Title: It's all tears
Pairing: Daryl x Reader
Summary: ‘This ain’t working’ are not the ideal words to hear in regards to your fairly new relationship.
Setting: Alexandria
Genre: SFW, Angst, Fluff, Ever so slightly suggestive if you squint and close one eye, Drabble.
Word Count: 800
A/n: This was just a cute little idea that I had to get down and wrote on the way to work.
“This ain’t working.”
You heard the words, you'd taken them in and now they just bounced around aimlessly inside your head, while your eyes stayed trained on the tiled floor of the kitchen.
He continued talking but you couldn’t listen, you didn’t want to hear the excuses, so you focused on the only thing in front of you.
The grouting could really do with a clean, you’ll have to get the mop out later and run it over the floor once everyone’s in bed. It’s shocking really, the amount of dirty boots that trek their way through this kitchen with no concern over who cleans it. Everyone is probably waiting for Carol to volunteer.
“Did ya hear me?” Daryl’s voice smashes through your attempt at ignoring the current conversation, causing you to forget all concern over the dirty floor.
You nod in response, hands wringing in your lap, unsure how to respond and unable to swallow the lump you feel thick and heavy in your throat.
As far as you were concerned, Daryl walked on water; he was the sun, the moon and the stars and all that lies in-between, he was your everything. To say that this shocked you was an understatement, you simply had not seen this coming. You had believed the feelings between you to be mutual but now, as you sit here repeating those words in your mind, you find a thousand memories rushing through your head, looking at them in a completely different light.
Did you perhaps have the wrong idea this whole time? Did you read all his actions completely wrong just to give yourself false hope of something real between you.
“y/n,” he said into the thick silence.
You fidget on the dining chair you sat in and clasp your hands together so tight your nails were leaving deep crescent moons in your skin, the pain gave you a distraction from the tears filling your eyes. “I-I thought that things between us, were-were going well, I-”
“Shit.” he mumbles, crossing the space from his place by the doorway and closing the distance between you. Slotting himself between your legs, his knuckle hooks under your chin and forces you to look up at him. An errand tear escapes and runs down your cheek, which he quickly wipes away with his thumb.
“Yer weren' listenin ta me?”
Frowning not understanding what he could mean, you repeated the words he’d said back to him. They sounded foreign coming out of you, knowing they would never leave your lips of their own accord.
“And wha 'bout after?”
You shook your head, a question in your gaze.
He squats down in front of you, his hand slides down to hold yours and big enough to contain them both, “I said, this ain’t working, I-I need ya ta come home ta me…every night,” he clears his throat, cheeks tinged pink, “I can’t sleep without ya next ta me no more.”
You felt like an idiot, how could you have assumed the negative so quickly after lecturing Daryl not to do exactly that. “What are you suggesting?” hope blossomed in your chest, knowing the words you wanted but praying to hear them from him.
Looking self consciously away from your gaze, his hold on your hands tighten. “Move in with me? In ma room, " his cheeks flush a deeper shade of red that you just want to lean over and kiss. "if yer want ta.”
Your chest erupts, heart thrumming a love song of its own as you throw your arms around his neck and bury your face into his neck. He wobbles under the sudden movement and his arm shoots round your waist at an attempt to steady you both. It fails however and knocks him off balance, sending him falling on his back and pulling you along with him.
A burst of relieved laughter exits your body along with your breath as you slam into him, your chest flush to his. He laughs, watching your face and your giddy expression.
“That a yes?” He asks, tucking hair behind your ear to stop it from concealing your face.
Nodding eagerly, his hand finds anchorage at the back of your neck and pulls you down to him, your mouth meeting in passionate exchange. You relish every moment of it, the softness of his lips, the way he tastes and the feel of him holding you so tight and secure. The reality hits that he is all yours, everyday and night; you can have this.
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What happened to Lemuria and Rafayel?
A mix of facts and theory. I try to quote where I got stuff from in the game, but let me know if something is unclear.
This is a monster. For TLDR, jump down to the bold words, as this sums up the general idea of this post.
SPOILERS for Main Story, Anecdote 3, and some Memories.
(MS stands for Main Story)
What we know:
Rafayel is Lemurian (Ebb and Flow and MS Chapter 7)
As a child, a long long time ago*, he lived in a Lemurian community in the ocean, specifically in the Deep Sea. He would sneak away from his home to explore the ocean and the surface world. (Nightly Stroll, Whalefall Lament, Ocean At Night).
*(What is a long, long time ago? 10-15 years? 800 years? He says his age is “24…probably” (promotional video). What does that mean? Has he forgotten exactly when he was born or is he alluding to the fact that he is much older? He made his vow to MC when they were both children (MS Chapter 7.11). Was that current MC or a previous reincarnation of her? If current, then he must be actually around 24. If a previous life of MC, then he could easily be 800 or more.)
Lemuria was believed to be mythical, and/or to have disappeared thousands of years ago. It was confirmed to really exist when, on December 31st, 2034 (the same year the Deepspace Tunnel appeared and the Chronorift Catastrophe occured), a tsunami and earthquake southeast of Linkon opened a rift in the ocean, revealing an ancient Lemurian city (MS, in-game article, and promotional video). When asked how he can be alive today if Lemuria disappeared thousands of years ago, Rafayel says to think of him as “a lost pearl that washed up on the beach”.
Other Lemurians are still alive. Rafayel’s Aunt Talia appears to be a Lemurian herself (his only remaining family) as she has known him a long time, knows about Lemurian ceremonies and other Lemurians, etc. In 2047, a Lemurian named K died. Rafayel attended his Seamoon Ceremony (essentially a funeral of sorts, returning him to the ocean to pass on and return to the water from whence he came), as did other remaining Lemurians (Anecdote 3).
Now that we have that foundation to work with, let’s start with Louis’ Tale in Anecdote 3.
For the sake of argument, I am going to assume that Louis got most of the story right, since Rafayel doesn’t contradict him on most points, aside from dismissing him in general, which I feel was to downplay how close Louis was to the truth.
They are discussing the opera Rafayel just performed in, particularly, the Siren’s Ballad. In the opera, the siren is a woman and the human is the man (played by Rafayel). Louis says they got this wrong. The Siren was “a charming, handsome merman”. Presumably this Siren is Rafayel.
Simple enough so far, but now it gets confusing.
The Siren (Rafayel) “met a woman on the beach, but she took his tail and cut off his scales”. This sounds similar in some ways to MC, but opposite in others. MC was a child, not a grown woman. And Rafayel got stranded on the beach (No way out, no hope, and waiting to die) and MC rescued him from death, rather than taking his tail and scales.
However, if we assume Fragrant Dream was a memory and not just a dream (Rafayel acts as though this dream is significant somehow), Rafayel gave a scale, his blood, and his voice to save MC, and ultimately sacrificed his life for her, in some past life. The perfume (bitter like fermented aquatic plants, the same description as the potion in the dream) that brings the possible memory to MC’s mind is from Your Fragrance. Rafayel has some very strange lines in Your Fragrance when he is under the apparently intoxicating effect this perfume has on him. He says the perfume smells familiar, then goes on to say:
“It must be an allergic reaction. This isn’t perfume. How dare they use such underhanded methods to trap me…”
“Who gave you the perfume?”
“Are you trying to run away again?”
“I’m not going anywhere. You’re gonna lock me up again… You’re with them, I just know it. Don’t think I’m unaware of what you’re about to do. (MC name), I won’t fall for it again. Not this time.”
This all implies that Rafayel was trapped and locked up in the past. And that on at least some level, he feels like MC played a role in him getting tricked. (Which might explains why he considers abandoning her when she is drowning in MS Chapter 7.11. See an alternate theory for this here.)
Back to Louis’ story, he describes the fate of the woman. The Siren is on the verge of death, and he sings the Siren’s Ballad. (Later, we learn this portrayal of the Siren’s Ballad is inaccurate: ““Siren's Ballad” isn't a song of revenge. It's an elegy sung for Lemuria”.) According to Louis, “Ultimately, the woman on the shore passed away with a smile as he sang.” Obviously, MC is currently alive. Did Louis get this wrong? Was this a past life? A different woman?
Louis then describes what he believes those who die by the Siren’s song experience.
“People lured by the siren's ballad don't die peacefully. Their smiles are just a mask bestowed by the Siren. Instead, as they near death, they witness bizarre visions as they're plunged into endless torment.”
The man, Mr. Fallon, who died during the opera is described as having died of no obvious cause with a smile on his face. After singing during the opera that Mr. Fallon died watching, Rafayel goes backstage.
“A searing pain throbs in his throat, pulsating in tandem with his heartbeat, rapidly stimulating his nerves. As he touches his Adam’s apple, he pulls out a new tie from his leather briefcase, a smooth satin entwined between his fingers. The cool texture gradually envelops his neck. It’s like sheathing a blade.”
This strongly implies that Rafayel used his voice for something more than singing, hinting at it being a weapon. I think it is safe to assume Rafayel somehow killed Mr. Fallon man with his song, presumably in the way Louis describes.
Another interesting thing of note in this part of Louis’ description is: “A blue pattern, representing the Siren, appears on their chests. It's a constant reminder of the sins they committed against the sea.” At first, I thought this may be the pattern we see on Rafayel’s chest in Chapter 7.11, implying he sinned against the sea, but on rewatching it, I realized that the mark is red, not blue. So I am inclined to go with my first impression that Rafayel’s mark is related to his bond with MC (since it responds to her calling out to him).
So, now that we are thoroughly confused about what has taken place between Rafayel and MC, let’s move on to the next part of the story. This is when everything takes an even more heartbreaking turn.
“The Siren returns to the sea, believing everything has ended. But he discovers his underwater kingdom has turned to ruins, soaked in blood. His people have either vanished, turned into bloody foam, or were kidnapped. His homeland has turned into a silent, deserted city overnight. Oh, and as for the name of this underwater kingdom - Lemuria.”
(Interesting side note: After this part of Louis’ story, Rafayel’s meal is served: “a fish laying amidst white rosemary”. Rosemary symbolizes fidelity and remembrance.)
Later, in his memories, Rafayel adds to this scene for us.
“The young boy sits alone in the middle of the coral reef, softly humming “Siren's Ballad.” Waves lap the shores, staining it dark red. The color blends almost seamlessly with the bloody setting sun in the distance. Those who deceived him have long since sailed away on their massive ships, laughing all the while. “Siren's Ballad” isn't a song of revenge. It's an elegy sung for Lemuria.”
He also remembers:
“The dying cries of his people echo in his ears, fizzing and crackling like a broken record that's been ground into pieces.”
“In the darkness, the shadows of those he personally laid to rest emerge and drag him down, lower and lower into the depths.”
Now, let’s talk about the painting Raymond bought from Rafayel.
But first, let’s talk about Raymond. He is a former patient of Zayne’s with a congenital heart disease. In his mansion, he has a giant fish tank with no water in it. Instead, it has a dull and pale skeleton. (MS Chapter 2.2-2.3)
“Fin-like bones protrude from its pelvis. This skeleton lacks legs, its spine extending like a long string. Its pose is ominously beautiful, resembling a girl sitting cross-legged.”
I think it is pretty safe to say this is a real Lemurian skeleton.
Additionally, Zayne notes that “According to the Akso remote monitor, your vital sign data has improved. The equipment also determined your age to be far younger than what it actually is.” In other words, Raymond’s health has improved, and he is unnaturally youthful for his age. Raymond even suggests he should be dead by now and asks Zayne if he is curious as to why he is not dead. Zayne admits to initial curiosity, but then moves on.
Before K died, he said “They took away my scales and drew my blood. Over and over again. I’m no longer Lemurian.” The doctor told Rafayel that K had endured “such agony”. This appears to be something many of the Lemurians on land are facing or trying to hide from.
In Rafayel’s Myth (Chapter 3), it says that the humans of that time believed:
"Every Lemurian was blessed with beauty. Their tears turn into glimmering pearls, their voices brought dreams of wonder, their blood made one live forever or could even resurrect the dead. Once you tamed a Lemurian, they were the most loyal, powerful servant. They listened to every command, even if it cost them their life."
Even if only parts of this are true, it shows that Lemurians are considered highly desirable as slaves or for parts. And the part about the blood seems to have at least an element of truth, given Raymond's health.
It seems reasonable to conclude that Raymond has been harvesting something (scales, blood, etc) from Lemurians to unnaturally lengthen his life and make him younger.
Now enter Rafayel’s painting.
He used blood red coral, infused with Metaflux, from the ruins of Lemuria for this painting.
When MC resonated with the painting in Raymond’s house, this is what she experiences:
“A stunning oil painting hangs on the wall opposite of the sofa. It depicts a brilliantly blue sea with cascading white waves. Each brush stroke feels alive as if countless fairies are jumping out of the water.
At the edge of the sea, the water is gradually stained crimson like something is being torn apart, swallowed, and coalescing into a blood clot.
The gloomy weather, the sound of the ocean - a salty humidity slowly creeps into my hair.
A girl by the shore, the lower half of her body submerged in the water. Strange. It's almost like she’s crying and laughing at the same time.
The swirling fog carries a faint, ethereal melody on the sea breeze. It sounds like a song, yet is also a lament.”
Mermaid Song plays in the background while MC is resonating with the painting. The translation of it is:
“A fish in your hand. Please burn with passion. Nets of moonlight. With coral, a prison. When waves kiss the morning sun. The scent of roses pierce. With a fish in your hand. Blood. Blood. Blood covers the sea.”
When MC visits Rafayel’s art gallery, we learn a bit more about this painting.
“When I was a kid, I had dreamed I turned into a fish.
I swam and swam and swam from the deep sea, seeking a place beyond the water's surface. Only to end up in blood-red seawater.
It was the first time I ever saw such a color. Who knows how many years I've spent trying to recreate it. But I never really could get that same shade of red.
It was always a slightly different hue, you know...”
All of this put together paints a scene along these lines for us:
A young Rafayel returns from an encounter with a human woman on the beach (MC?). He finds that Lemuria is in ruins and empty. He swims to the surface. It is nighttime on a coral reef. There is a smell of roses in the air. As the sun rises, he sees that the water is filled with blood. Perhaps there is a Lemurian girl there singing mournfully, or the girl in the painting is representative of Rafayel’s experience and the experience of other survivors. (Perhaps it is even her skeleton in Raymond's home). Some Lemurians are dead or dying in the water or on the beach. Rafayel hears their dying cries and returns those dead on land to the sea to become one with the water. He then sits alone on a coral reef, surrounded by bloody water, singing an elegy for Lemuria as the sun sets. He knows he was deceived and that his deceivers have already sailed away. Some of the Lemurians have been kidnapped and taken away with the deceivers.
("A fish in your hand" from the Mermaid Song seems to refer to the Ocean Emissaries (little blue fish) that come from making a Lemurian vow (though Rafayel also seems to be able to summon these on command). Is this a reference to the promise between Rafayel and MC? How does that play into the rest of this scene?)
Given how vulnerable Lemurians are on Ebb Day, I think it very likely that this occurred on Ebb Day. (Perhaps this vulnerability was revealed to those who killed the Lemurians by MC or Rafayel himself. Did one or both of them trust the wrong people with this information? This also might be why Rafayel was stranded on a beach in the first place when he met MC.)
So now we have some kind of a picture about what happened to Lemuria. Is this ancient or recent history?
Either way, Lemurians still live and are still being harvested for parts.
Louis concludes his story by asking Rafayel, “When the Siren returns to the beach…How does he exact his revenge on those responsible for Lemuria's destruction?”
To which Rafayel responds, “I think he’d first learn from them. He's gotta study their wits and cruelty, you know.”
Which brings us back to Mr. Fallon dead with a smile on his face at the opera. And also Raymond drowned in his bathtub after carving fish scales into his body. The painting has vanished from his home. (MS Chapter 7.3)
I think this is why Rafayel has a bounty on him, since those participating in harvesting Lemurians are being killed by him, but can't exactly go to the authorities about it.
I also think Rafayel is not solely motivated by revenge. He tells Aunt Talia “Not every Lemurian survivor can wait.” Somehow, what he is doing is supposed to prevent other Lemurians from ending up like K.
Talia notes that Rafayel has changed "After that incident in Lemuria." He seems unrecognizable. Past Rafayel was like a blazing flame, whereas he "now resembled a reef battered by relentless waves - outwardly cold and hard, yet riddled with cracks, vulnerable to crumbling from the next wave." Talia is helping Rafayel gather information for his goal, but she isn't convinced that they are doing the right thing.
What are your thoughts? Was this helpful? More confusing? Is Rafayel ancient or young? What the heck happened between Rafayel and MC? Let me know your thoughts!
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1: “it was just a nightmare, it’s okay.” + Mike Schmidt + the reader has a nightmare about Mike getting hurt at his old job at Freddy’s (post-film) — thank you so much, congrats on 800!
thank you!! could not stop thinking about peeta while writing this asfhskjgh | part of v’s 800 follower celebration!
your heart is racing when you open your eyes, trying to adjust to the pitch black darkness. your chest rises and falls quickly and you gasp for air. your throat feels sore and the air exposes a damp spot along the collar of your shirt.
your hands fly to your mouth once you realize how loud the strained noises you're making must be, your fingers finding dampness on your cheeks.
as your brain catches up, you remember what cruel imagery your mind had forced you to watch that had made you like this. your hands reach out quickly, patting around the cold sheets until you find the warm body that's right where it's supposed to be.
only the body moves and, in your solitary struggle, you hadn't realized you'd woken mike up.
in the darkness, your eyes manage to make out his figure, sitting up alongside you, his hand the piece of him you managed to grab. he's grabbed you back, analyzing the situation, noticing how you've managed to catch some of your breath back.
"did i wake you up?" you ask hoarsely.
mike blinks back at you blankly before realizing you probably can't appreciate the attitude in his eyes. he ignores you completely, reaching for you in the dark, feeling the goosebumps on your arms. "are you okay?"
it's not the question that breaks you, but mike's face in front of yours; it sets off a piece of what had haunted you in your sleep - a horrid repetition of the injuries mike had sustained at freddy's - only in the version you'd seen, mike had been within an inch of his life, pleading for mercy.
you cry quietly at first, sounds so small mike can't distinguish them. then he feels wetness drip onto him and he holds you tight, which only makes you cry harder.
"shhh, it was just a nightmare, it's okay," mike says soothingly, hands desperately working to calm you down.
he doesn't know what your nightmare had been about, but he has an idea - especially when your hands find the spots on his skin where large scars litter.
mike hates seeing you cry. he hates it a thousand times more when it's because of him.
"i'm right here," mike promises. "i'm okay."
you nod into mike's shoulder, sobs finally tapering off into quiet gasps. mike holds you even after he's stopped feeling you shudder, kissing the salty residue right off your face.
"i dreamt-"
"you don't have to talk about it," mike says, shaking his head.
"it was bad, mike." your voice quivers, real fear making mike wish he could take everything you'd seen away.
he'd been lucky enough to have been unconscious for at least a portion of it. he'd been the one that had been hurt the most. if it had been him that was forced to watch something happen to you or to abby... he would've been worse.
so mike holds you even tighter, whispering affirmations that he's here and nothing is going to touch either of you. he swears it to himself, right then, that nothing ever will. he repeats it like a mantra as you let him pull you back under the covers and he lets you use him like a pillow.
all is really takes to calm you down is to feel mike beside you, alive and breathing. but mike won't ever let you get away with just that - he'll keep making sure you hear his voice until he's sure you're asleep, hoping his sweet promises will bring you even sweeter dreams.
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may i request (from the prompt phrases) 2 - 8 - 17 with erling 👩❤️💋👩
the shirt dilemma - eh
A/N: As I usually say: ERLING BRAINROT. I can’t stop writing for this man, I’m ABSOLUTELY in love with him. Thank you SO MUCH!!! for 800 followers. Feedback is always appreciated! Love you always xx
ೃ⁀➷ erling’s taglist
ೃ⁀➷ erling’s masterlist
ೃ⁀➷ masterlist
: ̗̀➛ requested phrases:
2. “i'll never wear the jersey of someone who isn't my boyfriend.”
8. “why are you staring at me like that?”
17. “you have a really pretty face, have you ever heard that?”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“I can’t believe people actually waste their time plotting about this stuff…” You murmured more to yourself than anyone else in the room, still scrolling through the infinite amount of photos that you found on Twitter. “Kinda creepy…”
“What’s up?” Jack murmured back, kicking your leg with his foot. You raised an eyebrow in his direction. “C’mon, you just said something that implies tea. Now you have to spill it.”
“I don’t have to do shit, Grealish.” You laughed, kicking him back. “But okay, here.” You sat on the couch. “I was on Twitter, and I found some tweets with my name on it, which is kinda weird since I’m not a public figure so… I don’t know, I was digging on my own shit until…” You turned your phone so he could see it.
His eyebrows raised until they almost touched the base of his hair, giving you a full view of the funniest expression you’d ever seen on him since ever.
“That’s an interesting take.”
“¿De qué hablan?” (What are you guys talking about?”) Julián asked, entering the room with hands full of snacks.
“Nada.” (Nothing) You really hated Julián’s impecable hearing. He was always around the corner when you were gossiping with Jack. “Más bien dame comida, que me tuviste esperando como mil años. Me muero de hambre.” (Give me some food, you’ve got me waiting for like a thousand years. I’m starving)
“Luego no me pidas que te cuente algo, porque te vas a quedar con las ganas.” (Later, don’t ask me for any gossip, cause I won’t share any) He replied, throwing a bag of chips at you.
“I actually love when you two speak Spanish in front of me and I understand absolutely nothing.” Jack said after you grabbed the bag, not paying attention to the dirty look Julián gave you before sitting next to him. “Makes me feel like I’m back in Spain for some vacation.”
“I just love when she speaks Spanish.” Erling’s voice startled you. You looked up at him, who was just entering the room. You tore your eyes apart from his figure as quickly as you could, wishing that the heart eyes weren’t that noticeable for any of them. God, he was so handsome.
“You love everything that she does.” Julián said, giggling a bit when you shot him a nasty look. That little fucker.
“True, you’re the biggest fanboy I’ve ever seen in my life.” Jack teased, nudging Erling’s arm when he sat next to you.
“What can I say? I’m a man with great taste.” Erling shot back, leaving you all shaky on the inside. You had to prevent your mouth from falling wide open. You could never get used to that type of compliments coming from him.
It was times like these when you wondered if Erling had any feelings for you. It would be awesome if he did. But you knew it couldn’t be possible; he was playing and teasing around. You were just friends.
“If you’re going to flirt with her, I’m leaving.” Jack said, openly enjoying how uncomfortable you were getting from all the attention. “But also? We could manage to see if we can get this little brat to come to the next game, eh?”
“No, no! Don’t start with that. I already said no a million times before.” You were tired of it. You knew, from past experience, that you would be recognized, and those stupid gossip sites would eat you up.
“C’mon, don’t be such a… coward.” Julián replied, always up to teasing you as well. “It’s fun, you should totally go. Emilia’s gonna be there.”
“But…”
“No, no, not ‘but’. You’re coming, end of discussion.” Erling cut you off, smiling widely when you looked at him. “Please?”
Aw, man. Fuck big blonde guys with green eyes.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ���──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
So there you were, two days later. Full of regrets and suffering, seeing how your friends (or more like enemies at this point) were smiling like little kids while you stood in the middle of the Etihad Stadium shop. Your arms were crossed, not wanting to give in two times in a row when it came to these guys’ wishes, but it was getting more and more difficult as the minutes passed and Erling’s eyes kept flashing you little looks that were keeping you on the edge.
“Why?” You finally spoke up, giving in to the silence that had overcome the room. “I’ve already accepted to come against my will. Why do I have to wear a jersey as well?”
“Because! Everyone that really loves the team wears a shirt!” Jack said, giving you a knowing look that screamed duh. “You’re our friend, it would be so rude if you just go there wearing…” He pointed to your baby blue shirt with a grin. “That.”
“What’s the matter with it? It’s City’s color, isn’t it?”
“C’mon, you’re not actually doing the most out here wearing a blue shirt, darling.” Erling’s voice had an effect on you. Dammit. “Be a good girl and wear a jersey.”
No, no, no. Don’t fall for it just because he called you a… Oh, god. God, help your daughter.
“Fine!” As usual, you just gave in once Erling stepped in. “Pick a stupid shirt so I can get out of here.”
You were hoping that you were being dramatic over nothing and that they’d probably pick a blank shirt with no actual handle on the back, but as Erling approached his own fucking section, you knew you were absolutely fucked.
“No! Not your stupid ego getting the best of you, I’m not wearing a Haaland shirt!” You wanted to. But it was the worst idea in the world. “I’ll never wear the jersey of someone who isn’t my boyfriend. That’s just a horrible idea.” You didn’t know why you just said that, but it was out there before you could backtrack on your words.
“Why not?” Jack asked, getting closer to you with that cheeky grin that you hated. “What’s wrong with wearing a friend’s jersey just for today? It isn’t good enough?”
Oh, you knew what he wanted to say with that little tone on the word “friend”.
“Because, my dear Jack. People love to speculate about things without actual proof. So, if they see me wearing Erling’s shirt while being here, they’ll think I’m his girlfriend, and…”
“So what?” Erling said, already handing you a shirt. “Let people assume whatever they want to assume.”
“Perhaps, would it be that bad if people think that you are his girlfriend?” It was the first time in twenty minutes that Julián had said a word, but when he did, he cornered you. “Just saying…”
“Yeah, would it?” Erling’s tone sounded almost evil as he slightly pressed the shirt towards you, leaving you no other option but to take it. “Just put it on.”
“I hate you…” You whispered, still grabbing the shirt with a bit more force than necessary.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
You felt like everyone’s eyes were on you for the entirety of the game, which was ridiculous since you were the most boring person and no one— and when you said no one, it was really no one— was giving you a second look as you sat and watched the game like everyone else did.
The paranoia you were feeling was ridiculous. Never in a million years have you felt more targeted for wearing a fucking shirt that said Haaland on the back. You could only pray that a photo of you didn’t make it to Twitter, where a bunch of weird people were already making assumptions about the actual nature of your relationship with Erling. That’s why you were being so negative about wearing anything City or Erling related. You knew how the rumors started.
Like it would ever happen in reality.
“Relájate, boluda. Parece que estás acá contra tu voluntad.” (Girl, relax. You look like you’re here against your will) Emilia shouted over the fans’ voices, seeming entertained by your current state. Just like her boyfriend, apparently.
“¿Te parece?” (You think?) You couldn’t help the sarcastic tone in your voice. “Todo gracias al pendejo de tu novio.” (All thanks to your stupid boyfriend)
“Ay, ya. No es para tanto…” (Aw, c’mon. It’s not that big of a deal…) She paused, giggling. “Estás así porque te gusta Erling, ¿no?” (You’re acting like this because you like Erling, aren’t you?)
“¡¿Qué?!” (What?!) You shouted, feeling your face go deep red as the referee blew the final whistle, letting the entire stadium know that the game was over.
“It’s so obvious, babe. You totally like that man.” She took your hand, not letting you overcome the fact that someone finally acknowledged your feelings for him. “Let’s go.”
“Where?” Was all you managed to say, looking around to check if someone was paying attention to you. Again.
“The dressing room.”
Oh-oh.
Your eyes darted to the pitch, where most of the players were still walking around while exchanging greetings and jerseys. You spotted Erling right away; it was very difficult not to. He towered over almost every single person that walked past him, which could be funny if it weren’t for the fact that Emilie knew about your feelings for him. Suddenly, it felt so real. It felt like everyone knew.
“Move or I’ll have to drag you there myself.” Emilia’s tone gave the impression of being absolutely serious about the dragging part, so you started walking out of pure instinct.
You made your way across the sea of people that were leaving or lingering around the benches. You saw how it all appeared to move a bit slower as you followed her, who still had a hold on your wrist, like she was almost preventing you from escaping. You didn’t want to see Erling right now; the way you were so worked up about Emilia’s words was stupid, but you knew yourself, and it was very possible that you were about to blow everything because of the nerves.
“Breathe. You’re crushing my hand.”
“Is it too obvious?” You whispered once you made it to the tunnels.
“That you like him?” She turned to face you, smiling a bit before fixing your hair. “Not to him, I believe.” Her eyes looked behind you, a bigger smile appeared on her face. “But maybe it’s time to let you know that he likes you. Gotta go, Juli’s coming. Good luck.” She kissed your cheek briefly before walking away, leaving you nervous and shaky.
It seemed like being nervous and shaky was the new thing for you.
“What happened to the “no wearing a shirt that’s not my boyfriend's” rule?” You could feel Erling’s hands pinching the fabric of your new shirt before you turned around to face him. His voice was filled with that unique tone he only used when he won, or got his way around something he wanted. Today, both things happened. “Looks great on you, by the way.”
“You made me wear it, loser.” The only way to dissimulate the silent screaming you wanted to do right now was to answer with irony.
“And it’s the best decision I’ve made so far.” He stood in front of you in all his glory, clearly enjoying how pissed you were. You couldn’t help your eyes from going to his bare chest for a whole minute, biting your lip when your eyes met his. His smirk was so big, you wanted to punch him. “About to make the second one.”
So, so handsome. And so, so cocky.
“What? Why are you staring at me like that?” Was all you managed to say after a few seconds of pure silence, despite all the teammates roaming through the tunnel, clapping and screaming from their recent win.
“You have a really pretty face; have you ever heard that?” He leaned in, and your heart almost escaped through your throat. You couldn’t tear your eyes apart from his.
What if Emilia was right? Was this the right moment? He was totally flirting with you… Wasn’t he?
“I…”
“What about this? You wait here, looking as lovely as you do right now until I shower… And then I can take you to dinner so we can celebrate the win?” He whispered the proposition like it was a promise. At this point, you couldn’t even speak. “How does that sound?”
“Yeah, sure…” You whispered back, holding your bag so close to your chest that you could feel the handles burying themselves in your skin.
“Perfect.” Then he kissed your cheek, and you really stopped breathing for a few milliseconds. And as you were starting to have a little panic attack, he left.
Have you just… agreed to a date with Erling Haaland? Well, fuck.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * ERLING’S TAGLIST
@questionable-behaviour | @koufaxx | @xjval | @nikki01234 | @evarasworld | @kynykyny | @alleyahah | @444pantheress | @football4life9 | @f1lover55 | @frankcastleonlyfans | @ironmaiden1313 | @pizzapie349
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Enemies to lovers
Part 1 Part 2
Jude Bellingham x baller!reader
(ongoing series)
Wc: 800
Warnings: swearing, insults
A/n: thank you for the love since the first part this one will have a lot more jude in it though;)
"What?"
Is the only conceivable answer you're finally able to squeak out, hands beginning tp tremble at your sides.
"I- People are saying what?"
Oh no no no no....
Someone. Had fucking heard you. But how????
Jude's eyes flash annoyed, shoulders stiffening.
"People," he grits out from between his clenched teeth, like you're too stupid to properly comprehend what he's saying.
And to be fair, maybe you are.
"are saying that we are dating. And I sure as fuck didn't go around saying bullshit like that."
You can't help but cower against the wall under his scrutinizing gaze, wishing that someone, anyone, would come by and help you out of this shitty situation.
This shitty situation that you might've somehow made for yourself, yes, but dammit, you deserve to be rescued from someone like Jude.
"I-"
"Don't play dumb, cause apparently Rice heard you saying some shit like that. And now it's spreading like fucking wildfire across camp."
He leans in even closer. The close proximity has you flushing despite the tense atmosphere, and you blanch, fumbling with your gym bag as it nearly slips from your grasp. Him being all up in your personal space is seriously messing with your concentration.
"Rice?" You finally stutter, like the oblivious idiot you are. "Like, Declan Rice?"
"Who else, dipshit?"
A thousand thoughts are racing through your mind because holy shit, out of all your teamates, Rice would've been one of the last people you'd ever want to overhear that particular conversation. The main reason being that anything gossipy that anyone tells him or anything he happens to bear apparently - will be broadcasted to the entirety of the team in a matter of hours.
So if he was the one to overhear your stupid blunder of words... It's no wonder you're fucked right now. But you'd checked the room, you're positive you did, and he wasn't there. So how...? And then it hits you, like a brick in the face. You forgot to look behind you. Like an actual idiot, too hurried to properly survey your surroundings.
"No," you laugh nervously, trying to wave him off in earnest and hoping that your internal panic doesn't manifest itself onto your face.
"no that can't be true. He probably... overheard something stupid I said and, y'know, just took off running with it."
Forcing another laugh, you trail off when you realize your words have had zero effect on him. In fact, he looks even more pissed off now, which you weren't aware was even possible at this point.
"So you said something?" A sharp question, and you realize your mistake far too late. Implying that Declan could've overheard something is only bound to incriminate you further.
You should've just denied it all from the beginning. "I definitely didn't!"
Comes the feeble protest from your lips. You both are aware that it's a truly pathetic attempt to dissuade him.
"Bullshit," he snarls, and you realize you've dug yourself into an even deeper trench. "I know Declan. He's a fucking gossip, but not a liar."
Trying to backtrack, because now he's thinking you're insulting his friend, you search for another escape route from this conversation. Anything at all to end it, so you can go and put yourself six feet under the second you get back to your room.
"No! No, I'm not saying he's a liar, I just-"
"You just! what?." He's even closer now, jaw locked in. Positive that if you press any farther into the wall, you'll fuse with it, you instead try to dodge to the side again. He doesn't let you, shifting his weight to the side, and you're unable to fight back the blush that spreads across your cheeks when you realize his lips are only inches from yours.
The day you kiss Jude is the day the world splits in half and rains fire and lava across every nation on the Earth.
Today is not about to be that day.
"Jude, training's is going to start-" He positions himself to block your way again, forearm completely pressed against the wall next to your head.
"You don't get to fucking run away right now, alright? So tell me what the fuck is going on."
"Nothing!"
"Then the rumors?"
"I don't know-!"
"No, I want the fucking truth."
"It was an accident!"
You finally hiss, squeezing your eyes shut in utter mortification, because holy SHIT this could not possibly get any worse right now. The sound of footsteps from farther down the hall squeaking to a stop alert both of you to the presence of an uninvited onlooker.
Both you and jude whip your heads around to face them, and you both stand stock still as a petite girl from the media team stands awkwardly in the middle of the hallway, clutching her bag tightly in her arms.
The universe is just full of surprises: it CAN get worse! It's very possible that you might go into cardiac arrest within the next few minutes.
Jude's still boxing you into the wall his chest nearly touching yours as you both flush bright red at the sudden intrusion.
To anyone not aware of the very hostile context of the situation at hand, you've both become hyperaware of the fact that your positions probably look... far from innocent.
Eventually she just giggles bashfully and passes by the both of you to enter the pitch, but not before she could take a picture of you both in the compromised position. She then proceeded to hurriedly say something along the lines of-
"youtwomakeacutecouple!"
"hey!" Jude tried to get her attention but she had scurried away out of sight. He knew it was too late and that the picture probably already been posted on all the gossip accounts on twitter by now.
You're legitimately too scared to look back at Jude. And for good reason, because you can hear how hard he's breathing right now.
If he was pissed before, you don't want to imagine how angry he must be right now.
"What the fuck did you say," he growls, still not moving from his current position. In turn, you choose not to respond, busying yourself with the scuffed floor beneath your sneakers as your heart pounds wildly from within your chest. Ah, yes. Linoleum. Your favorite.
"What the FUCK did you-" he starts again, pushing himself off the wall to stare at you in utter disgust, and you snap.
You're not sure if it's from the adrenaline of this whole situation, or if you've just lost almost all of your braincells in the past 24 hours, but you immediately step forwards after him and hold out a finger to press it firmly against his lips, silencing him in his tracks.
A ballsy move, that's for sure. "Shut up!" You whisper-shriek, your entire body vibrating with energy. "Just- shut the fuck up! I'll explain all of this after training, but I am... NOT going to be counted tardy because.. because of this!" The floor beneath your cleats klick as you turn on your heel towards the pitch, clutching your gym bag firmly and casting one last scathing look over your shoulder.
"Next time, ask me shit like a normal human being without just- trapping me against a wall, you fucking asshole! I can have ur ass in jail for that Bellingham. It's called harassment at workplace" you shouted.
And then you walk into the pitch, as if he's not about to eventually follow you and stand right fucking next to you and listen to coaches instructions.
But damn, did that feel good. Your victory is short lived however, because instead of waiting an appropriate amount of time to enter the room, Jude instead chooses to saunter into the pitch right after you. Like. Directly behind you.
The looks that you're getting from your fellow teammates are overtly obvious at this point, and you can only imagine what they all must be thinking.
You want to turn around and reprimand the shit out of him for not realizing the awkward position he's just put both of you in, for the second time in the past five minutes, but there's already been far too much attention on you today.
Jude surprisingly says nothing, choosing instead to turn away from you and stare off into space.
He seems lost in thought, you think. And for a brief moment, you wonder if you've finally put him in his place. Your phone buzzes, and you see mason from the other side of the pitch trying to catch your eye by "discreetly" waving his phone around like a traffic flagger.
Rolling your eyes, you slide your phone out of your pocket to face the inevitable. You immediately open your phone to see the three unread messages from earlier this morning, as well as a new one from a minute ago.
From: money mase
8:12 AM
YOU'RE DATING JUDE????
8:14 AM
swear down you do!!
8:20 AM
wtf is going on? I'm hearing about it all over camp, I didn't even know that people knew ur name ;P
Ouch.
9:14
UR WALKING IN TOGETHER????? IS IT TRUE???????? How big is it.
Gritting your teeth, you type out a response, fingers tapping the screen a bit harsher than necessary.
You can feel his expectant gaze focused on your form as you answer her.
From: You
9:15 AM
It's all a big shitty misunderstanding
His next text is immediate. And at this point you had no idea how no one had clocked you two being on your phones.
From: money mase
9:16 AM
So ur not dating?
From: You
9:16
AM Ok what exactly are people saying????
From: money mase
9:17 AM
Ok so Idk how it got spread but Rice's been saying something about you two dating and finally becoming official? And that was according to you??? I didn't hear the details but everyone's kinda curious since Jude is like Y'know famous for being him and there's a lot of angry fangirls ngl but he's a good looking boy, so I'm not surprised this blew tf up.
Groaning quietly,
You'd known Jude Bellingham to be a popular figure throughout the country, but his reputation had spiked considerably after that game, with people going as far as to making thirsty edits of him
Whatever.
You had still disliked him.
From: You
9:18 AM
I forgot about the fangirls. Idk how he even has any they don't know what he really is like...
From: money mase
9:20 AM
hahaha they like the bad boy vibe But yeah since some people knew you two were uh really cold with each other like in training and team bonding activities.
It came as a big surprise and Rice took off and made it into a whole hidden romance thing so it's got people weirdly intrigued. But main thing is he's claiming you were the one who said you and Jude were dating and idk he's a gossip but a reputable source soooo what's goin on?? >_>
Your coach begins to explain session course and you tuck your phone back into your pocket, mentally cursing every god in existence. Of course Declan just had to take one out of context conversation and turn it into a whole... real life fan fiction plot. Or something stupid like that.
What on earth are you supposed to do now.
You wind up pondering over that question for almost the entire rest of training, halfheartedly dribbling the ball past the dummies as you desperately search for a way out of this mess.
On one hand, you could try and ignore it all. Go about your life like nothing's wrong. But that would probably raise questions from people that you, quite frankly, wouldn't care to answer.
The other option is just telling Rice the truth, or at least saying you and Jude definitely AREN'T involved. So maybe he can spread that around instead. But you have a feeling that somehow, the whole thing might spin around on you, and you'll be branded as a liar, or worse: a creepy fangirl. You might even get kicked out.
The imaginary accusation makes you shudder. Dragging your hands down your face in exasperation, you snag a glance at Jude through the gaps between your fingers. He appears... less angry than you'd expected him to be. Considering everything that's happened in the past 24 hours.
brown eyes snap to meet yours. You panic and look away. Slapping a hand over your mouth, you stand in stunned silence as the guy in front of you just stares apathetically back at you. "I'm sorry-" you begin, but he scrunches his nose in disgust before you can finish.
You try to apologize again, stumbling over every word that comes out of your mouth, but he just turns away from you with a glare.
"Learn to speak properly you, prick," he mutters. Walking past you to greet James.
"keep ur mouth shut. Wouldn't want your fangirls hearing their little judy using such words, now do we?" you question with a lingering smirk playing on your lips. Only to be greeted by him simply turning his head glaring at you and mouthing bitch.
Nice going.
--
You've got half a mind to run like hell when training is finally over. But you did promise Jude that you'd explain, well, everything. And he's definitely holding you to that promise.
He stands up seemingly prepared to follow you out of the pitch again and it takes everything in you to not turn around and bap him on the head for not realizing that him tailing you so closely is bound to solidify the rumors in your fellow peers' minds. "Follow me," he grunts, slipping past you and into the aisle walkway.
Never mind.
Now you're the one following like a lovesick puppy. The thought of being that enamored with Jude grosses you out, so you discard it. It feels like everyone's looking now, though.
But the stares don't seem to bother him as much as they bother you, because he doesn't so much as bat an eye when a few of your teammates begin to whisper to themselves as they look at him, then at you, then back to him.
You scamper along behind him, willing yourself to become as small as physically possible so you can shrink away from the curious gazes that surround you. Leaving the classroom feels like a much-needed breath of fresh air, but you still notice a few students lingering around.
Jude leads you down the hallway and to the right, and from then on takes multiple turns and twists across the building until you find yourselves in front of the doorway to an empty room. The people have completely thinned out, and this wing of the facility seems completely abandoned.
You peer around his broad shoulders to get a good look inside. It seems like it's been abandoned for years now, with thin layers of dust coating nearly every surface and with thin layers of dust coating nearly every surface and cobwebs hanging from the ceiling.
He explains stiffly. "Used to chill here with Trent and James "
And then he's walking inside without so much as a glance backwards to ensure that you're following. He probably assumes you'll go after him anyways, the cocky bastard.
But you actually do, much to your own displeasure, so maybe it's not totally unjustifiable. It still pisses you off though. He stops in the middle of the room, staring absentmindedly at the ceiling with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.
"I'm sorry about earlier." You nearly pinch yourself to ensure that, no, this isn't a dream, and the Jude Bellingham is actually apologizing to you for something.
"I shouldn't have grabbed you like that," he admits, his voice low. "Shitty move on my part."
"I- You're fine," you manage to stammer out, still dumbfounded at this recent development. The tension seems to visibly lift from his body.
Then, with a glance over his shoulder, he narrows his eyes.
"So... explanation. Now." Sighing, you trod over to an empty desk and plop down. You shouldn't have expected him to truly be any different than normal, you supposed. But, there's no time like the present. Might as well get this all over with.
"Ok, so... this all started because of my aunt Sylvie's wedding."
Fifteen minutes later, you've completely caught him up to date on the truth about what happened - as well as a tiny rant about just how much you desperately hate Tom - and finally finish your story, only to be met with an awkward silence.
He's turned to face you completely by now, having been listening intently with only a few subtle shifts in his expression. None that you could read, though. For all you know, he could be mentally plotting your murder right now. Swallowing your pride, you stare down defeatedly at your hands.
"I'm sorry," you finally whisper when the deafening quiet becomes almost unbearable. Because being honest, this mess is your fault at the end of the day. The least you can do is clean it up.
"I'll tell Rice, and hopefully he can just spread the truth around this time. Or, you can, if you haven't already. I don't know. And I mean, that's fine, I just don't want to put you in an awkward position, so actually if you want me to do it instead-"
"You need a plus-one?" The question catches you off-guard, and you stop mid- ramble.
"Excuse me?"
"The wedding," he repeats, rolling his eyes. "you need a plus-one to go?"
Nodding cautiously, you shift in your seat. "Yeah, my aunt's kind of a micro-manager about that stuff. I don't know why, but now she thinks I RSVPed so... I'll probably have to just pay her back."
He stares at you for a few moments longer, before cursing and roughly running a hand through his hair. You're completely perplexed now, unsure of why he asked such a question in the first place.
Does he feel bad or something? Why would he ever feel bad though? No, it must be something else. Turning to the side, Jude clicks his tongue a few times, foot tapping impatiently on the hardwood floor. He curses once more, then wheels around to face you again with resigned scowl etched onto his features.
You raise an eyebrow.
"I'll do it."
The words are so sudden and out of place that you can't help but bark out an abrupt laugh, quickly moving your hand to cover your mouth.
"What?" He takes a few steps closer, eyes still narrowed. "I said I'll do it."
"Oh my god, you're serious," you breathe, unsure of what emotion you're exactly supposed to be feeling right now. Because elated is definitely not one of them. Why the fuck is Jude, the guy with whom you share a mutual hatred, offering to be your plus-one to a week long wedding vacation?
Your romantic plus-one? Your first thought is that he pities you, but that seems unlikely even for Jude. So is he trying to score reputation brownie points by helping you out in this situation? What is going on??
You're about to flat-out refuse, not wanting to be some asshole's charity case, when he speaks again.
"But I need you to do me a favor in return."
(a/n) - chapter 3 comes out tomorrow
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Why am I unironically drawn to staticapple goddammit. Inspired by this post and this post
Aka: in which Vox sees an opportunity to rub elbows with royalty, which is bound to be useful, right? And ends up with a crush. 800 words of pinning!Vox.
He had been supporting this hotel nonsense for months until, at last, his effort started to bring benefits.
At long last, Charlie had called her father for additional support.
Vox had expected many things from finally meeting with the devil himself.
“Charlie sent me a photo, so I brought you this! Thanks for helping out my little girl.”
Receiving a light blue rubber duck with little antennas that glowed neon-blue in the dark had not been part of it. Watching dumbfounded as all the other residents received rubber duck mini-versions of themselves was just as nonsensical.
But! Vox was a businessman first and foremost, and receiving a gift meant he could give one back without it being suspicious. A camera, a drone, a small TV— Vox scrolled internally through the list of options that popped up like annoying advertisements in his mind, until he settled on the perfect option that was less obvious for spying, and had the added benefit of being cute.
“This is an Emo AI Voxtek robot!” Vox presented proudly. “Say hi, little thing.”
“Hi!” the square looked up at the King of Hell — which was a feat on itself because damn was the fallen angel so fucking short — blue eyes blinking adorably as it moved its small head up and down. Without arms, it was the closest thing to a wave the thing could do.
“Aww, hi!” Lucifer cooed, grabbing the little thing. “Who’s a wittle guy? So wittle!”
The King was talking with the same baby voice he had used to greet the little red lambs. The fallen angel seemed all too happy to put the tiny thing over his head, now hidden by the white tophat, and Vox’s grin extended in victory as his cute little spy was taken back to the Royal Palace.
He would have intel nobody else had, HAHA fuck you Alastor!
(x)
He didn’t get shit.
Or well, not anything that could qualify as intel. Nothing that would give Vox any advantage. Lucifer had placed the charging station at his work desk, granting Vox a first row view of bare arms and an unbuttoned shirt as the short King made… cute little rubber ducks, one after the other.
He could be doing something else, literally anything else would be more valuable than investing time watching Lucifer making ducks, but there was something that drew him in like a sailor doomed by the siren’s call. Vox stared at the way the glove-less hands moved as they worked, the way a whisper of golden magic would be embedded into the things as the final step of the crafting process.
Fuck, why was Vox so transfixed on this crap?
“What do you do?” Lucifer grinned at the thing, eyes sparkling with life. The man laughed giddily when the duck grew sharp teeth and made biting gestures at his fingers.
“Ohhh, someone likes to bite!” Against all logic, Lucifer brought the duck with sharp teeth close to his cheek. “Bite kisses? Wanna give daddy kisses?”
Yes I do, Vox answered in his mind, one hand covering his mouth in silent horror at the revelation, the other hand playing with the little duck that glowed in the dark, thumb carefully pulling at the little antennas, because he was horribly, horribly transfixed with this joke of a show. Stupid, stupidly adorable man, what the fuck, why was the devil himself so damn cute—
The tiny robot made a little grunt of complaint, shaking in his place at the desk and thus, shaking the camera as well.
“Aww what’s up Wittle? Wanna kiss too?”
Yes, fuck yes, fuck why.
Vox lamented and complained in his head a thousand times as the little AI robot was picked up and smooched, and Lucifer laughed in his stupidly adorable way as “Wittle” — the name the King bestowed upon the little AI robot — wiggled and gave a pleased thrill in his hands.
“You’re adorable. I didn’t know human technology could be this cute.” Fuck him sideways Lucifer was rubbing his face against Wittle’s camera, fuck Vox wanted to kiss him, fuck everything, damn it!
“Maybe I should give it a try. The TVs don’t seem that interesting to me, but maybe there’s other stuff? I should ask Vox next time.”
Vox could give him a tour at Voxtek, showing off the things he thought the King may like, he could put the stuff at the upper shelves so Lucifer couldn’t reach and then Vox would have an excuse to lean close to him, extending an arm to help him bring down the— fuck. Ohh fuck.
Vox brought the stupid blue rubber duck to his face and groaned, utterly mortified.
He also offered the tour the next time the King visited the hotel, damn it.
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Sweetheart
Summary: Sometimes he's a hunting partner, sometimes he's... something else.
Pairing: John Winchester x female!reader
Word Count: 2060
Warnings: Backseat of the truck smut (including fingering, dirty talk, full penetrative sex), teasing, very little in the way of plot - 18+ content.
Ao3 (over 800 fics to read!)
Author's Note: Yeah, I know I don't post much here anymore, but I'm having a crappy day, and I feel like some other people might be having crappy days too so I thought some John PWP might cheer someone up, I dunno 🤣
You had always prided yourself on your ability to cope without anyone else around, but there was something about John Winchester that kept dragging you back to his side, although this time it was the final death of your beloved Camry that had put you firmly in the passenger seat of his truck. He had been fresh off of a ghoul hunt, and you were planning on chasing down a spirit in Kentucky - turning down his help would have been rude. It didn’t hurt that the man was pretty to look at, even if he was hard to get a read on. The last few times you had hunted together had ended in some of the most fantastic sex you could have ever imagined but since he’d come to your rescue, he had barely looked your way.
“Have I pissed you off?” you asked, watching him from your side of the front seat.
He spared you a glance that lasted only a second, and his lips twitched as if they wanted to curl into a smile. “Not at all, sweetheart. It’s just been a long few months.” You pulled a face, looking out of the window at the rolling corn fields, illuminated by the setting sun. John chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “Was I giving you the impression you had?”
“I dunno,” you sighed with a shrug. “You’re normally a little more… interested.”
“We got a thousand miles to cover,” he pointed out. “I figured you’d wanna get some shuteye.”
“I’m good for a few hours.”
“You can put the radio on if you want.”
He wasn’t getting it, though you hadn’t met a man yet that was good with hints. Sighing again, you leaned forward, switching the radio on and fiddling with the dial until you found a station playing something you liked. John didn’t seem to care about the music, focusing on the road ahead as it darkened once the sun had disappeared behind the corn.
Finding a motel on the back roads he was taking was next to impossible, so when he pulled onto a secluded side road and parked up a few hours later, you didn’t complain. The truck had a back seat in addition to the front bench, and he gave you the choice of which you wanted, and it was all you could do not to suggest sharing. Instead, you climbed over and tried to get comfortable underneath a blanket, attempting to actually sleep when all you wanted was laying less than two feet away.
Your fantasies were running wild, leaving you uncomfortably aroused, replaying the last time he’d actually touched you over and over in your mind. It wasn’t in you to come out and say it, to ask him for what you really wanted, and your fingers itched to take care of the problem, the little devil voice in the back of your mind encouraging you on, promising he wouldn’t notice, though you probably wouldn’t have minded if he did. Still, you didn’t move, glaring daggers into the back of the seat concealing him from your sight.
After your tenth heavy sigh of frustration, you heard him shift. “You okay back there?”
“Mmhmm.”
A beat passed, then he moved again, dark eyes suddenly peering at you over the top of the driver’s side of the bench seat, one eyebrow quirked high. “You don’t sound okay.”
Your mind scrambled for an excuse, avoiding the obvious answer of telling him the truth. “It’s a little cold,” you mumbled, shrugging lightly.
He huffed out a tiny laugh, then disappeared from sight, rocking the whole truck a second later as he hoisted himself over the top and into the back of the cab. You squeaked when he tugged you out of the way with a gruff “scoot over” and settled behind you, warm arms encircling you from behind.
“Better?” he asked.
You shivered at the close contact, feeling him press along the whole length of your body, one hand splayed possessively over your belly. Outside the truck, it started to rain, drops splattering heavily against the windows. “Yeah,” you breathed, hoping he couldn’t sense the quiver in your tone.
“Shame we didn’t come across a motel,” John murmured, hot breath fanning across your throat, the sensation making a beeline to your cunt and your insides clenched. “This ain’t so bad though, right, sweetheart?”
Forcing your eyes shut, you closed your eyes, trying not to think about how easy it would be for him to take you like this. His body was so warm against yours, and even with the material between you, you imagined you could feel his cock pressing into you from behind, inspiring a fresh wave of moisture at your core. John’s nose brushed the shell of your ear, and you couldn’t help the tiny noise that escaped your lips, a moan he didn’t miss.
“What was that?” he asked with a playful tone, the hand on your belly slipping just a little lower.
“Nothing,” you exhaled, shaking your head.
“Hmmm, it didn't sound like nothing.”
He was fucking with you now, you were sure of it. “I can’t sleep,” you complained, still keeping your eyes closed. He hummed again, lips on the back of your neck now, hand gently tugging your lower half harder into his body. “You’re too…”
“Too what?” he teased.
You groaned, finding it increasingly hard to resist the urge to grind back against him. “John,” you mewled, almost choking on air.
“Thought you were cold, sweetheart?” he grunted, pulling your ass flush with his crotch, letting you feel the outline of his erection through the fabric of his pants and yours. You gasped, grabbing the edge of the seat underneath you as you let your body react, pushing back into him.
“Stop calling me that,” you whined.
“What, sweetheart?” He chuckled, lips against your ear again. “Why would I do that when I know how fucking wet it gets you?” The moan you let loose this time was louder, and he laughed, letting his fingers brush underneath the front of your pants. “You think I didn’t notice you squirming away all day? What were you thinking about? Maybe the last time we saw each other?” You nodded, biting your lips when his fingertips crept underneath your waistband. “Hmmm, it’s been on my mind too.”
You writhed in his hold, desperate for his touch to be lower, but he seemed intent on teasing you. Another needy gasp of his name made him laugh again, and you whimpered, pinned in his strong hold. His fingers made short work of the buttons on your jeans, bypassing the thin cotton panties covering you until he was brushing against your wet folds, a low moan reverberating against your ear.
“Goddamn, I forgot how wet this sweet little pussy could get,” he rumbled. “Haven’t forgotten how good you felt wrapped around my cock though, sweetheart. Been losing sleep thinking about it.”
His words made you whimper, and you arched your back as a single fingertip found your clit, circling it as he pressed his lips to your neck. He kept moving his hand, inspiring a shudder that ran up the length of your spine before descending again, and when you parted your thighs to try and give him more room, he chuckled.
“That’s it, sweetheart.”
The pet name did exactly what he wanted it to do, and you felt your entire body tighten in anticipation as his hand dug further into your pants, two thick digits finding your soaked entrance. He didn’t hesitate, sinking them into you as far as he could, restricted by the denim but still enough to make you cry out his name in ecstasy. When he pulled his hand away in the next moment, you went to protest, only for him to tug at your pants until they were slipping over your hips.
“Get these off,” he ordered, and you rushed to obey, barely noticing him reaching for his own belt. The backseat of the truck was bigger than the average car, but it still restricted your movements, and it took a few seconds to push your pants down, kicking your sneakers off so you could discard them entirely. John didn’t even bother with his boots, shoving his pants down to his ankles before lifting, forcing you to roll onto your back.
You looked up at him breathlessly, aware of his cock pressing against your inner thigh. “John -”
“Ssh,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss you as he reached between your bodies. Instinctively, you lifted your knees, parting your thighs as much as you could, moaning when you felt the thick head of his cock brush through your folds. “You ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked, teasing you with the threat of penetration, letting your slick coat his skin.
You couldn’t force the words out, nodding as you stared up at him wide-eyed, feeling the throb in your core. He grinned, kissing you again as he pushed forward, breaching you with one hard stroke, burying himself deep inside. The sound you made was muffled by his lips, and you threw your arms around his neck as he slipped his hands underneath your shoulders, letting his weight pin you down. It was almost suffocating but only in a way that made you feel incredibly satisfied.
He remained still for a moment, looking down at you with an odd look on his face, but you were too drunk on him to give it much thought, squirming in an effort to make him move. When you whined needily, John grinned, rolling his hips into you to let you feel how deep he was. “Impatient?” he chided softly, kissing along your jaw.
You keened quietly, glancing up at the window as the rain got a little harder against, seeing nothing but darkness beyond the glass. “Something like that,” you whispered back, sliding one hand across the back of his neck to pull him into a deeper kiss, rocking your hips to encourage him to move.
He finally started to withdraw, sinking in again before he could escape the clutch of your slick channel entirely, and you moaned on his reentry, trying to find purchase on the leather with your feet. When he slammed into your sweet spot, your toes curled and you moaned into his mouth, breaking the kiss to cry out.
“Gonna get you in a bed tomorrow night, sweetheart,” he panted, moving faster, harder, punching the breath out of you with each thrust. You released your hold on him to grab at the headrest with one hand and the door above you with the other, whining through the build up of pleasure as he lifted enough to get better leverage behind his strokes. It was too easy to come apart for him, but he wasn’t satisfied with how quickly you broke. His hand dipped between your bodies, and when his thumb brushed your clit, you cried out, bucking onto him, tossing your head back.
“John!” you gasped, chest heaving.
He grinned, rubbing the tiny bud with the calloused pad of his thumb in time with his thrusts. “Just let go,” he crooned. “Gimme everything you got.”
With a high-pitched cry, you came, arching up as you clung to the headrest. John growled, taking the opportunity to slide his arm underneath your back, fucking you through your orgasm almost like you were a ragdoll. His climax was hot on the heels of yours, drawn out by the pulsing of your walls around him, and he groaned into your throat as he spilled into you, slowing to a stop as his seed dribbled out around his shaft.
Both of you were still and silent as you came down from your respective highs. He nuzzled at your throat, slowly letting you fall back onto the seat, still buried deep. You made no attempt to move, content with the weight of him inside and on top of you, warm from head to toe.
“You said something about a bed,” you mumbled, rolling your head to look at him as he gazed at you.
“Tomorrow night,” he replied, smoothing his hand over your shirt to cup your breast through the fabric. “As spacious as this truck is, I wanna see you all spread out for me.” He leered as you moaned, cunt clenching around his renewing erection. “Sweetheart.”
I love feedback, btw 😘
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► Modern Headcanons | 「AU」
pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon | Aegon Targaryen | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader (the famous big three).
a/n: This is situated in college and I hope you all like it. English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes.
warnings: mentions of alchool, drunking and sex.
Modern headcanons masterlist
— Aegon ↺
We must begin with Aegon. The dude changes of graduations like he's changing clothes. He never knew what field to choose, he never had a big dream to fulfill or an aspiration to something — perhaps because his family was flying in money.
In high school he was the typical popular boy who part of the team and dated one cheerleader a month, in college it's no different.
He's a fuckboy, living in a frat (even though he doesn't have to) and throwing a thousand parties. He loves all girls, but freshmen, exchange students or super smart girls get his special attention. And some boys.
When I said that he changes courses like he changes clothes, I wasn't exaggerating.
First he tried physical education (why? He don't know), then computing at Luke's insistence (lots of numbers, he fucking hated it), then he tried law (WHY DOES A BOOK HAVE 800 PAGES?), he considered international relations and end tourism.
He wanted to do an exchange, but Alicent forbade it until he settled on something.
He just wanted to be an heir :(
He would probably meet you at a party and flirt compulsively. He wouldn't rest until he had your number, or kissed you, or better yet, performed obscenities in his room.
Eventually he would rent an apartment to have more privacy for his one night fucks.
Aegon would try to steal Jace's girls — why not?
He's used every drug you can imagine.
He would wake up drunk in the middle of campus.
He's a himbo.
— Aemond ↺
You know that handsome and mysterious guy that you would definitely have a crush on? Well, it's probably Aemond.
Among the areas he could choose, in addition to history and philosophy, I see physics or some impeccable academic career.
Unlike Aegon, the opportunity to run the family business would eventually excite him, so studying business administration is also a high possibility for our boy.
He would attend the best colleges.
He's intimidating at first sight and likes to do things alone, which makes you reluctant to try to get close.
But damn, he's super charming and seems to give off attractive pheromones and you can't pay attention to anything but him.
It's like Edward — you thought he was a vampire too.
He is super stylish and has an impossible presence to divert attention.
He would NEVER live in a frat. The idea of sharing a house with other guys his age is a nightmare. Seven Hells, he thinks he'd throw up at the smell of alcohol, drugs, and bed sheets after sex. Fucking gross.
He would rent an apartment close to university and other things that can enrich his routine.
He goes to some parties (not like Aegon) but getting drunk is not an option.
Maybe he'd try marijuana at a certain point, just to prove it.
He would always be with a book or phone in hand, or just contemplating the environment.
You'd meet him at some party or the library or any other part of college.
He was the best kiss you've had in years.
He makes you feel stupid with his intelligence and eloquence, even if he doesn't mean to. When you tell him you feel inferior, he'd take your hand and grope your face and say there's nothing that makes you any less than him.
— Jace ↺
I confess that choosing an area for Jace was the HARDEST thing about this headcanon, so he was the last.
I see him as a sports guy, but it would hardly go from a hobby. He could do business administration like Aemond to take care of the family business, but I also see him doing architecture. (If you have another option please enlighten me).
He would be a frat boy, BUT, with BIG caveats. He would be the boys' dad, guiding them not to drink too much, use illicit drugs and not take girls to his room (the latter mainly).
He's all sweet, kind, and protective with girls, unlike most frat boys.
He loves parties but tends to stay sober at most of them (sometimes he allows himself to get so fucking crazy and he turns cute and red when he's drunk).
He would smoke marijuana a few times and would definitely be a smiling high. Afterwards he would feel a little guilty.
You would also meet him at some party and be suspicious of him. Respectful, sweet and handsome? Just one low blow to get into your pants.
However, he's kind of hard to resist and by the end of the night he has your number and Instagram. Maybe even an excited kiss.
He's such a great kisser, it's so fucking unfair.
He would take you to a candy store or anywhere you want to go. Totally a good boy who treats you like a queen.
He would try to hide you from Aegon's clutches at family meetings.
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Fic Rec List - Fernando/Lance
you might enjoy: Canadian Fest, eh - for more Lance content.
If your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and I will remove it immediately, no questions asked. I have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop me a message🤍
have a pairing you want me to do next? please read the faqs and then head to my inbox.
don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!
i won't lie to you, anon... I thought we'd agreed on Strollonso as the pairing name. 🤭 my vote still goes to Lando.
i hope you enjoy these ❗️🤍
nsfw: El Dick Plan by @waddlingpenguin | E | 800
Lawrence and Fernando have a misunderstanding at the dinner table. This fic is hilarious - unashamedly unhinged, just as Strollonso should be, and so unbelievably funny. This was one of the first Lance/Fernando fics I read. I think it rearranged my brain a little bit.
'In fact, Lance literally has his foot so far up Fernando’s pant leg that Stoffel is surprised he’s not choking on Canadian toes each time he opens his mouth to talk to the engineers.'
shatter my life apart (see me for somebody else) by @vicsy | M | 1.4k
An exploration of Lance and Fernando's relationship. This is a stunning fic. This author has just the most beautiful writing style - it's like poetry, and flows in the most stunning way. This is as much a love letter to Lance as it is to Strollonso - I really, really loved this one.
'Fernando Alonso is a perpetual wildcard and Lance builds his attitude around this little image, prepared for some sort of psychological warfare but it never happens.'
nsfw: victor's spoil by venerat | E | 1.9k
Following Fernando's first pole for Aston Martin, Lance is invited to his room - a Winner's Room AU. The vibes here are suitably unhinged/rancid/possessive. If I were to recommend a fic to help someone get Strollonso, to understand the essence of who they are together, I would recommend this one. I love everything this author writes.
'Imagining Fernando with them makes Lance want to chew through wire.
Again: fucked up, truly and extensively. He’s just really fucked up about Fernando.'
nsfw: I make two grand an hour by @kritischetheologie | E | 3.1k
Lance meets Fernando for the first time at a sponsor event. I adored this fic. It is so funny and well-characterised and hot. One thing that I really love about this author is their ability to weave in detail - you could read their fics over and over again, and still pick up something new each and every time. It just makes for the richest, most delicious stories that draw you in every last time.
'(Lance had almost just said fuck it and gone into banking when he graduated two years ago, like he’d always known he probably would eventually, ever since the day he showed up at St. Andrews and realized that the entire world economy ran on fake numbers on a half-dozen computer screens, but the whole point of trust funds was supposed to be not having to be boring. Who the fuck else was going to make art? Humanity needed him to be living dramatically, falling in love with a thousand beautiful men whose lips he could immortalize in poetry.)'
nsfw: green light, red wine (and i don't feel fine) by @vicsy | E | 9k (wip)
Fernando is a crime boss caught in a long-standing feud with Lawrence Stroll - things get complicated when he meets Lance. This fic is fantastic. The vibes are unmatched. This author has such a beautiful, almost melodic writing style, which I love. Also. This is fucking hot. 10/10.
'There aren’t many opportunities Fernando deliberately missed in his life. He wouldn’t be on top if he did. Right next to him, clad in a tight white t-shirt, sits an opportunity for a power move, the one Fernando would take all the way.'
nsfw: silver platter by @wewentcarracing | E | 9.7k
Lance and Fernando grow closer, much to Esteban's dismay. This is delicious. Full of unhinged and intense moments. Every word of this is perfection; something I particularly appreciate about this author is their ability to build tension - you won't be able to put this story down once you've started it. Perfection.
'Lance laughs, off-guard and delighted. Fernando has this way of deciding what's true in his own mind and then forcing it into reality with brute strength alone. He's decided that Lance will make it to the podium this year, and so he will. It feels so, so good to hear coming from another driver—any driver, really, but the fact that it’s Fernando. Two-time WDC. Veteran. It doesn't feel like he's being toyed with; it feels real.'
nsfw: Not Even Jail by @baldrmoon | E | 9.9k (wip)
Lance is a rookie detective with a new partner - they've met before. This is such a fantastic start to what I know is going to be an incredible story. The world-building here is fantastic. A world away from F1, but with so many of the dynamics and relationships mirrored in a totally new setting that feels very organic and true-to-life. It's just very well done, and I am excited to see what the author does next!
'Lance was charmed almost despite himself. The guy – Fernando, Lance made a mental correction, – smiled, a bit sideways, narrowing his eyes. Lance immediately felt flustered under his intense stare.'
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When you know more about a thing, you’ll take more risks. Once you’ve owned enough unreliable cars, you can better sense when something is going to leave you on the side of the road. Maybe you let things slip a little bit, because you’ve gotten lucky so far. This explains why my doctor eats nothing but ground-up pork rinds and four bottles of Olde English 800 for lunch.
Those of you who are particularly attuned to reading the DSM-V for fun will notice this as a gambling impulse. Me, I only like to read DSM factory service manuals, which is also a good way to diagnose mental illness. Us humans want to play it risky, we want to pit our wits against the angry whims of nature. It makes the triumph so much sweeter, even if we had to go through hell to get there.
Let me give you a more concrete example: most cars need oil to run. However, oil is expensive, so having a car that burns it means that you are both spending a lot of money on oil, and also maybe a lot more on a new engine when life gets busy and you forget. Only a weirdo would go across country, constantly topping up their oil at every rest stop. Only an idiot would offset this by spooning leftover liquid oil out of the exhaust pipe and muffler, and feeding it back into the engine.
I wanted to see if I could do it, is my defence, and it turns out that I could. When I arrived on the other coast without having destroyed my (admittedly near-death) Soviet tractor small-block, I was overjoyed. The next morning, that engine was seized up and wouldn’t turn over. While I was sleeping in the back seat, the engine had cooled down overnight and reduced itself to a large chunk of useless iron in the vague shape of an engine. Did I lose? Not at all. I bought another ticket, and by which I mean I made sure to sleep outside the local U-Pick-It junkyard. Within an hour, I was already walking out the front door with some other atrocious piece of engineering that kinda sorta looked like it might fit into the engine bay. And now I’m back here, telling you my story.
The important thing is not to be afraid of taking dumb risks. Sure, there’s dumb dumb risks, but those are often done by people who don’t know what they are doing. In order to take smart dumb risks, you should spend your entire life accumulating knowledge of a niche field, so that you know what you can safely ignore, and what you can put off for another couple thousand miles to save thirty bucks, tops. And with that, I would like to congratulate this group of elementary school children for having graduated from grade six of Miss Maple’s class.
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From the seventh floor at Kherson State University, Oleksandr Khodosovtsev and Ivan Moisienko had a clear view of the enemy. It was a cool December morning, and the Russian troops that had occupied the Ukrainian city of Kherson since the earliest days of Moscow’s full-scale invasion had recently retreated east across the Dnipro River. Mushroom clouds hung over the horizon as they gazed through the rattling floor-to-ceiling windows of the botany department. The explosions, they thought, were likely coming from the tanks less than 5 kilometers away from where they stood.
That morning, the pair—both professors of botany—had arrived on the train from Kyiv and made their way through the partially ruined streets of Kherson to reach the university. The city was still being shelled, and to access their laboratory meant scaling a spiraling stairwell lined with stained-glass windows looking out over the Dnipro River, towards the enemy.
Their mission was to rescue a piece of history: the Kherson herbarium, an irreplaceable collection of more than 32,000 plants, lichen, mosses, and fungi, amassed over a century by generations of scientists, some from thousand-kilometer-long treks across remote areas of Ukraine. “This is something like a piece of art,” says 52-year-old Moisienko. “It’s priceless.”
Herbaria like the one in Kherson, a port city in the south of Ukraine, are about more than just taxonomy. They serve a vital role in the study of species extinction, invasive pests, and climate change. Though it's by no means the world’s largest—the Muséum National d’Histoire Naturelle in Paris has 9,500,000 specimens—Kherson’s herbarium is, Moisienko says, valuable because of its unique contribution to the field. Rare species found only in Ukraine, some of which are at risk of extinction, are documented on its shelves.
When Russian tanks rolled into Ukraine on February 24, 2022, they threatened not only the thousands of dried, pressed, and preserved specimens stored at the university, but the land where those samples had been collected. In the more than 17 months since Vladimir Putin declared his “special military operation” in Ukraine, millions of acres of land—about 30 percent of the country’s protected areas—have been maimed by indiscriminate bombing, burning, and military maneuvers. Russian troops have scorched tens of thousands of hectares of forests and put more than 800 plants at risk of extinction, including 20 rare species that have mostly vanished from elsewhere, according to the non-profit Ukraine Nature Conservation Group (UNCG).
The Ukrainian government estimates that a third of the country’s land has been contaminated by mines or other unexploded ordnance. Large swathes of the countryside could remain inaccessible for decades to come. That means it could be a long time before scientists like Khodosovtsev and Moisienko can go back out to collect samples.
The pair weighed up these considerations last fall, as they contemplated returning to the hollowed-out city of Kherson. Russian forces had been pushed out of the city in November but continued to bombard it. Between May and November, at least 236 civilians were killed by shelling, according to regional officials. Regardless, Khodosovtsev and Moisienko decided to go in.
“There is no need to risk anyone's life to save some equipment or a building,” Moisienko says, noting with passing remorse how he’d been pained to leave behind one of his prized microscopes. “For this collection, when it's gone, it's gone. There is no way to get it back.”
As the pair began mapping out the evacuation, they determined that in order to mitigate risk on the ground they needed to limit both the number of people and time spent inside the besieged city. There would never be more than three team members—Khodosovtsev, Moisienko and one of their two colleagues—on a trip, and each venture would last no more than 72 hours. The power grid went down regularly, and there was a citywide curfew of 4 pm, meaning they had hard deadlines to get in and out of their lab. And there was bureaucracy. “During the wartime, even to get around the country, you need to have some substantiation, like documents,” said Khodosovtsev, 51.
That got even more complicated when, on their first trek back to the university that December, they discovered that Russian troops had taken up residence in four of the rooms storing part of the plant collection.
Besides the deep sense of violation the botanists felt, this also posed a procedural problem. The “sitters”—a common expression for enemy soldiers who have occupied a Ukrainian building—had changed the locks on all but one of the doors, and the spaces now needed to be documented; a mandatory procedure typically carried out by the local police. Thankfully, their logistics team pulled some strings and got the process expedited. In just a few weeks, the locks had been changed again, and the rooms had been photographed for the official records.
In video footage capturing that first, largely fruitless trip, Khodosovtsev can be seen celebrating the return of one of the 24 more valuable boxes with a kind of enthusiasm typically reserved for the football pitch. “Collemopsidium kostikovii is saved!” he cheers as he raises his fist over his head. “To the sound of explosions!” he adds, as the rumble of mortars interrupts his brief moment of self-congratulation.
Limited resources, another knock-on effect from the ongoing conflict, also threatened to upend the men’s carefully laid plans. While Moisienko drove around to dozens of Kyiv’s home hardware stores in search of plastic boxes to transport the collection’s vascular plants, Khodosovtsev returned to Kherson equipped with little more than a headlamp strapped across his brow and a backpack filled with the same household tools you might use to move apartments.
On this second trip, the magnitude of the task became clear to Khodosovtsev. He had 700 boxes to evacuate. On his first incursion, it had taken him 15 minutes—and way too much tape—to wrap, stack, and rope together half a dozen boxes of samples. At this rate, the botanist said, he’d be blowing past the three days earmarked for this section of the herbarium. Never one to be discouraged, the scientist settled into familiar territory and began doing what he does best: calculating.
“Just two wraps of sticky tape and one roll of rope,” he said, beaming as he reveled in how he’d managed to shave his box-stacking time to just “three and a half minutes.”
This kind of methodical precision proved to be a helpful distraction from the realities of what was going on just beyond the paned glass. A mere 24 hours before Moisienko returned for his third and final trip on January 2, he learned the building where he planned to scoop up the last portion of the herbarium was hit by shelling. Instead of this news derailing his mission, it only seemed to harden him. “We are focused on [the herbarium] so much that you just ignore everything, all these shellings that [are] going on around you,” he said.
Even so, as he worked methodically, packing plant after plant, he started to contemplate how the glass windows of the lab could become deadly projectiles if a shell went off nearby; and how far it was down to the ground floor. At eight stories tall, the academic building sticks out. “The chance the Russians would hit the university building [was] really high,” he says.
He tried to treat the nearby rumbling as white noise, though one day, a shell landed just outside the window as he was packing a sample.
By January 4, Moisienko had finished loading up the last boxes of the collection into the back of a truck. It traveled west for nearly two days, covering approximately 1,000 kilometers, before reaching Vasyl Stefanyk Precarpathian National University in Ivano-Frankivsk in Western Ukraine, the institution that has served as a university in exile for the staff and students of Kherson State University for more than a year.
It’s a kind of safety. But, as Moisienko points out, only as safe as anything or anyone can ever be in a country where missiles fall out of the sky on a near daily basis. “Nowhere in the country is 100 percent safe,” he says.
On January 11, Kherson State University was once again struck by shelling, this time only blocks away from where Moisienko had been working less than a week earlier. “That building remains [in] danger, and it's still dangerous to be in Kherson as it’s shelled still now on a daily basis,” Moisienko says. “We've done the right thing.”
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You try to run from your shadowbeast boyfriend
General Plot: You've had it up to here with Rafe and you decide to run away. Just a short little aside about the reader having a meltdown.
Word Count: 800
Shadowbeast (Rafe) x Reader
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven
Headcannon
W: a tiny bit of choking, manipulation, otherwise sfw monster fluff
You panted, peeking around the corner. The street was empty. Okay. Good. This is going to work. It has to work. You took a deep breath and tried to slow your breathing. You didn’t know what you were thinking. Why you tried to do this.
Maybe the pressure at work had gotten to much, maybe the way Rafe fucked you confused you to the point of madness. It could have been anything, but you’d decided to run.
You thought you’d learned a lot about Rafe. He was strong and smokey, but he couldn’t be everywhere at once. He’d gone hunting and you’d grabbed the hundred thousand dollars Rick had left behind, stuffed it under your shirt, and took off with nothing but your clothes and wallet. No phone to track. No credit cards.
You’d caught a cab to the next town and now you were hustling down the street, probably looking extremely suspicious, to a hotel shitty enough that they dealt in cash.
You finally made it to a run down building with metal gates over the windows and doors, but a fluorescent sign that said “VACANCY”. You would stay there for the night then buy a train ticket in the morning and go…anywhere else.
You’d start your life over, never touch a camera again, become a…bike delivery driver or something. Anything to save you from this constant madness you felt. You let him torture you, do things to you, you would never let any other man do and for some reason you loved it!
You were losing the person you once were and you felt like you needed to save her. You didn’t have a reason why, you were just scared. Terrified really, that he would break you down to nothing. He’d already made you his sex kitten. So easily. He could make you into anything.
You flopped down on the hard bed of the hotel room after you checked in. The ceiling was water stained and the TV broken, so you had nothing but your thoughts to listen to. Your heart still pounded.
What would he do if he found you? When he finds you, some small and very correct part of your brain reminded you. You ignored it. You had to try. Eventually you fell asleep on top of the sheets, too afraid to take off your clothes.
You woke unable to breath. It was pitch black and something was wrapped around your throat, choking you. You thrashed, but it was so strong, it was pinning your body down with its weight.
“It’s cute you thought you could run from me, darling,” the last voice you wanted to hear said. Rafe loosened his chokehold on your throat and you gasped for air, tears coming to your eyes.
“Rafe, I can't do this!” you tried to reason with him, “this is madness!”
His eerie chuckle perforated the darkness.
“You will do anything I tell you to do (Y/N), I would never tell you to do something I knew you couldn’t,” he said evenly, “which is why this is silly and a waste of time.”
A tear slid down your cheek.
“How did you find me?” you asked.
You at least wanted to know how you’d been caught.
“We’re bonded, I bonded with you the first time I took you. You're my mate. I can find you anywhere,” his voice lowered, “you can never escape me.”
You burst into wet, ugly tears, heaving. He brushed your cheek with the pad of his thumb and sighed.
“I know you’re scared, but there’s really nothing to be afraid of. I will never harm you. I love you.”
“But you’re killing people all of the time!” you sobbed, “I..the guilt is so heavy.”
He clucked, smoothing his large hand over your hair.
“I know,” he cooed, “but you’re so, so strong, my little mate, and you have to remember I’m killing the darkest souls. Murderers, rapists, people who destroy other people’s lives.”
He pulled you into his lap and leaned his back against the headboard, his big body curled over you as he brushed your tears away. He held you for a moment to his chest, listening to his heavy heartbeat. He had a heartbeat. He was real and holding you in his warmth.
You sniffled.
“Is it really okay?” you asked and he knew he’d won.
“Of course,” he assured you, “consider me balance in the universe. I’m doing the planet a service.”
“O-okay,” you stammered, “but…maybe we can stop playing CEO for a while. It’s wearing on me.”
You felt him shift against you in the dark as he nodded. It occurred to you that while you couldn't see him in the blackness, he could probably see you quite clearly.
Rafe looked down at your puffy eyes and tear streaked cheeks with nothing but affection. You were his, only you weren't used to the idea, yet.
“I told you the rigors of the workplace are too much for you,” he said.
The rigors of his workplace were too much for you.
“Maybe…” you said noncommittaly.
He cupped your face in his big hand and kissed you in the darkness. His lips were soft and gentle moving over yours. His kiss was familiar and had become comforting. It melted all the pain and uncertainty, smudging it out like wiping away chalk.
“I. Will. Always. Take. Care. Of. You.” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss somewhere new on your face and you giggled. You did adore these tender moments with Rafe. He could be so sweet, when he wasn’t tormenting you.
“Shall I take you home now or do you want to sit here and collect fleas in this bed?” he asked.
“Home,” you opted and he shifted to his human form to carry you to the limousine parked outside.
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first and foremost, thank you so very much to all three thousand (and ten) of you! it is genuinely so baffling to me that that many people are interested in my writing and this silly little project but your support and encouragement mean the absolute world to me. i cannot thank you enough!
i've done quite a few of these in the past and i've been wracking my brain for something new and exciting to do to celebrate when i decided to just keep it lowkey and stick with what i know. which is writing ofc. that is what got me to this point after all!
for the celebration itself, i'll be doing the standard personalised drabbles for 2 people chosen at random. this entails your mc and ro in any scenario of your choosing, between 800 and 1000 words. if you wish to participate, all you have to do is the reblog this post. i have to ask that you reblog only if you want the chance of being selected, likes and comments will not count.
i'm also interested in doing an interview with all the characters. you can submit any question for any character in the mirror mine universe using this here form and the finished product will be posted near the end of september.
both will close on september 10th, meaning you have 3 weeks to submit questions and enter for the drabble-selection.
once again, thank you all so much for the support. i couldn't do it without you!
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Housed For Now!
[New]
AS OF DECEMBER 20TH, 2023, WE HAVE BEEN INFORMED THAT OUR NEW LANDLADY WANTS US OUT WHEN OUR LEASE ENDS IN FENBRUARY.
EDIT Dec 27th 2023: We just learned that she's adding an electric garage door to the garage. Her ex-husband is working on it with an electrician friend of his and I overheard them. She doesn't intend to move in, she wants to add the small ass garage onto the lease and thinks it's worth adding another $1K+ dollars to the rent.
[Old]
Dave just doesn't get how finances work. Because he's so unhelpful and doesn't fucking listen when people speak, he's whining about how after getting paid, mom has nothing left for the month.
"But we don't have to spend $230 on the storage unit anymore!"
"That went into other bills, Dave!"
He thinks that cuz we don't have that one issue holding us down, we're going to be able to handle everything else easily and have money left over for whatever he wants to waste it on.
Because mom has had to pay one bill and let another slide as a result every month. It's how she's had to handle our financial problems this entire time. And people all over have to do things like this, it isn't a new tactic.
Mom finally paid off the bank after Dave bounced her account several times last year. She's been paying $100+ a month for ages to get that handled. That should make things a little easier now.
The car insurance has increased by several dozen dollars so it's over $150 a month now. (EDIT: Dec, 2023: It was increased again.)
Her phone and Bethy's phone have to be kept on because of her schooling and we need a functioning phone number or else we'll be in big trouble in many ways. $100+ just for 2 phones. Dave is in charge of his own damn phone.
She has to handle her Discover and Capital One cards since she's had to use them to save our asses a few times. She NEEDS to pay them off so her credit score doesn't tank, and many places won't give you a chance if your credit is low. She's got monthly payments for those around $100+ in total.
The P.O. Box price has increased. Almost $50 now. (EDIT: Dec, 2023: We had canceled it since we finally got a place to live, and now we'll need to get a new one. I'm so tired.)
Dish Network has been on pause or almost 2 years cuz she can't cancel it before the full year she paid is used up or the fee is astronomical. They keep suspiciously unpausing it and trying to lob thousands in fees at us. (EDIT: Aug, 2023: Mom finally got it taken care of by going to the Better Business Bureau with dozens of emails of proof for her case and they came down hard on Dish Network. So we're fine on that front now.)
Then we have gas for a minivan, that Dave should be paying for, but isn't. A mostly full tank is around $80 every 4-5 days. Gas is average rn. So over $400 monthly in gas. (EDIT Dec, 2023: $20 gets 4 1/2 Gallons right now. It is hell.)
We need the part for the van which is $800+. The van is just so old that finding parts for something considered an antique now is damn near impossible, and not having the money up front makes it worse. (EDIT: Dec, 2023: The van is dead and despite how the alternator was replaced and the battery and starter are fine, there's no vehicle.)
She has to pay for her medication cuz we have shit medical. She's already going without many of them but some health problems, like Asthma, can't be ignored so the inhalers are prioritized. (EDIT Aug, 2023: Our medical changed out of nowhere at the beginning of the year and all of our doctors no longer take it. No doctors take it, in fact, so our attempts to get better help have to start all over again.)
Bethy needs school supplies regularly.
But Dave just thinks that she should have all this extra money left over at the end of paying everything off. Many of these things come out instantly on the 1st of each month btw. She has to then work through what is left for the bills that aren't instantly paid off.
He thinks if he works with his friend for 3 weeks, he'll have enough money for an apartment, completely ignoring that he'd only have about $1800 for a full month of work with no breaks. The cheapest 2-bedroom in Delaware requires almost all of that, which is why we're waiting on housing which charges based on your monthly income. Even if he handled the monthly rent of $1400-$1700 for a 2-bedroom, mom still has all this stuff to worry about... and then gas, water, electric, sewage, etc...
Dave doesn't listen. In public housing, those things are included. Outside it, they are separate expenses.
Other Posts About Life:
[1]
[2][3]
[4]
[5]
~.O.~
[Ko-Fi]
[GoFundMe]
[Venmo]
[CashApp: $Flame818]
[Amazon Wishlist(food list tbh)]
[Meal Train]
[Patreon]
[NEW Dec, 2023]
I was right to keep on my toes about this. Dave does not read or pay attention and he just rushes into things without thinking. He's made every excuse possible to defend this lady saying she'll see how clean the house is a let us stay, but when she made a point to say she's thinking of moving in here, she isn't looking for a ruined house. She already has the reason for why she wants us out and she put it in writing, and it's because she claims to want to live here now. She doesn't need any other reason; she owns the property and that is good enough.
So, we have to be out by mid-February, which means more moving. And we just have no money and nowhere to go.
[NEWER Mar, 2024]
We need food, heat, hot water, etc... and Dave's getting scammed by a blackmailer that he's now given over $3K to... His dumbass was cheating, as he always does, and within a few conversations felt safe enough to tell this bitch all his personal business, as well as everything about his kids and grandkids. And now, cuz he offended her, she did a search on him and found his family and is how holding them over his head to Apple gift cards.
Yet he stomps in the house every day demanding to know if anyone 'gave us money'. And then got mad when mom finally snapped at him with, "No, actually Helen has gotten any commissions this month, so there's nothing in the PayPal." All cuz Dave doesn't want to admit that I've brought $16K in just through commissions alone.
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New Year's Eve
Pairing: Andromache of Scythia x reader
Genre: fluff
Words: 800
Note: Happy (late) New Year to you too! I wanted to celebrate with something special, so I chose the character there's allarmingly too little of fics for. Hope you'll like it!
Andromache has seen many New Year’s Eves. Thousands of years worth of colorful lights and celebrations. Dozens of decades of resolutions and traditions, some of which disappeared already. The celebrations have evolved during her time on this earth exponentially. Nowadays it was a big deal. People bought bundles of fireworks, recorded commemorative videos and kissed loved ones right on the midnight.
To her it was just another commercial bullshit. A scheme designed to rip you of your money and generate profit. She couldn’t care less about sparklers, candles and cute sparkly outfits for a party. It was just another day for her, not different from the millions she already lived.
Yet lately things started taking a new turn in her life. It all started with you. A girl barely on the doorstep of adulthood whose life was taken too soon. Or so they thought. You were given another chance, a chance to take immortality and do the best you can with it. Looking for you took them months. Months of torturous dreams of a beautiful young woman dying. But they found you. In the end they always find each other, whatever it takes.
Andromache didn’t see you as anything more than a baby. A toddler compared to the length of their lives. What was over twenty years for you they could pass in a blink of an eye. That’s what happens when you live for hundreds of years. Your youth and naivety annoyed her. Your bright sight of the future and hopeful dreams angered the old Scythian. She couldn’t wait for the reality of the world to crash your hopes and dreams. For you to realize it was actually a helpless cruel place. One you could describe as hell even.
She hated the way you made everyone happier. As if you brought in the breath of fresh air, the youthful life they all forgot how to live. It showed her there are things she can’t provide for her team. She kept everyone safe, warm and sane for the most part. But even as the mighty leader there were things she couldn’t give. And to have someone, just a nobody and newbie like you, walk in and give it without expecting anything in return was a punch in her pace. A bitter pill to swallow.
Everyone knew you were a pain in their ass. You talked too much. You sang in the shower. You danced while making breakfast. You were addicted to your late night tv series. And yet they couldn’t imagine giving you back up. They’d fight for your life with their own. They never let any harm go your way. Maybe they also saw you as just a naïve child, needed to be protected from the real world outside. Her team warmed up to you and she could do no other, for the team is one and one is part of the team.
So Andromache studied you. She observed your interests, habits and hobbies. The books you liked to read, the kind of music you put on when you were left alone or the side of bed you like to sleep on. She analyzed and examined you. And with every new discovery she had to admit she too liked you the tiniest bit more. Your personality was really hard to stay angry with. Even when you messed up, she couldn’t be mad at you for more than a day. Especially when you made pancakes for breakfast to make up for your mistake.
That’s how she found herself agreeing to the crazy idea of buying fireworks for your first New Year’s Eve with them. Even when she wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea, it wasn’t the most stupid one you’ve had, so it seemed relatively safe. She of course didn’t let you anywhere near the pyrotechnics, leaving it up to Nicky and Joe to set them up. They didn’t need you to accidentally blow yourself up or something.
As the midnight neared and darkness fell over the sky, you all went outside to see the showcase of lights. With a loud countdown getting down to zero, the fireworks went off creating magnificent scenes in the sky. You hugged her without warning murmuring thank you’s into her chest, and she squeezed you to her, setting her head up on your own as her eyes roamed the colorful sky. Even if she wasn’t a fan of New Year’s Eves, she’d set the lights up for you every night just to see your joyful smile.
As everyone settled down around the living room back inside, she made sure to keep you close, as if to draw in a bit of your energy and cheerfulness. She couldn’t imagine her team, her family, without you anymore. You were the perfect piece into their complicated puzzle.
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