#the way he stopped claudia on the train……………..

[failbrothers]

oh so lestat is EVIL evil. got it

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

[pitchsidestories]

when grumpy met sunshine II Kika Nazareth x Reader

part 2 I masterlist I word count: 2382

It was the first day of training after the summer vacation marking the start of pre-season. With the new players coming in on the one hand and on the other hand the familiar faces it almost felt like the beginning of a school year. Everyone was buzzing.  

One of the fresh signings approached you quickly once she recognized you, her face lit up with joy and excitement.

“Hi y/n, I love your playing style and can’t wait to play with you!”, Kika Nazareth greeted you. God how you hated that footballer and her stupid smile. Also how dare she is saying that after what happened a year ago.

“Uhu, sure. It seems like you forgot what you did during the Champions League group stage games.”, you answered coldly.

“Huh, what do you mean?”, the Portuguese woman frowned confused.

“Forget it.”, you waved it off and rushed off leaving a very bewildered Kika behind.

“Don’t take it personally she never forgets anything really. Come on you need to meet the rest of your new teammates.”, Mapi padded empathetically the shoulder of the young forward.

“But I don’t get it, Mapi. What did I ever do to her?”, the brunette asked the defender, while her brown eyes followed you across the room. S

he was genuinely excited to play with you, if you hadn’t stopped her so abruptly the Portuguese might have said even more. How Kika loved the way you looked and.. she should stop thinking any further you clearly were mad at her, but why?

“I don’t know.”, the older Spanish woman shrugged equally as clueless.

“Weird.”, the forward mumbled.

“Let’s go the others are so thrilled to see you.”, Mapi tried to cheer her up.

“Hey, everyone.”, Kika begun anew, beaming at the teammates. Hoping, no praying, she wouldn’t cause a reaction like yours earlier. The dark haired forward didn’t want to ruin the first day at the new club anymore.

“Hi, welcome to the club.”, Claudia replied grinning.

“And thanks to special agent Aitana for this transfer who sadly can’t be here right now.”, Mapi continued, trying to soothe the fresh signing. It worked Kika did feel more relaxed in front of them.

“Guys calm down she still hasn’t proven herself in the team.”, you commented rolling your eyes, suddenly appearing next to Ingrid.

“I’m aware of how good this team is. But I’m sure I can help.”, the Portuguese swallowed hard, trying to sound as optimistic as possible.

“We’ll see about that.”, you shot back.

“Don’t worry you’ll.”, she promised. The football player was waiting for a response but once more you vanished without a trace. What a strange behaviour Kika thought to herself.

Thankfully Ellie delivered a much-needed distraction.

 “Kika? Ewa and I wanted to ask you if you’d join us for a coffee sometime soon? As we’re all new to the city.”  

“Yes, sure, I’d love that.”, she nodded happily.

Ellie beamed: “Wonderful.“

“Can’t wait.“, Kika smiled back at the young goalie.

Once again, you rolled your eyes and turned away from them to focus on your warm up.

You were one of the last to leave the pitch two hours later, thinking that you would have the dressing room for yourself. You did not expect Ingrid and Mapi waiting for you there.

“So?“, Ingrid said with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

You didn’t want to talk about your new team member so you decided to play along: “So what?“

With a half smile she finally formulated a question: “Why are you pouting?“

“I’m not pouting. Just annoyed by that smiley…“, you stopped yourself. You couldn’t come up with the right word for her anyway.

Mapi shook her head: “You’re not annoyed.“

At this point, you were starting to get annoyed with these two as well.

“Yes, I am. We didn’t need her in our team.“

“That’s not our decision though.“, Mapi shrugged.

You were about to say something but Ingrid was faster: “Y/n?“

You turned to her: “Yes?“

“Tell us why you’re mad at her.“

You heaved a frustrated sigh. They were worse than your parents.

“Remember when we drew against Benfica in Lisbon?“

Both of them nodded. Of course they would remember last years UWCL games. “Yeah?“

“What happened there? Why can’t you move on from it?“, Mapi asked.

Her girlfriend added: “Come on. It can’t be that bad. You can tell us.“

They looked at you with those soft eyes, all parent-like. Almost like your team psychologist.

The sudden urge to tell them disappeared completely so you just shrugged and grabbed your bag: “Whatever.“

You could feel their eyes on you as you left the dressing room, still in your workout clothes.

Ingrid looked at her incredulously: “Well, that was strange, Mapi.“

“Very.“, she agreed slowly.

As you went back to your own place, Kika and the other new players sipped on their coffees at a tiny little coffee shop.

“No, I’ll win her over with my charm, Ellie.“, Kika announced confidently. Even they had noticed the awkward tension between the two of you.

The English goalkeeper nodded slowly: “Sure you will, Kika.“

“Anyone wants some cake with their coffee?“, Ewa changed the topic. She had been eyeing the tasty looking sweet treats on display right from the start.

The Portuguese striker nodded: “Of course.“

“Can’t say no, they look delicious.“, Ellie laughed.

“We have to celebrate. It’s our first coffee date in our new home.“, Kika laughed.

Ewa stood up and agreed: “We do.“

She quickly returned with three different slices of cake so all of them could try.

“Knowing we play for such a prestigious club now feels great, right?“, she said as she sat the plates down on the table.

“This feels like a dream come true.”, the goalkeeper agreed with a dreamy look in her blue eyes.

It has always been something the blonde fantasized about since she was a little girl, playing for that club and now the fantasy turned into reality which she was forever grateful for.

When Ellie continued, she sounded serious. “Especially after the last year that I had.” The other two women knew about the stroke the English player had suffered.

That was why Kika pulled her into a soft hug whispering into the ear. You deserve to be here so much, Ellie.”

“Thanks. I’m happy that I got to start with you two.”, the goalkeeper smiled at her new teammates.

“Same. I’ve a feeling this will be a fantastic first season for us.”, Ewa replied enthusiastically.

“And we got each other if it’s getting hard.”, the Portuguese striker added.

“Yes, plus I’m sure even grumpy will like you eventually, Kika.”, Ellie remarked.

Immediately the smile vanished from the brunette’s face. “Not so sure about this. Apparently, I must have done something to her during our UWCL match last season.”

“But you don’t remember?”, Ewa questioned curiously. Quickly Kika shook her head.

“No.”

Although she tried her hardest to think what the striker could have done which made you hate her so much. Usually everyone warmed up under Kikas positive radiance, but you were her first exception, following her into her dreams.

In training Kika and you were much to your dismay supposed to be partners.

“Kika, I think Ill swap with Esmee.”, you declared.

“You can’t swap training partners.”, Mapi interjected in a tone which didn’t allow any dissent.

“Fine.”, you groaned. Even though you had played a few years in the first squad of Barca now aged 21 the defender was still like the big sister you never had, and you didn’t want to disappoint her. Even if it meant you needed to work with the person you disliked.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me.”, Kika observed, wearing a huge smile on her lips.

“Yes, with the one who showed me the middle finger last year.”, you muttered under her breath. Unfortunately, it was still loud enough for the striker to understand the words you were saying.

“I never did that!”, she objected loudly.

“Yes, you did.”, you responded.

“No way, I’d never do that.”, Kika insisted.

“And when you said something about the way I played.”, your voice trembled.

“That’s not true.”, the striker denied strongly.

“What’s true?”, you wanted to know.

“Nothing of what you think happened is true!”, she stated passionately.

Hearing her statement made your heart pound hard against your chest. “Are you saying that this is all a huge misunderstanding?”

Obviously!“, Kika said with emphasis and the slightest undertone of anger.

“Oh.“

You didn’t know what else to say. Was she telling the truth? Did it really only look like it at the pitch? Was it a gesture to you or her own teammate?

All the Champions League games seemed to blur together in front of your inner eye. Now you weren’t sure anymore.

“Wait… so you don’t hate me because I’m here and could potentially take your place in the starting squad?“, Kika asked.

You frowned at her: “No, we play two different positions. So why should I be afraid of that?“

“Because I know that you like to push forward too.“, she explained.

You stalled once again. You found it impressive that she had already analyzed your playing style.

You shook your head: “Yes. But I don’t hate your for that. I’m used to tough competition, Barca is my childhood club.“

“Okay… wow.“

“What?“

Kika started laughing: “I really thought you hated me because you had a good reason.“

At first you just glared at her for making fun of you but her laugh was incredibly infectious and you suddenly found yourself laughing with her.

“Stop laughing. This is a good reason!“, you told her as you playfully hit her arm.

“That’s not a good reason.“

“Come on. Focus on your exercise.“, you reminded her, still smiling.

Kika raised her hands defensively and grinned: “Okay, okay. Can’t make you mad at me again.“

“No. Also I have to maintain my grumpy status.“, you replied and tried your best to keep your face serious again.

Kika giggled: “Sorry, of course.“

“Good.“

“Don’t worry. I think I can handle your grumpiness.“

You squinted at her: “Might need some sunglasses to deal with your sunshiny attitude.“

“I know you love it.“, she winked at you. She really dared to wink at you!

You shook your head: “No, you’re still the most annoying person around here.“

“You don’t mean that.“

She was right. You didn’t.

Still, you continued to tease: “Are you sure?“

She flashed you a confident smile: “Yes.“

“Dream on.“

Kika shrugged casually and focused back on your partner exercise: “If you say so, y/n.“

After your talk, you didn’t feel that intense anger towards Kika anymore. Everything was a bit lighter once the misunderstanding was cleared up. It went even so far that you didn’t react with pure disgust when she asked you to room together at your first pre-season match against Hoffenheim.

“Can’t believe we’ve to share a room, Kika.“, you joked as you sat on one of the beds.

Kika threw herself onto the other one: “Quit complaining, you grump.“

You shrugged with amusement: “At least it’s just for one night.“

The Portuguese striker smiled: “You will survive. I’m a quiet sleeper.“

After you both changed into your pyjamas and brushed your teeth you happily let your head fall on to the soft pillow.

“Good night, Kika.”, you mumbled.

“Night y/n.”, the striker hummed.

Yet something was off, the heat in that southern part of Germany still hung in the room, plus Kika hasn’t stopped moving in her bed. 

“Can’t you sleep?”, you asked her with a heavy sigh.

“No, what about you?”, she returned the question, directing her gaze straight at you.

“Me neither.”, you admitted. There was some restlessness and tension between the two of you, it was almost unbearable.

“Do you want to talk?”, Kika offered kindly.

“Sure.”, you agreed softly.

“So, what keeps you up?”, the Portuguese wanted to know.

Even though the moonlight enhanced her features and made you think thoughts again you tried to avoid you started with a less heavy confession.

“The adrenaline of the win. I think I’ll never get tired of that feeling, what about you?”

You waited for her response, did you imagine it or did her cheeks turn red, it was hard to tell in the dark.

“Oh, yeah, I get that. I love it too. But there’s something else that keeps me awake.”, the brunette replied nervously.

“There’s? Are you missing Portugal?”, you listened up.

“A bit yes, but that’s not it. This might be a bad start for the new season, but there’s someone in this team that I think I’ve a crush on.”, Kika confessed.

“You do?”, you answered stunned.

“Yeah.”

For a moment you paused before the realization hit you hard.

“Wait, it’s me, right?”

“It’s yes.”, she confirmed quietly.

“That’s too bad because I.”, you begun.

“Oh, you don’t have to say anything, I get that. I didn’t want to ruin anything.”, the striker interrupted you quickly.

“No stop talking for a moment.”, you begged her, placing a finger of yours onto her lips. God, that woman really loved to talk, even though now the time clearly was for listening as you tried to demonstrate to her.

“I fell too.”, you added in a whisper.

“You did? Am I not way too annoying for you.”, Kika frowned.

“Yes, you’re and yet I’d like to kiss your mouth who loves to annoy me with it’s yapping.”, you grinned.

“You should give it a try maybe.”, she smirked.

“Maybe you can sleep better afterwards.”, you suggested playfully.

“Maybe we both can.”, your teammate wiggled her eyebrows.

“I’m sure of it.” First the kiss was cautiously before it was getting more intensely until you heard the door open loudly.

“Oh my god!”, Mapi yelled.

“Mapi, get out!”, you shrieked.

“I didn’t see anything. Promise!”, the defender gesticulated wildly. With that said she was gone as quick as the older woman came.

“This news will run like a wildfire, right?”, Kika chuckled.

“Yes, by tomorrow morning everyone knows.”, you groaned as she pulled you into a hug.

“I don’t mind that. They can know that grumpy and sunshine always belong together.”, she announced solemnly placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

[shanastoryteller]

Congrats on finishing See Something Say Something!! I checked the notification of the first AO3 email sent out and you initially planned on five chapters.

Would you say that the ending changed considerably since you started in October? Or has that stayed the same?

thank you!

it stayed the same lol. while my fics getting wildly out of control and becoming way longer than i anticipated is pretty common, i'm pretty much never changing overarching plot when this happens. the story that i become interested in telling is typically the story then i end up telling

almost every story can be made shorter or longer. it's less about what happens and more about how that information is conveyed. things that really tend to affect writing length are perspective and breathing room

the shortest fic i have on ao3 that's not part of a series is You Were (Not) Meant For Me (posted 11 years ago, jesus T_T). the premise is that claudia was a witch who intended trained stiles to be a witch and she arranged his marriage to laura hale, the future hale alpha. this is a traditional pairing as talia's husband was also a witch married to talia in service of the pact. except claudia died before she could train stiles or tell him about the engagement. stiles starts learning magic after scott is turned. derek falls for stiles and feels like he's betraying his sister by loving him, betraying stiles by not being the alpha he deserves and not telling him about the arrangement claudia made, and hates himself the entire time, but not enough to stop himself

that's a 100k fic easy

it's 1,696 words

it's extremely limited perspective (derek's) and it's made up only of limited snapshots of moments with very little context. there's no seeing what's happening, only told, which i think would quickly grow boring if it was longer and if the real point of the story wasn't derek's self hatred and how he fails to deal with it. that's the part of the story that isn't told, really - derek does think explicitly that he hates himself, but we're also seeing it in the way he talks and thinks about himself and the people around him

by contrast we have survival is a talent, which is obviously my longest fic. we're over 500k and we've got quite a bit to go

perspective doesn't just refer to character pov, but audience pov - are you being told a story, or are you experiencing the story? this is also tied into breathing room. there's no wrong way, i've done both and will do both, but one certainly requires more words than the other in my experience

siat is told only through draco and harry's perspective, but it's all happening in real time. the audience is being taken along for this story. the thing is that that things in real life don't all come tumbling one after another, not all questions have immediate answers. when depicting character growth and a plot unfurling, i think it's really important to include breathing room to give the audience time to feel that growth and change. i'm stricter about this with siat than anything else i've written, probably sometimes to its detriment. i want you and the characters to have time to feel the effects of emotional revelations and plot hints. i want you to have the time to question and wonder about things the same way the characters do

one time a friend criticized the good place for including the portion where they were alive again on earth because it wasn't as interesting as being in hell, but i disagree. we needed that breathing room both to live with the effects of character growth of going through hell and to have time for the effects of their actions on the plot to settle before they moved forward again. i stopped watching agents of shield because we weren't given enough breathing room - there was never a chance to see the characters not in crisis, the world was always ending, ect. the alchemyst book series has the first like 3 books taking place over a day and a half. i got tired of it after that. there's no breathing room

a story where i gave up on the concept of breathing room was build your wings on the way down. i liked that fic, but i wanted it finished, and to do it with i think optimal pacing would have made it twice as long as it was. so i said screw it, avalanche time, everything is happening all at once right now. there's very little breathing room there, which i think doesn't work too terribly in part because everything is so urgent and everyone is stressed so not being able to catch you breath sort of fits

See Something Say Something did not need to be 215k, although i'm not at all complaining. i feel very happy with how i told this story. but the basic premise - sam getting his powers early, getting involved in the large hunter world secretly from his family, and dean feeling misplaced and worried about how much sam needs/wants him - could have been told a hundred different ways and all would have pulled it off, so to speak

i considered doing the the entire fic from dean's pov (as a sam girl i love his pov because all he thinks about is sam and he's so insane about it) which would have effectively cut out basically the first five chapters. i thought exploring the slow realization of what's going on purely from dean's pov, with the audience having not insight would have been really interesting, just like what I did in dumb luck or good ghost with dean slowly figuring out that sam didn't die in the crash. another thing is the inclusion of all the side characters which i did to make the world feel rich and real, but we didn't need all these outsider povs to get the basic point across. very rarely is something vital being conveyed by an outsider pov, but it reinforced and adds to the main characters. i also initially didn't have wincest, which obviously added a ton of words. i loved exploring dean's self hatred and fear and sam's obliviousness, but bringing them to a place of ignorance to acceptance to happiness is a lot longer of a journey than just dealing with dean's propriety love as an unhinged co-dependent older brother. again, i'm sticking by all these choices, i made them because i thought it was the best way to the tell the story i was most interesting in telling, but my point is that you didn't need them to tell this particular story

it was also how i told the story. we spend a lot of time wallowing in character's emotions, especially dean's and sam's, but the others as well. part of this fic is convincing you that these two brothers should fuck, actually, and doing that effectively is going to take some time, especially at this point in their lives when things are pretty normal. comparatively, fucking your brother after starting the apocalypse is pretty small potatoes. i wanted you to understand these people, to feel what they were feeling, to not feel that it was inconceivable that jess would be willing to share her boyfriend with his brother, to buy all their relationships with each other in a way that isn't purely based on convenience

part of the reason i wrote dumb luck or good ghost before see something say something was that i felt i needed a firmer grasp on who the characters are before getting into who they were and who they could be - especially john, who i feel is exceptionally difficult to write without over excusing his actions or over villainizing them. the reason john doesn't get a single pov in see something say something is that while he's a motivating and underlying factor in much of the story, the story isn't about him. it's about the effect he has on those around him, and i didn't want to sully the pureness of that effect by introducing his internal dialogue, regardless of how persecutionary or absolving it would be. it's just not about him. it's how he responds to others and how they respond to him in turn

anyway! this is another example of something ending up longer than expected, but yeah. the plot of see something say something didn't change much from posting of the first chapter and my stories rarely do - i have plot points in siat that have been there since i posted the first chapter that are still relevant and happening. "harry and draco just. cut dumbledore's fucking hand off" my beloved

[girlgenius1111]

screaming underwater

barça x teen reader. r is dealing with mistreatment on her national team. the barça girls find out. warnings: descriptions of aforementioned mistreatment by national team.

------

The news came out of nowhere. One minute, Alexia, Pina, Patri, and Mapi were at a restaurant eating lunch, and the next, Pina was staring at her phone in horror, all the color drained out of her face. 

“Clau? What’s up?” Patri asked, catching the look on her best friend’s face. This halted the conversation between the other 2 girls, and Alexia and Mapi both turned to their younger teammate in concern. 

Claudia shook her head, remaining silent as she handed her phone to Patri, standing up and leaving the table. 

“I need some air,” she said shakily. Alexia and Mapi exchanged looks, focusing their attention back on Patri for the moment. Patri had a rather similar reaction to Pina’s, practically shoving the phone into Mapi’s hand, and taking off towards the door her best friend had left through. 

“My god. Mapi, let me see.” Alexia complained, moving over so she could read over Mapi’s shoulder. 

She read the whole article, finishing just after Mapi did. The defender was looking up at her captain, distraught. 

“Fuck.” Alexia said. “Shit. Okay. We’ll go find Clau and Patri, and then we’ll call pequeña.” 

Alexia was always a voice of reason, and Mapi nodded gratefully, rising to her feet, throwing some cash on the table, and heading out of the restaurant. 

There was no longer any question of why her teammates had reacted the way they did. The contents of that article felt eerily similar. And if they were true, they had a lot to be worried about. 

-----

You’d finished your morning training session, pulling out your phone the minute you returned to your hotel room, and saw the article. First, though, you had to scroll through the messages upon messages from your teammates expressing their concern. You didn’t spend too long reading those, knowing it would likely be too much for you right now. 

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been; there were a lot of details omitted, some of the more worrying details. Still, it was more than the people in charge would want leaked to the media, especially when it painted them as the villains. 

In short, the article detailed, via anonymous interviews with some of your teammates, the conditions that your u23 national team was under. Your coach was vile, the training staff always following his lead. There were recovery specialists that many of you guys refused to work with. The personnel themselves were an issue. More than that, though, what they did was the biggest problem. The team hadn’t been performing very well, and as a consequence, you and your teammates were being worked half to death. Running until you dropped, scrimmaging until you couldn’t feel your legs anymore. You were woken early in the morning for extra workouts, and kept up late to go over film. It was constant, exhausting, and completely demoralizing. The way you were spoken too was no better than what your body was being put through. Your coach had apparently decided that the right way to motivate the team was to rip everyone to shreds. He hurled cruel insults at you and your teammates. He didn’t just go after your playing abilities; he went after your fitness, your weight, your personal life, your personality, your appearance, your relationships within the team. There were no boundaries. There was no way to say no, no way to make it stop. 

You were determined to handle it. You didn’t know any different when it came to your national team. Granted, it had never been this bad before, not in all your time with the team. You wanted it handled internally. You saw what your Spanish teammates went through when they tried to make a change, and their suffering wasn’t something you were willing to bring upon yourself and your teammates. You guys were all young, under the age of 23. If your Spanish teammates that were full adults couldn’t do it without winning a world cup, what chance did a bunch of kids have? No one would listen, it would only make it worse. Although, somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you were suffering far more than you would be if you refused your call up. You didn’t give up, and you didn't ask for help. You’d never had the ability to do so, always wanting to be independent. International breaks became something you dreaded deeply, and something you attended all the same. It was a stagnant, constant torture, constant weight on your shoulders. Nothing really seemed like it would cause a change. 

Until the article was published. 

You didn’t know who’d spoken to the journalist, but you didn’t fault them. Though you’d never admit it, you were secretly glad that someone had been braver than you. Still, the verbal lashing you and your teammates got later that day was borderline abusive. The following punishment was worse. Your coach led the team to the stadium, into the stands, and instructed you all to begin running the stadium steps, until he felt you’d “learned your lesson.” 

No one spoke up, no one argued. Everyone just set off with a resigned sigh. You all ran for a while. What must have been at least an hour, in the hot sun. Up and down and back up again. Until the world was spinning around you, and even though everyone asked for a water break, one was not given. You all kept going. 

You went until you dropped, literally. Until you missed a step, fell forward, and smashed your head on the seat next to you. The pain in your whole body ceased, briefly, before it erupted again in your head, and then everything went black. 

-----

At least you could leave early without seeming like a coward. No one could argue against the decision the team doctors had come to; you had a large gash on your forehead that needed stitches, a black eye, and a mild concussion. Your coach sneered at you, but dismissed you all the same, leaving you with a warning to remember to keep the team’s best interest in mind. You knew this meant that he expected you to remain silent, as you had been until this point. You planned to. What you didn’t necessarily plan for was your club teammates. You should have considered them, but you didn’t. That was your second mistake. The first was barely responding to anyone’s texts and calls after the article was published. You didn’t even tell anyone you were going home. Deciding the medical announcement from the team would be enough, you boarded your flight to Barcelona, completely ignoring the flood of messages you were receiving. 

You just wanted to go home. Lay in your bed where you were safe, and far from the people that seemed hell bent on making your life a living hell several weeks out of the year. You didn’t want to talk, you didn’t want to see anyone. You ignored the multitude of texts from Pina, Patri, Mapi, Alexia, and Marta, asking you if you needed a ride home from the airport. You Ubered home from the airport instead, barely making it through your door before you tossed your bag aside and collapsed into your bed. 

In order to avoid a break in from your teammates, you pulled your phone out before you fell asleep, opening your text thread with Alexia. 

Nena, I saw the article. Call me.

Are you okay?

Please respond, nena, we’re really worried about you.

Jona called, I heard about your injury. Are you okay?

When are you coming home?

When does your flight land?

Nena, please. Just message something to let me know you got home okay. 

You sighed. You didn’t want to talk. Talking would only make it worse, you were sure. It hadn’t been that bad, not really. It was normal, a little harsh, but the team had been playing so poorly, what did you all expect? Rationalizing it was all you could do, really. 

Hola Capi. I’m okay, I’m home now. Everything is fine, really. Don’t worry. 

Alexia responded barely a minute after you’d hit send. 

Okay, nena. If you need to talk, we’re all around for you, okay? Please, please call me if you need me, for anything. We can talk more tomorrow when you come for your medical eval. It’s at 9am and Mapi and I have media stuff then, but Pina and Patri are going to pick you up. Rest a lot, I’ll see you tomorrow. 

Even though you were comfortably curled up in bed, incredibly sleep deprived, and concussed, you couldn’t fall asleep right away. You were rather busy trying to figure out how to act tomorrow. You felt so… weighed down from everything that had happened. You looked in the mirror barely recognizing yourself, and it had nothing to do with your injuries. You didn’t feel like you. You felt like the empty version of yourself that always returned from national duty, but 10x worse. You didn’t think you could smile if you tried. Convincing your teammates that you were okay was going to take a lot of energy that you simply didn’t have. You couldn’t do it, you were too exhausted, in the very core of your being. You fell into a fitful sleep, setting your alarm for the next morning even though it was only early evening and you hadn’t eaten anything. You weren’t sure how to act, or how to play this. All you knew was that letting anyone see how badly you were hurting was not an option. 

-----

Your car ride to the Barça training grounds was painfully quiet. Pina and Patri had given up all attempts at making conversation; you’d made it clear that you didn’t want to talk. Neither of them were sure what to make of you right now. Your voice was steady, your body language rigid. You had a pair of huge sunglasses on, though, and a hood tugged up over your head. Neither of them could get a good glimpse at your face, to check on your injuries, or to see how you were really feeling. They supposed this was the point. Their worry only grew when you caught Patri’s arm before heading to the medical center. Her and Pina were headed for the locker room, but they both stopped in their tracks, looking back at you. 

You wanted to thank them. Not just for picking you up, but for bringing you coffee and a granola bar, and the comforting way they both squeezed your hand when they saw you. 

“Thanks for driving me. I really appreciate it.” You said softly. You never spoke quietly; you were incapable of doing so, normally. Today, however, both girls had to lean in to hear what you were saying. 

“Of course.” Patri replied. Your eyes fell back to the floor underneath you, and you headed off without another word, leaving two very concerned teammates in your wake. 

Patri stopped Pina just before walking into the locker room, very suddenly pulling the younger girl into a tight hug and not letting go. 

“Patri. Why are you suffocating me?” Claudia asked after a minute. 

The midfielder didn’t let up. “She’s acting like you did. After the last international break. I really don’t like it.” She explained. 

Claudia pulled away, shaking her head. She didn’t like to think about that. “I’m fine, Patri. She’ll be fine too, yeah?” 

“Hope so.” Patri said, giving her best friend a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

-----

Alexia and Mapi knew it was just as bad as they were expecting when they saw the looks on their younger teammates' faces. They’d finished media up as fast as they could, practically running to the gym where Pina and Patri were working out. 

It only took a shake of Patri’s head for both girls to whirl around, and set off for the medical center. 

You finished your eval at around the same time. The team doctors hadn’t asked too many questions. Jona had been there when you arrived, and had asked if there was anything you’d like to talk to him about. You’d shook your head, and he’d sighed, but left the room. The doctors had received the report from your national team’s staff. They knew that you’d fallen, but that was it. Nothing that accounted for the deep exhaustion that was clear across your face, or the way you barely spoke to them. They told you the same things that your national team had, giving you a rough timeline of your return. Finally, they very obviously reminded you of the club psychologist, before telling you that you were free to go. 

You were planning on waiting around somewhere secluded until Pina and Patri were done with their workout, stopping briefly to fill your water up. Your sunglasses were back on, hood pulled back up, depriving you of your peripheral vision, not to mention your rather swollen shut eye. 

When you turned, you jumped slightly, finding Mapi and Alexia standing directly behind you, arms crossed over their chests like a pair of bodyguards. If this was their goal, they had arrived late. The damage to you was already done. You weren’t sure the scars would ever fade.

Alexia stepped closer to you slowly , as if you would startle and run away from her if she moved too fast, pulling your hood down, and reaching for your sunglasses very carefully. 

“Ay dios mio” She murmured, taking your sunglasses off your face and carefully inspecting your wounds. “How did this happen?” 

Her voice was uncharacteristically shaky and full of fear, and her eyes bore into your own, a dangerous glint to them. Mapi didn’t look any different, standing next to her captain and eyeing you very carefully. 

“Fell.” You said simply. Not completely collapsing into their arms and telling them everything was much harder than you anticipated, so you stuck to one word answers for now. 

“You fell? What, off a cliff?” Mapi asked, ignoring the elbow to the ribs she received from the blonde next to her. 

You only shrugged in response, causing both girls to exchange a look. 

“Amiga, did someone do this to you? You can tell us, I promise. We will keep you safe.” Alexia promised, words she’d been rehearsing all morning. 

“No one did anything to me, I just fell.” You reiterated, and it wasn’t technically a lie. You were getting annoyed, uncharacteristically so. You didn’t want to answer these questions, and even though it was completely unfair, you were angry at Alexia. Promising to protect you now did nothing. Nothing at all. It was too late for that. You weren’t sure you’d ever feel safe again. 

“I do not believe you. You are not clumsy, you do not fall.” Mapi cut in, her words wildly more aggressive than her tone. You didn’t respond, back to staring at your feet. “The article that came out,” 

“It’s an exaggeration. Everything is fine. Nothing is wrong, everything is fine, and I just want to go home, okay?” You spit back, showing the most emotion you had all day. 

And though everything you’d said was clearly a lie, it was also clear you weren’t ready to talk. Mapi and Alexia had already decided to back off if you didn’t want to talk right now. It could wait until later, until you were somewhere you felt safe, and somewhere much more private than the hall outside Barcelona’s gym. This wasn’t the place. 

The older girls let you go with Patri and Pina, even though all of their instincts were telling them not to let you out of their sight. You were so jumpy, so obviously terrified, they couldn’t justify making you do something you didn’t want to right now.

Alexia watched you walk away with your teammates, startling slightly when she felt Mapi wrap her arms securely around the blonde. Mapi was holding tight to her best friend, and it was no secret as to why. Alexia hugged her back, just as tight. 

“She’s acting just like all the younger girls did after the Euros. It’s happening again, to her this time, and we can’t do anything to stop it.” Mapi mumbled. 

Alexia wanted to disagree, but she couldn’t. She wanted to promise Mapi that they’d fix it, but she wasn’t sure they had the power to. Watching someone you love suffer is always hard, and this was no different.  It seemed so out of their control, and it was excruciating to watch the effects of whatever happened at that national camp wreak havoc on you, and know they couldn’t stop it. 

------

The ride home was just as quiet as the ride there had been. This time, though, the girls didn’t let you go without speaking. The tension in the car had been different this time, and you knew one of them was planning to say something. You thought it would be Patri; she was one of the captains, she was older, you were closer with her. To your surprise, it was Pina that spoke up. 

Patri had just pulled into your driveway when Pina turned around, looking hesitantly at you. Maybe it was her clear anxiety that made you listen, really listen to what she had to say. 

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I can tell you aren’t okay. I just wanted to say that talking about it is way less painful than keeping it all inside. Everyone wants to help you, and I know you might feel embarrassed, or like you can handle it yourself, but you shouldn’t have to. We’re all here for you, whether you want to talk, or you just need some company. Okay?” 

You could tell it had taken a lot for Pina to say all that. She didn’t talk about her experience, ever, unless it was to Mapi or Patri, and even then, she preferred to pretend it hadn’t happened. She was putting that aside for you, though, and you couldn’t ignore the significance of that. 

“Thanks Clau. Really, thank you.” You said, reaching out to squeeze her arm, before stepping out of the car. It was all you could manage right now, but you hoped it got your point across. 

It did. And even though tears welled in Claudia’s eyes on the way home, and she clung to Patri’s hand rather tightly, she was glad she’d spoken up. It was what she’d needed to hear all those months ago, and she hoped that it would make things easier for you. 

-----

You were curled up on the floor near your couch when you made the decision. Tremors were wracking your whole body, and you had been crying for so long that your chest hurt. It seemed that everything had caught up with you, but the breaking point had been the message from your national team coach, reminding you, again, to think of the team, and to stay out of the public eye until your visible injuries healed. There was no please, no thank you. It was just assumed that you’d do it. That really got you; that you’d been pliant for them for so long that they didn’t doubt that you’d go along with whatever they told you to. 

You just felt so alone, and so scared. So incredibly scared. It was this fear that had you reaching for your phone. You couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t keep it all in. You couldn’t tell another lie, and you didn’t want to. You just wanted someone to come and tell you that everything was going to be okay. You wanted someone to protect you, in the way you should have been protected this whole time. 

There were people that you trusted to do this for you, and you’d lost all the strength to deny yourself the comfort and the care you ached for. 

The phone had barely rung once before it was picked up. 

“Nena? Are you okay?” Alexia asked softly. 

“No,” you replied, your voice barely more than a sob. 

“Oh, cariño. What can I do?” 

“Come over, please. I can’t do this alone anymore.” You gasped out, wiping harshly at the tears streaming down your face. 

“I am on my way, pequeña, okay? Just sit tight, Mapi and I will be there in a few minutes.” 

“Okay,” you said miserably. You hung up the phone, curling up against the side of the couch once again, muffling your cries in the cushions next to you. It felt like you might never stop crying. 

-----

The sight that Alexia and Mapi were met with when they walked through your front door wasn’t one they ever wanted to see again. 

You were curled in on yourself on the floor, gasping and clawing at your chest as you cried, looking so panicked, and so terrified, neither of them were very confident that they’d be able to help you. Alexia was at your side in an instant, physically pushing your coffee table out of the way so she could crouch down next to you, and pull you into her arms. 

“Okay, okay. It’s alright. You are safe, nena, I promise you.” She murmured, allowing you to hide your face in her neck. You were still trembling, still sobbing, when Mapi sat down next to the two of you, looking helplessly at her captain. 

You couldn’t speak, even though you kind of wanted to. You were so overwhelmed and so exhausted, the only thing keeping you from really dissolving into an irreversible state of panic being Alexia’s arms around you, and her and Mapi’s voices in your ear. 

They promised, over and over, that you’d be safe, that they’d keep you safe. You supposed the only way they’d be able to do this was if you told them everything. And even though it terrified you to do so, the thought of going back to camp next break like nothing had happened was paralyzing. 

You had to trust Alexia and Mapi. You didn’t think you’d be able to keep going if you didn’t trust them, if you didn’t let them in. You resolved to talk, to be honest, as soon as you were able. As soon as you stopped crying. You weren’t sure when that would be, honestly, because it didn’t seem like you were calming down at all. For now, you gripped Mapi’s hand, focused on the feeling of Alexia’s hand on your back, and willed yourself to be calm. They had you. They’d keep you safe. 

----- 

[rottenpumpkin13]

Cloud's small hand wrapped around his mother's finger as he babbled. Claudia laughed, burying her nose in his soft blond hair and nuzzling him gently. "Happy first birthday," she whispered.

-

Cloud’s second birthday was marked by excited squeals when he saw the brightly colored toy train his mother presented him. “Tain!” he exclaimed as Claudia set it in his lap, laughing as she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Happy birthday, my darling.”

-

“Cloud!” Claudia laughed on the afternoon of Cloud's third birthday, watching the excited toddler dig his fist into his chocolate birthday cake and happily grab the candle between his messy fingers. “You're not supposed to do that!”

-

“Why is it raining today?” four-year-old Cloud huffed, upset as he sat by the window and watched the early August rain hammer against the glass. “I wanna go outside!”

“Think of the rain as a birthday gift!” his mother called back from the kitchen. “Now you can go out and play in the mud!”

Cloud grinned, lighting up as he leapt off the chair and bolted outside. It was going to be a good birthday indeed.

-

Claudia gifted him a small, blue backpack for his fifth birthday, perfect for his first day at the schoolhouse the following week. “I like it!” Cloud declared, slipping the backpack on.

-

“Woah!” Cloud mused as he ran into the kitchen on the morning of his sixth birthday. There, a wooden sword with a red bow tied around its hilt sat waiting for him. “It's exactly like a SOLDIER’s, right mom?”

-

Cloud's seventh birthday was somber as he sat alone with a small cake his mother made. None of the village kids showed up for his party.

-

“I wonder what Sephiroth did on his eighth birthday,” Cloud wondered aloud as he hung the poster his mother had gifted him on his bedroom wall.

-

“Hey!” Tifa waved to him as he was going back into the house after playing. Cloud blushed, self-consciously wiping away the dirt from his clothes. “H-Hey!” he called back.

Tifa smiled. “Happy birthday!” she said. “Nine is a big age!” And then she dipped back into her own house. Cloud sighed. Not big enough to join SOLDIER.

-

“Maybe everyone's just late,” his mother, ever the optimist, suggested on the evening of his tenth birthday. It was nine. Everyone was supposed to be there at six. Cloud shook his head, ripping off his party hat and looking at the cake his mother had baked with a mix of guilt and nausea.

“No, mom. They're just not coming.”

-

Cloud started his eleventh birthday by measuring himself on the door frame. “Aw, man” he groaned, stepping back to see that his height had not changed from the previous year.

-

Cloud spent the evening of his twelfth birthday on the water tower, looking up at the stars, wondering what it would be like to touch them, hearing the soft sounds of the piano drifting from Tifa’s room. It was the birthday he decided to stop trying to make birthdays special.

-

On his thirteenth birthday, Cloud's mother gave him a suitcase. “Woah,” Cloud mused, impressed as he picked it up, weighing it for size. “Mom, are you serious?”

Claudia smiled softly. "For the journey ahead," she said, pulling him into a hug.

-

Fourteen was the age Cloud stopped wishing for material possessions for his birthdays. He wanted only three things: to finally join SOLDIER, a friend, and to take care of his mother.

-

Cloud's fifteenth birthday gift was given to him early that morning, with chaos and laughter giving way into the moment his squad mates woke him up. They grabbed him out of his bed and dragged him into a cold shower. He pretended to laugh, to enjoy the seemingly harmless prank, but inside he was mortified. And now very cold.

-

On his sixteenth birthday, Zack handed Cloud a cupcake with a single, flickering candle. Cloud hadn't been expecting it, but he should've figured something was up the minute Zack walked up to him with his arms behind his back, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"What did you wish for?" Zack asked the minute Cloud blew out the flame.

Cloud huffed. “As if I'd tell you.”

“Hey!” Zack laughed, punching him playfully. “Don't forget, you can't talk to me like that anymore. I'm the adult here—eighteen trumps your sixteen!”

Cloud laughed with him, staring down at his cupcake. He wished all birthdays would be like this.

-

Cloud wasn't awake for his seventeenth birthday. Hojo's calculating gaze scrutinized him through the glass of the mako tank.

-

Eighteen came with a metaphorical slap to the face. "Subject approximately eighteen,” Hojo muttered, observing Cloud in his cell. Cloud's sense of time was warped. Zack was eighteen too, wasn't he?

-

Cloud was strapped to a table on his nineteenth birthday. The lab was filled with the sound of his screams.

-

On his twentieth birthday, Cloud watched through the mako tank as Zack was subjected to a torment familiar to him—strapped to the table, enduring agony under a knife, his screams piercing the air. Cloud couldn't do anything.

-

Cloud's twenty-first birthday passed in a haze as he lay comatose. But Zack was determined. He pulled him closer in the back of the truck they had hitched a ride in. "Happy birthday, buddy,” Zack whispered, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

-

On his twenty-second birthday, Cloud stood motionless as Tifa hugged him tightly. "Happy birthday!” she said, holding enough excitement within her to last him a lifetime. Twenty-two, he kept repeating in his mind. Was he really twenty-two already?

-

Cloud spent the early hours of the morning on his twenty-third birthday staring into a bathroom mirror. He traced his fingers over his face, looking at every line, every scar, his hair, his nose, everything. It was so strange. This was the age Zack was when he died.

-

On his twenty-fourth birthday, Cloud sat beside the Buster Sword, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry," he sobbed quietly. He was now older than Zack would ever be.

[ethan-acfan]

Desmond head canons (with a few non desmond head canons thrown in) (I love desmond and all non-desmonds equally I swear)

Desmond once came out of the animus and tried to greet the others, but he couldn't figure out which language to use, so for about 5 minutes, he cycled through different languages trying to find the right one before just giving up.

Ezio has chronic pain from climbing buildings because he never learned the correct way to climb them, nor the correct stretches to stop the pain

Haytham once convinced Connor to come with him to a tavern, Connor ended up getting drunk and zoning out for 30 minutes before putting his head down and silently crying in the corner

Connor never processed his mom's death because after she died, he had to rebuild the village, then he had to learn to fight, then he had to worry about his villages safety, etc. So he never processed it

Altair and desmond suffer from migraines and not the "my head hurts" migrans I'm talking the ones that cause you to black out for a minute and get sick

Altair once was learning to do a leap of faith, but while it was being explained, he accidently turned on his eagle vision and nearly freaked out (his dad had to take him home right after and explain what Altair was seeing)

After a few days of reliving ezios' memories, desmond started to gravitate towards Shaun because (just like Leo) Shaun smells like books

Altair has the stupidest sense of humor

Ezio collected cats, Altair collected birds, connor collected dogs/ wild animals, and now all animals are just drawn to desmond

Desmond once fist fought a gang leader *and won.* He also got the leaders' respect. (Being a bartender in Manhattan does things to you)

Desmond with adhd

Connor doesn't like walking into new places without being able to scope out the area first

DESMOND WITH ADHD

Altair has severe attachment issues, so bc of this, he distances himself as much as possible, so he doesn't get attached

Desmond got into an argument with Bill and got so frustrated that he started talking in native American without realizing Bill then said something snarky and desmond snapped in a perfect native America accent. "Haytham, you are unbelievable"

Desmond can control his ancestors' ratatouille style

When there is a time jump in the animus (for example, the time jumps in the training montage in monteriggioni), it's super disorienting for desmond bc he gets the memories of his ancestor but if he focuses on them he can't remember them

Desmond once cried for an hour in his room bc he couldn't remember Rebecca's name when he came out of the animus

Desmond nearly attacked Bill on multiple occasions because his bleeds made him appear to be a Templar (Bill is no longer allowed near desmond as he is getting out of the animus)

While they were in the temple, a bear wandered in, and everyone freaked out, but desmond just helped the bear find its way back to his mom (they now get random prey left outside of the temple)

One time, desmond tried to reach for a throwing knife before realizing he dosent have throwing knives, and he nearly died, lol

Desmond called Rebecca Claudia once, and she never forgot it

I have so many more, but I don't feel like typing them out rn

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

since it's pride month, i want to highlight my favorite underrated/underappreciated queer characters and ships! (part 1/???)

(feel free to add more!)

Lake - Infinity Train (non-canon)

it's not canon but you cannot tell me that Lake isn't an allegory for trans/nb people. her arc is so beautiful and her character resonates with me so much!

i have to admit, i actually kinda hated her in the beginning because of how aggressive and rude she was, but she actually gets good character development and you can also understand why she was the way she was, being a good representation of a minority who is constantly suffering because of the social norms she’s forced into. also i don’t ship her with jesse but i do like the idea of them in a qpr or just being platonic besties.

(i use she/her pronouns for Lake because that's what they use in the series, but also because not all non-binary people use they/them, and it's kinda weird to see people insist on using they/them for Lake just because she's nb-coded. she has never shown an aversion to bring referred to with she/her pronouns.)

Le Chevre x El Topo - Carmen Sandiego (canon)

they are side characters who don't play a huge role in the narrative but they are a really cute couple and have been confirmed to be canon! even without the confirmation, it’s clear that they were written to be a romantic couple.

mild spoiler: after the series ends, they stop being antagonists and instead put up a food truck together! it’s the cutest thing, i swear

Ryan x Min-gi - Infinity Train (non-canon)

my OTP through and through! i say non-canon but the romance is so heavily implied, you cannot ignore it.

they're a good example of childhood friends who had a complicated relationship where both individuals did something wrong, but in the end, they grow as people and manage to mend their relationship together.

Moomin x Snufkin - Moominvalley (canon)

i have only read one of the books and watched a few clips of these two characters but from that alone, it's clear that they were written as lovers (and the author is queer too!)

they are a beautiful portrayal of long-distance relationship where both individuals have different needs in life, but still want to be with each other regardless.

Terrestrius / Terry - The Dragon Prince (canon)

Terry is canonically transmasc and they actually manage to explain this in the series, without making it sound too forced or expository. he's such a sweetheart too, and his relationship with Claudia is actually really sweet, despite the fact that she's one of the villains.

Carmen x Julia - Carmen Sandiego (non-canon)

again, i say non-canon but it is heavily implied that they have feelings for each other, especially in the extra interactive episode, where Carmen leaves a bouquet of red roses for Julia, and Julia is shown to blush when receiving them.

Amaya x Janai - The Dragon Prince (canon)

what’s that? it’s actually possible to write an enemies to lovers romance that is healthy and not extremely abusive?

Amaya and Janai have such a good relationship in S5 (and Amaya is also a great disabled representation!) Janai actually learns sign language to communicate with Amaya, and there are no unnecessary miscommunication plots or drama, they’re just a really loving wlw couple.

Benson x Troy - Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts (canon)

when i say we need more mlm ships in animated media!! i’m so glad us sapphics are getting a lot of representation but it’s time cartoons started including more queer men.

benson and troy are just a really sweet couple with a good relationship that doesn’t have a ton of pining or unnecessary angst. while i love complex and tragic queer relationships, i also think that it’s good to show teenagers just being teenagers sometimes.

this opinion seems to be scarce in the queer community, which really annoys me tbh.

Raine x Eda - The Owl House (canon)

i cannot believe that given the popularity of TOH, Raeda is still such an overlooked ship. this might be an unpopular opinion but Raeda is better written and has more chemistry than Lumity and Huntlow.

just within the span of Raine's introductory episode, they managed to establish a clearly romantic past between these two characters, and also an interesting dynamic. and even though they didn't have much screentime, they still turned out to be the best ship in the series. (again, just my opinion, don't come at me)

i think it's so important to show older queer people in media, just as it is important to show younger queer characters. it helps establish the fact that queerness has always existed and isn't some newfound trend that social media invented. not to mention, raeda is one of the very few canon ships that include a non-binary character.

[cbrownjc]

I too think Claudia's sexual assault by Bruce did happen. However, I DO think there is an aspect regarding what motivated her to come back home after that assault that is being hidden.

And that is that it was after the assault that Claudia fully decided on her plan that we read about in the book Merrick -- which is to pit Louis and Lestat against each other for her own benefit.

See, one of book!Claudia's issue was that, because she was turned at such a young age (5 years old) there was absolutely no way she could ever hope to venture out and find more of her kind -- which she desperately wanted to do -- without someone looking after her. And so between the two fathers that she hated for her predicament, she chose Louis over Lestat because Louis would be more "malleable" between the pair of them, and worked to drive a wedge between them so she could kill Lestat with Louis loyal to her.

And I think the same thing is true when it comes to tv!Claudia.

Because she was 14 years old when she was turned, going off on her own wasn't hard. She could travel alone on her own because, when it came to humans, she could look after herself.

But what Bruse showed her was that she couldn't look after herself when it came to other vampires. Against other immortals, she was no match; she wasn't strong enough because she had been made too young. She would need a stronger vampire by her side if she was ever to accomplish what she wanted to do, which was find other vampires like herself, but also be protected from those she finds who may be like Bruce.

Because even after Bruce, Claudia still didn't think all vampires could be like him -- or like Lestat.

Anyway, so I think Claudia came back to New Orleans with part of the Merrick plan already in her mind -- Louis was the more "malleable" of the two of them. Or, at the very least, Louis was the one she decided she had an easier chance of manipulating into going along with her plan to leave and find other vampires.

And I think, after the assault, that is a plan she wrote out in her diary -- likely the same diary Louis ripped the pages out of regarding the assault.

Trying to convince Louis to leave with her was, in fact, the very first thing she did after she walked back in the door of the Rue Royal house and reunited with Louis again. The fight in EP05 started because of Claudia's plan, her trying to manipulate Louis into coming with her.

But that the fight was when Claudia realized there was a huge flaw to her plan because she never knew how much of his power Lestat had been keeping from both of them until that fight. And leaving with Louis to protect her was not going to be as simple as she had likely thought it could be.

I think the pages where Claudia wrote about her plan to do this -- split Louis from Lestat and have him come with her for protection -- were taken out of the diary by Armand.

Just like Armand was likely the one who took out a lot of other pages from her other diaries -- all of which I suspect are pages that have Claudia not only talking about her hatred for both Louis and Lestat for what they did to her but also her growing plans to leave to find other vampires and then, after the SA, to go get and keep Louis by her side for protection in order to do so. And as time went on, that plan not only included trying to pit Louis and Lestat against each other, but finally killing Lestat in order to do it -- and getting Louis to help her do it.

The last part of that plan more than likely backfired on her however, given the flashes we see in the final episode of Louis' real memories of murder night: one of which was Louis screaming in pain as he held Lestat's body in his arms; and the other one being him grabbing Claudia by the neck and pushing her up against a wall in order to stop her from burning Lestat's body in the incinerator.

So yeah, I think that is what is being hidden when it comes to the SA -- that it was after it that Claudia began her plan that matches up with the one we find out Claudia in the books began plotting and that we find out about in the book Merrick. Louis ripped out the SA pages, but I'm better there are pages right after it that Armand removed as well, and Claudia writing out this plan, and it being the real reason she came after leaving is what those pages contained.

Claudia, even though she hated Louis for what he did to her, kept trying to get Louis to choose her by manipulating situations to break Louis and Lestat apart because she needed a stronger vampire by her side to protect her in her search for other immortals.

All of Claudia's plans to attempt to do this started right after her assault by Bruce. She didn't come back to stay, she didn't come back because she missed Louis. She came back to get Louis not because she loved him more, but because he was the one she felt would be easier to manipulate into coming with her. The one who was more "malleable."

(But Louis, true to form, always, always, chose Lestat over her. And her hatred of him only grew as he kept doing so.)

Do you think the SA of Claudia could be a misdirect? Not that it didn't happen, but it does occur in her diaries right around the time (iirc) she would be writing the pages that set Louis off in the books. SA brings about such a strong emotional reaction in us, it's easy for us to believe it must be the only thing written about on those torn-out pages, when it could very well be that the attack cemented her hatred against her makers and she went on to write about her plans directly after.

Mhhh.

I get what you mean but I do not think they would add that element to void it later.

For that it is too prevalent in the chronicles. This will be a theme. A discussion. One of the things that will be discussed.

That said, there are other ... lets say angles to "Killer" in "Prince Lestat", and it will be interesting how and where the hooks they planted will be taken up again. Because Killer's maker is definitely an interesting figure, and one I cannot really place yet. But there is a high chance that he will be someone important.

As per her hatred for Louis and Lestat - I alluded to that in the previous ask - but of course the pain she had to experience in the "American hinterlands", and the sheer fact that she experienced some of what Lestat tried to protect her from... had to fuel her anger. And I can understand that. It's bitterness, and hurt, and despair. Because with that event came realization. Reality, settling in.

Some of those realizations Louis will still arrive at in season 2. And they will be just as bitter, unfortunately.

[yesimwriting]

omg irl (personally) i would get so fed up with armand like... nothing's ever straightforward with you... there he goesss with his ulterior motives.

I love how you describe Louis' worry in the latest chapter, because as anon requested, it is the crashout of all crashouts BUT its so sublty written and kept between the lines (big kudos to you) because Louis is not burning and killing 20% of the vampiric population like he did in paris BUT there are hints/implication present that he absolutely would do something much worse to protect and/or avenge bestie reader.

And it really shows during the part after the phonecall when he's thinking to himself. Him repeating Josh's name like a mantra??? Girl his last victim was in the year 2000 but im sure he's willing make sure josh will never use both of his wrists to operate a car ever again lmao. Also, being an english speaking foreigner, i'm usually able to keep my accent at bay but i know damn well that Nola accent was HEARD through that damn phone. This reminds me of that older brother vibe ask of yours you wrote before. We all know he booked a flight arriving after sunset so he can personally drive and pick her up from the airport. Also stand as close as possible by the arrivals so she doesn't need to carry her luggage with a broken wrist.

His worry over the medication that makes her drowsy??? Omg Louis loves her so much its sickening what the hell. I need to see Daniel catching bestie in 4k, casually snoozing peacefully with Louis bc she feels so safe and i need daniel to snap a picture to blackmail louis with it later. (the 70 year old senior is louis younger brother confirmed by jacob anderson himself lmao)

The one hundred thousand over set price for her painting reference???? So Louis doesn't even know, I wonder where armand is keeping the painting. I also wonder what his intentions are with reader. Like... what are his feelings, is his interest romantic, platonic, sexual or something completely different.

Now bestie reader is so gen z and i know for a fact the people in this generation will see bullshit from miles away. (we've been trained by social media) I love the idea of armand being the manipulative gremlin that he is and reader just seeing straight through it. She's a baddie we know damn well she will CLOCK HIM the second he tries to shift the playing field. And I know he'll like it too. Just look at him and Daniel. (rip non book readers, devils minion will give you whiplash)

SIDE NOTE: i love the moment in the show when armand is retelling his story of the trial in paris and Daniel questioning how tf a five hundred year old ancient did not have the ability to stop his own coven. Daniel's smug face and the deadpan "Or what?". Daniel GO GET HIS ASS.

Daniel and reader would get along so well.

side note nr 2: i apologize for the bomb i just dropped in your inbox.

omg what a fun ask <33

i love armand, but in real life i'd be so over the theatrics of it all 😭 like yes you're playing chess and we're all playing checkers we get it!! no one will think you're less mysterious if you just answer the question omg

thank you for mentioning the louis thing! i'm glad you liked how i set it up bc i wanted his worry/frustration to be apparent but i still wanted it to feel in character. ik he's not opposed to greater crash outs (like the paris thing for my girl claudia ✊) but i also think that even when he's upset he understands time and place to an extent. like claudia's very intentional killers deserve worse than a guy who has done something relatively minor to reader on accident. however, it's still important that he very much would do the same if not worse for bestie reader if something actually bad happened to her, so i'm glad you read it that way!!

the josh thing pls 😭 i almost didn't have bestie reader give the guy a name bc she knew how he'd react. also i think that while louis isn't chill with murder, knowing that it'd be so easy to hurt someone who he thinks deserves it isn't an easily dismissible thought. i don't think he's jumping to hurt/kill everyone that's wronged bestie reader, but i do think it's an intrusive thought. the wrist thing 😭 i can see louis reacting like that if he was right there, but i feel like louis would only plan out violence if someone seriously/intentionally hurt reader.

this is going to sound off topic, but bare with me for a second. i haven't delved into this yet, but friendships can be just as complicated as romantic relationships, and while i'm committed to louis and bestie reader always being completely non-toxic, that doesn't mean their dynamic is simple. a major thing that complicates their relationship is the way that they worry over the way the other perceives them.

bestie is worried that louis perceives her as fragile and therefore fleeting and unworthy of long term attention. she's scared of being seen as a hindrance and as a burden. louis is worried that one day everything will click for bestie reader and she'll realize that he's a monster. so he's doing all he can to not demonstrate violence in front of her.

anyways, all this to say that he's not going around attacking people partially bc of his values but also bc he doesn't want her to associate violence with him.

also, total side note but this dynamic is actually what leads to reader and armand bonding. louis loves her so much and the thought of losing her is so distressing that sometimes he censors himself a little too much or treats reader like she's extremely fragile. armand doesn't. yes, this is because it's easier to risk losing someone that isn't the your emotional support human, but also bc he genuinely thinks she's capable of handling it. he'll tell her every (non-incriminating) vampire story ever in full, gory detail and reader is fascinated.

the accent comment is killing me 😭 ik that nola accent was HEAVY over the phone. reader felt those words in her soul.

and yes he’s AT that airport and he’s happy about it too lol.

also yes louis loves her sm 😭. ofc he was worried about her all alone on drowsy medication. that's the light of his life! what's he supposed to do if something happens to her? go back to only talking to his companion and occasionally a journalist accidentally moonlighting as a divorce lawyer??

also omg daniel and reader interactions are a need!! daniel being described as louis's younger brother is so important to me here omg. i love daniel and louis's relationship sm, and i just know daniel is ready for someone else with common sense to be sitting in. daniel looks at bestie reader like that one meme that's like 'you're the only bitch in the house i ever respected'.

the picture concept is so cute 😭 might have to write that into a scene bc i can see daniel seeing louis and reader asleep and at first being like ? and then taking the picture to bring it up later.

YES THE PAINTING REFERENCE i'm so glad you noticed!! i was so excited for it lol. i mentioned this in another post briefly, but i think armand's lowkey disgusted with himself for purchasing the painting bc it's a physical representation of the fact that he finds reader interesting. even before louis, before he knew her, he found something about her interesting, and bc he thinks reader has dismissed him, he wants to pretend that he's never thought about her at all.

i don't want to spoil where the painting is (it's not a major spoiler lol) but armand still has it and it is somewhere secret.

omg armand's intentions with bestie reader 😭!! i'm going to give you a short answer and then a long answer bc his feelings for her evolve slowly.

short answer: he has a really intense hate-crush on her. she's so beloved and perfect and basically the sun personified. he wants to consume her soul, he wants her to not exist, he wants her live forever, he wants her, he wants her to be just as obsessed with him so that he can calm down. she's an affliction. she's a blessing. he's going through it.

long answer: at first, he resents her bc she's taking up all of louis's attention and love. then, he starts to wonder what is so perfect and wonderful about her that has louis absolutely enraptured by her existence. then, he tries to win her over for his pride, and then..well...it spirals.

there's also the underlying benefits of getting reader to care more about him than louis bc then louis can't leave him without losing reader (most delusional and unrealistic part of his thought process tbh).

as far as end goals, he's a little lost bc all of this was an accident <3. it gets to a point where louis and reader are so intertwined, armand thinks he deserves to be with both of them. he's entitled to a matching set.

bestie reader's gen-z-ness being the reason she can see through everything armand says 😭. omg. in my head, she likes louis and armand together so when she realizes something is up she's like oh no. bc she obviously has to tell louis but she's not happy about it. lowkey on a subconscious level she doesn't want to not have armand in her life so she's like :(.

still calls him out tho bc she's loyal and also bc his lies are so egregious it's hard not to. i can picture her being lowkey sneaky when armand mentions saving louis, like feigning confusion and asking something like "just so i'm clear, isn't lestat also technically a powerful vampire? and wasn't he also in the building?" just to start something but also as a way of sending louis subliminal messages to lock in and open his eyes.

also i can see daniel realizing bestie reader knows something is up and looking at louis and being like "come on...i know, armand knows, even the girl that was really happy to be talking two minutes ago and now can't stop staring at the floor knows..." 😭

omg and armand liking being called out. this is for sure when his obsession with reader peaks. also, this hasn't come up yet, but i picture bestie reader as being very perceptive and when she argues with armand over small things she accidentally clocks him with next level reads that she'll never know how accurate they are. i'm talking reads so accurate, louis is immediately stepping in between them bc he thinks it's so over for her just for armand to let it go. (might need to write a drabble featuring this)

armand's love language to reader is not killing or torturing her for calling him out. it gets to a point where louis is like ? girl i've seen you kill people for implying what she just directly said?? if louis ever notices that something is going on with armand in relation to bestie reader it's bc of a suspicious lack of attempts to physically hurt her fr.

(also total side note, but bc you mentioned devil's minion, i just needed to say i love devil's minion era sm.)

omg in response to your side note, i LOVED that moment so much. "or what?" had me gagged. on the GROUND fr.

daniel and reader would get along so well. two divas coming together to maximize their joint slay. they're sitting around the penthouse giggling over the vampire drama like they're the immortal ones 😭.

also,, never apologize for sending me a long ask!! i'm currently very hyperfixated on iwtv and this was so fun for me! if anything, i'm sorry for how long this response was 😭💗

[salternateunreality2]

I think I'm going through a Cloud phase (again) + because my birthday's coming up I'm requesting ambrosia straight from the source (saltcanons): How did Cloud usually celebrate his birthday as a kid in Nibelheim vs. as an adult. Any tl you want; canon, AC, agszc, the choice is yours <3

❤️🍊❤️ henlooo pumpkin! Thanks for the ask! ❤️ and Happy (soon) Birthday!

0 years old:

Against tradition, both his parents were there to welcome him. They were both young, both scared, both excited, and when he came out breech, they held each other's hands and their breath until he drew his first and SCREAMED.

He came out the same way he would go through life: feet first and impossible to kill, stubborn as a mule. They were so proud and laughed and cried and couldn't get over how perfect he was.

1 year old:

Papa (Cloud could say his name and Mama's) made a little carrot cake from carrots they grew in their garden, honey from their bees, and a lot of love since they didn't have much else. Claudia decorated it with dandelions to match his shockingly thick and spiky hair (just like hers).

He LOVED it, shoveling handfuls in his mouth with a frown of determination while Mama and Papa giggled and kissed.

2 years old:

Cloud said "NO!" and Mama cried. She tried to make the cake again but couldn't focus because he kept asking "WHERE PAPA?!" and when she told him "I don't know", he started saying "NO!" and didn't stop until he screamed himself to sleep.

3 years old:

They moved to the mountains, Mama said they would look for Papa, and Cloud tried every day, even on his birthday, but couldn't find him. He wanted chocolate milk, so Mama got it for him, but stopped wearing her pretty sparkly earrings after.

5 years old:

Cloud was excited to have friends show up. He helped Mama every day, and this year she said they could make a real cake big enough to share! Only one friend from school came, TIFA! And her mom. And they ate cake and had some left over and it was SO FUN!!!

9 years old:

Cloud asked Ma to please stop trying to invite people; they wouldn't come, not even Tifa since she got hurt and her dad said to stay away from him. So they celebrated together, with a small cake and milk (he was too mature for chocolate milk, but regular had lots of protein, which he needed to grow strong).

14 years old:

After Ma went to bed, he slipped out the back door with a small bag of food and a lot of determination. He left her a note. He didn't realize she was watching from the window and crying, knowing she couldn't stop him.

15 years old:

He spent far too much gil to call his Ma, since she had insisted, and ate the cookies she sent with a carton of milk from the mess hall, all while hiding in a broom closet.

16 years old:

Red-faced, he blew out a candle on the ridiculous cupcake Zack got him, all covered in sprinkles and frosting. Zack hollered and cheered and Kunsel blew a party horn. Absurd.

He loved it.

17 years old:

He stared at the glowing eyes above him, wondering if they would ever make it out alive. A skinny arm braced him, and he could barely hear a warbly, whispered rendition of a birthday song as...Zack? Zack. Sang to him. He closed his eyes, not hearing Zack begging for him to stay awake.

20 years old:

He blinked. One moment he was in the desert with a sword. He couldn't leave the sword, it was important. He didn't know why, but he couldn't drop it, no matter what. He blinked again and he was in a city. He blinked again and he was on a train. He blinked again and there was that girl, who wasn't dead? Was she supposed to be dead? Tifa? Tifa. He knew that, he was a First Class SOLDIER.

21 years old:

He was working on some construction for Tifa when she brought him a big glass of milk and a little cake.

"Happy birthday," she said, smiling softly.

He thanked her and she went inside. It was salty. Oh, no, that was from him, as he remembered Zack, Aerith, Ma...

23 years old:

He thanked Marlene and Denzel for the pictures they drew, and let them help him blow out his candles. He also allowed himself a small smile, until Yuffie strapped a stupid birthday hat to his head and he had to chase her down and mess up her hair. Tifa laughed and gave him a big hug and a little kiss on the cheek, which he thought about for several weeks after. Months. Years.

25 years old:

Tifa took him out under the stars.

"Hey Cloud?" she said, taking his hand. His heart raced. She was always a touchy friend with him and he didn't think she knew how much it made him feel like blushing and melting and wanting to put his mouth on hers.

"Yeah?" he said.

"I've been dropping hints, but I don't think you've been picking them up," she said. He tilted his head.

"Is this about the eggs? You SAID cook less than three, I SAW your text: less than sign, then three. Two eggs is less than three. How was i supposed to know you wanted more?"

Tifa giggled.

"No no no," she said. "Well yes, that was one of the hints. The less than three was supposed to look like a heart. Because I like you."

"Oh. I like you too," he said. More than she knew.

"Cloud, I love you as more than a friend. I like you romantically and want to kiss you and go on dates. It's ok if you don't feel the same! But I wanted to be sure to say it clearly, just in case."

Cloud blinked rapidly.

"You...love me?"

"Yes."

"Romantically?"

"Yes."

"You want to kiss me?"

"Yes. Is...that ok? We don't have to change any-"

"YES!" he squeaked, then controlled his voice and pitched it lower. "Yes, that is ok. Um...can I?" He waved awkwardly at her lips.

"Yes," she said, smiling

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

Alternate 25th birthday, because Genesis:

This red-coated, poetry-nerd asshole was on his LAST nerve. Cloud stomped into the bar and slammed the stupid roses and the stupid luxury chocolates onto the counter.

"Oof, someone's in trouble," said Tifa. Cloud snorted.

"He keeps dilly-dallying. It's been a year. If he wants to have sex, he should just say so. He's hot, I'd just do it if he wanted. But he won't just SAY SO, and I know if *I* try to say it, it'll come out wrong and he'll leave because I'm just...not...words...good."

"I highly doubt he'll give up on you over you being bad at saying you want to sleep with him," said Tifa.

"Not sleep, have sex," said Cloud. "And how do YOU know?! Don't you know he's like, super book smart? I ain't had that education!"

"I know because he turned the color of his coat and dribbled the pie out of his mouth onto my nice booth table the minute you said you wanted to bed him," said Tifa pointing to a dark corner behind him.

Cloud whirled around. She was not joking. There was Genesis, in all his glory, fork hovering midair, jaw dangling, red faced, half-chewed pie in front of him, staring at Cloud.

Genesis quickly shut his mouth and cleared his throat.

"Ahem, Strife, I, well, I did not realize, I would be honored, I thought perhaps you would not stoop so low, after, you know," he waved his hand vaguely.

"After you didn't help Zack, basically made me help kill Angeal, and moped in a cave while Sephiroth was trying to eat the damn planet? Well yeah, that sucked, but you were sick and unaware for most of that, and it doesn't change the fact you're h-hot," said Cloud, only stumbling over his words at the end.

"Oh," said Genesis, gazing into Cloud's eyes.

"Yeah," said Cloud, gazing into Genesis' eyes.

"Get a room," said Tifa. "You're grossing out my customers."

Yuffie waved from a couple tables over, making gagging faces as Vincent sat with her looking pained and Cid rolled his eyes.

Cloud had a very exciting birthday after that.

[kathlare]

weights and what-ifs

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In a gym session that blends camaraderie with tension, Lando and Jack navigate the delicate balance of friendship while carefully sidestepping the lingering weight of shared history.

Wordcount: 1.3 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

January 20th, 2023 - Ibiza, Spain

The sound of weights clanking against each other filled the gym, along with the low hum of music playing over the speakers. Lando wiped sweat from his brow as he finished his set on the bench press, the strain in his arms a welcome distraction from the thoughts swirling in his mind. Jack Dayman, Amelie’s older brother, was across the gym doing pull-ups, his movements fluid and controlled.

The two had been working out together for over an hour, exchanging the occasional word but mostly keeping to themselves. Despite the situation between Lando and Amelie, he and Jack had somehow managed to maintain their friendship. It was an unspoken rule not to bring her up unless absolutely necessary, though that didn’t mean her name didn’t hover in the background like an uninvited guest.

Jack dropped down from the pull-up bar, breathing heavily, and grabbed his water bottle. —You done, or are you going to keep pretending you can lift more than me?— he teased, his tone light.

Lando smirked, rolling his shoulders. —I’m just getting started, mate. Don’t get cocky.—

Jack chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned against a nearby bench. —So, how’s the off-season treating you? Been busy?—

—Busy enough,— Lando replied, picking up a kettlebell for his next exercise. —You know how it is. Training, sim work, trying to stay sharp. And you? You’ve just been… following Rodrigo’s matches around the world?—

Lando shrugged, reaching for a towel to drape around his neck. —Busy enough. Training, media obligations, the usual. Spent New Year’s in Dubai. Nothing too crazy.—

Jack raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. —Dubai, huh? That must’ve been wild. Who were you with?—

Lando hesitated for a beat before replying, keeping his tone casual. —Some friends. And Claudia. You remember her?—

Jack furrowed his brows, trying to place the name. —Claudia... Oh, the girl you were with when we ran into each other in Abu Dhabi last year?—

—Yeah, her,— Lando said with a shrug, grabbing a dumbbell and starting a set of bicep curls. —She came out for a few days. Thought it’d be fun to have her around.—

Jack smirked knowingly. —And? Was it fun?—

Lando let out a short laugh, his eyes fixed on the mirror in front of him. —Sure. She’s great... for what it was. But, you know, she started getting all serious, thinking it meant something more.—

Jack rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his water bottle. —And let me guess, you had to sit her down and give her the classic ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech.—

—Pretty much,— Lando admitted with a chuckle, though there was a hint of discomfort in his voice. —I don’t know why they all think it’s gonna be some big love story. I made it clear from the start.—

Jack gave him a pointed look. —Maybe because you keep picking girls who want a big love story. You ever think about that?—

Lando scoffed, setting the dumbbell down and shaking out his arms. —What’s that supposed to mean?—

—It means you’ve got commitment issues, mate,— Jack said bluntly. —You keep messing around with girls who actually want something serious, then act surprised when they get hurt. Maybe stop picking girls who remind you of—

He stopped himself mid-sentence, realizing where he was about to go.

Lando’s jaw tightened, and he shot Jack a warning glance. —Don’t. Don’t even say it.—

Jack held up his hands in mock surrender, though a small smirk tugged at his lips. —Hey, I didn’t say anything. You’re the one getting defensive.—

Lando shook his head, grabbing his water bottle and taking a long sip to avoid saying something he’d regret. Jack had a way of pushing buttons, even when he didn’t mean to. The gym fell silent for a moment, the tension hanging in the air like a weight heavier than anything they’d been lifting.

Trying to change the subject, Lando leaned against a bench and looked at Jack. —So, how was the family trip over New Year’s? Saw some pictures. Looked... cozy.—

Jack grinned, leaning back against the wall. —It was great. Took a cruise through Central America. Costa Rica, Panama, Belize. The kids loved it. Rodrigo came too.—

Lando’s grip on his water bottle tightened slightly, though he kept his expression neutral. —Rodrigo, huh? That serious already?—

Jack shrugged, seemingly unfazed. —Guess so. He’s a good guy, though. Everyone likes him. Even Dad.—

That last part stung more than Lando cared to admit. Jack noticed the way Lando’s jaw tensed but decided not to push it further. Instead, he continued, —Rodrigo’s solid. Treats her well, doesn’t act like a prick. And, honestly, she seems happy. Haven’t seen her like that in a while.—

Lando forced a tight smile, but the words hit him harder than he expected. —Good for her, I guess.—

Jack raised an eyebrow at Lando’s tone but decided not to press the issue. Instead, he grabbed his phone from the bench to check a notification. He unlocked it absentmindedly, Instagram still open from earlier, his thumb brushing over the screen.

—Hey, can I borrow your phone for a sec?— Lando asked, already reaching for it. —I need to airdrop myself those pictures from karting last week.—

—Yeah, sure,— Jack replied, handing it over without a second thought.

Lando took the phone, navigating to the photo gallery. But as he swiped down, something caught his eye—a green circle around a familiar name at the top of Jack’s Instagram Stories list: Amelie. His heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t seen that green circle in over a year. Close friends, huh? Of course, he wasn’t part of that anymore. Not that he cared—or so he told himself.

The rational part of his brain told him to ignore it, but the nagging curiosity—mixed with a twinge of jealousy—got the better of him. Before he knew it, he tapped on her story.

The screen lit up with a photo of Amelie and Rodrigo. They were standing on a rooftop terrace in Barcelona, the sunset casting golden hues across the city behind them. Amelie’s head rested on Rodrigo’s shoulder, her smile soft and serene, while Rodrigo had an arm wrapped protectively around her waist. The caption read, Sunsets are better with you.

Lando’s stomach twisted as he stared at the image, his grip tightening on the phone. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, the familiar burn of jealousy and regret mingling together. He didn’t even realize he’d cursed under his breath until Jack’s voice broke through.

—Everything okay?—

Lando quickly locked the screen and handed the phone back, forcing a nonchalant expression. —Yeah, fine. Just airdropped the pictures.—

Jack took the phone, noticing the change in Lando’s demeanor. —You sure? You look like you just swallowed a lemon.—

—I’m fine,— Lando snapped, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. —It’s nothing. Just tired, I guess.—

Jack didn’t buy it, but he let it slide, pocketing his phone and grabbing his towel. —Right. Anyway, I think I’m done for the day. You sticking around?—

Lando nodded, not trusting himself to speak. As Jack gathered his things and headed toward the locker room, Lando leaned against the bench, his mind racing.

What the hell was he doing? Claudia, all the flings, the casual relationships—they were nothing. Just distractions. And yet, every time he thought he was over it, over her, something would remind him. A picture, a story, a goddamn sunset.

Jack’s earlier words echoed in his mind: Maybe because you keep picking girls who want a big love story. You ever think about that?

And then it hit him, the truth he’d been avoiding for months. None of them were her. No matter how much he tried to move on, no matter how many girls he slept with or how far he ran, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d made the biggest mistake of his life when he let Amelie go.

But she was happy now. Happier than she’d ever been with him. And that thought cut deeper than he cared to admit.

With a frustrated sigh, Lando grabbed his towel and headed to the locker room. He needed to get out of his own head, but he knew it was only a matter of time before her smile, her laugh, her everything crept back in. It always did.

[sunshine-theseus]

Inside and Out | Aitana Bonmati x Reader

Words: 1.7k Summary: you weren't a cheerful or outgoing person but Aitana has plans to change that. - I'm back! sorry for delays Warnings: apologies, once again probably poor Spanish. request for - @realsociadadferminofan

People were often afraid of me upon first glance. You come to expect it when you’re covered in tattoos and rather buff, my resting face rather unhappy. It doesn’t mean it hurt any less when I try to talk to someone, and they went running for the hills. So I became the person everyone expected me to be; grumpy and lonely.

Until her.

Aitana was the epitome of sunshine. Smiling and full of life, welcoming people wherever she went. That’s exactly how she greeted me on my first day as Barcelona’s fitness coach. No one else bothered to approach me until Jonatan introduced us but as soon as Aitana saw me, she had her hand out for me to shake and asking how I’m doing, smiling brightly up at me.

I tried to keep up the ‘dark and broody’ demeaner for as long as I could around her, but she made it so hard. Every day before training she’d come in with that same smile, like sun beaming through the clouds, and would start up a conversation. In the beginning I replied with brief answers to get her to leave as soon as possible. Once I realised she wasn’t giving up anytime soon, I warmed up to it. Even going as far as looking forward to the daily meeting.

“Bon día!” She comes bounding into the gym, at exactly 9am as usual (after she learnt I love routine).

Other people mill around us, but we don’t notice as we begin to talk, occasionally attracting their eyes when we laugh too loud.

“Joder! Voy a llegar tarde al entrenamiento.” I’m left to smile affectionately as the Catalan makes a run for the locker room to get ready. (fuck! I’m going to be late to training).

I quickly make the decision I need to ask her out, fawning over her from a distance was not working out like I’d hoped. Completely ditching the gym plan I was scheming; I begin to make a list of things I know she likes. Instantly removing football off the list, I eventually land on a picnic at a lookout. The sunsets have been spilling pockets of warmer colours and casting a golden glow upon the city, I want to see that with her.

When the time for Barcelona Femení to walk through the gym doors comes, I grow nervous. Making a plan was all well and good but executing it was much harder than it seemed.

Making sure everyone has enough water and had a good lunch, it’s hard to keep my eyes off Aitana. Her sleeves are rolled up after spending time in the sun and her shorts are similarly so. The muscles that are normally so softly defined, prominently flexing as she makes her way over to some weights and begins lifting.

“If you keep staring she’s going to think you’re insane.” Claudia whispers in my ear as I help her fix her stance.

“Shut up, I’m not staring. Just… making sure she’s doing the right thing.” The younger girl chuckles and continues her reps while I try desperately to distract myself.

It continued to prove harder than expected. Every bicep curl, lunge, bicycle rep, my eyes drifted to her. The way beads of sweat dripped down her face and over the divots and hills of muscle that never seemed to stop flexing. The way her head tilted back as she chugged water. The laugh that echoed through the gym when Keira tried to speak Spanish or told an English joke she didn’t quite understand but found funny none the less.

The last of which did spark a jealousy deep in the pit of my stomach that I had to push down as I helped the other girls. Eventually I had to excuse myself to “take a call”, rushing to my car to bang my head against the wheel to try and knock some sense back into myself.

Jona, coming back from his late lunch with his wife and kid, knocks on my window in concern. I jump in surprise as he questions me.

“Estás bien? Qué ocurre?” the muffled voice is comforting none the less. (are you okay? What’s wrong?)

“Estoy enamorado pero tengo miedo de decir cualquier cosa. Y no puedo pensar en nada más” I groan and slump back in my driver’s seat. (I’m in love but I’m afraid to say anything. And I can’t think of anything else)

“Ahhh Aitana.” A smile spreads across his face and I flush red.

“How do you know?”

“She broke your dark and broody appearance. Only someone in love would allow their disguise to stripped away.”

“Well what about her? How does she feel?”

“Hard to tell. She’s always such a kind soul. But she’s never been so adamant in getting close to someone, so the chances are high. She risks being late every day to talk to you.”

“Qué? She shouldn’t do that.”

“But she’ll continue to.” The coach leaves with a smile and a skip in his step as he goes to overlook the team I’m currently supposed to be training.

I wipe the sweat off my palms, check my forehead in the rearview mirror to make sure there isn’t a mark from the wheel, and make my way back inside. I take to my usual spot in the corner, arms crossed, displaying the muscles that tend to scare away most, and yell orders across the room. If Aitana was risking her work for me, I’d simply stop allowing it. No more lingering conversations, no more daily meetings at 9am. No more anything. Back to my old self, for her.

That plan didn’t last long.

~~~~~

“Bon día!” the Catalan makes her usual cheerful entrance at exactly 9am, but I don’t even look up at her as I reply with a simple “morning.”

“Estás bien?”

“Mmhm.” I can picture the frown that adorns her face. Eyebrows pinched together and the corners of her mouth downturned, an expression that should never appear on such a ray of sunshine.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?” Aitana pulls out the chair parallel from me and sits.

“I’m busy, you’ll be late.” There’s a pregnant pause and I can almost hear the cogs turning in her head. I hadn’t been this blunt toward her since we first met.

“I always make it to training on time, even when our conversations last longer than normal. You haven’t had a problem with it before.” It’s hard to fight her when she’s right.

“But I will be late today if you don’t talk to me. In fact I’ll miss all of training, sitting in this chair, waiting for you. I’ll always wait for you mi quiera.” I pause and let out a sigh, leaning back in my chair and finally looking into the chocolate brown eyes in front of me.

“There’s this girl… she’s so amazing and kind and she made me lower my guard when no one else could. She didn’t stop until I crumbed. She’s always there for me. I really like her Ai, but I don’t know if she likes me back.” Another silence follows but I watch as the stoic expression blooms into a toothy grin.

“Sí, she likes you very much.”

“Would she like to go on a date with me?”

“Sí.”

Despite the simplicity of the conversation in comparison to how I’d originally planned it, I feel myself grow giddy, a word I do not use lightly for myself.

“I’ll pick you up at 5pm? Nothing too fancy.” Aitana nods and bids me goodbye, heading to training as I try and fail to focus on today’s session plan once again.

-

As promised, I pull up to Aitana’s small apartment building at exactly 5pm, finding her waiting out front. A peach linen singlet and white denim shorts adorn her body, black sandals comfortably on her feet.

“Hola! You look cute.” She’s confident in her statement as she slips into my passenger seat.

“Thank you. You look beautiful, as always.” I barely catch the dusting of blush that brightens her cheeks momentarily.

“Where are we going mi quiera?”

“It’s a surprise.” I lean my arm on the centre consol, simply a comfort measure, but Aitana slips her arm beside it and fixes her hand in mine.

“Everything is a surprise with you.” I simply hum in content and continue the drive.

I try to distract her any time we approach a sign with the name on it, pointing out things that weren’t there or cracking jokes only she would laugh at now she understands my humour.

“Mirador Sirriá?! This is like the best lookout in Barcelona! I’ve heard the sunsets are so pretty from here, but I’ve never seen with my own eyes.” She rambles as I find a spot to park. It’s relatively deserted for how popular it is, but I can’t complain.

“The best sunset for the best girl.” I tease as I hop around to her side to open the door.

“That was cheesy.” Aitana giggles as she follows me to the boot, grabbing the picnic blanket and basket of snacks for us to enjoy.

“A picnic? Aye you have a way to my heart.” She helps me lay down the blanket and takes a seat.

“No tenía ya una camina hacia tu corazón?” I let out a fake gasp as I set the food down in front of us. (I didn’t already have a way to your heart?)

We begin to eat and talk, laughing until our bellies ache as the sun sets behind the Barcelona skyline. The air starts to feel fresh and the orange hue that casts down on us makes Aitana seem ethereal.

“Hermosa.” I whisper and she turns her head. Her eyes seem to glow in the light.

I tuck a hair that flies into her face behind her ear and cup her cheek.

“You’re so beautiful, inside and out. I would still be an angsty, cruel, unhappy fitness instructor you all hated if you didn’t force me out of my shell. Thank you.” I barely finish my sentence before her lips are on mine. It’s a feverish kiss but still full of love and adoration.

My other hand grabs her waist as both hers fist my shirt. We don’t stop until air is no longer travelling to our lungs.

“I couldn’t let the grumpy, unhappy trainer stay that way. You’re too beautiful not to feel loved, inside and out.” I bump my nose against Aitana’s and smile one of the biggest smiles I ever have.

“Te amo.”

“Te amo.”

[gregrulzok]

Analyzing Interview with the Vampire is fun because going down one train of thought often leads me to a totally separate conclusion. Let me take you on the same journey I went through, real quick:

I started off thinking about the whole Claudia As a daughter vs. As a sister thing. I mean, it makes enough sense why she'd want to stop being their daughter so she could finally feel equal to at least Louis, if not Lestat.

But it's not that simple - she specifically requests to be called their sister after she witnesses Grace "bury" Louis. She even comments that she wasn't meant to be Louis' daughter, and that she was MEANT to be his sister. What's the significance here?

Louis specifically wanted a daughter when they made Claudia. Or rather, he proposed she be a daughter - Louis wasn't asking for a sister, in fact he HAD a sister and, at the time, at least some sort of relationship with her (albeit a tense one). If Claudia was meant to be a replacement for Grace, surely there have to be some connections between the two?

Well, there aren't. Grace's presence in the show is fairly understated, and they don't parallel Claudia almost at all - Louis and Grace are close at first, drift away slowly, Louis never struggles with her growing up, never feels like he has to take care of her, never feels bound to her like he does Claudia.

But... He does feel that way about Paul.

Paul, like Claudia, was fragile and needed care and attention. Paul, like Claudia, was chained to Louis. While he was alive, Louis was closest to Paul, and took care of him.

(And after all, both characters share a bird motif and the allusion to jumping off a high place to their deaths (and these things were put on Claudia, forced on her like a costume. Traits associated with Paul grafted onto Claudia)).

So, okay. Claudia isn't Grace, she's Paul - the reason the revelation comes to her after Grace abandons Louis is just because she never met Paul and had no way of understanding his and Louis' relationship.

In lieu of Paul, Louis is now taking care of Claudia - she's the family he has to look after, and therefore gives him purpose, and therefore chains him and restricts his freedom.

And all of this makes the lines where Louis cries to Lestat and laments never having a family of his own even more interesting, because... What family? Louis wasn't married, wasn't seeing anyone, wasn't even vaguely interested in having a family.

Had Lestat not come around, would Louis have gotten married? Had children? Does he really believe he would have, when the only woman he even shows a vague interest in is a prostitute he sometimes visits? When he all but laughs off the idea of marriage when Paul brings it to his attention?

No, Louis wouldn't have gotten married. He wouldn't have gotten anyone to take care of - because he already HAD someone to take care of. He was taking care of Paul. He couldn't, wouldn't have gotten married and had kids - not just because he was gay, but because if he had, and he moved out, what would have happened to Paul?

When he's lamenting no longer having a family, and being unable to have a family, he's lamenting the loss of Paul, and he's lamenting that now he has to leave an eternity without him, without anything to fill the void. He threw away his chance at marriage and kids for the sake of a man that he now has to spend eternity without.

...

And.

What if Paul was conscious of this?

On that rooftop, what if, on some level, Paul realized that he was holding his brother back from living a full life. When he urged Louis to get married and got immediately dismissed, what if he realized, or knew all along, the role he played in that dismissal, that decision?

...

What if Paul killed himself because he thought he was holding Louis back?

[sorinethemastermind]

Whumpuary 2025 | Prompt: "I'm Fine"

 Soren had long lived his life by the Five S’s. Smile. Silly. Swagger. Strong. Another one he hadn’t quite come up with yet. 

 Maybe the fifth S was just Soren. Nobody had asked him, so he hadn’t needed to decide. Because that was the whole point of the Five S’s. Nobody knew about them so long as you did them right. And he’d gotten really good at doing them right.

 He didn’t really remember starting so much as he remembered how he’d felt without them. Small. Weak. Pathetic. Those words didn’t match. They didn’t go together nicely. They weren’t a formula for anything but a bad day. So he’d gotten rid of them.

 When he got knocked down, he pushed himself back to his feet. He smiled, made a quip, flicked the hair out of his face and settled back into fighting stance. And it worked. No more snivelling little boy who needed his Daddy to save him. No more small. Or weak. Or pathetic.

 The Five S’s.

 Smile. Silly. Swagger. Strong. Soren.

 In that order, they made him feel invincible. Or at least, they made him look like he felt invincible. It had worked on Viren, and it had worked on the other Crownguards, and now it worked on Ezran and Callum and the others.

 When the new High Mage made a mention of something Viren had been working on, and all eyes suddenly shot to Soren with pitying glances? Five S’s. Flash a smile, laugh about how gross magic is, prop his feet on the table. They’d roll their eyes and the conversation would continue.

 When King Ezran asked about the mission to find Claudia and everyone’s voices lowered, eyes casting to the floor? Lean forward with a grin, make a joke about how Claudia had always been sneakier than him, but how he had muscles. Flex. If he was lucky, he’d get a chuckle out of Barius. Either way, the conversation would move on, lighter than before.

 Funny how the tricks he used to use on his family he now had to use about them. They never did seem to go away, even when they were… away.

 Not like funny funny. More like… sad funny.

 But nobody noticed the difference. Nobody except Corvus, that was.

 When everybody else laughed, Corvus just gave him a measured stare. When they rolled their eyes at him, Corvus would sigh and glance away. When they moved on, Corvus stayed put, gaze roving over Soren’s face.

 Soren would chuckle, and give the other man a wink, which usually got Corvus to look away, eyes all wide and a flush creeping up his neck. Embarrassed he’d been caught staring, probably. But as soon as he looked away, and no one was paying attention, Soren would sink down lower in his chair and the smile would fall from his lips.

 Because magic was gross, but it wasn’t funny. And his sister was better at sneaking around, (he’d never thought he’d say this), but he missed being snuck up on.

 He remembered when she used to do it, he would always get so annoyed. Feeling like it was some failing in his Crownguard training or his skills or him that she was able to get inside his defenses. He would ask her to stop, and tell her it was annoying, and she would get all smug that he was frustrated and gloat about being the ‘invisible mage’.

 One time he’d had a really bad day at training, and he’d said he wished she was invisible, so she would just go away.

 He’d apologized immediately, and she’d said it was fine. She hadn’t snuck up on him for a few days after that, though. Now it felt like that, but if that horrible, twisting feeling in his gut that he’d felt whenever she didn’t pop out from behind some pillar or dark crevice was forever. Like suspense mixed with guilt mixed with loneliness. And that was not a good recipe for soup. In fact, it made him nauseous.

 And somehow Corvus could see that, even when none of the others could. Somehow Corvus could see past the Five S’s. He looked past the smiles and the silly and the swagger. He ignored the strong and saw the Soren underneath. Unprotected. Exposed.

 Small. Weak. Pathetic.

 And he hated it. 

 But it wasn’t like you could ask someone to stop seeing you. And even if you could, asking would have meant admitting that the Five S’s existed, and that would defeat the whole purpose. So instead he just got better at the sixth S, the one that he only needed for Corvus. The one he’d learned from Claudia.

 Sneaky.

 When he was feeling like magic wasn’t funny, or the sadness soup was making him nauseous again, he would slink off and find one of the little spots in the castle that only he knew about. Before Soren had been able to hide in plain sight, his own kind of sneaky. Now he needed both kinds.

 So he would find an abandoned broom closet, not used since the day of King Atticus. Or he would use one of those little passages Viren and Claudia had used to get around. One of the ones they hadn’t sealed off, because no one knew about it except him and them, and they weren’t around anymore to abuse them. 

 Also because not all of them led to places that were evil.

 Soren would go to one of those, the not evil places that still reminded him of Claudia and his Da- Viren, and he would seal it up behind him so that no one would spot the difference and he would just sit and be there in the them.

 He’d found one place, his favorite, hidden behind a shelf in the library. It must have been one of Claudia’s favorites, too, because it still smelled like her. That weird, slightly bitter, slightly sweet smell that was unique to her, created by whatever perfume she wore trying to cover up the ashy smell of Dark Magic. It made his nose tingle a little bit, and a few times he’d sneezed (maybe from that, maybe from the thick layer of dust now coating everything). But nobody seemed to notice. The library was usually pretty empty, save for Callum, but he rarely ventured into the Dark Magic section. Or at least, not when he thought people might be looking.

 So Soren would go there after council meetings, sometimes. Or in the dead of night, when he couldn’t sleep. Or when he was eating lunch and somehow the food reminded him of her. Or-

 He would go there a lot.

 And he would sit, and let the smile fall off his face, and his shoulders slump a little bit, and he would lean back against the wall and stare at what must have been her desk, still scattered with the remnants of whatever spell she’d been working on before they left. And he would just… Soren didn’t really know what he did. Just that sometimes it felt like minutes but ended up being hours, and that sometimes it felt like hours but ended up being minutes.

 Then he would straighten up, brush the dust off, and slip out into the library again. Nobody would notice he’d been gone, they rarely did. There weren’t as many people to notice, anymore. And for a little while, sneaky being the sixth unofficial S worked. Or maybe it was the fifth, and Soren wasn’t really one of the S’s. Because maybe Soren got lost along the way, buried beneath smiles and silliness and swagger. Maybe Soren wasn’t strong enough to be one of the Five S’s.

 Maybe that was what Corvus had been noticing. The chink in his armor.

 Maybe that was what led him to find the little nook in the library where he could let it all down and just be Soren.

 And then one day he was training some of the new guards in the courtyard, and he took a bit of a tumble (a sign he was doing his job well, Soren reminded himself). It hadn’t bothered him much while they were training (it had) but afterwards he took a moment to sit on the bench beneath that old tree in the courtyard, and just poke at his twisted ankle (that made it decidedly worse, not better). 

 Soren sighed, straightening up to go inside. Then he made the mistake of glancing up at the tree above him. For a moment he just enjoyed the way the light filtered through the leaves, thinking absently about a poem he might write. And then he remembered Claudia, the memory so vivid she might as well have been sitting right there next to him, urging him on as he tried to climb to the highest branch.

 He’d been ten, she eight, and she’d dared him to get a feather from a bird’s nest that was at the very top of the tree. So of course he’d grinned at her, asked if that was a challenge, and swaggered on up to the tree to get it for her. He remembered her wide eyes when he’d glanced down at her from halfway up the trunk, and the way she’d chanted his name as he reached the top and held the collected feather aloft. 

 He’d made it back down to the lower branches and decided it was a good idea to drop the rest of the way, saying he could just tuck and roll and it would look cool. It hadn’t looked cool and he’d ended up with a twisted ankle. Viren had been angry, saying he acted recklessly and giving him a proper scolding. But the next day Claudia had bounded into his bedroom going on and on about the spell she was going to use the feather in, so it had been worth it.

 And when she’d asked about his ankle, he’d flashed her a smile, said it was going to take more than a tree to take him out, and puffed out his chest. She’d laughed, rolled her eyes, and gone back to jabbering about Dark Magic and spells and whatever else she was going to do that day with their Dad.

 So naturally, sitting under that tree now, without her, was a terrible idea. Soren hobbled up to the library to be alone, not wanting anyone else to see him getting all melancholy because of a tree (that was silly, and not the Five S’s kind). But he was distracted and didn’t notice the way the bookcase was already slightly ajar even before he pushed it open. Soren nearly stumbled right into Corvus.

 “Soren?” The other man seemed a little surprised, jumping as Soren quickly took a step back to avoid colliding with him.

 “Oh, uh, hey, Corvus.” Soren quickly returned the smile to his face, rolling his shoulders back. “What’re you doing in here? A little musty for a hangout, don’t you think?”

 “I could ask you the same thing,” Corvus said, raising an eyebrow at him.

 Soren squirmed. “I, uh, just needed to- How did you find it?” he blurted.

 “You’re not that sneaky.”

 “Yeah, well,” Soren eased himself down onto the ground, gingerly stretching his leg out in front of him, “I’m still learning.”

 “But why?” Corvus asked, staring down at him with those big brown eyes. “Why sneak around in the first place?”

 “I just… needed some space.”

 “Are you okay?”

 “I’m fine.”

 “Is your leg okay?”

 “It’s fine, too.” Soren glanced up at him, flashing his most dazzling smile and flicking the hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head. “Gonna take more than a little fall to keep me down.”

 But Corvus’ lips didn’t so much as twitch upward. “Are you okay?”

 “I already said I’m fine, Corvus,” he repeated, shifting uncomfortably. Corvus’ eyes bored into his and he glanced away. “I just over extended my leg, okay? It’s a flaw in my stance. I’ll fix it.”

 “I wasn’t asking about your stance,” the other man said, hesitating for a moment before pulling the bookcase shut. He crossed the little space and sat beside Soren on the ground. “I was asking about you.”

 “And I told you I’m-” Soren broke off, blue eyes meeting brown. He glanced away, quickly. “I’m fine.”

 “As you keep assuring me.”

 “Well, I keep assuring cause I’m sure.”

 Soren stiffened momentarily as Corvus laid a hand gentle on his shoulder, the other man’s voice going low and soft. Lower and softer. “It’s okay to miss them.”

 “Nothing to miss,” he said, quickly. A little too quickly. “He was evil and she’s…”

 “They’re still your family.”

 “No-” Soren shook his head once. Then again, swiftly after. “No. No, don’t say that. I’m nothing like them.” He shrugged away from Corvus’ touch, arms crossing over his chest.

 “That’s not the same thing,” Corvus told him. “That’s not what I said. It’s not what that means.”

 “Then what does it mean?” Soren asked him, blue eyes flashing. “Family are the people you’re like. They’re the people who’ve got your back. They’ve never-”

 “They’re the people who shaped you,” Corvus said. “That doesn’t mean you’re like them. You’re nothing like him, Soren.”

 Soren glanced away, the fire in his eyes fading. “Thanks.”

 “Are you okay?”

 “I’m fine.”

 “Has it ever occurred to you,” Corvus said, “that you should more than ‘fine’?” The words might have been teasing, were it not for the look in his eyes. “That sometimes you should be ‘good’ or maybe even ‘great’?”

 Soren glanced at him, then away. “I’ve been fine with being fine for a while,” he admitted.

 “I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life, but… maybe ask if that’s how you want to be? Fine?” Corvus pushed himself to his feet, giving Soren a small smile. He patted him on the shoulder, a little awkwardly, Soren thought. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

 “How’d you find this place?” he asked again, as Corvus went to leave.

 The other man glanced back at him. “I wanted to make sure you were good.”

 It only occurred to Soren that that wasn’t really an answer to his question when Corvus had slipped out into the library already, easing the bookshelf closed behind him.

 The next day, when Soren left the council meeting, he jogged a few paces to catch up with Corvus in the hall.

 “Hey.”

 “Soren,” Corvus nodded, glancing sidelong at him. “You seem chipper.”

 “Yeah, I’m good.”

 A smile had tugged at the corner of Corvus' lip. “Good.”

[youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal]

I’d Fall to Pieces on The Floor If You Weren’t Around

AO3

Summary: Everybody needed Soren. He had to be strong. For the people of Katolis. For Ezran. For the Council.

But nobody was there to be strong for him.

Soren had just allowed the first tear to roll down his cheek as there was a knock at the door. He hoped whoever it was would just go away if he was quiet enough.

Note: I listened to “I’ll Still Be Here” by Leigh-Anne and “Forever Winter” by Taylor Swift a LOT while writing this. Listen to them while reading if you'd like the ~full effect~

The biggest of thank you's to the amazing @stuck-in-jelly for beta reading this✨

...

Soren was sitting on the edge of his bed in his room at the Banther Lodge. As Head Crownguard and a member of Ezran’s Council, he had a private room inside of the Lodge, instead of in the barracks or the temporary tent housing they had set up. The Council had been offered rooms and were some of the few non-royals with private rooms.

Usually, he would have insisted on sleeping with the rest of the knights and guards, but Ezran had insisted that Soren was still recovering from the attack and would not take no for an answer. The King also said it made sense to have at least one Crownguard staying near where he’d be sleeping, and Soren couldn’t argue with that logic.

Since they were running out of rooms in the lodge, Corvus had volunteered to be the one to stay elsewhere. Even after Rayla and Callum had so inelegantly departed.

Soren knew Corvus would be fine. He knew Corvus enjoyed sleeping outside. But Soren’s heart still twisted.

It seemed to be doing that a lot recently. For a multitude of reasons.

He’d always been drawn to Corvus, but it seemed… more extreme since their search for Zubeia. Soren couldn’t get Corvus out of his head. He kept thinking about the warmth of Corvus’s hugs, how his arm felt slung across Soren’s shoulders or lower back. How concerned Corvus had been when he arrived in Katolis after the wedding and the glorious sound of relieved laughter he’d let out when he saw Soren.

Thinking of Corvus and their mushroom escapades made Soren reflect on what had happened at the end of their adventure, when he’d confessed his concern for Zym because Zubeia’s the only family he has. It had taken Soren a little bit to realize he’d been a little emotional that day because he’d felt that his mother - Lissa - was the only family he had left.

After the destruction of Katolis, Soren foolishly thought that maybe, just maybe, Lissa would reach out. He’d held onto a glimmer of hope for weeks. Surely if there were a time she would try to connect, it would be then, right?

She knew where he’d lived. She knew his dreams of becoming a Crownguard. She could have assumed he was still living there. Even if she hadn’t been certain he was still at the castle, she knew how influential Viren had been in the royal court. Even if she had heard of Viren’s fall from grace, it was a safe assumption that somebody at the castle or in the government would know the location of Soren.

But even after the official proclamations about the attack had been sent to the other kingdoms, no letter had arrived for him. He’d checked with the Associate Crow Lord every day, for weeks. Asked if there was anything from Del Bar. Every day, nothing.

He eventually stopped going. He couldn’t handle the pity in the Associate Crow Lord’s eyes.

It seemed that Claudia would never change from her anti-Xadian ways, and his mother just didn’t care anymore. So why should he?

He should’ve known better at this point. He kept hoping for the best from those that hurt him. 

And where did it get him?

His kingdom in ashes. Everything he’d ever known, gone in an afternoon.

Viren, one of the last people Soren would have expected it from, was there to help him. To help Katolis. He still couldn’t parse through all of his emotions surrounding his father, let alone Viren’s death.

Relief? Anger? Cheated? Regretful? 

Sad?

He shook his head, trying to focus on his train of thought from before.

Oh yeah. The rest of his disappointing family and how he was slowly giving up on them.

He hated thinking that about Claudia. But he wasn’t sure why he kept thinking that his blood relations actually cared about him. She hadn’t exactly checked in on him in… well, years. He’d been alone for years.

Well. Not alone.

He had his chosen family.

But that didn’t make the loss of Claudia any easier.

Didn’t make the seeming rejection from his mother any easier.

His eyes stung and he sighed. He’d known this was coming, that a breakdown of epic proportions was on the horizon. But he’d held it off, placing his focus on Ezran and the others, hoping if he busied himself, he wouldn’t have time to think about his own feelings.

The last time he’d allowed himself to cry was when they were all reunited in the ruins of Katolis. Because Soren didn’t have time to be feeling these things right now. Ezran needed him. Ezran, who was going through just as difficult a time as him. He’d also lost his kingdom, followed by his brother leaving within the span of a few days.

And Soren knew all about how leaving and being left felt.

Everybody needed Soren. He had to be strong. For the people of Katolis. For Ezran. For the Council.

But nobody was there to be strong for him.

Soren had just allowed the first tear to roll down his cheek as there was a knock at the door. He hoped whoever it was would just go away if he was quiet enough.

“Soren?” a familiar voice called. “Are you in there?”

Soren’s eyes widened. No, Corvus could definitely not see him like this. It was bad enough that Soren had cried in his arms when recounting Sol Regem’s attack.

“Soren, I know you’re in there. I can see the light on, and I hear your feet shuffling.”

Soren looked down. Damn, his legs were swinging back and forth against the floor. He got up, defeated.

“If you don’t respond I’m just gonna come in. I’ll tell Ez I assumed you must be injured and that I had to do a wellness check.”

“Why do you have to be so observant,” Soren mumbled as he cracked open the door, hiding behind it and peeking out. “What’s up?”

“Being observant is what I do, you know that,” Corvus said with a grin before meeting Soren’s eyes. Eyes that appeared to be teary and rimmed in red. His smile fell, a look of concern replacing it. “Sor…?”

Soren looked away. “I’m fine. Why are you here?” Even Soren flinched at his own harsh tone.

Corvus, however, wasn’t fazed. “Can I come in?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

Corvus shrugged. “Fine, but I guess you’ll never get these new types of tarts Barius has been concocting,” he said, shaking the container that Soren hadn’t noticed in his hand. Corvus acted like he was going to walk away.

“You can come in.” Soren eventually relented at the promise of food, just as Corvus knew he would, opening the door all the way. He closed the door after Corvus, yet remained facing the door, hand on the knob and forehead pressed against the wood. Soren took a deep breath to compose himself.

…

Corvus watched Soren with bated breath. He hated seeing Soren like this. Everything in Corvus wanted to rush over to him and envelop him in a hug. Corvus wanted to walk up behind him and put his hands on Soren’s hips. Corvus wanted to rest his head on Soren’s shoulder, smelling that lavender scented hair while providing him comfort. Corvus wanted Soren.

He looked away, instead giving the man some privacy while searching for a spot to put down the tarts. Soren’s room was sparse, really just a bed and some storage (“For what personal items?” Soren had sourly mused to him on a shift one day. “It’s not like I have any belongings now.”), but it did have a small office area with a desk for Soren to work at. Corvus strode over there, setting down the container on the desk. Some snacks for when Soren got too focused on what he was doing. Soren didn’t forget meals often, but it wasn’t unheard of. Usually when Corvus brought him up a plate, he found Soren hunched over his desk, focused on whatever schedule he was creating or the applications for the guard that he was going through.

Soren jumped at the noise and turned around, eyes wide. He relaxed when he remembered it was just Corvus.

Soren cleared his throat. “So, what’s up?” he tried again, going back to sit on the bed.

Corvus glanced around the room, realizing that the only seating option was at the desk, or Soren’s bed. Soren patted the bed beside him. Well, that made Corvus’s choice easier.

Corvus sat with a fair amount of space between them and shrugged, looking in the opposite direction. “I just finished my shift and ran into Barius in the kitchen. When he told me he had new treats to try, I figured you might want some.”

Corvus pointedly did not mention that he’d purposefully sought out Barius with the hope he’d give him a good excuse to go hang out with Soren.

He heard a sniffle beside him and quickly turned his head, alarmed.

Soren was crying.

“Soren…?”

“Why are you so nice?”

“What?”

“Why are you so nice to me?” Soren cried, head falling into his hands. “Everybody else who’s nice usually just wants something from me, is using me in some way. But you don’t. It’s been years, Corvus, and I still can’t figure out why you’re always here.”

“Soren, what brought this on?” Corvus asked, hesitating to place a hand on his shoulder, genuinely concerned. He could see Soren fighting an internal battle on whether or not to tell Corvus what was going on.

He let his hand settle on Soren’s shoulder with a squeeze, hoping the pressure would help bring Soren out of his thoughts.

It must have, because a moment later Soren spoke.

“It’s my… Lissa.” Soren admitted. He was quiet for a moment. It looked like he was coming to a decision. In the end, Soren nodded. It seemed his mind was made up. “I want to show you something.”

Corvus watched as Soren reached underneath the armor on his left arm, pulling something out. It was folded up and worn around the edges.

“It’s the last thing I have of my family. My whole family. Even… even before the fall of Katolis,” he whispered, slowly unfolding the paper to reveal a family portrait. In it stood a young Viren, and a woman who Corvus assumed must be the aforementioned Lissa. Neither were smiling. In front of them was a small Soren, beaming as usual. In Lissa’s arms was an excited Claudia.

“It’s beautiful.” Corvus said, tucking his arm around Soren’s shoulders. His heart ached for his friend. “How long have you had it?”

“I… honestly, I’m not sure. It must’ve been the last family portrait we did together before I got too sick. Before she left.

“I used to keep it in a picture frame by my bed, but it made Viren angry, and Claudia upset. So, I hid it. As soon as I joined the Crownguard, I decided I wanted it with me, always.” Soren choked out a laugh through his silent tears. “Stupid, I know.”

“No, Soren, it’s not stupid.”

Soren went on. Corvus wasn’t sure if he’d even heard him. “Claudia thought it was stupid. I didn’t tell her about it until Pyrrah paralyzed me. I only told her so it wouldn’t get damaged or lost. I think… I think she understood? But she didn’t want the reminder.

“For a while, I kept thinking about how I had it on me when I left her, abandoned her. How it was in my sleeve when I killed that illusion of Viren. About how she knows. She must think I’m such a… a hippo…”

“A hypocrite?”

“Yeah! That word!” Soren let out a shrill laugh. Corvus hated how unnatural it sounded. It seemed laughter was Soren’s go to, even for feelings like this. But Soren’s laughter was supposed to be full of joy and mirth, not sorrow and anger. “She must think I’m such a hippo-critter.”

“You’re not a hypocrite, Soren. You had an abusive father. Families are hard enough to begin with, even in the most ideal of circumstances. It’s understandable that your feelings are all...” Corvus waved a hand. “Mixed up.”

Soren nodded, resting his head on Corvus’s shoulder with a sigh.

Corvus, trying to make Soren smile, jostled him with his shoulder and said, “Hey. You know, you were a cute kid.”

Soren sniffled. “Excuse you, I am still cute.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you are.”

…

Soren flushed, soaking in the compliment and enjoying Corvus’s arm across his shoulders while he put the picture away.

Unfortunately, his mind wouldn’t let him enjoy it for long. “Speaking of mixed up feelings, you know how we went to the Associate Crow Lord a few times to check for mail from Del Bar?” Soren asked, straightening up after a few minutes.

Corvus nodded.

“I was… well, I guess I hoped Lissa would send… something to check on me. On the family.” Soren laughed bitterly. “Then I remembered that my family doesn’t care if I live or die.”

“Soren, you know that’s not true.” Corvus said, somehow scooting even closer to Soren.

“Isn’t it? Why else would she not even send a letter?” Soren explained his earlier reasoning to Corvus, that she could at least try to locate him via the castle and make sure he was safe. “I get that she hated Viren, but… at some point you’d think wanting to make sure I was still alive would be more important than that.”

Soren knew he was being unfair to Lissa. He understood better than anyone else the need to leave Viren and never look back. But he at least had tried to search for Claudia during those two years. Checking her room every day for months to see if anything had changed, keeping an eye out for her on every mission outside of the castle.

Sending a letter to a definite location seemed so easy.

Soren couldn’t help the sob he let out. His eyes widened, embarrassed, before he turned fully into the man beside him. In turn, Corvus wrapped both arms around Soren. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to tell Soren it would be okay and to stay positive like so many did. Soren had always appreciated Corvus’s straightforward honesty.

Soren wept into Corvus’s shoulder. Corvus enveloped all of Soren’s broken pieces and jagged edges in a hug, holding him together. 

…

Soren had been silent for a few minutes, and Corvus could feel his breathing slowly starting to return to normal. They were still sitting in Soren’s bed, Soren practically in Corvus’s lap as Corvus held him through his tears. Corvus’s shirt was more wet than dry at this point, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but he knew he’d stay with Soren all night if that’s what the man in his arms needed.

“I don’t know why she wouldn’t send a letter, Soren,” Corvus said honestly into Soren’s hair. “But do you know what I do know?”

Soren shook his head. The movement tickled Corvus’s chin.

“I do know that your mother is missing out on getting to know the most amazing man I’ve ever met.”

Soren let out a watery laugh, but a hint of joy was creeping back in. “You must have low standards.”

Corvus tightened his grip on Soren. “You know I don’t.”

Soren felt more tears go down his cheeks as he rested his head on Corvus’s chest. 

“I also know that you don’t have to figure out your feelings right now,” Corvus continued. “Like I said, family can be… complicated. Even if your mom did send a letter to check in, you are in no way obligated to answer her or ever interact with her, okay?”

Soren nodded and quietly asked, “But what if I want to? What if I did want to see her again?”

“That’s completely up to you. And I’ll be by your side, every step of the way.”

Soren couldn’t stop the smile that rose to his face. 

Corvus enjoyed the closeness for a moment before his mind wandered to the beginning of Soren’s breakdown.

“Earlier you wanted to know why I’m here for you, Soren?” Corvus asked, bringing a hand to Soren’s face to make him look at him as he said this. The handsome face in front of him was blotchy and red, wet with tears and snot, but Corvus thought it made Soren all the more lovely. Soren let so few people see him like this - he’d even tried to shut Corvus out. But just like how Soren snuck his way into Corvus’s heart, Corvus was insistent on weaseling his way through Soren’s defenses. Corvus felt honored to be allowed to be there for Soren during times like this. “Because you’re my best friend and I love you. You may not see it yourself, but you’re worth more than what you can give to other people.”

Soren’s eyes widened and his mouth parted in surprise, like he’d never thought about it that way.

“Thank you, Corvus.” He absentmindedly nuzzled into Corvus’s hand.

“Anytime. I got you.”

...

Author's Note:

Would it really be a fic of mine if I didn't have at least a few pieces of inspiration from Tumblr? Granted, two of them were my own posts, but still.

General concept thought up here and here.

One section of dialogue was inspired by this post by Jelly.

Also, no I did not purposefully make an SPOP reference. I was writing and it suddenly just ✨appeared✨ and then I realized. TLDR: Soren is Adora.