddie flails his hands which makes the image shift and blur. "It's like you don't even believe in this shit."

"You know that I do." Steve takes a few steps forward, reaching out to grab Eddie's elbow. "It's just that. They're ghosts, you know? They can't hurt us. Not really. And you know I'll protect you."

The angle changes to a static shot from behind Steve, giving full view of the soft and adoring way Eddie watches the other man.

👻 Investigation 15 ~ 2:03-3:45am 👻

The camera shows Steve and Eddie in their respective sleeping bags, both snoring. A time lapse captures the way they shift and shuffle in their sleep, until they're curled against each other on the floor.

It also captures the distant sound of an unintelligible voice and something clank in another room. Eddie flails, twisting and turning.

"Steve?" He says. "Steve!" He pushes out of the sleeping bag. "What the fuck was that?"

Steve sits up, his hair standing on end around his head. "Eds? What's wrong?"

"You didn't hear that?" Eddie's eyes are wide and panicked.

"No. What was it?"

"I heard like, voices or some shit. Maybe something falling over?"

Steve squirms out of his sleeping bag, grabbing a flashlight and starting recording on his phone.

"What are you doing?" Eddie grabs Steve's forearm.

"Investigating?"

"Aren't you--"

Steve cups Eddies cheek. "No, babe, I'm not scared. Let's go look, yeah?"

Steve walks out of frame, and Eddie stands frozen, until he slowly lifts a hand to trace where Steve touched against face. "Babe?" he whispers

👻 Investigation 22 👻

"Well, we're staying the night again." Steve says. "How'd you feel about the last time, Eds?"

"At least we're investigating a hotel and get a bed. Last time was terrible," Eddie frowns. "You were so calm."

"So, it wasn't terrible because we spent the night on the floor in a haunted place, but because I wasn't scared?"

"Pretty much."

"Shouldn't it be a good thing that I'm brave and strong and protective?"

Eddie gags. "Gross, man."

"What? Look at these muscles--I could take a ghost out." Steve flexes.

"You're not allowed to fistfight the ghosts, we've talked about this."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't think I can take a ghost?"

"Absolutely not, Stevie. You've never won a single fight."

Steve's mouth drops. "Excuse me. I've won at least one of them"

"Not a great track record."

"This is cruel. You're being cruel to me. After I've saved you from rats and from ghosts and from--"

"Yeah, yeah, my hero. C'mon, let's get moving."

Eddie's being sarcastic, but Steve's face still flushes a bright pink.

👻 Investigation 22 ~ 1:45-2:17am 👻

They fall asleep with the EVP still between them. Like before, the distance between their bodies closes as time passes until Steve is tucked close around Eddie, his arm draped over Eddie's waist.

It's sweet, peaceful until Steve starts to twitch. The mics pick up unintelligible murmuring until it becomes something close to short yelps and bitten off screams. Steve whimpers a long, heartbreaking sound and his body starts to shake, his hands grasping at his own face.

Eddie snuffles, is quiet for a second, before he realizes something is wrong. He twists to Steve, grabbing his shoulders. "Stevie, baby, oh my god, what's wrong. Steve!"

The other man wakes with a heaving gasp, flailing and shouting Eddie's name.

"I'm here. I'm right here." Eddie rests his hands against Steve's face, but pulls back, looking at his hands with wide eyes. "Why are you bloody, sweetheart?"

"What?" Steve reaches up, gingerly touching his cheeks. "What the fuck," Steve hisses. "What the fuck."

A flashlight flicks on, illuminating the long but shallow scratches across Steve's left cheek. "Jesus, baby. What happened?"

"I--" Steve is trembling hard enough his voice shakes. "I thought I was dreaming? I heard this voice and then this shape walked towards me from the bathroom." Steve points. "He--it reached for me, and I knew I shouldn't let him touch me, so I fought, but--" He's shaking too hard to continue.

"It's okay," Eddie 's voice is soft. "It's alright, sweetheart. It's over, yeah? I won't let anything bad happen to you, promise."

"I thought--Eddie, I thought--"

"I know, I know, sweetheart. It wasn't, though. We're okay."

"I'm scared, Eds," is barely heard through the mic.

"It's okay. I got you, yeah? I'll always have you."

Eddie starts singing something, soft soft, so only the melody catches, still too faint to make out. He holds Steve tight, cards fingers through his hair until the shaking stops.

"Not so brave now, huh?" Steve asks, giving a little wet chuckle.

"Baby, you are the bravest person I know. This doesn't change that. Not for an instant."

"Liar." Steve presses his face harder against Eddie's neck.

"To you? Never."

They sit in silence a little longer before Steve moves. Eddie caresses the man's face, lets his thumbs graze over his cheekbones. He knows affection is spilling out of him, overflowing, swallowing everything, but there's nothing Eddie can do about it anymore.

"Eddie?" Steve asks.

They close the lingering distance between them on some unspoken mutual agreement, lips slotting together like they'd been doing this for years and hadn't condemned themselves to a lifetime of quiet yearning.

Steve brushes his tongue against Eddie's mouth, and Eddie lets him in, their tongues meeting in a wet tangle. They kiss and kiss and kiss, lost to the moment, cameras and ghosts and the world forgotten for each other.

They part, staying close enough to share air. "Hey, Eds?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"I have a huge crush on you."

Eddie's nose wrinkles before he erupts in a sweet laugh. "Well, thank god for that. I'm fucking gone on you, baby."

"Yeah?" Steve whispers now.

"You're sort of everything, Steve Harrington."

"Fuck," Steve buries his face into Eddie's neck. "Is now the time to say that I think you're it for me? Cause--"

He doesn't get the rest of the words out, the force of Eddie's kiss sending his mind to outer space.

When they pull apart again, Steve quietly says, "thank you, ghosts," and Eddie giggles.

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