#pyro side chat

[antivan-sprig]

A Splash of Pyromancy 🔥

Oh man so I’ve rewritten this one at least three times! I’m super into Lin’s story and also really like how he and Lis are almost foils for each other (probably not the right term but something is there!!! 😅) But anyway, I just could not get it to come out the way I wanted! I will probably revisit this one over the summer once it’s cooked in my brain a little more.

Anyway love a “choices are always made for me” Dalish story ♥️✨ Lis relates big time.

@wardentabriis : Lin crouches next to the fire. His hand hovers over it for a moment--his right hand, veins and grooves cracked with black scars. His sleeves, rolled to the elbows, reveal how far the scars travel up his arm, how deep they run. It seems almost impossible that the Wardens managed to save it at all.

"Don't worry," he says, grinning. "I'm not stupid enough to stick my hand in."

He settles down, cross-legged, with a sigh of relief. "It's been too long since I sat around a fire like this. We didn't have rituals like this in my clan, but I remember nights like this. The Keeper's other apprentices and I would smoke some elfroot, dance until we were exhausted, collapse, then just...look at the stars until we fell asleep."

Lin takes a notebook out of his satchel. "I might have something to offer the fire."

He opens it to a page of pressed blue flowers, plucking two blossoms, and tossing them into the flames.

"Brona's Bloom. There was a time, centuries ago, when these still blossomed in the Anderfels. The blight strangled the life from almost everything, but...these little flowers survived. Strange, don't you think?"

Lisel turned her head at the sight of his scars, she knew from experience how tedious it could be to have to explain how you’d gotten them, and she didn’t want to force that burden on someone she only knew in passing. Still, she was annoyed by how curious they made her.

At the mention of his clan, Lisel’s eyes brightened. As silly as it sounded, she’d only just realized Lin was Dalish.

“Dirthamen? Correct?” She asked, motioning to his facial tattoos and continuing on as if she hadn’t just asked a question, “Elfroot before dancing?” She cocked her head to the side, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “Not sure your clan had the right order on that one… but I’m sure it was fun nonetheless.”

She sat up straighter as Lin lowered himself down, looking at the page of pressed flowers with subtle curiosity. She made a mental note to bring it up next time as a conversation starter and gave a dallying smile.

“Never seen Brona’s bloom until now. It’s pretty. And resilient too, sounds like it at least.” Lisel looked at Lin appraisingly, “Sure you don’t want to stick a hand in? Last chance.”

As he tossed in each of the flowers a gentle plume of smoke burst from the flame, punctuated by a soft sizzle. The pair gazed into the flames expectantly, looking for any abnormalities. The flowers had begun to shrink and blacken. Within the smoke, small, luminous, lights began to rise and float above their heads. Lisel took a deep breath to steady herself, already feeling something coming on.

“Well, I see lots of aravels and Halla? Typical Dalish stuff I guess.” Liselath teased.

To each of their surprise, it wasn’t the appearance of the fire which changed, but the smell. The scent of Dalish stew began to rise from the pyre, a savory mixture of mushrooms, rice, and assorted herbs. They couldn’t help but smile, it smelled like home.

“You saw the blight when you were a child?” Lisel asked curiously, but your fear was tempered by something…” Lisel rocked her head from side to side as if thinking of the correct word, “Fascination.”

The pyre cracked loudly as a small plume of embers erupted out of the flames, once again demanding that the pair keep their eyes on it.

“You’ve always lived inside a world which forces you to hold back. Rules, traditions, limits.” She paused, “People set you up for failure. Giving you important duties, determining your fate without any input…”

“Your life is never your own.” Lisel furrowed her brow, “But carving your own path is second nature… ” she trailed off, eyes shut tightly.

The fire began to grow hotter, flames rising above their heads as a pillar of white smoke poured from the top.

Lisel shot him a sudden look of confusion as if suddenly realizing what she was seeing, her eyes locked onto his, “Don’t you feel guilty for leaving your clan?” She didn’t wait for an answer, continuing on in a questioning tone, “all to join the wardens?”

There was something else there. A dreadful feeling which lingered just under the surface. It felt ancient, corrupt, and most of all, dire. The fire reacted to it as well, arcing violently upwards and creating the grating sound of rising steam, like the shrieking of a teapot. The pair flinched, but kept facing the fire.

Just as a prey animal would recognize a predator, Liselath realized what was lurking far too late.

Blight

The scent, the sight, the very feeling of doom. She felt nauseous, it took everything in her to keep her dinner down. Her vision splotchy as she looked at Lin across the fire. Her blood squirmed within her veins as if it were desperately trying to escape.

“This is awful.” She said quietly, “Really awful.”

She couldn't imagine how anyone could live like this. Lis peeked an eye open at Lin, beyond surprised to see how well he was handling it. Was this normal for a warden? Was it always like this?

At least she understood now. Leaving his clan hadn’t been much of a choice at all, it had been a matter of life or death. The Grey Wardens had been thrust upon Lin just as the Crows were thrust upon her.

The blooms in the fire had shrunk into shriveled black spots of oil and were wholly unrecognizable now. While they’d survived the blight, even they couldn’t survive the heat of the fire.

“Upheaval, despair, loss. All for the proverbial greater good.” Liselath said with obvious contempt, “You didn’t even get a chance to determine your own doom. Even that was chosen for you.”

A tense moment passed between them and the pyre began to fade out as the last bit of Brona’s Bloom burnt up. Small streams of smoke streaked through the sky.

She tilted her head to the side, regaining some semblance of self, “They really kicked you out? After you went through all that?” Lis questioned, “Figured the Grey Warden’s couldn’t afford to kick anyone out.”

She leaned her head back onto the statue of Mythal and looked up at the night sky. A soft smile adorning her face as she said, “I hate watching the stars. Nothing makes me lonelier… but I suppose since you so willingly tried clan Talim’s pyre ritual, I might as well try Then'hima’s.”

[megalony]

Are We Clear

This is a new Eddie Diaz imagine based on a lovely anon request. I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

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Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: When (Y/n) drops Chris off at school, she has a very bad interaction with one of the parents at school. So the next day, Eddie goes to have a 'polite chat' and sort things out.

Enjoy.

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

Lifting her head, (Y/n) glanced in the rear-view mirror to get a glimpse of the carrier behind her. It almost didn't feel real to be looking back at the carrier and seeing her baby sleeping soundly in the back seat. (Y/n) had spent the last year wondering what it would be like when her baby was here. She and Eddie had been preparing and talking and constantly thinking this over, and now, it didn't seem real.

It almost felt like a dream when (Y/n) thought back to being at the station's Christmas party when her water broke. She had been so worried that she would be in hospital on Christmas day and ruin the plans and the day for Chris. Luck had been on their side that Cindy had been born on Christmas Eve and when Chris woke up Christmas morning, he was thrilled to find (Y/n) and his new baby sister sat waiting for him in the living room.

When she looked to her right, she caught Chris grinning up at her with that cheesy smile that always made her heart melt. For almost two years since (Y/n) married Eddie, she had been a mum to Chris and felt like she had a child, she had taken him on as her own. And now she had two kids.

It felt good to be driving Chris to school again. During the summer when the weather was scorching and they had the time, (Y/n) would walk Chris all the way to school. It was a good part of physio for him and it got (Y/n) out the house for longer, although she hadn't walked him to school for a while. She didn't have the energy when she had been nine months pregnant. And when Chris went back to school after Christmas break, Eddie's shifts had lined up so he could drop him off.

Soon, when Cindy was a bit more settled and the weather was nicer, (Y/n) would walk Chris to school again with Cindy in her pram.

"You've remembered uncle Buck is picking you up today, right?" (Y/n) glanced over at Chris before she looked back to the road and turned onto the next street and veered towards the school.

Buck was taking Chris to the cinema after school which meant that since Eddie was off work too, he and (Y/n) would be spending some time alone with Cindy for the day.

"Yeah, he said it's pizza for dinner."

"Oh did he, you won't have room for popcorn then."

"Yes I will!" The grin that lit up his face made (Y/n) chuckle and she watched as he started to rock back and forth, bashing his head into the headrest from both stimming and his energy levels. All day he would be thinking about when he could leave, going to the cinema was the one thing he wanted to do today and nothing else would be important to Chris.

When she pulled up outside the school, (Y/n) rolled her eyes playfully at seeing Chris was already trying to clamber out the car before she'd even turned the engine off. At least he knew to wait for her.

He grabbed his backpack and slung it on, moving to stand on the path while he waited patiently for (Y/n) to scoop Cindy out of her carrier.

She lifted the newborn up and kissed her cheek before settling her down on her chest. (Y/n) cradled the back of her bead and began gently bouncing her up and down in her arms while the nudged the door shut with her hip and began to follow after Chris. She could feel Cindy's hands tapping and bashing against her chest as the little girl started to wake up from her power nap.

"Okay, off we go."

She smiled when she felt Chris's hand loop into the crook of her elbow and he glued himself up into her side as they walked down the path towards the school gates.

It was good to see familiar faces again and (Y/n) smiled as much as she felt able before she tilted her head down and pressed her lips to the top of her daughter's head. She hadn't been out very much since having Cindy, she had been spending time at home getting into routines and being with her boys. But it was time to start getting out a bit more, (Y/n) knew that and she felt ready to be venturing out with Cindy now.

"Alright baby, have a good day and have fun with uncle Buck later." Adjusting Cindy in her right arm, (Y/n) turned to face Chris and looped her arm around him. She leaned down to kiss the top of his head while he meshed himself into her side and cuddled into her.

She felt Chris murmuring "Love you," into her chest and it made her heart warm and melt like butter.

"Love you too."

When Chris unravelled his arms from around (Y/n)'s waist, he tilted his head back and smiled up at his little sister who was starting to liven up. Her little eyes were turning as wide as saucers and her lips were forming into a perfect pout as she looked around her new environment with shock and wonder.

Reaching up, he gently took his sister's little hand that was clenched into a fist and started to sway their hands back and forth for a few seconds. Chris had taken to the big brother role almost immediately. He didn't like it when Cindy cried, but he loved to sit and hold her when she was settled. He was the same as Eddie in the fact that he would hold her for hours if she was content to do so.

Eddie spent most of his evenings off laid with Cindy curled up on his bare chest.

Chris whispered a soft "Bye Cindy-Lou," before he let go of her hand and pulled away from them both. It had been Chris's idea to name her Cindy because she was born right before Christmas, and he had an obsession with The Grinch.

(Y/n) stayed in the playground for a few moments until she watched Chris toddle off inside and she knew he was alright. Her thumb began to glide across the back of Cindy's head while she turned around and slowly headed back towards the gates.

She nodded and smiled at some of the parents she knew, the ones who she had met when dropping or picking Chris up from his friends houses when he went round for tea sometimes. But she didn't stop to chat to any of them, (Y/n) wasn't in the mood for talking and they were all busy dropping their kids off anyway, much to her relief.

She began to hum against the top of Cindy's head as she headed out the gates and aimed for the car. She would probably head on a drive before she went back home, it would settle the newborn and Eddie would be out on his run at the moment so there was no need to rush back.

"Shall we go for a drive?" She mumbled into Cindy's temple and gently nudged her up and down against her chest as she approached the car.

The small gurgle she got in response was good enough for (Y/n) and she smiled as she carefully opened the back door and leaned forward to ease Cindy into her carrier. It was pretty clear who had gotten the two-month-old dressed this morning, considering she was wearing a Minnie Mouse onesie and a pink bow headband.

(Y/n) was rather surprised Eddie hadn't put Cindy in the dark pink dress he usually dressed her in because it said 'daddy's princess' across the front. Or the dark blue romper which said 'daddy's little helper' which he had put her in to take her to the station for the first time last week.

She was going to be a daddy's girl and have Eddie wrapped around her little finger, (Y/n) could see it already.

"Has daddy made you look pretty today?"

It was almost as if Cindy could understand her because her small fist moved to brush against the headband she wore and (Y/n) nodded with a creased smile.

"He has, hm?" She cooed, catching Cindy's hand when her arms started to flail around in front of her. She pressed a few dozen kisses to the back of her daughter's hand, loving the little gummy smile she got in response.

Her hip slanted against the seat as she leaned forward, muttering a quiet "Come here," as she gently caught Cindy's hands and weaved her arms into the straps so she could buckle her in safely. She pressed a few kisses to her temple and cheeks to watch her baby squirm and smile in that cute way which enamoured anyone who looked at her.

But the tender look on (Y/n)'s face started to morph when she heard a new voice behind her.

"Hi."

(Y/n) turned away from Cindy and straightened up so she was no longer leaning in the car, but the smile on her face began to fade when she realised who was now stood next to her on the pavement.

Ray. He was one of the dads, his two boys were a few years older than Chris which thankfully meant that (Y/n) and Eddie didn't have to talk to him very often or deal with him.

This was the guy Eddie didn't get along with.

"Hello." (Y/n) feigned her best smile and and nodded towards him, wondering what he wanted.

It was safe to say that Eddie really, really didn't like Ray. The pair of them had come to blows more than once and a few other parents had to get involved once when Eddie almost smacked him.

Eddie had never been sure what he had done to make Ray dislike him in the first place, but whenever they saw one another, Ray always had something to say. The main thing he commented on was that he thought Eddie was older- or more to the point, too old, to be with (Y/n). There were ten years separating Eddie and (Y/n) which by normal standards, wasn't anything horrific or wrong. It was almost typical.

And their difference in age didn't mean anything, it wasn't a factor that ever got in the way or something they argued about. But Ray seemed to like to comment that Eddie was too old for (Y/n) or that he had a 'teen bride' which was the comment Eddie had tried to throw fists about.

There was always something Ray tried to comment on and it always riled Eddie up the wrong way. Whenever Eddie dropped Chris at school he treated it as a mission, get Chris in and then run back out to the car so he didn't have to interact with anyone or bump into Ray.

It wasn't often that (Y/n) talked to Ray, she barely knew him to say hello to, she only knew to avoid him because Eddie had talked about him before and pointed him out to her.

"I haven't seen you for a while, you're looking good." Ray had one hand stuffed into his trouser pocket but he reached his free hand out to rest on the roof of (Y/n)'s car which made her uncomfortable for a start.

She eyed him curiously, wondering where he was trying to go with this conversation and what his point was. There was clearly a reason he had come over here to talk to her even if (Y/n) didn't really want to interact with him, it seemed that she didn't have much of a choice.

(Y/n) nodded despite her uncomfortableness and the smile started to fade from her lips while she motioned to Cindy in the carrier. "I've been busy, with the baby."

Her defences went on guard when Ray hummed and leaned forward to get a look at Cindy. He didn't seem all that interested in her but (Y/n) didn't want him getting too close to her baby.

The way he tapped his hand against the roof of the car made (Y/n) want to frown, it almost felt like she had called him over here and he thought she was wasting his time. But when he looked back at her, (Y/n) couldn't help but step back until she was leaning into the car door and shivers coursed up and down her spine.

His smile was unsettling and the way Ray shifted his hand from his pocket to drag his fingers across his salt and pepper stubble made (Y/n) hold her breath and turn her head away.

"She's cute. So, where are you headed now? If you're not busy you could always come for a drink with me."

Oh. So that was why he had come over here.

He thought he could try and ask her out for a drink. That notion caused (Y/n) to frown and she glanced him up and down with confusion clearly written across her face.

Was he trying to trick her? Was this some kind of game or a joke that he and some of the other parents had come up with? If (Y/n) said yes were they going to laugh and say they were just winding her up to see if she would take the bait?

Ray had argued with Eddie on almost every occasion that they bumped into each other when dropping the kids off. He knew she was Eddie's wife, he had to. That was one of the things he used to rile Eddie up. So why ask (Y/n) out?

It seemed pretty clear to (Y/n) that if she had just had a baby, then she wouldn't want to go out with someone for a drink. She was married to Eddie and their relationship was clearly on solid ground, considering that they had just welcomed a daughter together. She wasn't about to go off for a drink or a date with another man. Eddie was all she'd ever want and need.

"Oh, I don't know what my husband would have to say about that." She did her best to smile and huff as if this was a mere joke between friends.

And when she turned a little, she raised her left hand and flashed the engagement ring and wedding band on her fourth finger. She was married and she certainly wasn't the type to go around dating other men behind her husband's back.

Besides, Ray was older; a lot older than (Y/n). She was sure she heard him talking to some of the other parents, he was nearing fifty. (Y/n) didn't want to be dating a divorced older man who seemed more of a creep than a gentleman.

At least with Eddie he was only ten years older than her, there were much bigger age gaps out there and Eddie wasn't old, nor was (Y/n) too young. She was the happiest she had ever been with Eddie and Chris in her life and now Cindy. This was her family and she didn't want or need Ray coming along trying to tease or get in the way.

"Well I don't see him around, do you?" Ray scratched his hand along the back of his neck while he leaned in close to (Y/n) and motioned his hand around to imply that Eddie wasn't here.

And in his opinion, none of the other parents were going to care if the pair of them left together. It seemed perfectly fine and agreeable in Ray's mind for (Y/n) to come out with him for a drink. Although (Y/n) did wonder what he thought she was going to do with Cindy. Whether he thought it was okay to bring her along or he expected her to drop her daughter with someone and then go out with him. His mind clearly worked in a strange way.

"That's because he's at home… where I'm now taking our daughter." (Y/n) feebly pointed towards Cindy again before she turned her back on Ray, hoping he would take the hint.

Eddie was going to be home from his morning run soon and (Y/n) wanted to get as far away from this situation as possible. She wanted to take Cindy back home, she didn't care about taking her on a longer drive anymore, she just wanted to get back to Eddie. Where she felt safe.

She leaned forward and strapped the seatbelt around the carrier to clip it back in place properly but she almost groaned when she heard Ray. He was still beside her. It felt like he had moved even closer. Just great.

"Motherhood's done you some good."

It seemed best to ignore that comment and tell Ray to make himself scarce, but (Y/n) didn't get the chance.

Her body froze and her heart lurched up into her throat when she felt a hand suddenly grab her bum.

When Ray muttered "A much better shape," and leaned over her, (Y/n) frantically rammed her elbow behind her until she winded him in the abdomen and he stumbled back. She spun around and stumbled against the car door which she used to steady herself as her wide eyes brimmed with panic and focused on watching the older man with a growing sense of fear.

What the Hell did he think he was doing? (Y/n) hadn't done anything to give him the impression she wanted him to touch her in any kind of way, especially not like that. She didn't want to be grabbed or touched by anyone who wasn't her husband. She thought she had made that crystal clear.

She saw his hand moving and she dreaded the thought of what he was going to do or exactly where he was going to try and touch her this time. So she didn't give him the chance. (Y/n) slammed her palm into his chest and shoved him back until he was tripping over his feet on the pavement.

"Do that again and you'll lose that hand. Leave me alone." She tried her best not to let any fear mingle in with her voice but her tone wavered and her eyes were already glossing over with tears.

Her shaking hands slammed the door shut and she wasted no more time, scrambling into the drivers seat where she could click the door lock button. Just in case Ray thought he could try and open the door and do something to change her mind or intimidate her.

She wanted to go home. She needed Eddie.

(Y/n) couldn't stop the way her fingers frantically began to tap against the steering wheel as she drove home. She was practically vibrating and shaking in her seat to the point driving was becoming a hard task rather than something she did on autopilot.

Her eyes kept scanning the rear view mirror to check on Cindy, making sure the newborn was settled and on her way off to sleep again. She was none the wiser to what had happened and thankfully not unsettled in the slightest, which was more than could be said for (Y/n).

The shaking seemed to subside by the time (Y/n) pulled up in the drive, but she could still feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins like fire in her blood, and it was unsettling. Her stomach was churning, her heart was pounding and her fingers were twitching at her sides.

She should have done something more than simply elbowing Ray. She should have turned around and made a scene. Rammed her fist into his nose. Shouted at him in front of the other parents. Looked to see if anyone noticed. She should have done something more.

Insulting words, ideas of what she could have done, visions of Ray skulking off humiliated, everything rolled around in (Y/n)'s head like a video tape while she climbed out the car and scooped Cindy up from her carrier.

Another round of tears were building up in (Y/n)'s eyes and she didn't even know why.

Her lips attached to Cindy's temple as she headed inside and wandered down the hall towards the bedroom. She rocked and bounced her daughter in her arms for a few moments, making sure she was truly settled and on her way to sleep before she dared to lay Cindy down in the crib attached to the side of the bed. She could use a nap before she would be ready for her next bottle.

(Y/n) barely finished settling her down in the crib she was leant over before a pair of arms took her by surprise and made her shudder.

She stayed put stood at the side of the bed, hands on the edge of the crib and her head angled to the left when Eddie glued himself up behind her. (Y/n) wondered for a moment or two if Eddie had been home when she got in and she simply hadn't noticed. But when she felt the harsh rise and fall of his chest pressing against her back and the deep, laboured breaths he was taking against her neck, she guessed he had just come back from his run seconds after she got in.

Added with his damp hair tickling her cheek and the sweat glistening and sticking on his skin, (Y/n) knew for sure that Eddie had just gotten back.

"Hola hermosa," His words tickled against her neck and the feeling of his teeth grazing against her skin made (Y/n) shiver.

Eddie tightened his arms around her waist and tilted his head so he could kiss her cheek, but his eyes narrowed slightly when (Y/n) didn't say or react to him. He felt her hands move from the crib to hold onto his wrists rather ferociously like she wanted to ensure that he wasn't going to get he go all of a sudden, but that was the only reaction he got.

He didn't earn a smile or her head properly turning in his direction, she didn't hum or speak or even turn around to face him.

His nose nudged her cheek and his thumb began to glide up and down her waist but he could feel his internal panic multiplying when (Y/n) continued to stay silent. And he could feel just how tense she was, like she thought relaxing even a fraction of her body would cause her to break into a million pieces.

"Something wrong?"

Again, he waited for (Y/n) to say something and clue him in to what might be happening or wrong here. He tried to look over her shoulder just to triple check on Cindy, but like he suspected, their girl was sound asleep and settled in front of them in the cot.

He waited patiently when (Y/n) finally began to move in front of him and he loosened his arms around her middle, but (Y/n) didn't move very far. She barely turned around in his arms before she looped her arms around the back of Eddie's neck and leaned into him. He felt the way she sighed as she burrowed her face into the crook of his neck and leaned against his chest to the point Eddie had to tilt back and stop (Y/n) from toppling them both to the ground.

"Baby what's wrong?" He was starting to get worried now. Eddie didn't usually get this kind of response from (Y/n) and he knew her like the back of his hand. He could tell something wasn't right but he had no idea what it was. She had seemed fine this morning before he went out on his run.

With a deep breath, Eddie pressed a kiss to the side of her temple before he moved one hand up to cup the side of her face. His thumb brushed across her cheek and he gently tilted (Y/n)'s head back so she was no longer tucked away against his neck. Allowing him to look down at her properly, he needed to see her to talk to her properly and find out what was wrong.

His thumb continued to glide across her cheek while (Y/n) leaned into his touch and locked her eyes on his parted red lips that had taken up her attention.

"I bumped into one of the dads at school today, Ray." (Y/n) found her eyes zooming in on Eddie's lips while she spoke and she watched them part so he could groan.

His eyes rolled and a grimace crossed his face at the mention of that particular person.

She watched the way his breathing finally seemed to mellow out now that he was no longer running loops around the block. And (Y/n) took in the way Eddie's black vest was sticking to his chest like a second layer of skin, despite the droplets of sweat glistening in the morning sunlight.

She could feel his hand flexing and twitching against her lower back like he was doing his best not to scrunch up her shirt or start fiddling out of anxious habit.

"He's a prick, that's the one who started asking how old I was compared to how 'young my wife is' but he's bloody older than me. He went to say something about Chris last time until I mentioned I was in the army, that shut him up. What'd he want this time?"

Eddie moved both hands back down to (Y/n)'s waist, settling them on her hips as he angled his head to one side to look down at her. He didn't want to imagine what Ray had tried to talk to her about today. Probably something insulting, knowing him.

Eddie wasn't sure what exactly started it, but Ray seemed to have a vendetta against him. He was always making jibes and going out of his way to irritate Eddie whenever they bumped into each other on the school run.

He had a thing for commenting on the fact that (Y/n) was and clearly looked a lot younger than Eddie. He'd go around asking Eddie how he managed to 'pull a girl like that' and comment that she was too young to step into the role of being Chris's mum.

Many times Eddie had come close to lashing out at him there in the school yard and he'd had more than a few choice words with him dozens of times. But he hadn't known Ray to approach (Y/n) very often and talk or argue with her. He dreaded to think what Ray might have tried to argue or lecture (Y/n) about.

"He asked me out for a drink, and said motherhood looked good on me… then he- he grabbed my bum."

It seemed to take Eddie a moment or two to take in what (Y/n) said and she felt him tense when he finally seemed to realise what she'd implied. She felt his hands tighten on her hips and she lifted her head just in time to see Eddie's eyes narrow and his lips part in shock.

"What?" The gritty tone in Eddie's voice made (Y/n)'s stomach clench and she saw the fury bubbling over in his eyes.

when he stepped back, (Y/n) feared for a second that he was going to walk away from her or even walk out the door in this angered state. But he seemed to have stepped back so he could look down at her better which gave (Y/n) a good view of the fury taking hold over Eddie. And she felt like melting on the spot when Eddie's hand held her chin and kept their gazes interlocked when he could sense that (Y/n) was about to look away.

"He touched you?!"

(Y/n) could see his chest rising and falling harshly again like he had been on another two mile run when she meekly nodded to his outburst. "Right in front of everyone. I told him to back off but- I don't know, he frightened me."

Her hands slid up Eddie's arms until she was holding onto his shoulders and she gently nudged him back until he took the hint and started walking backwards towards the door. Listening when she muttered "Don't wake the baby."

The last thing they needed was to wake up Cindy and have to re-settle her again before they could continue this conversation.

Eddie let her walk him towards the door, still keeping one hand deadlocked around her hip as if to make sure that she was following along with him. But once they were out in the hallway, Eddie was holding her chin again and lifting her head so they were looking at one another.

"He didn't do anything else?" There was a wary look in Eddie's eyes, like he wasn't sure he actually wanted to ask or to know the answer. He wouldn't be able to control his anger if (Y/n) told him that Ray had tried any other stunts or had gone as far as to hurt her in trying to make advances and passes at her.

"He didn't get chance, I drove off."

"Well he's not getting another fucking chance to go near you again."

(Y/n) wasn't sure what to make of that statement because she could see the violent look swirling around in Eddie's eyes and the way his lips formed into a tight grimace and how tense he was holding himself told her he was close to exploding.

She gingerly looped her arms around his neck and pushed away from the wall so she was leaning into Eddie's chest. She didn't want another instance like today happening again, she didn't want to get out the car when she went to pick Chris up from school later. Maybe walking to get him might be easier so she could make a quick escape once Chris came out the gates.

She didn't want the risk of bumping into Ray or catching sight of him after how he had acted. She had no idea what he would be like now she had upset and embarrassed him. He might be angry. He might try and get back at her or try harder to flirt or upset her. (Y/n) had no idea what Ray might do and she didn't want to find out either.

It was as if Eddie could read her thoughts because his arms looped tightly around her waist and his lips pressed against her temple, smothering a sigh as he started to sway them from left to right.

"No one's ever done that before." (Y/n) muttered the words quietly into Eddie's neck as she closed her eyes and moved to lay her cheek on his shoulder.

Sure, a few guys had whistled or cat called her once or twice, but no one had been so rude and demeaning as to reach out and touch (Y/n) inappropriately like that before. Especially not somewhere like a school where her kids were there. She was just relieved that Chris hadn't seen.

"Hey, no one's gonna do that again, especially not him. I promise." There was a certain meaning behind those words that made (Y/n) cling to Eddie tighter.

She wasn't quite sure she wanted to ask him what he meant by that and she felt his lips pressing against her temple once again like he was trying to banish all the bad thoughts from her mind.

"I'm taking Chris to school tomorrow." There was no debating Eddie's statement.

He would take Chris to school in the morning on his way to work. And he hoped Ray would be there. Eddie would go and have words with him.

***

"What you looking for?" A perplexed look flooded Chris's face when he tilted his head back to look up at his dad.

Eddie wasn't usually this slow when walking Chris through the gates, but Chris kept on finding himself speeding ahead with Eddie two paces behind him. And his dad was constantly looking around like he was an owl, tilting his head from left to right.

Those words snapped Eddie out of his thoughts and he looked down at Chris and tried his best to smile reassuringly. He kept his left hand locked around the handle on Chris's backpack like he usually did so Chris wouldn't drift too far off and he picked up the pace to keep up with him.

"Sorry bud, just looking around."

Chris hummed and once they reached their usual spot in the playground, he spun round and wrapped his arms around Eddie's waist.

"Alright, have a good day and your mum will pick you up later, okay?" Eddie kissed the top of his head and ruffled his hair just to see Chris squirm and groan.

He watched Chris head off towards the doors, shouting "Bye dad!" over his shoulder before he was out of sight and as happy as ever.

Once Chris was safely inside, Eddie stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned around. His shoulders rose high and his eyes scanned the playground as he wandered back towards the gates. There was one person in particular he was looking for and if he didn't find him, the rest of the day was going to be spent with Eddie in a foul mood.

He slowed down his walk once he was out the gates and looking around the street. He weaved between the kids just arriving and the parents waving them off. Out of all the times Eddie had dropped Chris off and tried to rush back to the car in a hurry and avoid one specific person, this was the first time that Eddie had ever wanted to bump into him.

And there he was.

Ray. Stood with his phone in hand, both his kids already forgotten before they were even through the school gates. How typical.

Eddie's day was going to go much better now he had spotted him. He wouldn't have to go to work thinking about what he wanted to do and what he should say once he found Ray. He wouldn't spend the day in a sour mood feeling annoyed that he hadn't sorted this situation out once and for all.

Now Eddie could rectify the situation.

He was weaving through the parents and aiming for Ray before the older man had even bothered to lift his head from staring at his phone.

"Hey, remember me?"

Eddie didn't give Ray chance to respond. As soon as he was within reach, Eddie curled his hand around Ray's upper arm and continued in his stride.

He began dragging Ray alongside him until the older man had no choice but to stumble and turn around to follow alongside Eddie. He knew they must have looked a bit odd and a few looks were gained in their direction, but no one commented or approached or got in the way.

Without breaking his stride, Eddie guided Ray around the corner to the left so they were away from the school and most on-lookers. A secluded corner right near an alley, the perfect atmosphere and seclusion Eddie needed to have a little 'friendly word' with Ray.

"Jesus Diaz, what's that about?" Ray shook his arm as if Eddie's grip had almost broken it, something Eddie wasn't opposed to doing after what Ray had done yesterday. And he stuffed his phone in his pocket, clearly wanting to give his full attention to Eddie and find out what he wanted and what he thought he was doing.

Both Eddie's hands fell to his hips and his head angled to one side as he stared, unamused, at the older man stood slightly slouched in front of him.

"I think you had an altercation with my wife yesterday."

The smile on Eddie's face was unnerving and Ray's demanour changed within an instant. He straightened up but seemed to shrink in on himself at the same time. His brows furrowed and he took a deep breath while he held his chin high, but it didn't do much to intimidate Eddie or make him seem like the bigger person, in any respect.

Did he really think that (Y/n) would go home and not tell Eddie what he had done? Did he think Eddie wouldn't care or that he wouldn't bother to come over and confront him about it? If that's what Ray thought then he was more idiotic than Eddie first took him for.

Ray rolled his shoulders and tensed his jaw as he glared across at Eddie. "I- I talked to her, yeah."

"Hm. And you really think it's appropriate to go around and grope a married woman when she turns you down?" Eddie folded his arms over his chest and took a step closer until there was barely one foot of space between them and he was leering over the older man.

All Eddie could think about yesterday was the fact that Ray thought he had the right to go and touch (Y/n) and make her feel intimidated and he hadn't been there to do anything. No one had stepped in or asked what was going on. He had upset (Y/n) and made her uncomfortable and panicked and he had no right to go and do something like that.

He had no right to touch her in any way and yet he had and he seemed to think there was nothing wrong with that and no consequences. Well, Eddie would show him that actions had consequences. He would make sure Ray didn't go around doing this to anyone else. Especially not to Eddie's wife again.

As if it wasn't enough of a sign that (Y/n) was married and had just had a baby which would indicate she wasn't looking for flirtations. Ray still went ahead and did something he shouldn't without being led on in the slightest.

"She was asking for it."

Stars and spots twinkled in front of Eddie's eyes when those words hit his ears and before he knew what he was doing, he was lunging forward. His hand clenched around Ray's shoulder which he used to push him forward and he grabbed Ray's wrist with his other hand. In less than a second, he had Ray's hand twisted at a ninety-degree angle until it was locked in place and any other rotation would snap the joint completely.

The yelp of surprise and pain that Ray let out was almost music to Eddie's ears and he manoeuvred his hand until his palm was pressing down on Ray's fingers, bending them to the point of agony.

"Talk about her like that again, and I'll start breaking bones one at a time." Eddie wasn't opposed to bending fingers until they snapped and it would be incredibly easy to twist Ray's wrist until the joint snapped and the tendons and ligaments started to stretch and tear.

He didn't want to hear lies like that and he especially didn't want Ray talking about (Y/n) in that manner. She hadn't done anything to lead him on and they both knew it and Eddie wasn't just going to stand and listen to him talking about her like that. It was insulting.

When Ray nodded his head, Eddie loosened his grip just a little so that Ray could straighten up somewhat and he could flex his fingers without the risk of breaking them. But he didn't let go of him just yet. They weren't finished.

"You're an old guy, Ray, you should understand respect." He was older than Eddie, and Eddie had been brought up on manners and respect to everyone, especially women and his elders.

He would have thought that Ray had those same ideals enforced upon him when he was growing up. But clearly he didn't or he had forgone without them.

With a deep breath, Eddie let go of Ray's shoulder in favour of scrunching his hand in the back of Ray's hair instead. He yanked his head back so they were almost level and he could talk without having to raise his voice and risk others listening in. If anyone caught them they would surely call the police or tell the school that Eddie had been instigating arguments with other parents.

He didn't need that to happen right now. This was just an informal chat in Eddie's opinion. He could do a lot worse if he wanted to, and he really, really wanted to. He was restraining himself and showing some mercy to Ray who didn't exactly deserve it right now.

Ray had to understand, and Eddie had to make things perfectly clear for him so there wouldn't be any more incidents like this happening again.

"Alright Ray, now if you go near my wife again, you won't be able to use those hands anymore. And if you dare try and touch her like that again, I'll bury you myself. Are we clear?"

He wasn't sure he was going to get an answer until he tightened his hand in Ray's hair and gave his head a little shake. That was enough to have him yelping and hissing.

"Yeah! Yeah, w-whatever Diaz… just get off." The strain was clear in his voice and once Eddie let go of him and released his wrist, Ray stumbled forward. He tripped over his feet, coiling his now bruised and tender arm to his chest and shaking his head where his salt and pepper hair was ruffled and skewed at the back of his head.

He didn't look back towards Eddie as he stumbled from the secluded corner. He coughed, grumbled and spat as he turned and trudged down the path, going as fast as he dared without breaking into a run and arousing suspicion from any other parents that might still be hanging around nearby.

A relieved look took over Eddie's face as he ran a hand through his hair and clicked his neck into place. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he headed out onto the path, setting his sights on his car.

He could go to work now, satisfied that Ray wasn't about to try any of those tricks whenever he bumped into (Y/n) at school. (Y/n) could pick Chris up this afternoon and any other day from now and she wouldn't have to worry. Ray had been warned to stay away.

And if he didn't, Eddie would follow through on his promise.

[themissinghand]

Genshin Impact: Beneath His Gaze

Summary: In which you’re Capitano’s executive assistant who’s a little too good at their job (and coincidently, very good-looking too). 

Or, Capitano hates competition, after all, you belong to him. 

Pairing: Jealous! Il Capitano x Strong! Male Reader ft. Pantalone and Dottore 

Note: Yes. Capitano single-handedly took me out of my writer’s block. That 5.0 update was quite something. This became longer than I ever expected. 

Warning: Slight NSFW. Possessive behaviour, flirting, biting and non-consensual touching. Capitano has claws and sharp tongue.

★・・・・・・★

Il Capitano is a fearsome man. 

True to his title, he is powerful but honorable, respected yet feared by all. Perhaps it was his tall statue, the dark mysterious mask he dons, or maybe, it was his silent demeanor. 

Or perhaps his ruthless means and aura that screamed death.  

People do not simply stroll up to Capitano like they would with Tartaglia, but he detests flies regardless.

Then he met you, with almost an impressive statue matching himself, but with a much more…approachable face. Pretty as the Damselette would call you. 

You were competent, strong, and most importantly, adaptable. A face that could be remembered from either side of the light and dark. 

People described you as the face of an angel, but cunning like the devil. Hence, he promoted you to his only assistant (after all, he needs no assistants, much less bodyguards). However, you seemed to do more than what is required for a mere assistant. 

“Master. Please, have some tea.” When you bring him tea and snacks in the middle of work.

“Master, the weather is cold outside, please take this.” When you give him a heat pack, imbued with your pyro powers. 

“Master, please allow me to take care of these vermin for you.” When you reduced his anger with a slight touch on his hand on his sword, which almost would have destroyed a major section of his mansion. 

Capitano will not admit it, however, his life seems to be filled with a lot of noise, albeit it becoming much easier, and warmer.

“Don’t you think Commander (Y/N) would make a good malewife?” 

Capitano freezes in his steps. Honed in battle, naturally his senses are much more sensitive than others. 

“Are you drunk? I know you’re gay, but how could you go after the Commander? Didn’t you remember how terrifying he was when he almost worked us to death in training?”

There was a little infuriating laugh. 

“But, have you seen him smile and compliment us? Can you blame me? Have you seen others ogling at his half naked body after training? Hey, didn’t you have a crush on him?” 

“T-That was before, and quiet down. Someone might hear you.” 

“I wonder how he would taste…” Steps resumed in the halls, this time, they were quick, but silent. 

“You’re crazy. C’mon, let’s go before someone hears-” 

“Think about it, he has a big chest, and his ass-” 

“Shut up-” 

Suddenly, a large shadow casts over them and they slowly turn around, suddenly feeling cold all over. 

“Master-” 

A scream, before silence finally returned to the halls. 

“Master.” Il Capitano hands you his coat as always, often stained with blood. 

But as always, it was never his.

“Master, Allow me to serve you tea. I obtained this from Sumeru, and it has quite the enticing scent…” 

Again, you chatted as you prepared tea for Capitano, starting from small pleasantries, to his schedule and current affairs. You stood beside him as always and even though your Master did not say a single word of response to you, you knew he was listening. 

Everything was a routine and a reward to you, after all, you were very honoured to assist someone as highly regarded as Il Capitano. 

As fearsome as your Master appears, he allows you to speak your mind, and use his authority as necessary. It was difficult to obtain his trust and you were happy with your progress, even if you had to hide your disgusting feelings for him.

Yes, you had a crush on this man who everyone fears. 

After all, who doesn’t like a rich, powerful, and respected man? 

“Sit.” Suddenly, your Master commanded you. You stop in your ramblings at his command, and you obey. Respectfully seating yourself to his right with a look of quiet surprise. 

You were used to following his orders without question, but Capitano rarely asked you to sit with him like this. Normally, you were too busy managing his affairs or reporting on the state of his forces to sit idly.

As well, he did not touch his tea once today. 

Capitano’s mask obscured most of his face, but you could still feel the weight of his gaze on you, heavy and intense. It was as if he was measuring you, trying to read your thoughts, though you kept your face carefully neutral.

Finally, he took a slow sip of the tea, his silence stretching on as he continued to watch you. You shifted slightly in your seat, feeling the intensity of his focus, but you didn’t falter. After all, this was Capitano—your Master. You had served under him for years, and you pride yourself on your ability to remain composed, no matter the situation.

Finally, he spoke, his voice a low rumble. 

“Do you know what they say about you?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden question. 

“What do you mean, Master?”

“The Fatui agents. The ones who flirt with you. The ones who look at you as though you are theirs to claim.” Capitano’s words were clipped, and you could hear the irritation lacing his tone. 

“Do you know how they speak about you?”

Your brows furrowed as you recalled those moments. A fleeting regret crossed your mind; you should have dealt with those pests like everyone else.

After all, you’ve maintained your image and physical appearance only for your Master, and no one else. 

“Master, please forgive me, I will ensure this will not happen again. I assure you that their actions do not affect my duties.”

Capitano’s eyes darkened, his claws gripping the arm of his chair with enough force to make the wood creak. 

“That’s not what I asked.”

The tension in the room thickened, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of unease. Capitano rarely raised his voice or showed any outward signs of frustration, but now… there was something different in the air.

“I… don’t concern myself with such things, Master,” you answered carefully. “My focus is on serving you and fulfilling my responsibilities.”

He stood abruptly, his large form towering over you, casting a shadow across the room. His claws reached down, grabbing your wrist with a firm but controlled grip. 

“And yet, they continue. They think they can speak about you as if you’re theirs to take, as if they have any right.”

You looked up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. There was no mistaking the intensity in his voice, the tension that simmered just beneath the surface. It was an emotion you hadn’t expected from him, at least not toward you.

Could it be-

“Master, I—”

Before you could finish, Capitano pulled you up from your seat with one arm, his strength undeniable as he carried you effortlessly. Your breath hitched as you were suddenly pressed against his chest, the cold metal of his armor a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body.

"You're mine," he growled, gripping your waist. "No one else can touch you."

Your heart raced in your chest as you stared up at him, mind spinning as you adjusted and adapted as you always had. 

This was new, unexpected. 

You had always been his assistant, his soldier, but now… it was clear that Capitano saw you as something more—his. 

A slow, sly smile tugged at your lips. 

“Master, I am loyal to you.”

Capitano’s grip on you tightened, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear. 

“Then show me. Let them know you’re mine.”

His words sent a tantalizing shiver down your spine, and for the first time, you found yourself questioning whether you were just his assistant… or something far more dangerous.

In the dim light of Capitano’s private quarters, the air was thick with tension—unspoken, yet undeniably present. 

It had become a dangerous game between the two of you.

You stood by his desk, pretending to review the reports you had brought, while Capitano’s presence loomed behind you, closer than necessary. His claws brushed against your lower back, the contact brief but enough to send heat through your body. You didn't flinch; instead, you leaned into his touch ever so slightly, your pulse quickening at the daring proximity.

"You’re late," he muttered slowly, his voice like gravel, yet there was no malice in it—only something darker.

You turned to face him, a smirk dancing on your lips. 

"I had to ensure no one would notice my absence. Wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation, Master."

His eyes, cold to the world, burned with a heat only you had the privilege of seeing. Without a word, he reached for you, pulling you close with a force that left no room for protest. His lips were on yours in an instant, urgent and commanding.

His claws roamed your body, memorizing every line and muscle as if you were the only thing grounding him to this world.

"Careful, Master," you whispered against his lips, your voice teasing. "If we’re caught…"

He silenced you with another kiss, rougher this time, his grip firm as he pressed you against the desk. 

"No one will dare." 

You reveled in it all. 

As his executive assistant, your dedication to work and training had caught the attention of many, including some of the Harbingers.

One evening, after a rigorous training session with Capitano, you quickly changed to a clean appearance and immediately rushed to your Master’s office. However, it seems there were people waiting for you in the halls, which seemed to be a common occurrence recently. 

This time, it wasn’t just Fatui Cicin Mages or Agents though. Much more difficult, but not hard to handle. 

After all, you worked your way up to this position for a reason. 

“Well well well, who do we have here?” 

“Lord Dottore, Lord Pantalone. How can I be of assistance?” Dottore’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he observed you, something you were keen to notice. 

“A fine specimen indeed…” He approached you casually as you stayed still and kept your eyes low. 

Pantalone, ever the opportunist, leaned in with a sly grin. “I must say, you look like someone who could handle more than just being an assistant. I’m sure we could find a place for someone with your… capabilities.”

You pretend not to notice their serpentine eyes, or the sudden arm over your shoulder, or the slow squeeze on your bicep, and you couldn’t help but shiver when an arm grabbed your waist. 

“How about working for me? I’ll be sure to treat you well.” A seductive whisper to your ear. And you feel trapped beside these powerful men. 

Truly evil. 

You returned a little smirk, which somehow seemed to intrigue them even more. 

“I serve and am loyal to my current Master, however, I am honoured to receive your offer.” 

Before they could respond, you felt a familiar but imposing presence approaching you. Heavy steps that suddenly decided to reveal itself.  

(Y/N).” His voice was deep, drawing all eyes to him.

“Master.” You greet him as usual, and you hear a little ‘tch’ from beside you. 

The halls fell silent. Pantalone and Dottore straightened, their casual airs replaced by a more respectful demeanor. Capitano’s gaze was locked onto you, and you shivered in slight excitement knowing that he was angry.

“You’re late.” Capitano states before walking off, as if prompting you to follow him. After you bid farewell to the two other amused harbingers, who seemed quite intent in touching your muscles one last time before letting you go. 

You followed your Master down the hall into his office, the tension between you palpable.

Once the doors shut in his office, Capitano turned around, and you felt like you couldn’t move or breathe. 

“You are quite the vixen.” Sharp claws wrapped around your throat and raised you up to his eye level. 

Before you could respond, his lips crashed onto yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. The sudden intensity took you by surprise, but you quickly found yourself responding with equal fervor.

When he finally pulled away, you felt breathless as you stared back at him.

“You enjoy their attention.” he stated, disappointment evident in his voice.

“You’re mine, and yet, you dare covet something more?”

You met his gaze with a smirk, showing your true colours. 

“And if I enjoy their attention?”

Capitano’s eyes darkened further. He pulled you into another heated kiss, his claws gripping your hips firmly. You were sure that would leave some bruises.

“You must be punished.” 

“Master-urgh!” You resisted the urge to scream as sharp teeth sunk into your collarbone, and an alien tongue swept over your neck. 

It was the right choice as you felt a pair of eyes glaring at you, so you remained silent before he dropped you onto the floor. Instantly, you inhaled sharply and struggled to catch your breath as you quickly kneeled for your life.

“Please, forgive me, Master. My life is yours.”  

For Capitano, he felt a sick satisfaction seeing you beg like a little dog.

Il Capitano believed he had to tighten his leash. 

During the next few days, you did your best to focus on your work, trying to push aside the lingering tension. But you could always feel a pair of cold eyes constantly on you. Especially when you interact with other people. 

“Well, well, how is our little assistant holding up?” Pantalone grinned as he cornered you again in the hall. “How long before Capitano locks you away, hm?”

Dottore chuckled darkly, his fingers lightly trailing down your arm, sending a shiver through you. 

“The offer is still on the table. We’d take good care of you,” he said, his voice dripping with false sweetness. “You’d be in much better hands.”

With the same fake yet alluring smile, you slowly back away from their touch. You didn’t need to say anything after all, you could practically feel him coming.

The familiar sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor.

In an instant, Capitano was beside you, his claws gripping your shoulders firmly. Without a word, he pulled you away from the two Harbingers, his strength overwhelming as he practically dragged you down the hall. Pantalone and Dottore watched with amusement, smirking at the sight of Capitano’s thinly veiled rage.

You didn’t even have a chance to speak as Capitano led you into his private quarters and slammed the door shut behind you. His breathing was heavy, and his eyes—what little you could see through his mask—burned with a mixture of anger and desire.

“You’re mine,” Capitano reminded, his voice low and dangerous. 

Before you could respond, he lifted you with ease, your feet leaving the ground as he pinned you against the wall. His massive claws gripped your waist and ass, claws digging into your flesh as his lips crushed against yours in a kiss.

You gasped into the kiss, and wrapped your legs around him. He clawed at your chest as if he was trying to prove a point—that you belonged to him and no one else, and you whimpered when you felt pain.

And despite everything, you found yourself leaning into him, drawn to the darkness that radiated from him.

"Master, I'm yours."

His touch was intoxicating, and even though you knew how dangerous this was, you couldn’t help but be pulled deeper into the web Capitano had spun around you.

[ghelullu]

Prague 2025 skeletour recap!!

Tl;dr I love ghost they're all amazing and I'm happy

Long version under the cut

Probably the tallest crowd I've seen at a recent ghost concert

The way the light shines through the tears in the black curtain during peacefield is amazing no matter how many times you see it and of course peacefield is amazing too 10/10

Already multiple skin flashes during peacefield, thank you for the Fanservice

Dew is very mobile now! And someone painted bones imitating his skeleton on his boot, very cute. He's already a sassy diva again

Papa looked very pleased with himself during spirit again

Was overall VERY very smiley today! Many smiles and grins. At one time he saw someone on dews side of the stage hold up some sign and cracked up (sadly I couldn't see the sign)

Rain keeps headbanging so hard that his head peace flaps around and gets stuck sometimes

Papa had a weird lock of hair sticking out at the back of his head

We got the meliora special(tm) again tonight with pinnacle and majesty (would've loved to hear faith again tbh)

Phantom has the zoomies, this guy has so much energy, it's incredible. Sometimes he's just sprinting all over the stage and the person operating his spotlight STRUGGLES.

He and dew are absolute chaos twins, bless them. They had tons of moments together. But also phantom and the ghoulettes!! During one song he was with them, after cirrus keytar solo they chased each other over the stage and during the slightly awkward break after majesty he was at cirrus Plattform and they chatted or something

Papa in the silk shirt kills me everytime, I'm too weak for this. This shirt was an evil choice.

He did the times are shitty talk but somehow some people seemed to not to thing that times are shitty lmao and he was like, very sassy, it's okay to think that the world isn't shit right now before leading into tfiafl

Made multiple unnecessarily horny noises (moan, ah's) in this song and others help

I love seeing the variations of papas crisis during the Latin bit(ft. Priestbias on the screen) and the guitar solo (cowering on the stairs dramatically) in satanized

At the end he lifted his arms and we saw the hair again, without the Berlin incident I wouldn't have looked closely enough but.... Hmhmmhmm yes.

Satanized is a total audience fave

I can't wait to see when he decides to add the wings for cirice because he keeps doing the vampire arms bit when coming on stage, but still no wings

Fingered the mic stand again, though. And dew.

When he ciriced the person he got so close to the mounted camera that we got like a SUPER closeup shot until the point where you basically only saw the white eye before the video crew cut away to another camera angle of it haha

Generally some really cool new camera angles for example from unterneath the drums when papa faces the drums and such!!! Really big props to the video screen crew they're doing an AMAZING job

Papa slapped, I think it was rain, butt when leaving the stage

Rain was super done with dew and turned his guitar off for their ritual bit while phantom was being phantom on the other side

Umbra had ALL the smoke cannon action, very cool with the purple light and all, and the song SLAPS so hard. I love how papa loses his brain function while coming up from below the stage with the cowbell raised above his head and just... Wakes up, staring at it confusedly before quickly dropping it into the new ghoulettes (who has the collective braincell in that moment) waiting hands

I need to say how great the ghoulettes are with their little wings, I love them. And I like how they have some more bits, moving in the stage etc

I love year zero so much!!!

Dew stood so close to one of the pyro thingies that I thought he'd headbang right into the flame at some point. little fire gremlin

Papa was kinda defeated in the year zero bit with the disobedient ghouls, didn't even fight their standoffish ways, just walked around rain and dew but the got extra diva with phantom. In general he's either just accepting them being uncooperative OR goes full sassy diva and there's nothing inbetween

Papas mic was very silent for a lot of the show but ON during he is (and then rather silent again???) also the jesus rocket at the end of he is always ends me

Was the church backdrop always broken on dews side? Like the bow of the first smaller window bit on that side is broken (interrupted at the top) and they also turned the screen off at that part to simulate a missing window. Very cool detail!

Taint tickling for mummy dust!!

Some very nice mummy thrusting thank you very much

Rolled a mummy dust bill up like a cigarette or joint and then slowly with A LOT OF tongue licked the whole thing and threw it (very badly, it barely reached barrier) into the crowd. I died a little bit. Slut.

His monstrance clock speech was super funny, first of all he was like "don't fucking whimper now" (can't remember the exact words, but whimpering was in there), then said something in Swedish (i didn't understand obviously but swedes kn twitter said it was: "i'm the one to be the one") "as they say in Swedish....... WHICH I DONT.", he said he was just told to say that 😂😂 (and asked if someone's from sweden here, some people at the front cheered) bless him. Then people screamed so long thst they couldn't start monstrance clock and he said we are wasting time now before shushing us

I love monstrance clock part 38844. Also at the end of it the person responsible for the video screen forgot to shut it off, so the porn font lyrics kept rolling and rolling despite the song having ended

His little encore speech about being predictable and all was very cute and fun again, he smiled a lot and spoke I a horrible English accent that they're having one last good song up their sleeve. Also called it his daddy's song

Something was different about the keyboard sound for moac I think? Doesn't matter, it was amazing as always

No wobble for Dance Macabre and also no confetti - not sure it the cannons malfunctioned or if it was intentional

This is the time I'm addressing the boner allegations, bc twitter keeps talking about how he's "constantly bricked up" and idk. I'm not a boner expert, but as someone who knows clothes from experience and drawing and also the fact that the ridiculous cardinal pants existed for 2 years without a single incident... My scientific guess is that due to the, already very tailored to the crotch, pants slipping down, esp at the front due to the heavy belt buckle, it creates a sort of pouch and the ghunk just collects in there, yk. During dance macabre he jumped up and down a few times and it sorted the whole situation, which wouldn't have happened with a ghoner. Not that it matters but twitter talks about it so much lol

Phantom got Ryan's attention who was standing underneath him and handed him a pick to deliver it to someone in the crowd which I thought was very cute of them

Papa told dew to "get his ass over here" for squammer and at the end didn't do the high note again but the "right here right.... Now we're done"

Ghoulettes made paper planes out of setlist again, we are so close to the return of origami ghoulettes of the prequelle era.

Dew has a cane for the bows!! Very distinguished fire gremlin!

Despite standing 8 rows from the barrier I had a very sweet moment with Papa thst will keep me alive for the rest of the year thanks

Dew yeeted picks at 984848kmh all the way over to the seats

Lots of kisses from papa for the crowd but also his ghouls

I love them all so much and I'm very sad that this was my last ritual for the year but I'm also super happy and grateful thst I could see them 4 times, I don't take this for granted at all.

Thank you for reading ❤️

My Other ritual recaps

[pinkxpantha]

Suspicions, Scones, and Scandals.

diluc x GN!reader

#: synopsis- How the year long secret between you and Diluc is revealed, turns out the greatest bachelor of Mondstadt isn't a bachelor?!

#: cw- 3.4k words, they/you pronouns. Use of Mx, Traveler is left up to interpretation (Aether or Lumine), Kaeya, Venti, Paimon also mentioned, secret relationship, established relationship, Diluc loves like it's the only thing he knows how to do, fluff, Diluc is in mourning (you went to fontaine) no s/o = no life, Donna mentioned for a sentence and lowkey can't decide which one of you to be jealous of, no beta we die like Crepus.

Diluc polished the glass he held in his hand. It was quiet, beautifully so. The loud chatter of drunkards during the usual weekdays were now replaced with the delicate silence of his environment.

Diluc could see his own reflection in the wine glass, it glinted with the casual lighting of Angel's Share. 

Before he heard the door creaking open, he saw the peaks of blue. Who else could it be other than Kaeya.

He waltzed through the door, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards when he saw Diluc.

Diluc turned to face his brother, clenching his jaw in preparation for the relentless teasing he's recieved for the past few days.

Diluc made the fatal mistake of glancing over in your direction when you were talking to someone.

 Kaeya picked up on this immediately. Like a sponge he soaked every single interaction between the two of you to compile into a theory of Diluc's clear infatuation over you.

As much as Diluc wished Kaeya would stop sending him playful glances each time your name was brought up, he couldn't deny some of his words held a hint of truth to them.

Although he wouldn't say ‘his eyes had their own heartbeat’ whenever he glanced at you. whatever that meant.

“Ah, Diluc! Pleasure to see you here.” Kaeya greeted. Flashing him a small grin as he sat down on the stools in front of the bar.

“I wish I could say the same to you.” 

Kaeya only laughed in a placating manner.

“Brother, is that any way to treat your future best man?” 

Diluc deadpanned at Kaeya's audacious words.

“What do you want?” He sighed as he threw the rag over his shoulder.

“Aside from good wine, a fine chat would do.” 

Diluc swiveled around after he got Kaeya's order. 

“I'm not your in house entertainment,” he spoke. “If you wanted entertainment you should've come during the weekend.”

Diluc huffed and placed the empty glass in front of Kaeya.

“Better yet, go elsewhere.”

Kaeya shrugged, “Of course Master Diluc, I'll keep that in mind for the future.”

Diluc continued to prepare Kaeya's drink. The sooner he left, the better. He didn't need to hear his incessant teasing. 

If he glanced back, he might've seen Kaeya's gaze locked onto his gloves. 

Kaeya carefully investigated the lumps of fabric. Was it just the light playing tricks on him, or did that seem like the outline of a ring?

Soon the tavern door opened again, and Diluc resists the urge to sigh. 

Yes this is his job, but that doesn't mean he has to enjoy all parts of it.

Diluc sets Kaeya's drink in front of him, his gaze raised ever so slightly.

Then it locks on yours. You look like how he expects you to. You bring him a warmth him pyro vision could never mimic.

Then he remembered who else was in the room with him. He gave you a curt nod, trying to indicate something to you.

“Suddenly the atmosphere feels a lot colder.” Kaeya said.

You cleared your throat, a small black box in your hand. Wrapped in a gorgeous red velvet colored flat of fabric. You fiddled absent-mindedly with the ribbon. 

“Sorry Kaeya, I was just a bit distracted.” 

He smiled as he turned to the side, giving him a better view of both Diluc and you.

Diluc adjusted his tie, and brushed his hair back. Something he clearly didn't think much of. (Unlike the man that stared at him as he did so.)

He huffed amused. ”Don't worry about it Mx. [Name], at least with your company I won't have to worry about someone brooding anymore.”

Diluc shot Kaeya a glare from the corner of his eye.

‘Don't say anything you'll regret.’

Kaeya only smirked.

‘I rarely regret a thing I've said.’

You cleared your throat at the poorly disguised tension in the room. Snapping Diluc out of his in-between conversation with Kaeya. 

“Good evening.” You greeted the both of them.

You walked over to one of the wooden stools. It was solid, carefully made so that even with the hours of use it acquired over its long carrier of chairness you couldn't find a single trace of weathering or possible splinters.

“So what brings you here? I didn't take you for a drinker.” Kaeya hums, taking a small sip of his wine.

You shake your head, “I'm not here to have a drink, dealing with a hangover tomorrow would be horrible.” You shivered. 

“Do you not handle your alcohol well?”

“Kaeya.” Diluc scolds.

“What? I'm making conversation.”

“Don't make me kick you out.” 

Kaeya sighed, curling his bottom lip into a pout in an exaggerated fashion.

“I haven't even finished my drink yet, surely you'd let me enjoy this first.”

You smiled at the interaction.

And just for a second Diluc's eyes met yours. You were looking at him so.. openly? He couldn't decipher that stare of yours. He could feel the slight amusement in your stare.

You were such a force of confusion in his life, but with you he didn't need much reason. His ears tilted red with each second longer your eyes met together. 

You took pity on him, breaking eye contact first. “I'm not a lightweight, I just tend to go overboard.”

Kaeya chuckles at the clarification. “Aha I see.”

You placed the box onto the counter, the sound amplified by the silence that shrouded the room.

Diluc leaned over the counter of the bar, he used his elbow as a prop for his head. He blinked at the foreign object. A slight intrigue made him want to open it.

But… three's a crowd.

Clearly that sentiment slid out of his brain, bouncing around the room before it pointedly made its way to Kaeya.

He paused before sighing. “As much as I would love to indulge in these tendencies I do have some work to get back to.” Kaeya placed the mora he owed onto the table, before taking out a flash attached at his hip and pouring the rest of the wine down it.

“Ah, already?” You murmured.

“Unfortunately so.” He nods, “Very well then, see you both soon.”

You both bid him goodbye, and he sent a wink(you think??) in Diluc's direction.

As soon as you both hear the click of the door the atmosphere concentrates around the two people in the room. Both of you relax, a breath of shared comfort between the two of you. 

You nudge the box closer to Diluc, his red hair falling against his face slightly as he tilts his head in your direction.

Archons you really need to know how he keeps it so well maintained..? 

“This is?” He picks the box up in his hands, it feels miniscule in his palm.

“For you.” You said simply.

He blinked, “What's the occasion?” 

You shook your head, “It reminded me of you.”

He hesitated. A gift from you wasn't a rarity, yet it still felt odd each time he recieved one just… because?

He opened the box, it was two things. A hairpin. It was a solid metal, the imagery of a flower with its petals dyed red. Golden accents adorned the sides. It shimmered in regality with the dimmed lighting of the tavern glinting against the metal.

The next piece was made in similar fashion. The silhouette mimicked the frame of the hairpin but in a much more minimalistic fashion. It was a gorgeous deep red, a notable tie clasp.

“These.. are beautiful, [Name].” He said. 

You agreed, “So, you're calling yourself beautiful?” 

“...” 

Before he could sigh from exasperation he saw the teasing glint in your eyes. “If that's what you see me as, I can't help but not trust your judgement.” He leaned further into you, a small smirk playing against his lips. 

You felt your face warm up, for a guy that was so content with shrouding himself in intrigue and mystery, his eyes betrayed that reputation. 

They were so clear, if you looked directly into them you might've seen the mini Diluc’s running around scrambling to formulate his thought process.

The ombre of red and orange harmonized into a blazing ichor that threatened to swallow you whole.

He looked back at you, and you swore his eyes burned through your soul. His features were so tightly knit in comparison to his wide red eyes.

“You're not being fair right now.. stop looking at me like that.” You huffed.

 “Don't you spend your time searching for the beauties of this world? Don't tell me you've given up on that goal already.” 

This guy… he could be cunning when he wanted to.

You didn't allow yourself to falter, seeing this as a battle risking life or death. There was no way you weren't going to win this battle of flustering the other. (Diluc didn't even know what the hell you were thinking.)

You used your sword, otherwise known as your hand to stab his heart.(read: grab his tie.) You pulled it ever so slightly closer to you. Ignoring how 

You huff, leaning over the counter to grab him by his tie. He jolted at the sudden action, his torso angled over the bar, his hands moved closer to his waist, holding onto the edge of the wooden panel to steady himself.

Your fingers make their way closer to his neck, never straying from the fabric of his tie. He swallowed thickly as he watched you concentrate on fixing it.

As much as he doubts there was nothing wrong with the way he tied it, he.. appreciates the way you look up at him, just for a split second.

“Of course I haven't.” You said.

Diluc saw your lips move before he could hear you. He snapped out of his daze, the proximity between the two of you reduced to the length of a ring finger.

 “I haven’t taken a picture of you.”

Diluc pulled away, noticing how you already clipped the pin onto his tie. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent the chuckles of amusement from slipping out. He had turned away from you, it was a desperate attempt to hide his reddened skin. 

More than ever is he glad you two are the only ones in the tavern.

You see him rub his face, the traces of red starting to dissipate from his neck and ears. You can't help but smile. You can't tell you're smiling because of his reaction, or the fact he's allowing you to see him like this.

“[Name]..” He turns back to you, his lips pursed together.

“Diluc” You responded, taking in his full appearance. 

The gentle slopes of his face, the harsh curves of his jaw and nose. They all worked together in a polyphony to create the the person you admire so dearly.

“Ah, that reminds me. Unfortunately I have a business trip to attend in a fortnight.” You broke the silence of the room.

He lowered his head to meet your gaze. 

“Should I bring anything back for you? A gift.. a recipe.. I'm sure I could learn to cook something for you.” You offered. Diluc's face paled.

The thought of you cooking something for him used to be a pleasant fantasy. But seeing it in practice turned any thought of you stepping into the kitchen into a nightmare.

You might as well have had a pyro vision the way the stove went up in flames. 

“I… appreciate the sentiment.” He grimaced. “If anything, I wish you to return to me safely.”

You smiled back at him, bemusement tracing the corners of your mouth.

“Of course. I'll make sure to have a good time as well!” 

He hummed. “Don't slack off.” 

“I won't I swear–!” You exclaim, jabbing your finger in his face.

You both continue to talk, in a way only the two of you know of each other. Barriers and walls broken to build a bridge between the two of you. 

These words are a well kept secret between the two of you, at least for now.

You leave the tavern when more people begin to filter in as the sun sets.

Time truly didn't stop for anyone. It wasn't long before Diluc had to bid you goodbyes. Time failed to capture the moments he spent with you leading up to that. 

A month had already passed since you left, his favorite place to be during that time was at the dawn winery. Letters you wrote came to him every other day. 

You were safe, and it sounded like you were enjoying the time you spent in fontaine. He no longer had to relive the first week of sleepless nights worrying about your well being.

He was in the dawn winery again, a newer letter in his hands. Diluc traced the wax seal, one he specially commissioned for you. 

He began to peel it off, a twinge of eagerness coated his fingers in a newfound fervor. 

Just before he could read your letter, he heard a familiar high pitched voice.

“Master Diluc would totally help us!”

Was that..?

“The traveler maybe, but you and I are on the same level!”

He looked up to see the traveler and their floating companion, along with venti matching their pace.

From the corner of the doorway he could just barely make out Adelinde's sheepish expression.

 “Traveller, it's good to see you here.” Diluc greeted, resisting the urge to sigh at the interruption.

He subtly slipped the envelope on the dining table behind him.

“Hey! How come Paimon doesn't get a hello?” She huffed, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

“Hello Paimon. Venti.”

“Told you.” Venti shook his head, ignoring Paimon's pointed glare.

Traveler quickly spoke up before Paimon could get provoked, “We have something to give you.” They handed an envelope to Diluc. 

He quirked a brow as he looked it over, undoubtedly from you.

Diluc hasn't been keeping tabs on The Traveler's journey, but something must have led them into Fontaine.. 

He let himself open it— the wax lifted under the nail of his finger.

Eagerness. Anticipation. You're right by his side– he swears. You play with his senses to a degree he cannot fathom. As he stares at the photocard of a few scones, he imagines he's sat across from you.

He could practically hear your indecisive ramblings about what to get. ‘The beignets sound tasty– oh but what about the blueberry scones? I'm not feeling for blueberries though..”

“Can't believe the traveler's been demoted from honorary knight to delivery service!”

For a second you coat him in a warmth– so entirely reminiscent of you. Diluc grieves the nights devoid of you.

“It's a noble job Paimon, I'm pretty sure you've made Diluc's week!”

Even before he saw your name signed at the back, he knew it was from you. He covered his mouth. He could recognize you in fields towered higher than his gaze. It's yours. You. You. You. You. 

“Eeh? Whaddya–?”

Diluc looks up (unfortunately,) to see the black, amber, and green eyes looking back at him.

.

.

.

“Diluc must really like Mx. [Name]’s letter.”

The traveler breaks the silence.

“Now I'm curious, what could they have written to awoke such a reaction out of him, any theories?” Venti playfully questioned.

“Maybe it's a love letter!” The pixie answered with too much giddiness. 

“It's definitely blackmail.” The blond smirked. (Furrowed brows? Check! Gotta be something incriminating.)

“It's neither.” Diluc deadpanned. “Don't make such uninformed guesses.”

“Uninformed? But Mx. [Name] said they'd sent a buncha letters! But they haven't gotten a response.” Paimon insisted, the unspoken words of ‘Diluc would totally ignore someone's constant love letters if he had the choice.’ underlined her speech. 

“The trip from Mondtsadt to Fontaine is a long one, I only started to receive their letters two weeks ago.” Diluc shook his head, (a poor attempt to quell the fairy's theorizing.)

“We could always pass on a message?” The traveler offered.

“I wouldn't mind!” Venti chirped.. for some reason?

Paimon grumbled, “you're not included in this Tone-Deaf Bard!”

“ Eh? I was planning on visiting Fontaine soon anyways.” Venti replied, pouting only to further provoke the floating child.

Diluc quickly cleared his throat, (just in time to prevent the childish duo from bickering with each other.)

“If the traveller is offering, I do have something I want to give to [Name].” 

Venti squinted, but didn't say anything. 

“Of course,” The traveler agreed.

Diluc quickly drafted a note, not taking long to compile his thoughts into words meant for you.

The group continued to talk amongst themselves, bidding Diluc their goodbyes after he handed them the note enclosed in an envelope. 

He saw them off to the door, leaving them with one final parting message, to not open it.

He saw them walk off into the distance. Diluc sighed as they left– relief admittedly washed over him. 

But it was short lived.

The recognizable high pitched wails of the ivory haired tag-a-long was enough to confirm he'd have a lot to talk to you about as soon as you returned. 

It must've been a millenia till you did,

 The breeze of Mondstadt made each step you took feel lighter. You could smell the scent wafting from good hunter's the moment you passed the gate.

You barely noticed the few pointed looks in your direction. One coming from a hard to remember face. (who was wondering who she was supposed to be jealous of.)

You ignored it, only wanting to do one thing. You practically floated into the tavern where you asked a certain someone to meet you when you came back.

You walked into the tavern, the brazen hours of daylight left behind you.

“Nice to meet you again, Diluc.”

His eyes snapped to your person, widening at the sight despite your predicted arrival. He got out of the area behind the bar to take you into a warm embrace.

No matter your stature, getting hugged by Diluc feels like a blanket covering you, protecting you from the outside world. He takes over your senses, the warmth of being home. 

“I suppose you miss me?” You muttered after he pulled away. He was close enough to hear even the slightest change in your breathing.

“More than I could ever admit.” He breathed out, more than glad to have you back.

“Did anything exciting happen while I was gone?” 

He sucked in his teeth with a slight furrow of his brows. “I wish it was more mundane actually.”

“Huh. Tell me more?” 

You both made your way to one of the multiples of empty tables. You both spoke in hushed whispers despite there not being a single person to overheat. 

“I'm sorry, dear.” Diluc apologized, his head resting in his hand, his fingers covering a bit of his eye. Red bangs would have fallen on top of his calloused digits if not for the familiar hairclip pinning them back.

 “Don't be sorry, it wasn't your fault at all.” You let your fingers rest on the side of his face, tilting his head to look into your eyes.

He had told you about the incident, how Paimon's curiosity led to the whole of Mondstadt knowing the most eligible bachelor wasn't a bachelor at all.

It didn't help that the first line was ‘To my dearly beloved,’ unmistakably written by him.

It wasn't long before the ‘secret’ spread along Mondstadt's greatest gossipers, Diluc was out of stock.

“I understand you didn't want this kind of publicity, but I'm okay with it.” You insisted.

He looked at you, his eyes weary with exhaust. Whether it was because he was worried over your reaction or the scandal seeping his energy, you didn't know.

 “[Name], you don't need to pretend it's fine, we agreed this would be a secret.” Diluc grumbled.

You remember that vow, the publicity of dating one of Mondstadt's most notable figures would have been incredibly pressuring. 

You didn't know if you were ready for that.

 “It was something I expected if I'm being honest. I'm well prepared, love.” After all, if you were to progress your relationship to the next level, it would be an even bigger shock if Diluc was secretly married.

Maybe this was for the best..?

You put your hand onto the table, your palm facing up as he moved his hand to meet yours, keeping his grip on your palm secure.

“No matter what happens, we'll do it together, okay?” You vowed.

Diluc looked at you warmly. Even without a pyro vision, you don't think he'd ever be cold to you.

A beat of silence passed, and he rubbed the back of your palm with his thumb. His glove rubbed against the peak of your knuckles.

“You look tired,” He whispered listlessly. 

You bantered, “I could say the same for you.”

You both stood up, Diluc kept his hand locked in yours. “Let's go home.” 

And you couldn't want anything more.

I HAVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR TOO LONG IM SO GLAD ITS OUT OF MY DRAFTS

[forsaken-headcanons]

Bluududd has a chat he talks to during and after rounds

It's not real, it's apart of the streaming pyro vision thing he has going on

The chat is also affected by his emotions, getting more violent when he gets mad etc.

He says stuff like "chat is this real" and the other Killers think he's crazy

The other killers just promptly side eyeing Bluudud whenever he acknowledges the chat in his pyro vision.

[evtsev]

I bring you my Medic OC.

The only thing I can tell you is that the doctor loved and, in principle, loves to experiment. In addition to fighting, he came up with mad mad stuff and tried to bring them to life. Most often, the work took place with live small animals, healthy and sick. Most often, his ideas simply died. The only semi-successful and alive one remained - Cerberus, a small barking-meowing piece of slime, capable of regeneration. The doctor often consulted with the Engineer about the endurance of some devices in particular.

At one point, when the doctor's fantasies took hold of him again, an incident occurred, after which it took months to restore the medical office ... But the doctor's recovery became impossible. Upon awakening, he even had to remember his name. It cannot be said that whatever exploded did not affect Augustus, on the contrary - he became the one ... the team is afraid of. The exception is Pyro, who keeps the doctor company most often.

Fourpals is now a kind of prop, wandering around the base, hardly needed by anyone, still as creative and trying to help everyone. Not manly, his character, it seems, has also undergone changes, has become softer, or something... To harm one of his relatives (or just someone who treats him kindly) is the worst sin. Despite such a miserable fate, he sometimes crosses paths with a nurse who was taken to replace a medic. He is very afraid of him but tries to be polite👽

To sum it up: Fourpals, Augustus, Doc, Tall Doc - it doesn't matter - very kind, hoping to help and bring his ideas to life. A little lonely, which is why he suffers a little, but "madmen are most often lonely" (read the life story of Emmanuel Kant). He is sometimes visited by Pyro, with whom they chat a lot, draw... The old 3m man is very happy about such moments and is very afraid of losing his only permanent patient. Still an inveterate experimenter.

Sometimes clumsy because of his height and long limbs (for which he had to alter his robe). About his right side - he does not feel anything with it, neither touch nor cold. It is hardly noticeable, but August hides small feathers under his clothes and tries to remove them from his face. There are not many of them, and they do not scatter like a carpet. Also, on the lower pair, you can see small claws. He is simply tired of cutting them. On one of his lower hands, he wears a "compressor," as he says. Why? I think he's the only one who can tell...

This cat face can be trusted!

[multiheadcanons]

MERCS IN DISARRAY

scout: he’ll fight in his pjs and you better be happy he’s even here right now because he could definitely be asleep in bed right now but he decided to be an adult and come do his job, so be happy he’s here. you can barely tell he’s awake, but when he’s up and going it’s pretty unnoticeable. he knows he’s not quite up to speed but he’s fast enough, faster than everyone else, still. not interested in chatting, but a little more focused after battle. focused enough to make it to his room and close the door. little clumsier than normal, runs his shoulder into corners.

soldier: if soldier ever is in disarray you wouldn’t notice. unless you intimately know the man to know he fell out of bed, stubbed his toe, put his undershirt on backwards, and loaded the rocket the wrong way (of which will fire like a normal rocket), it always seems like soldier is moving business as usual. he does give the old man “uhhhhhhh” when he’s making regular conversation. scratches the back of his head, smacks his lips, and groans in annoyance. forgets to eat until the middle of the night, where you can catch him raiding the fridge.

pyro: they’re notably…. saggier. slower, tired, mask is lopsided. they’re not particularly in a worse mood, just not at the top of their game. you can still interact with them, and they will still act favorably! just might take them some more time to get to what you ask of them. also a time pyro can be arguably called Societally Normal And Casual. pyro is normally considered a higher energy teammate, but when they’re disoriented, they’re moving at a… less than chipper pace. bumbling jog into battle. sloppy melee swings. but the frustration of missing shots gets their head in the game.

demo: eyepatch on the wrong eye, hat on lopsided, shirt on backwards. he is so confused as to how his vision is worse than usual until he realizes he’s got his eyepatch on the wrong eye. he’s still hitting his shots though. also an old man “uhhhhhhh”-er. he shouldn’t even be on the field when he’s this disorganized, but his work doesn’t take the hit, only his social nature does. also still in a good mood usually, just so slow, and horridly lazy. if he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed then he probably just won’t get out of bed. lays in bed, drinks, eats garbage, and starts the next day fresh.

heavy: the best way to describe him is bratty. annoyed, and vocal about it. the strongest eye rolls and uninterested glares from furrowed brows. it’s one of the few times he will notably frown. it’d be easier to take him more seriously if he didn’t look so tired as he did it. someone get the man a blanket and take him back to bed, let him restart the day. even his tired grunts are so dramatic, he just seems like he’s brooding and stewing and holding back a tantrum. pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation. if you ask him what’s going on, it will be one of three issues: bad sleep, bad dream, no breakfast. it is generally a combination of all three.

engineer: engie is almost always in a state of disarray. if he is not marginally disoriented as he’s rushing around the field then his workshop and his bedroom is a mess. this man has been running on a solid two pots of coffee a day since he was twenty years old. twitchier on the field, like bordering on concern of him having heart murmurs. he becomes more aggressive on the field the more caffeine he has in his body, so the team has forced him to take it down a few notches, especially when he’s running on no sleep just caffeine. he’s a defense class and they need him on the back lines. sometimes it’s funny though to watch him wreak havoc.

medic: “god, i’m so off today!” and nothing has changed. his shirt is slightly wrinkled. glasses slightly crooked. the doctor works best in organized chaos, so he will not be upset to wake up with a messier energy, for lack of better term. he can use messiness to confuse the enemy team. becomes bait as the team pushes, and pulls himself more together through each respawn until he’s sick of dying. then, after battle, he will absolutely crash. he makes it to a chair, maybe the common area’s sofa and he takes a seat… then he’s slumped. limp. the team will usually leave him there. sometimes heavy will take him to his room to sleep the day off.

sniper: “not my best day, mate.” shirt more wrinkled than normal. glasses are missing. socks mismatched, if he bothered to put them on at all. teeth not brushed. more vocal than usual! if only to grumble and groan to himself, though if you’re nearby he’s definitely a social bitcher. he’s the meme of “do you see this shit chat”. it’s a slow rev up for snipes to pull himself out of a slump. but he’s generally pretty normal by sunset. and at that point he’s not around anyone for it to matter, unless he’s feeling social still, then he’ll go check out the night life of the base, which can remain quite lively until about 1:30

spy: the ultimate bitch. scoffs, rolls his eyes, his mask is crooked, his cigarette is lit lopsidedly and burning unevenly— pyro will fix that. if heavy seems bratty, spy is just a nuisance. trudging on the field, missing easy kills, getting killed in stupid ways, groaning about it all the way to the spawn room. doesn’t want to be spoke to, doesn’t want to even be awake or alive. but here he is. awake, alive, alert, and very annoyed.

[oh-wiw]

✦ Masterpost ✦ Part 2 ✦

Shifting around you slowly open your eyes. When did you even close them? It was already evening. Shifting your head around to be greeted with the moon and its starless night sky. You groan and rub your temples, ignoring the electric feeling of your arms for using them as your pillows last night.

Ah, yes the consequence of sleeping on your desk instead of the perfectly made bed beside it…

Despite it, you're still exhausted.

✧✧✧✧✧

That's been happening a lot recently. Every time you close your eyes to sleep or rest. You feel even more exhausted than when you were awake.

It was mostly dreamless sleep for you or maybe you just don't remember the details of your dreams.

You stretch, trying to soothe your back from sleeping at your desk. The bright screen from your laptop easily caught your attention, your profile pic is displayed in the center. Seems like you slept in voice call again, you quickly type something on chat and shut off the device.

Elegantly dragging your body to bed, and flopping head first onto the mattress. You stayed there for a moment, shifting your head to your side so that you could breathe. You close your eyes and letting sleep overtake you as your body relaxes. And it came slowly but surely, as you feel yourself starting to drift off. Allowing sleep to embrace you. 

However, before it fully enveloped you. You jolt awake exclaiming, "My resins!"

Now fully conscious, you frantically get your phone and log into the game.

You hoped that your game would run smoothly this time, after experiencing some technical difficulties earlier in the day. The game unexpectedly disconnected while you were opening chests, and your attempt to log back in was met with a loading bar that refused to move.

This wasn't the first time it happened, so you weren't too worried at first. Thinking it was most likely something wrong with Genshin itself, as your game either kept freezing or just plain glitching. Even when you log in your account on your laptop, the problem just kept following you. 

You didn’t bother to report it or ask the others if they have the same issue. Because it only rarely happens and you were still able to play the game. So there wasn't really a problem. Besides your phone burning up, but that's just normal.

You just hope that it’ll actually let you enter the game. All you need is to use all your resin and then you'll go back to bed. The stone door creaks open, and you set your eyes on the loading screen, waiting for the Pyro element symbol to make its appearance. But it never did. 

Guess you’ll just let your resin cap today. Annoyed, you place your phone on the bed and gaze at the ceiling. Your vision is slightly blurred, and a headache is threatening to form. You attempt to relax your body, starting by massaging your temples to alleviate the pain in your head.

Why are you having a headache right now? you pondered, figuring since you did miss dinner today… and yesterday… and the day after that….

… 

Finally concerned for your health, you decided to get out of bed and head to the kitchen to eat something. Bur not forgetting to pocket your phone.

Upon reaching out your hand to turn the knob, you are overcome with a sudden bout of excruciating pain. Your headache worsens, as the room begins to spin, and your vision turns completely white. Your body collapses to the door, as you frantically grab onto the knob in search of support, but to no avail, in your weakened state, you accidentally open the door and tumble to the ground.

Lying there for an undetermined amount of time, you concentrate on your breathing, attempting to lessen the agonizing pain. After a while, the pain began to fade leaving you with a sense of discomfort. Although you remained to lie on the ground, gathering your thoughts on what just happened. 

It wasn't until you start to take notice of prickling sensations on your skin and how the cold wind blows- Wait wind?!

You immediately push yourself and are greeted by the sight of the towering cliff and millions of glittering stars. The purple and blue hue, which contrasted perfectly with the vast, dark night sky, captured your eyes and the bright, glowing Moon accompanied the starry vista. It all filled you with disbelief and confusion.

You weren’t able to appreciate its captivating beauty, not when your eyes are stuck in the distance, where a familiar island floats in the sky.

Struck silent, you stay staring at the horizon thinking it’ll fade and disappear if you stare hard enough. But to no avail, it didn't. So you try to blink away the view but it still refuses to disappear from your vision. "No, this cannot be happening," you mutter, as panic starts to settle in. 

A moment ago, you were in your apartment; how did you end up in such a familiar yet foreign place? Struggling to make sense of your situation, you become overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness and uncertainty, desperately trying to understand why you are here and how to get back, but no explanation comes to mind. 

With shallow, erratic breaths, you attempt to collect yourself and look around, only to see a field surrounded by towering cliffs and the remnants of old Mondstadt. A gentle teal glow emanates from the center tower you know is called Stromterror’s Lair, what was supposed to be only fiction: further on adding to your confusion and fear.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, easing your tension, as you try to hold off the mounting sense of panic that threatens to overtake you. You remind yourself that everything will be okay, that this is just a weird dream that your brain decided to mess with you.

Not wanting to look at the sight and to stir further panic within yourself, you looked down instead. Your hands grip the grass beneath you. You can feel the texture of the soil as it shifts under your hands, and the sensation of the prickly grass prickling your skin sends shivers down your spine. 

This is one hell of a vivid dream.

Shaking off the overwhelming feeling, you quickly get to your feet to leave. But as you turn around, you were only greeted by a lone, stony arch, with overgrown ruins positioned behind it. Disbelief and utter confusion wash over you as you begin to question if you've lost your sanity or if you are suffering from some sort of mental break or delusion.

You stood still for a moment as your breathing started to go heavy. The archway still looms before you, reminding you of your confusing reality. So you closed your eyes and forcefully took a deep breath. Gently pulling your hair back to soothe yourself for a moment. 

You know exactly what to do. 

There’s only one logical action for this situation.

✧✧✧✧✧

Somewhere far, on a large tree where the wind is always blowing there sits a green-clad bard in one of the tree's many branches. Cider by his side, the bard strums a lovely tune throughout the night. 

It’s a peaceful night in Mondstat, and everyone is laid to rest as the bright moon looks over the knights who guards the city. The wind tells bard wishes and stories, making him chuckle and hum in introspection.

Until a scream was heard making the bard jolt from his spot and almost dropping his lyre. He wondered why the wind brought him such a sound. 

Seems like the sound came from between Stromterror’s Lair and Wolvendom, the wind more noted specifically at Brightcrown Mountains. As he lilt his head to look west where the ruins of old Mondstadt lay.

“Who could be awake at this time of day… and more importantly are they okay?”

✧✧✧✧✧

✦ Masterpost ✦ Part 2 ✦

[miintsprigz]

Hi again!! Was wonderin if ya could do some hcs of Scout, Pyro, Sniper, Engi, and Medic with a reader who loves to give and show them drawings they made, but gets pretty nervous when they watch them draw? If this isn't exactly yer cuppa tea or you just genuinely do not know how to write this, feel free to just ignore this request:]

Hope you have an excellent day/night/evening/afternoon/noon!!>:DD

Ah, I think I recognize you there! Good to hear from you again. I’ll give it a shot!

GN! Shy Artist Reader x Mercs

Characters: Scout, Pyro, Sniper, Engineer, Medic (TF2)

Warnings: None

Scout ⚾️

• The two of you tend to draw while you hang out, just chatting in the meantime.

• He absolutely adored your work, and loved watching you make it.

• But when you pulled your sketchbook to your chest quick, he seemed confused.

• “Hey! You good?” “Yeah, I uh…I just feel weird when you’re watching me draw.” “Huh? You don’t gotta feel embarrassed, doll!”

• “…You know when you tried to pull off a jump while Spy and Demo were watching the other day…” At this reminder, Scout gave you a teasing scowl—not genuinely mad, just embarrassed remembering that.

• “Ah geez—yeah, if they hadn’t spooked me by starin’ at me like a buncha creeps—oh.” “You get it now?”

• He got…a little confused. “Am I makin’ it worse? Aw man, I’m sorry—” “No, no! I just—that awkwardness? Yeah.” “Ohhh, I think I gotcha…”

•Scout, uh, scooted over on the bed a little and eventually sat back down with his back against yours. “There. This’ll fix it!” Both of you erupted into laughter.

•In all seriousness though, he respected your wishes. He keeps everything you make for him in his room, aside from a small doodle or two that he carries on him to work at all times…awww.

Pyro 🔥

•You and Pyro lay sprawled on the floor, with a can of colored pencils and a box of crayons respectively.

•They’re actually quite good when it comes to color, pairing different hues together. It’s hard to tell exactly what they’re drawing, but sometimes you can faintly make it out.

•You suddenly felt eyes very intently locked onto you and jerked your head up.

• “Hm??”, came through the mask, muffled. “Uh…could you um…”

•They did that curious little head tilt, tenderly reaching for your hand. If you needed to tell them something, they wanted to make sure they heard it!

• “I feel nervous when you watch me draw. I know it’s silly, but—” “Ah!” Genuine surprise from the masked figure. They’d had no idea.

•Immediately, there were muffled apologies from under the mask, quickly hugging you. “Hey hey, it’s okay! I’m not mad. I just figured I should tell you. You’re okay, Py.”

• “Mmph?” “Yes, dear. I promise.” Giggling a little now, they pulled their free hand over the eyeholes of the mask like a visor, blocking you from view. You chuckled along with them.

•Later on, as the two of you shared drawings, you made out a familiar visage—that of you, with a couple bright red hearts drawn nearby. “Hehe, I love you too.”

Sniper 🏹

• Mick didn’t often watch you draw, honestly. The two of you tended to do your own thing in the same space, talking occasionally. Even that was enough.

• Once you caught him watching on what was kind of an off day though. You kind of just stared back up at him.

• Sniper cocked an eyebrow. “Why’d ya stop?” Biting the inside of your cheek, you looked off to the side.

• You felt the bed next to you sink down a little as he moved closer. “Hey. Ya got somethin’ ya wanna say?” His voice was softer, more cautious. “…cuz ya know, I’d like to hear that.”

• Shuffling a bit to get more comfortable next to him, you sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it, but…I feel weird when people watch me draw.” “Yeah?”

• You nodded. “Kinda see what ya mean, I guess. Ya think they’ll judge the work-in-progress?” You silently agreed.

• A slight smile brightened his features. “Well, dunno if it helps, but I know a lil better, love.” His shoulder brushed against yours as you moved a bit closer.

• “I love everythin’ you make. And I know that you know what yer doin. But…if you’re more comfortable with me not lookin’, I get that too. That’s fine.”

• He went to move away, but you quickly clasped his shoulder softly, indicating that he could stay. “Maybe, I could try to keep going?” A laugh broke through as you admitted, “Besides, I like sitting next to you.”

• Humming contently, the Aussie planted the briefest of kisses on the top of your head. “Arright, darlin. You just lemme know.”

• As you kept working on that page, you did notice when he was watching, and it wasn’t easy, but after that he would have periods of staring off into space instead.

• There was a conciseness to it. He’d taken what you’d said to heart. Still, though, he seemed happy…and you were, too.

Engineer 🔧

• Dell had gathered quite a collection of your art by now, kept it on the wall of his workshop. He showed it off proudly to anyone who happened to enter, even if visitors tended to be few and far between.

• One night, you kept him company as he worked overtime on a new design for a model. While he worked, you did too.

• After a while though, you could tell someone was looking at you. As your gaze lifted, you caught him sneaking a peek from his desk, right next to the table where you sat.

• “Aw, did I break yer focus there? Sorry, honey.” “No no, it’s okay, Engie…I could put it away for now anyway, if you want something—”

• “No problem, (Y/N)! You can keep right on with that if ya like.” A somewhat sheepish smile came to your face.

“Hey, Engie…can you keep a secret?”

• ���Mmm?” “…I get sorta nervous when people watch me draw.” A knowing sort of smile slowly crossed the Texan’s face, sliding his goggles up to rest on his forehead for a moment.

• “You wanna know a secret?”

“Hmm?”

A nostalgic sort of thoughtfulness crept into his voice. “I used ta be the same way.”

• “Really?” You never pictured the mellow, easygoing Engineer to ever be self-conscious in that way.

“Yup.”

• “People would ask me all sorts a’ questions while they watched me build. ‘How ya gonna make that work?’ ‘What’s that do?’ ‘Why’d ya put that there?’ Drove me crazy. Part of the reason I got a shop, I s’pose.”

• He held a spare nut and bolt, twisting them together and apart as he talked, somewhat absentmindedly. Eyes wandering a bit, but always making their way back to you.

• “But here’s somethin’ I think you oughta hear, although I’d never try ta make ya change. Your work is yours, darlin’. Yours and yours alone. Ya make such beautiful things. I’m not askin’ myself what you’re doin’ when I watch, cuz I already know.”

• He put the fidget aside and reached for your hand with a sweet smile. “Why do you like to watch me work?”

• You could feel your face redden just a bit, and grinned at the floor for a moment. He chuckled at this, in a lighthearted way though. “Cuz it’s really cool how you make everything work, and how smart you are with your designs.”

• “Yep. That’s why I like watchin’ you work. Own the process, (Y/N). It’s all yours. You know exactly what you’re doin.”

• “Thanks, Dell.” “Of course, honey. Of course.” From that moment onward, it seemed like he tried not to watch for too long, but when he did, you remembered his words. And it didn’t feel quite as nerve-wracking then.

Medic 💉

• Medic absolutely loved to watch you draw. It was fascinating to him. Seeing how giddy he got, it took you a while to work up the guts to tell him.

• “Is something wrong, Liebe? You’ve been stopped for a while now.”

“Yeah, uh…Medic, I wanna tell you something, but it’s weird.”

“Oh?”

• “I uh…I feel kinda…nervous, I guess? When people watch me draw.”

“…might I ask why?” He seems genuinely perplexed by this. “I think it’s fascinating.”

• Yeah, yeah he would. You weren’t sure how to explain this to him—you knew for sure that he didn’t mind when people watched him at work, he operated on fully conscious people!

• You sighed softly, unsure of how to make this make sense to him. A hand rested on your shoulder for a moment. “(Y/N), I can see this means a lot to you. And as much as I love watching you at work…I love you even more. So I’ll stop doing that.”

A smile crept up on you, glancing back up at him.

“I appreciate it a lot, love. Sorry I can’t put it into words.”

“No need to be sorry! But…I do have one request.”

“Yeah?”

• A sheepish sort of smile came to the doctor’s face. “I can…still see the finished product, right? And maybe, instead of me watching, you could tell me how you put everything together?”

“Of course! No problem.”

“Ah, wunderbar!”

I’ve been very tired lately so I’m sorry this took me so long, and that it’s sorta short/repetitive. I appreciate your patience!

[kirsicca]

Our sweet gal Roberta...

She came to this journey to prove her brother that she was no "chicken shit". Let's see how that turned out!

Earning the nickname 'Pyro Girl' right from the beginning for almost setting the camp on fire, Roberta gained the fear of fire like so many of this trip would eventually do. She also crushed on Uriah, but despite the blossoming potential, the two of them never got any closer during the whole trip.

Roberta was eager to get her hands dirty from the very beginning and acquired some gardening skill, and it wasn't long when she developed a crush on Frankie after getting to know him. She also befriended Miranda fast, and the two were inseparable during the rest of the journey!

Her relationship with Frankie proceeded carefully, especially after he revealed his desires for polygamy and multiple partners, but Roberta wasn't scared so easily and soon they were good friends!

Despite her best efforts to be adventurous, Roberta had to admit that she was more to the lazy side, and as an natural progression she soon also discovered her disliking to fitness. But nothing wrong with that! She and Miranda even bonded over their similar tastes and became good friends.

In the romantic frontline, Frankie and Roberta took some new steps, but the joy was short-lived when Roberta found herself become jealous after seeing Frankie kiss Jamie. The incident created a little rift in the romance, during which she realized her need and like for affection.

But all was not lost with Frankie! They had a little chat and after talking things through, Roberta decided to give their relationship another chance and not get jealous from physical romance with others.

In the final days Roberta took the last leap to exceed herself and exlored the Dreadhorse Caverns to prove his brother wrong for good! Though she was very proud of herself for achieving so much during this trip, the couldn't help getting a fear of being alone from all of that relationship drama she had endured.

Overall, Roberta blossomed on this trip! She learned and grew so much on this trip that she's hardly the same girl she was on the first day. Now with things somewhat settled with Frankie we're left to wait on that date he promised her...

Thank you @lonvely for Rori! She's so relatable and easy to love that I've been rooting for her in everything she's done this whole time! I can't wait to see how things will go for her and Frankie! 💖

[antivan-sprig]

A Pyre Side Chat for this lovely summer night!

Sorry this took SO LONG. I was honestly just having fun HCing stuff about Lis and Cara pre VG, but obviously a lot of that wouldn’t come up in a pyre session, I just think it’s neat that she’s one of the few that know who Lis is and vice versa. Anyway- definitely going to revisit these two during summer!

Also- Ghil’an = a Dalish word for guide/teacher and is what Lis calls Viago in private/around people she and Viago trust. I never know where to put the Dalish translations lol

@pixiedurango : So here go into the fire in no particular order (and without context)

- a peach pit

- a little bundle of cat whiskers, tied with a thin thread

- half of an elfroot joint 👀👀👀👀

- a cork from a bottle of red wine

- a carefully tied together long strand of her own red curls

- a parchment. on it a recipe for churros, scribbled down in lucanis (teenager) handwriting

Lisel watched with a sense of awe at everything Cara decided to burn. She couldn’t help but wonder at the reasoning behind each item- the peach pit and the cork, remnants of something she’d enjoyed? Or perhaps a reminder of quality time shared? Liselath couldn’t tell what was written out on the note, try as she might, the fire encompassed it immediately and she saw no hint of whatever message it might have held.

“Sure you aren’t using me to dispose of evidence of something?” Lisel teased, “I’ll know if you are.”

As each item went into the flames, the fire reacted differently. Some items eliciting a hiss, others briefly changing the color of the flames or causing the fire to arc. Once all the items had been tossed in the fire blazed with brilliant light and heat. A purple column of smoke rose, smelling strongly of elfroot. Lisel began to see convoluted visions, shadows crossing through her mind’s eye. It was difficult to ascertain what exactly was happening, Cara had seemingly led a very episodic and busy life thus far.

Liselath hummed to herself in an attempt to focus.

Cara gave a look of concern at her furrowed brow, but just as she was about to break the silence Liselath began to speak in a clear, questioning voice. She opened her eyes to stare at the redhead.

“The stuffed crow you keep beside your bed… I didn’t know Ghil’an gave you that?” Lisel said as she studied Cara’s face, “That’s lucky of you.”

Cara noticed a twinge in Lisel’s tone, but couldn’t quite place what emotion it was. Although she swore it could have been jealousy.

“Or wait…” she paused, audibly confused, “Lucanis gave it to you- not Ghil’an…”

The image was fuzzy, seemingly having two distinct beginnings associated with it.

The fire ebbed and arched in time with Lisel’s breath, a detail only Cara noticed. Lisel was seemingly lost in thought again.

“You read… romantic novels?” Liselath questioned, “I had no idea…”

She held out her hand to the fire, getting so close to it that Cara was surprised it didn’t burn her. Instead it splashed up around her outstretched hand, twisting between her fingers like a snake.

“He returned your bag to you. Perfectly folded. Better than how you’d left it.” Lisel fumbled through the memory, “Secret notes back and forth- a recipe, a confession, a warning. The hallmarks of youthful love.

“The three of you hanging about, smoking. Catarina thinks you’re asleep.” Lisel’s voice was joyful.

The fire took on the sound of voices. A busy street, a marketplace. Coins clinking in small purses. Heavy laden steps in the rain. Rolling carts, the scuffle of rats. Murmurs of those passing through, tourists and residents alike. The sounds of Antiva.

“Your life is dictated by what he wants. Your worth is measured by what you lack: obedience, discipline, respect.”

The shape of each flame blurred and the fire took on a mistlike quality, faint and ethereal. It no longer seemed to put off any heat at all, but somehow staring at it was painful, almost like looking into the sun.

“Grueling mornings, you awaken before sunrise, the only hint of happiness being the peeks beneath his mask. The smell of coffee- prepared just how you like it.”

Liselath rocked side to side for a moment, seeing what else she could ascertain from the memory. But to her surprise, and disappointment, she couldn’t sense anything else. She felt as if she’d somehow taken a wrong turn on a familiar path; not quite sure how it happened but lost nonetheless.

“Caramella,” she said softly, “I think that’s it for now.”

“But come back soon, please?” Lisel said, an altogether unfamiliar phrase to the elf. She’d never once asked someone to stay longer or return unless it was for business.

“I know there’s something more I can tell you. I’m just not sure what it is yet.”

[megalony]

Accidental Damage

As promised, here is a new Eddie Diaz imagine which I think has turned out rather well.

Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: Shannon turns up out of the blue, wanting to see Chris, but he doesn't want to see her. He thinks of (Y/n) as his mum now. (Y/n) tries to calm the situation, but things end up getting out of hand and an incident occurs.

Enjoy.

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

A groan tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips and she leaned forward until her arms were folded across the kitchen counter. Her forehead pressed into her arms and her lower back arched out to try and relieve the tension in her system.

It felt like her head was being smashed with a hammer and although leaning over like this was helping her head, it made her stomach feel heavy and weigh towards the floor.

Her eyes remained closed which seemed to help with her headache and she slid one arm off the counter to run along the side of her stomach. The baby was lively today. That was probably why she had a headache. The baby had been active enough last night that (Y/n) couldn't get much sleep and now she felt groggy and run down. She couldn't wait for Eddie to come home this afternoon; he always knew how to make her feel better.

The doorbell jolted (Y/n) out of her wallowing state and acted as a restart button in her system.

She pushed off the counter and slid her hand around to press into her back to click her spine into place as she straightened up. Two and a half months left of these aches and pains, and then she and Eddie would have a baby in their arms. It couldn't come soon enough.

She slowly headed out the kitchen and when she was in the hall, she heard the pop music blasting from Chris's bedroom which made her smile. He was doing some colouring and singing away to himself. He was happy and content in his room.

The doorbell chimed again and (Y/n) quietly groaned and began trudging down the hall.

It couldn't be Buck because he was supposed to be on shift the same as Eddie today, both of them should finish later this afternoon and Eddie said he would be home in time for tea. And (Y/n) knew her sister was at work at dispatch today, so it couldn't be Maddie popping round for a chat either.

She couldn't think who it would be as she shuffled towards the door on unsteady feet.

(Y/n) took a deep breath and tried to hold her chin up and straighten her shoulders as she unlocked the door. Greeting anyone while she was doubled over and looked like she had just woken up from a thousand year nap wasn't going to give the best impression, no matter who was on the other side of the threshold.

"Hello?" Her smile morphed into a look of confusion and uncertainty when she looked at the woman on the doorstep.

Oh dear.

Shannon.

Her long brown curls were hanging over her shoulders and her fringe, as always, was cut very close to her eyes like she used her fringe as a curtain to hide away from the world. But there was something scrutinising behind her eyes that made (Y/n) shiver and feel like retreating into her home for safety and sanctuary.

Shannon's smile wasn't inviting. It was a tight smile, as if smiling any wider or relaxing any further would cause her to fragment into pieces.

She had one hand around her bag on her shoulder and her other hand was nervously rubbing across her hip like she had too much energy and didn't know what to do with herself.

"What're you doing here?" (Y/n) tried to keep her tone neutral but it was extremely hard when Shannon was glaring at her like that with curled lips and an upturned nose. She looked displeased, but it was (Y/n) who should be unsettled out of the pair of them.

Shannon couldn't just turn up here whenever she felt like it. If she wanted to see Chris she had to call first and arrange a date to visit, and they didn't usually do visits at home. (Y/n) couldn't recall the last time Chris had seen Shannon, it had been months ago when she had last been in town. Unscheduled visits weren't good for Chris because seeing Shannon always unsettled him and made him upset.

"Hi to you too." Shannon's hand tightened around her bag but the way she looked (Y/n) up and down made her shiver.

(Y/n) hadn't had too many run-ins with Eddie's ex. They knew each other, of course they did, (Y/n) had been to the very few scheduled meets between Shannon and Chris. And Eddie had to tell Shannon when he got re-married because (Y/n) was all Chris had talked about at the time. But both women hardly ever saw one another these days.

"Eddie never said you were expecting." A disgruntled look flooded Shannon's face and (Y/n) could of sworn she could see jealousy pooling within her eyes.

She glanced down to her stomach and moved one arm to curve around her waist almost protectively.

Did Eddie have to tell Shannon everything that went on in his life? They hardly spoke, only when they wanted to arrange meets for Chris and that wasn't a regular occurrence in itself. But a pang did shoot through (Y/n)'s chest at the thought that Eddie didn't mention it. He didn't have to, but surely it was something that should come up in conversation.

Them having a baby changed things. It cemented things for Chris, it made them a family and a sibling was something Chris was going to talk about if he had more meetings with Shannon.

"Did he need to?" She tilted her head to one side and tried to keep her stoic expression. Eddie wasn't on good speaking terms with Shannon these days, and he didn't have to tell her anything about his life if he didn't want to.

(Y/n) found herself stepping closer to the threshold so she could pull the door with her, standing in the small space between the frame and the door. She didn't want Chris hearing or knowing who was at the door because seeing Shannon only upset him.

He hadn't understood in the beginning when Shannon left, he had been frightened and confused, but he didn't hold it against her. When she came back into his life after three years, he was delighted. But it didn't last very long. Chris didn't see her often, Shannon wasn't ready to commit to him fully and that broke Chris.

When Eddie married (Y/n), Chris felt like he had another mum, someone who loved him and who he could rely on. He felt that stability being threatened whenever Shannon came around.

How would Chris take this if he found his mother on the doorstep? He would get worried about being abandoned again or worry that Shannon would try and take him from this home. This family where he was happier than ever. And if Shannon left again, (Y/n) and Eddie would have to deal with the aftermath. They couldn't let him get hurt again.

She could see the anger that swirled in Shannon's eyes and the resentment that was plastered across her face when her upper lip curled and she was at the point of baring her teeth.

"I think it's rather important, don't you?"

"Maybe if you were more involved, he would have told you." (Y/n) couldn't help her quipped response.

Shannon and Eddie were divorced, they were legally cut from one another, no more ties connecting them to reopen the wounds that had taken years to heal. Did Shannon believe Eddie would never get into another serious relationship with someone else?

It wasn't as if he had left Shannon a few months ago and had quickly moved onto (Y/n). It had been four years since they split up, not four months.

"Why're you here?"

"I want to see my son."

Shannon pursed her lips and squared her shoulders like she was preparing herself for an interview. She tried to lean around (Y/n) and look into the house, but she couldn't see very much with the way (Y/n) had angled the door.

"Not today." (Y/n) shook her head and clung to the door a bit tighter. Why couldn't Shannon have turned up yesterday when Eddie had been home? Why did she have to come here now, when (Y/n) was on her own and more importantly, when Chris was home? This wasn't fair.

"You don't get to make the rules here-"

"And you don't get to turn up when it suits you, and mess with Chris's head and then flaunt off for God knows how long again. I know Eddie's talked to you about this. Call him if you want to see Chris and we can arrange something, but you can't do this."

It wasn't fair on Chris. They had it in writing. When Eddie and Shannon got divorced, it was part of the agreement that Chris would stay with Eddie and Shannon was able to visit. But she had to pre-arrange those visits and if Chris said no, he couldn't be forced to see her. But Chris often felt guilty and he didn't feel able to say no.

Shannon couldn't turn up and decide when and where she wanted to see Chris, that wasn't good for him. He liked routines and structure and turning up unannounced like this was only going to unsettle him.

"Mum, can we do some more painting?"

(Y/n) tilted her head down and stared at her feet as she leaned on the door frame.

She had been worried about this.

When Chris asked her if she would adopt him, (Y/n) had cried. It had been such a good moment, one she would never forget and she couldn't quite wrap her head around it when Chris started calling her mum. It was delightful, but (Y/n) feared the day it would happen when Shannon was within earshot.

She knew it couldn't be nice to hear her son calling someone else his mother, but then again, this whole situation was Shannon's doing. She wasn't the victim here.

A dangerous look crossed Shannon's face. It was as if all the anger was physically bubbling up inside of her and her skin started to turn a dark shade of rouge while her hands balled up into fists at her sides.

She wasn't stupid. She knew Chris didn't know she was here on the doorstep and if he did, that wouldn't be the first thing he called out to her. He was asking for (Y/n). He was calling (Y/n) his mum. It was as if reality came crashing down onto Shannon and showed her just how much time had passed since she last saw her son. Time was telling her that there was always a deadline and she had far missed it by a few years.

(Y/n) had stepped into the role Shannon had left behind. She had become Chris's mother and he was thrilled to have her in his life.

"You are not his mother. I am." The way she sneered the words made (Y/n)'s breathing quicken and she swallowed hard, willing herself not to throw up.

She wished Eddie was home.

Her hand stayed on her stomach and began to rub soothing circles when the baby started to kick up a fuss, but it didn't feel the same as when Eddie was here. His touch was a natural remedy for (Y/n), the baby livened up when Eddie was around and settled at the sound of his voice.

"What kind of mother disappears for four years at a time? I'm here with him every day-"

"I had to leave, you wouldn't understand, but I thought of him every single day."

The tears in her eyes almost made (Y/n) feel bad. Almost. But she couldn't agree with her. Leaving for a few weeks, a few months at a push, was understandable. But all this time was simply incomprehensible. No calls. No letters or visits or zoom calls. She cut all ties with Chris like he was nothing but a distant relative to her and (Y/n) couldn't understand that and if it was her place, she wouldn't forgive that either.

"While you thought of him, I took care of him. He wants to call me his mum and Eddie's fine with that. It's his choice."

(Y/n) loved Chris, but she wouldn't say that to Shannon. She wouldn't dig the knife in any harder when it wasn't necessary. She would try and be civil because she wasn't in any mood or any state to be stood here arguing when this was her own home and Shannon shouldn't be here.

"Mum!" Chris's high-pitched whine broke through the corridor and (Y/n) cringed when she heard his footsteps approaching and the sound of him patting his hands on the walls. Something he often did when he was walking without his crutches, his way of making sure he didn't go too fast and trip up.

"Just a minute-" She closed her eyes and sighed when he barrelled over to her.

He was a social butterfly. Chris loved going out places and having people come over and he loved to see who was at the door and invite people in.

He hurried over to (Y/n) and looped his arms around her waist with his head on her shoulder. But when he leaned forward and nudged the door so he could see who was on the doorstep, all the colour seemed to fade from his skin. His smile disappeared and the light burned out of his eyes when he saw Shannon stood on the doorstep.

Panic welled up in Chris's chest and he clutched at (Y/n) tighter until she winced and felt like he was going to squeeze her until she burst.

Her arm looped around his shoulders and she ran her hand up and down his back to try and keep him calm and reassure him that everything was okay, but he looked worried. The way he pressed into her side and tucked his cheek into her chest told (Y/n) he wasn't happy. He tended to cling to her a lot more when he was unsettled or worried about something, and right now, he was scared.

He actually winced when Shannon smiled and tried to lean closer to him and he saw how her face fell when he pushed into (Y/n) and twisted away from Shannon like he thought her touch was infectious.

"Why you here?" His words were slightly muffled against (Y/n)'s chest and he actually flinched when Shannon tried to squeeze his arm.

He hated the way her expression dropped and he could see tears in her eyes because Chris hated upsetting her. Before she left, they had been close. She had been his mum and she meant the world to Chris, but that had all changed.

(Y/n) was his mum now.

She was the one who cooked with him, who picked him up from school and helped him with his homework. She tucked him in bed at night and read books with him. (Y/n) held him when he was panicking or having a meltdown and she laid with him when he was sick. She took him out on trips and was with him every day without fail.

She was the woman his dad loved, she was the one who lived with them and who was always making his dad smile. She had become his mum and now he was having a baby sister. This was his family, Chris didn't want Shannon disrupting what they had.

"She just came to talk for a minute, that's all." (Y/n) lifted her hand from Chris's shoulder so she could card her fingers through his curls.

She didn't want him to get upset or start panicking. He didn't have to sit and talk to Shannon today if he didn't want to and no one was going to make him go out for contact with her if he wanted to stay home.

(Y/n) darted her eyes from Chris back to Shannon and she tried not to flinch at the look she was being given by the other woman. Shannon had her nose curled and her arms were deadlocked around her chest, but (Y/n) could see her fingers tapping on her arms and one foot was tapping irrationally against the floor. She was clearly distraught about this news and didn't know what to do with herself.

"What gives you the right to be his mother?" Her voice was quiet but the malice laced in her tone made (Y/n)'s stomach drop and she knew Chris heard because he flinched and tucked further into (Y/n)'s side.

"I adopted him."

(Y/n) sucked in a deep breath when she felt Chris's arms pinch into her waist and he bound himself tighter into her side until he was pressing uncomfortably on the baby. She tried not to lean into Chris too much but she couldn't help but fidget when the baby started to wriggle and Chris was squeezing all the air out of her lungs.

The way he looked up at her made (Y/n) want to cry. She could see the fright hidden within his eyes, and she knew exactly what he was afraid of.

When (Y/n) and Eddie got married, Chris had sat down with them one afternoon and timidly asked if (Y/n) would adopt him. It had been his idea and both (Y/n) and Eddie had been in shock and tears at his request. They both agreed immediately because it was a lovely thing for Chris to ask and it was the responsible thing for them to do.

That way, if Eddie ever got hurt on shift again like when he got shot, or something happened, he didn't have to worry about who would look after Chris. He wouldn't panic about a fight happening between his parents and (Y/n) because Eddie knew Chris would want to stay with (Y/n) if anything happened to him, but his parents might want to take Chris. This way, it was all legal and set in stone.

And it felt more safe and secure for Chris and meant he could call (Y/n) his mum for real because she technically was now.

But Chris had been worried. He was frightened that because he asked for (Y/n) to adopt him, then he might upset Shannon. He was scared she would think he was replacing he. He used to be so close to Shannon before she left and Chris never liked to upset her and he knew this would hurt her. He only calmed down when Eddie promised him that he had nothing to be ashamed of and everything was okay.

"What?" Shannon spoke as if this was some kind of atrocity and her expression was as livid as anyone (Y/n) had ever seen.

Her eyes darted between (Y/n) and Chris, but it was (Y/n) she was glaring holes into and (Y/n) feared if she weren't pregnant, the elder woman might have slapped her.

"But he's my son!"

"I married Eddie and his job is risky. I asked if I could adopt Chris so if anything happens to Eddie or the school can't get hold of him, I have a right to care for Chris. It was a precaution."

It meant Chris would never have to go and stay with Shannon or Eddie's parents if he didn't want to. He could stay with the person who had been raising him since she met Eddie. The woman who had taken him on as her own child. It meant he could stay with (Y/n).

The way Chris relaxed against (Y/n) made her feel a little better, especially when he stopped squeezing her. But the way he relaxed his arms made (Y/n)'s waist throb; he had been cutting off her circulation without realising. She could sense the panic dwindling down within him and it made her relieved.

She had made sure Shannon wouldn't find out Chris had asked for the adoption. She wouldn't let Chris panic or give Shannon any reason to be upset with him. (Y/n) was perfectly fine with Shannon hating her.

"Go inside baby, I won't be long." Turning to the side, (Y/n) kissed the top of Chris's curls and gently ushered him to go back inside.

Her eyes followed him as he headed towards the living room but he was constantly looking back over his shoulder to make sure both of them were okay and a fight wasn't going to break out. Chris didn't like this. He wanted (Y/n) to come back inside with him too and for Shannon to leave.

(Y/n) prayed that he was out of earshot, but she knew he hadn't turned the tv on so she figured he would be trying to eavesdrop. He was nervous and he wanted to make sure they weren't arguing about him and find out what was happening. Chris was going to try and listen in if he could.

She turned back to look at Shannon and her hand tightened around the door. "You need to go."

"You've taken my family. Chris is our son, I gave birth to him-" The way Shannon's hand splayed out at her side and she stomped her foot on the porch made (Y/n) shudder.

"And I'm the one who stayed. You have a problem with that, go call Eddie."

She wasn't doing this anymore. She wasn't standing around arguing with her husband's ex. If Shannon wanted to talk, she could go and phone Eddie and arrange to meet with him or try and meet with Chris. She couldn't turn up and start a fight like this and expect (Y/n) to back down and go along with it.

With a deep breath, she stepped back and tried to shut the door but it didn't work so well when Shannon stuck her foot in the way and tried to push her way inside.

This argument wasn't over and Shannon wasn't leaving now she had heard this bombshell. She wanted to talk about this and she wanted to talk to Chris.

"Get out or I'm calling Eddie." Panic struck a chord in (Y/n)'s chest and she shivered as she tried to shove the door again to get Shannon to move.

She was going to have to phone Eddie.

He was at work, he could be out on a call in the middle of a hectic situation and (Y/n) promised herself never to call him at work unless it was an emergency. Or she was calling in the evening so he could say goodnight to Chris.

Did this count as an emergency?

Shannon was trying to get into their home, she was going to cause an argument and she was going to upset Chris. Maybe getting Eddie on the phone or at least pretending to call him might make Shannon relent and leave. She must know this wasn't going to do Chris any good, it wasn't fair to him.

"Call him." The way Shannon leaned closer and sneered down at (Y/n) made her stumble back a step which in turn allowed Shannon to push inside. "How would you like it if I took your baby?"

Her hand swatted out near (Y/n)'s stomach and for the first time, she thought she saw tears welling up in Shannon's eyes. But she couldn't be sure if they were tears of agony, anguish or frustration at being left behind.

"Shannon stop- please-" (Y/n) looked over her shoulder towards the living room but she couldn't see Chris.

She was going to upset him.

(Y/n) couldn't be sure what words tumbled past Shannon's lips in a fury, but she knew she heard '… isn't fair' and 'not yours' and those last words cut to her heart. She may not have given birth to Chris, but she had certainly bonded with him and took him on as her own. She was as good a mother as anyone else and it wasn't her fault that Shannon had stepped aside long enough for (Y/n) to take her place. Wasn't it better for Chris to have someone he saw as a mum than nobody at all?

Trying again to shut the door, (Y/n) nudged Shannon back and planted her feet on the spot so Shannon couldn't push past her. This was her home and she wasn't having anyone barge their way inside like this.

But the way Shannon shoved the door with so much frustration and callousness made the door swing back at (Y/n). Coupled with the way Shannon pushed into her, (Y/n) stumbled back.

Her eyes snapped closed and her arms coiled into her chest but it didn't prevent the shriek from leaving her lips when her feet slid from beneath her and her back collided with the cabinet. Shockwaves rattled through her system and she felt her limbs shaking and jerking when her lower back rammed into the edge of the cabinet before she landed on the floor on her bum with a thud.

"Shit!" Her hand slammed out into the cabinet in frustration and she tilted her head back until she was leaning against the wall.

Both her legs trembled against the floor and one hand pressed into the floor to steady herself while the other moved to cradle her bump. It had been her back that hit the cabinet, her back that was now pulsing in agony from the shock. But she could feel the baby wriggling and kicking as if she had suddenly woken them up from a nap.

She hadn't fell on her stomach or knocked her bump at all and she wasn't crippled in horrible agony, it was just her lower back that was going to be bruised come tomorrow.

"Mum?!" The terror in Chris's voice made (Y/n) cringe and she opened her bleary eyes to see him hurrying her way.

His knees made a horrid sound when he crashed to the floor beside her and his hands were instantly grabbing at her arms, trying to comfort her and check whether she was okay. The way Chris's features steadily started to redden and tense made (Y/n) wince; her boy looked furious.

"It's okay- I'm okay." She couldn't hide the wince that flashed across her face when she sat up and she moved her hand to rub at her back near her hips. But when she felt Shannon's hands reaching out for her arms to try and help her up, she roughly flung her arm out.

"Don't touch me." She spat roughly and grabbed the cabinet to try and use it as leverage to get herself up.

She could feel Chris's hands on her back and arm, trying to help her up and once she was on her feet, he attached himself to her like a leech. His face merged into her chest and he tried to let her lean on him just in case she didn't feel well or she might collapse. But when he turned to look at Shannon, anger burned within his chocolate eyes.

"Go away!" His voice was high and rough and he tugged (Y/n) back with him to add distance between them and Shannon.

For the first time, Shannon looked at a loss for words and what to do and she seemed to dither on the spot. She wanted to protest, it was clear in her expression that she wanted to try and explain and patch up this situation because she didn't want Chris to be upset with her. But the damage was already done and there wasn't anything Shannon could do.

"Just leave."

The moment she slammed the door behind her, (Y/n) turned and kissed Chris's temple. She curled her arms around him and they stood there for a little while, hugging one another.

"You hurt?" She could hear the panic in his voice and it made her arms tighten around him.

"No baby, I'm alright." She hummed into his hair and slowly turned to try and guide him back to the living room. She was okay, but she wanted to sit down, and she didn't want Chris to be worrying about her. He was upset enough as it was. He didn't have to try and look after (Y/n), she was okay and she was the one who needed to comfort him.

"Should I call dad?"

"No, don't tell your dad."

(Y/n) didn't want Eddie panicking. She would tell him later on when he came home if she needed to. There was no point worrying him now when he was at work.

***

"What have you been up to today?" Eddie tilted his head down and kissed the top of Chris's head when his boy barrelled into him. He had barely been in the house two minutes and Chris was hugging him like they hadn't seen each other in days, weeks, months even.

"Panting." The word was mumbled into Eddie's chest, but it was the tone of Chris's voice that set Eddie on edge.

"Oh yeah, let me see." He glanced his eyes around the living room but he looked back down to Chris when he shook his head against Eddie's chest.

"Not finished yet."

With that, Chris huffed and finally unravelled from their hug. He snatched up the few paintings he had been trying to work on all afternoon and trudged down the hall in a sluggish manner like he was half asleep.

Eddie stood watching him, a dumbfounded expression on his face and his head tilting to one side as Chris disappeared into his room.

That wasn't the usual welcome he got when he came home. Chris never usually hugged him that desperately unless Eddie had been on double shifts or Chris wasn't well or was feeling upset. And he was usually bright and bubbly and eager to tell Eddie what he had been up to whether it was about his lessons in school or what he and (Y/n) had been doing during the day.

With a shake of his head, Eddie headed out the living room and peered into the dining room before he headed into the kitchen, looking for his wife.

His eyes settled on (Y/n) who was drifting around the kitchen like she was in a world of her own. She looked like she was tidying up, but the way she practically thrust the plates into the cupboard and how they rattled like they were about to shatter told Eddie that maybe, (Y/n) wasn't herself either.

"Baby, are you both okay? Chris barely spoke to me, he seems anxious." Eddie headed into the kitchen and leaned one hand on the kitchen island while his other hand found his hip and his head tilted to one side.

Leaning forward, (Y/n) arched her back out and leaned on the counter while she moved one hand to run up and down her face. She was glad her back was currently to Eddie or he would have seen the tears welling up in her eyes. She knew he could read every one of her expressions and if she turned to look at him, he would know she was upset- no, she was furious. And in agony.

"Shannon stopped by." It took a lot of effort to control her voice and try to sound passive and calm rather than infuriated and pained.

She put another few pots back in the cupboards but she couldn't refrain from reaching her hand around to press into her lower back that felt like it was on fire. It was as if every nerve was igniting and sizzling like a fuse on a firework.

When she went to the bathroom, (Y/n) didn't dare turn around and look in the mirror because she didn't want to see the bruises that were going to be littering her lower back. It didn't feel like she had fallen that badly earlier, but after an hour, her back began to seize up and ache and now it was getting worse.

"What? Why?"

"I don't know." She shook her head, wiped her hands beneath her eyes and finally turned around to face him. "You tell her not to pull a stunt like that again, Chris saw her and it's rattled him. She does that again and I'll swing for her."

Eddie's eyes widened and he took a deep breath as he moved to stand in front of her. The way her voice wobbled and the way she kept tensing her neck and tilting her chin told Eddie she was finding it hard not to burst into tears.

He hadn't known Shannon would turn up today. Eddie couldn't remember the last time he spoke to her, it had been that long. She never usually turned up unannounced and if she did, it was to talk to Eddie about something, not to blunder in and try to disrupt their lives and see Chris. She knew how upsetting it would be for hi,- at least, Eddie thought he had made that clear.

His heart lurched into his throat when he saw the grimace that flooded (Y/n)'s face and the way she leaned back on the counter like she couldn't hold herself up.

Reaching out, Eddie took (Y/n)'s arms and reeled her off the counter in favour of looping her arms around his neck instead. His hands moved to her waist and he pulled her closer until her bump was pressing into his abdomen and he leant his head down until their temples were pressed together.

"Hey, hey calm down." His hands gently squeezed her waist and he took a few deep breaths to try and coax (Y/n) to do the same. "I'll call her tomorrow and set the ground rules again, I'll make it clear she can't come by unannounced."

(Y/n) nodded and tried to take a deep breath. "Good."

Her eyes closed for a few moments but her hands tightened around Eddie's neck and she leaned into him when her back twinged.

"Are you okay?" Eddie's hand shifted from her waist to cup the side of her face and he stroked his thumb across her cheek as his eyes narrowed.

"Just- just worked up." She tried to nod her head but the reassuring look faded from her eyes and she let her eyes cast down to Eddie's chest so he didn't see the pain sparking within them. She didn't want to worry him. That was the last thing (Y/n) wanted to do. She didn't want to argue about Shannon either, her being here had caused enough arguments and problems as it was.

"Well that's not allowed, so go sit down and calm down for me. Hm?"

He tilted his head down to steal a kiss but he felt the way (Y/n)'s breathing hitched against his and how she seemed to lean into him a little more as if she didn't want him to let go. His touch lingered on her hips when (Y/n) finally moved out of his hold and his eyes followed her and the way she kept moving her hand towards her back as she walked.

Something wasn't right. She didn't look well.

(Y/n) was sure she heard the kettle flick on in the background and she heard Eddie humming as he set about making a drink.

Her eyes cast about the living room but she sighed when she realised Chris must have gone to his room. He usually sat with them when Eddie came home and he hadn't finished his paintings, the brushes and paint pallet were still on the coffee table along with the painting table cloth. Chris usually tried to finish any artwork he started, he didn't like leaving them. Shannon had really disgruntled him today.

(Y/n) shuffled between the chair and the sofa, aiming to tidy the coffee table but she doubled over when her back twinged again.

Her left hand moved to cradle her lower bump and her other hand grabbed the armchair before she stumbled to her knees.

"Fuck." She tipped her head down and closed her eyes, trying to ward off the pain in her back. She was going to have to get Eddie to take a look, she couldn't carry on with this striking pain that was steadily getting worse; she had definitely pulled a muscle or trapped a nerve when she fell.

Maybe sitting down like Eddie suggested would do her some good and make her feel better.

She moved to try and ease onto the sofa, but she stopped abruptly when another pain struck her, but it wasn't her back again. It was her stomach.

Her left hand reached out for the sofa but when she moved her right hand down from her stomach to her thighs, a cold slither of dread slithered down her spine. Everything started to spin and her body succumbed to trembling when she saw the blood coating her palm.

Her fingers rapidly skimmed across her thighs again and she pulled at her leggings and noticed they were starting to become damp.

"Eddie… Eddie, oh God."

Tears welled up in her eyes and she whimpered, unable to take her eyes off her palm that was coated with blood. This wasn't good. Why was she bleeding? She had been okay earlier, except for the back pain.

"What- baby what happened?" He felt the way she jumped when his hands found her arms and he carefully turned her around so she was facing him when (Y/n) stayed deadlocked in place.

His eyes narrowed and he looked (Y/n) up and down, trying to see what was worrying her. But he hated the look on her face when she held her hand out towards him and whimpered. He didn't realise he was moving until his hand was gripping her wrist tightly and his other hand stayed on her elbow.

He stepped closer until there was barely any space between them and he roamed his frantic eyes up and down her frame to find the source of the blood. He didn't like what he saw.

"I don't- oow." When she crippled forward and pressed her face into his chest, Eddie cupped the back of her neck and kissed her head.

He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, trying its best to break out of her chest and envelope around (Y/n). He wanted to calm her down, he wanted to tuck her safely into his heart and look after her but to do that he was going to have to take her to hospital.

"Shit, shit baby just stay there a minute. I'll grab Chris and see if Buck can watch him, you need to go to the ER."

(Y/n) shook her head and tried to push into Eddie when he moved to weave around her. She choked on her breath, desperate for Eddie to stay here with her. She didn't want to be left on her own, not for a second. She didn't know what was happening and she needed to keep the baby safe.

"One minute baby, I swear." His wet lips pressed into her rather warm temple and he helped her lean against the sofa before he sped down the hall.

He sent a few rushed texts off to Buck to see if he could have Chris and he could of cried when he got an instant response saying to drop Chris off. Both Eddie and Buck had just left shift and come home, Buck had no plans and he would always look after his nephew whether it was an emergency or not.

He rapped his knuckles on the bedroom door and leaned in the doorway, waving his hand at Chris who was laid on his bed on his stomach with a book in front of him.

"Buddy, come with me, I'm gonna drop you with uncle Buck. I need to take mum to the doctor." He didn't want to worry Chris, he really didn't, but he needed them to get a move on. They had to leave now.

"Is she hurt?"

The panic that flooded Chris's face took Eddie by surprise and he tilted his head to one side, squinting at his son in confusion. Eddie said the doctor, not the hospital. Could he see the panic on Eddie's face so clearly, or was he worried about something else?

"Uh, no, she's not feeling well. Come on, quick as you can." When he motioned his hand out towards Chris, his boy hopped off the bed and scuttled over to him immediately.

He burrowed into Eddie's side and let his dad usher him out of the room and into the hall. But Eddie could feel his boy trembling and shrinking in on himself like he was afraid of something.

Their speed-walk slowed down somewhat when Chris tilted his head back into Eddie's chest and looked up at his dad with big blown eyes and pursed lips.

"Is- is it because of the fall?" He cringed when he saw his dad's face fall and a manic look flooded his face.

Chris knew he wasn't technically supposed to talk about it, his mum asked him not to because she would explain. And he didn't want to think back to what happened this morning when Shannon turned up. But if his mum wasn't well, then maybe it was because of what happened and if that was the case, then Shannon was to blame in this situation.

"What, what fall?" The suspicious tone in Eddie's voice made Chris shrink in on himself and he darted his head into the living room to look at his mum.

A dark look passed over Eddie's eyes and (Y/n) leaned on the back of the sofa to prop herself up when she felt like those daggers he was shooting her way were going to cut her into pieces. Her hands clutched at the sofa and her lower back arched out as she shook her head in Chris's direction.

"Chris, no-"

"You fell? Somebody explain to me now what happened."

(Y/n) could feel tears glistening in her eyes and trickling down her face at the demanding tone to Eddie's voice and the possessive look in his eyes. He looked more riled up than she had ever seen him and she knew it was making Chris unsure. He felt like he had said something wrong.

Moving her arm to point behind her, (Y/n) muttered "Go get in the car," to which Chris nodded immediately. He felt Eddie pass him down the car keys and he hurried towards the front door. He knew they would be in the car within a minute because they needed to go and whatever they talked about wasn't going to last long when (Y/n) needed a doctor.

Biting her lip, (Y/n) cast her eyes down to stare into her bump when she felt Eddie advance towards her. She shivered and held her breath when he stood beside her and she felt his hands cupping he face. His thumbs stroked her cheekbones and he tilted her head up so she was staring into those dark eyes that were burning through into her soul.

The way his lips pursed and his brows rose made (Y/n) shudder and she tried to hold back tears when his eyes burned into hers.

"What. Fall?"

His words were punctuated and slow and the deep breath he took made (Y/n) reach up and cling to his wrists to keep herself steady.

"Shannon wouldn't leave, I- I tried to get her to go… she blundered in a-and I fell against the cabinet. I thought- it was just my back, Eddie I didn't know," When her eyes cast down to her bump, (Y/n) couldn't help the little sob that bubbled past her lips and she gripped his wrists so tightly she cut off the circulation to his fingers.

It had been her back that hit the cabinet and it felt like she had hurt a muscle, she hadn't hit her stomach or fell on her bump or fallen with that much of a thud. She thought she would be okay. She thought the baby was okay, they had been wriggling and kicking since the small accident and she hadn't had any pains until this last hour.

"Okay, okay shh. It happens…" His lips attached to her temple and he let her lean into his chest and bind her arms around his chest.

Eddie understood, he knew some tiny falls could cause big impacts and other times a big fall or accident didn't do any harm at all to the baby. And if (Y/n) had felt fine until now then no one would have figured anything would of been wrong. But he needed to get her to the hospital now to look after her and the baby.

When a sudden thought dwelled at the front of his mind, Eddie's hands stiffened against her neck and he held his breath. He carefully reeled her head up from his chest to look down at her.

"Did she push you?" The dark, gravelly tone to his voice made (Y/n) tighten her arms around him.

"No, not really, but she- she wouldn't leave," More tears trickled down her face as Eddie carefully turned her around in his arms so her back was pressed up against his chest.

Eddie kept one hand firmly on her hip and held the other hand out in front of her so she could grip his hand for stability. He started to guide her towards the door with his lips attached to the back of her head and they walked in slow tandem together. But Eddie could feel every wave of pain that tore through (Y/n) and had her whimpering and doubling over.

She felt the growl that vibrated from Eddie's chest through to hers when they headed out the door and Eddie locked it behind them.

"I'll kill her for this."

[hiraet3h]

Alate { Pietro Maximoff x FEM!Reader }

Alate - Adjective (Latin) |

~ Having wings; lifted up in flight

Summery:

"The past dripped slowly in places like this—quiet, empty, and full of ghosts. The ground doesn’t forgive, it just waits."

or

An 'impromptu' encounter with a boy she never quite really knew. And a man she never had any interest in meeting.

Too bad they were the same person.

Pairings: Primarily: Pietro Maximoff/Fem!Reader, Slight John Allerdyce/Fem!reader, Slight Remy LeBeau/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 11.5K

Warnings: strong language, canon typical violence, reader gets hurt, smoking, cigarettes, bad bird puns/nicknames, Use of (Y/n)! I'm sorry if that bothers you, but i use it quite a bit, Pietro being an asshole, Reader is also an asshole to be fair, Gambit and Pyro too honestly, so everyone really, an excessive use of em dashes, Reader has curly hair! It's pretty vague and not specified what kind of curls, but it's mentioned a couple times! other than that, her appearance is pretty neutral i think. Let me know if I forgot something!

Fic Type: Oneshot/standalone

Author's Note: Omg! this is the first time i'll ever be posting to tumblr, and it being my shitty fanfic is kinda nerve-wracking! I've posted on Ao3 and Wattpad before, but tumblr always intimidated me for some reason. But there are SOOO many incredible writers on here, and i thought someone else might appreciate a non movieverse/fox/MCU Pietro x reader, so i decided to post it here as well! I hope it makes someone out there happy as well!

Anyways, this take place in a semi -alternate AU? In the way that, i didn't quite have a specific variation of Pietro or the x-men universe i was writing for. It's a mesh between an aged up X-men Evolution AU and the Wolverine and the X-men universe. With some comic elements thrown in. So it's my playground essentially.

This fic will also be available on AO3! I have other nonsense on my AO3 if the curiosity ever strikes and you want to check it out!

Please, if anyone wants to chat about anything, my door is always open!

The wind carried more than cold that night. It howled like a wounded creature through the hollow veins of the abandoned train yard, weaving around rusted steel and splintered wood and forsaken motors with a kind of sorrow only old places knew. (Y/n) stood near the skeletal remains of a cargo car, arms crossed, her shadow carved in sharp lines by the moonlight above. She found comfort in places like these. In places filled with things long abandoned and things that should have been.  A feeling of tragedy she couldn't help but chase. A masochistic tendency she’d hoped she would have outgrown in her adolescence but had unfortunately been a habit that had followed her into adulthood.

Maybe she found comfort in things and places and stories she could relate to. 

Romanticizing life, or whatever the hell the kids were calling it these days. 

She hopped onto the train tracks, her arms outstretched to her sides in an attempt to keep her balance as she walked along the stealrail of the track, as though she was a tightrope walker, dangling dangerously on the brink of doom and death. 

A single misstep and she’d be gone, and nothing but her memory would remain, before that too would inevitably wade out of existence, time chipping away at the ghost she used to be. 

The metal creaked under her boots like it remembered her from all those years ago—like it knew she didn’t belong to war or missions or field assignments. Not really.

But she'd always show up anyway.

"You’re late, L/N."

The voice skittered through the dark, cocky and cruel and cold,  like a blade dragged across glass.

A sharp exhale through her nose. 

She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to.

The air told her he was close. It always did, vibrating with the static of him, with the feeling of electricity that he would leave in his wake and upon his arrival. With a disruption in the winds as it bowed to his whims. 

"Punctuality has never been your thing, has it?" she replied, dry. "I figured if I gave you an extra ten minutes, you'd still manage to make an entrance."

In a blink, he was standing where moonlight met shadow—just on the edge of it, and the light of a street lamp which was miraculously still working save for the occasional flicker before being resurrected by the currents running in the wiring. 

Quicksilver. Pietro Maximoff. 

Silver hair tousled like he’d just stepped out of a storm, windswept and wild but in a way that looked intentional and effortless all at once. And smirking, of course. Always smirking. His eyes were electric with the kind of arrogance only someone who could outrun time itself had any right to wield.

"Nightingale," he drawled, crossing his arms with exaggerated ease as he leaned against the streetlamp with a casual grace that could only be achieved by a man who had been trained in combat for years upon years. A confidence that came with self assurance and a pride that wasn’t completely unearned "Did you miss me?"

She rolled her eyes. “Like a migraine.”

"Oof. And here I thought we were finally building something resembling camaraderie."

"No, but we can build something else entirely. Like a coffin for you to lie in. Or your gravestone. If you’re here to finally do the honors and give me the relief that would come with you dropping dead.” 

He chuckled, stepping closer with the kind of laid-back threat that came from someone who didn’t need to try hard to be dangerous. "Come on, (L/n). You think anyone else could put up with your holier-than-thou shtick and still show up like clockwork?"

Her jaw tightened. Her glare was met with a look of mirth. A punchable one, if she was able to say so herself.

"Why are you here, Maximoff?"

“Birdwatching,” he says, a smug grin playing on his lips. He looked proud of that one.

She gives him a bored look, unamused.

He rolls his eyes at her, not at all intimidated, nor deterred. And he had not enough shame to ever feel a lick of embarrassment, so that was out of the question as well, despite his ill-received pun.

“C’mon, that was a good one. Even you have to admit it.”

She spins on her heels, ready to walk away from him, and this train yard and the whole useless encounter, when his voice stops her in her tracks before she’s made more than a couple feet away.

“Magneto wants a word,” Pietro said suddenly, almost too casually.

She turned slowly, narrowing her eyes. He remained at ease. 

“Then he should send someone with better people skills.”

He chuckled. “He did. I’m charming. Ask literally anyone.”

“Not your ex-wife, I presume.”

That got a crack in his cool, his brows furrowing and a frown marred his lips quickly. It filled her with a satisfaction she’s not proud of.

“Low blow,” he muttered, eyes flashing. “He wants to make you an offer.”

“No.”

“You haven’t heard it yet.”

“I don’t need to.”

Pietro tilted his head, undeterred, voice still carrying humor of a joke she wasn’t in on. “You always this stubborn, or is it just around me?”

“I know how he sees people. How he turns them into pieces on a board. I’m not interested in being another one of his knights, thanks.”

“You’d be a rook, if anything,” he said, thoughtful. “Straight lines. Limited. Boring.”

“Funny, coming from a pawn.”

That one seemed to have also landed. His jaw clenched, but only for a second

He recovered with a grin. “You used to be more fun, birdie.”.

“And you’ve always been annoying.”

He sighs. And rubs the back of his neck, his eyes closing for a brief reprieve from her insults.

“Look, he only wants to talk right now. There’s no harm in a conversation, right?”

She stepped back. Not far. But enough. Enough to make the space between them suddenly mean something deliberate.

"Not interested."

"Didn’t ask if you were," he said smoothly, straightening and taking a step forward to reclaim lost distance "Only told you what’s happening."

"Not to me, it’s not."

She turned as if to leave, but in a flash, he was in front of her again. This time closer. Too close. She could feel the charge in the air between them. Like standing beside a live wire. He towered over her, and she was face to chest with him. She tilts her head up to meet his eyes, and his gaze is firm. Jaw tight and lips pressed into a firm line, almost resembling a frown but not quite. 

It seems her jeers and refusal were getting to him. Good.

"I’m not here to play tag, (L/n). I’m here to bring you in."

She blinked. Slowly. As if the words themselves needed processing.

Then her laugh—a low, bitter thing—cracked through the lighting-tension like a sharp knife.

“You're pathetic. Running after daddy’s approval by doing tasks he couldn't be bothered to do himself.” 

His jaw tensed. Just a flicker. But she saw it. She knew all his sore spots. That one was particularly tender, she knew. 

"You think I have a choice?" he said quietly.

"You always do." Her voice was sharper now. Not louder, but colder. "You just stopped pretending to care."

Pietro's expression shifted then—like clouds over the moon. Not anger. Not yet. But the storm was there, gathering behind his eyes.

"You think you know anything about choices, L/N? You, with your perfect little X-men who’ll pat you on the back every time you try and fail to throw a punch? You don’t know what it’s like to be needed by someone who only values what you can do, not who you are."

Her jaw tenses at his words of vulnerability. But she knew a farce when she saw one. He wasn't going to emotionally manipulate her tonight. 

"And yet, here you are," she said cooly, stepping past him. “I’m not going with you.”

He grabbed her wrist. Gently—but firmly. His touch was warm. Steady. Frustrating.

"(Y/n). You don’t get it. He’s not asking.”

She looked up at him, chin lifted, heart pounding like war drums beneath her ribs.

She hated that he said her name like that. Like it meant something. She rips her arm out of his grip and takes a step back, insistent on keeping space between them

“I’m not going to be a pawn, Pietro.”

"You're already in the game. You just don’t want to admit it."

“I'm not in shit.”

Her fingers sparked with energy then—just barely. A shimmer of violet light flickered up her arm like fire in a hearth. Slow and steady. Pietro's eyes dropped to it, then back to hers.

"You sure you want to do this, moon girl?"

"I’ve never been more sure of anything."

He didn’t move. For a moment, the silence held its breath. The wind paused. The night listened.

Then he stepped back. Let her go.

“You’d lose.” he says like it's a fact. Like no other outcome could be possible.

She holds his gaze for a beat. Then two.

He was probably right. She couldn’t fight to save her life. Which, coincidently, was exactly when she needed it. And she needed it often. 

Her sigh then cuts through the air like a slow exhale of a long-forgotten lullaby. The kind of sound a soul made when it was too weary to fight the silence, but too stubborn to surrender fully.

She was stretched thin with exhaustion, not from the confrontation, but from everything. From war and missions, from expectations and choices. From a world that hated them for simply being, and the constant requirement to prove themselves worthy of existing in places that deemed them undeserving. And the inevitability of running into him. Again. Always.

The past dripped slowly in places like this—quiet, empty, and full of ghosts. The ground doesn’t forgive, it just waits.

A reluctant truce between instinct and exhaustion and pure curiosity had overcome her. 

So she turned. Slowly. Her boots whispered against the gravel as she moved, the oversized denim jacket she adorned slipping from her shoulder just enough to show the moonlight pale on her skin before she pulled it back up into place. It was approximately five sizes too big— ill-fitting, like a life she never asked for but lives anyway cause there’s no other choice. A little girl lost in grown-up‘s clothes. A soldier pretending she knows how to play war. The cold of the freight train bled through her layers when she leaned back against it, metal biting down through fabric and resolve alike at her back. She flinched only slightly, then settled, one boot scuffed against the asphalt, the other kicked up behind her to rest flat against rusted steel.

It was the posture of someone who wasn’t going to run, but wasn’t going to be dragged either.

Quicksilver hadn’t moved. Maybe he was waiting for her to bolt. Maybe he was calculating how many steps it would take to reach her if she did. But she wasn’t running.

Her eyes flicked back to him with a gaze she wore like armor. Bored. Tired. Disinterested. Except it was a lie, of course. She was studying him. Every angle. Every slight change.

His hair was longer now. Not by much, but enough for her to notice. Enough to know she hadn’t seen him in months. Time had been kind to him in the way it was kind to cruel people—preserving their beauty like a warning sign. His silver strands, always unnatural, gleamed in the moonlight like silk laced with mercury. She remembered thinking, once, that he looked like he’d been touched by the stars. Moonkissed, she had called it. 

But that was before she knew who had really touched him.

Before she knew who had carved him from the same sharp stone and set him loose on the world.

It had always been like that, even when they were teenagers, even when he was just some cocky blur of a boy who annoyed her on missions and flashed too many teeth when he smirked. She’d initially thought the color was dye, some edgy brooding Brotherhood thing.

She'd been wrong. It was blood. It was legacy. It was Magneto’s, like everything else about him. The sharp lines of his jaw. The eerie grace of his movement. The cold glacier- blue in his eyes, That intensity beneath the bravado, coiled tight like a spring, waiting to snap. The anger. Oh, the anger. Constant and bitter. Angry at a world that wouldn’t change no matter how hard anyone tried. 

He looked more like Erik than Wanda did. More than Lorna ever could, despite her having her father’s powers. It unsettled her. That resemblance. That inheritance. Sure he was younger, the lines of time yet to set into his face. He was taller and leaner and wore his cockiness out and arrogant, but at the core they were alike in a way that was undeniable. She wondered if he ever looked in the mirror and saw himself, or only the man he’d been chasing his entire life like a ghost, despite him always being right there, just unwilling. She wondered what Magneto thought when he looked at him. His eldest child? Or the reminders of the failures of the man he used to be? Maybe that’s why he was so cold towards his only son. 

Her eyes lowered briefly. Civilian clothes, tonight. That was interesting. 

No combat gear, no flashy insignias. No weight of war on his shoulders, only a dark leather jacket that suits the season, resting just right across a frame broader than it used to be. He’s taller now, more filled in. Still lean, still quick—but not all sharp corners anymore. There’s muscle under that snug black tee. Probably more than he needs. Probably more than she needs to know about.

Of course the shirt clings like it always did, tighter than it probably needed to be. Not that he needed help drawing attention. But Pietro Maximoff didn’t know how to wear anything without a little arrogance sewn in.

“What could that man possibly want with me?” she asked at last, voice level, somewhere between disinterest and disdain.

Pietro didn’t answer at first. He just looked at her.

And maybe it was the moonlight, or maybe it was something else, but for a moment, he wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t mocking her. He just stood there, staring like she was something just slightly out of reach, slightly more dangerous than she'd ever let herself be.

"You're asking the wrong guy," he said eventually, voice lower now, almost thoughtful. “I don’t play chess, remember? I’m the piece that gets moved.” He tilted his head. “You, on the other hand… you’re a piece Magneto can’t quite figure out.”

"Or maybe I'm just not worth the effort," she replied.

His smile returned, sharp and annoying. “If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.” He took a step closer, boots crunching on gravel. “You think he sends me to do grunt work?”

“Yes,” she says, not even hesitating for a second. Voice flat and deadpan, like it was an obvious answer to that question

“Ouch. You wound me, little bird.”

She gave a lazy shrug, the oversized jacket slipping slightly off one shoulder once more. She didn’t bother pulling it back up this time. “That’s the idea.”

Pietro's gaze slips to the newly revealed skin for a brief second, eyes mapping out her collarbone and the slope of a shoulder that was now exposed due to the sleeveless shirt she wore underneath, before his eyes snapped back to hers. She pretends not to notice. 

They stood there, not quite talking. Not quite fighting. The wind carried a whistle down the tracks, eerie in the emptiness. The city was far away now, nothing but a glow on the horizon.

"Why are you really here?" she asked, softer this time. "You hate taking orders. You cannot stand your father. I’ve seen the way you flinch when he speaks to you like you’re a tool. So why are you still running his errands?”

His jaw worked. For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then:

“Because I’m good at it,” he said finally. “And when you’re good at something, you’re not given a choice. Not really.”

Her brows furrow at his words. 

“That’s not true.”

He scoffed. “Says the girl who stayed with the X-Men even after they kept sending her out there like bait.”

That one stung.

He noticed. His voice softened just a little. “You ever wonder what it’d be like to stop trying to be what they expect?”

“I don’t take advice from someone who also does exactly what’s expected of him,” she shot back. “You think you’re a rebel, but all you’ve ever done is chase your father’s shadow. You talk big, but you’re still a scared little boy running after a man who will never give you what you’re looking for and everybody knows it.”

That did it.

His expression hardened, and he took a threatening step forward. Once again the distance between them has shrunk to a considerably small size. Like a waltz, they ebb back and forth. The air seems more hostile this time, however. It seems her words had finally stung as deeply as intended. 

“I came here,” he said through clenched teeth, “to give you a chance. You could’ve walked away from all of this. Could’ve had power. Could’ve stopped playing foot soldier for Xavier and his pathetic dream.”

God he was insufferable. 

“Firstly, it’s not pathetic, you self-absorbed-”

“Please, i’m self-absorbed that’s actually rich coming from you-”

“-And you’re no better, following orders like a dog-”

“-considering the moral high-horse you lot sit on. it’s actually nauseating-”

“-for a man who has no idea he’ll become what he hates-”

“-the way things are going is gonna get us all killed, we don't have time to-”

“-he’s a damn hypocrite, and you’re no better-” 

“-and the X-men are useless at best, hoping if you do enough dirty work, they’ll accept mutant-” 

“-Have you and any of your buddies actually done anything except prove every mutant stereotype down to a T or-”

“-Who the fuck cares? They’re gonna blame everything on us anyways-”

“-yeah, so proving them right is the move-”

“-God, you reek of self-righteousness and privilege-”

“-better than playing terrorist-” 

“-you’re saying this from up in your ivory tower-” 

They were yelling over each other at this point. And it was beyond unproductive, considering neither was willing to even attempt to hear the other out. 

“Enough!” she yells, and it's actually enough to get him to shut up. He continues to glare at her and she lets her eyes close, and her head drop as a sigh pulls from between parted lips, her breath fogging in the cold air with the exhale. 

“I didn’t come to debate politics with you,” she says, voice tired. She takes a few steps away from him and slips further against the freight train, letting the rusting junk take on the brunt of her weight so she wouldn't have to carry it all on her own. Her bones feel heavy. They have for a while and she was getting tired of carrying them with her everywhere she went. 

(Y/n)'s words fell like slow, deliberate raindrops—each one dampening the tension rather than snapping it. They weren’t meant to wound. Not really. But they were heavy, and the weight of truth had a way of bruising.

“Xavier’s a bastard,” she said, voice steady, eyes narrowed as she watched him. “But Magneto’s no better. ‘Sides, Cyclops has been calling the shots for a while now.”

Pietro scoffed, but said nothing. Not yet. So she kept going.

“I’ve disagreed with Charles plenty, especially the older I get and the more I see what he's willing to overlook for the sake of the dream. But his ideology doesn’t rest on bloodshed, or dominance, or this superiority complex your father breathes like air.”

his eyes narrow back at her words.

‘Not talk politics, my ass.’

“It’s not a superiority complex.” He says, voice cold and agitated. “News flash, Nightingale—they hate us. They want us dead. We have to fight back with the same force or we’ll be wiped out. Why cant you and those spandex-wearing freaks get it through your thick heads.” 

He also lets himself rest against the cart, his shoulder to the metal so his body is facing her, but his head is looking out into the rail yard, nothing in particular catching his interest. He just didn’t want her to see him seething. 

“You think ‘peaceful coexistence’ means anything to the people outside that mansion, praying we disappear? We’re fighting for our lives, and you're still acting like it's some kind of moral debate club.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. 

“I’m not doing this with you, Pietro .” 

“You’re the one who started it.” 

“Just shut up.” 

He fumes, but relents.

The quiet overtakes, and they let it settle between them and the night like a balm on a burn, meant to soothe. Frustration and anger easing out of both bodies slowly and slightly.

He steps closer—not all the way, but enough that she could feel the cold static of his presence again. That same subtle tension in the air, like a thunderstorm waiting behind glass.

“You’re scared of it,” he said, softer now. “Of your powers.”

Her lips parted, just slightly but no words came out. He’d hit something. Something she didn’t like people seeing.

“I’m not afraid,” she said eventually. “I’m cautious.”

“Same thing,” he said, and for once, there was no tease nor malice in it. Just truth. 

She swallows a huff, breathing slowly through her nose. “Maximoff, I can go borderline nuclear in  five seconds flat if i dont have the reins all the way in check. What would you have me do?” 

He gives a lazy shrug. Nonchalant and noncommittal. Like she couldn't level a city block with a flick of her wrist if her head was on wrong. 

“Don’t be afraid.” He says it like it's the simplest thing in the world. Like the answer has always been obvious and she’d been looking in all the wrong places for it. 

She shakes her head, not bothering to answer him. She doesn’t really know how. 

Maybe he was right. Maybe not. It didn't particularly matter. Because she didn’t know how to stop being afraid. It was etched into her soul, the fear she had of herself. It took over a decade of training to get where she was, to the mastery she possessed of her own mutation. And even then, it felt like a bandaid over a gaping wound. Superficial. Only there to cover the damage so nobody had to look at the bloody, ugly thing. 

Another sigh slipped from her lips like the wind blowing between forgotten cracks. It was quieter this time. Less a sound of defeat and more the weary exhale of a woman who'd been holding her breath too long. Her head dipped forward, curls swaying gently kissing the sides of her face, as she reached up with a manicured hand to rub the back of her neck, her fingers digging into a knot that had formed like a stone lodged beneath her skin. Firm and pulsing like the echo of the tension she'd been carrying for days. Weeks. Years, if she was being honest.

This place—the X-Men, the mansion, the maddening missions and miscommunications, the quiet understanding that no one really knew what they were doing—they were home. Not perfect. But hers. The family she never had. The one that fought like hell and screamed in the halls and cried behind closed doors. The children running around, learning to use and accept and be with their mutations. The one that let her be broken, and still let her stay.

There was never a version of this where she left the X-Men. Not even in dreams. Not even when the mansion got too loud, or too quiet, or too full of ghosts.

They were hers. Her ragtag, squabbling, loyal, impossible family. The one she chose. The one that stayed.

Scott with his leadership and saviour’s complex. Ororo with her soft reprimands. Kurt, always trying to make her laugh even when her world was falling apart. Kitty, with her quiet strength. Rouge with her southern charm and a shoulder she always had to cry on. Logan with his gruff grunts that somehow meant love.

Even the ones who were gone. Even the ones who’d stayed too long.

She would not leave them.

And she definitely wasn’t trading them for Magneto’s army of true believers and half-broken boys pretending they weren't scared.

Her gaze slid lazily back to Pietro, head tilting, curls catching moonlight. Her voice came soft, almost amused, like a cat playing with something half-dead between its paws.

“He still hates you, y’know?”

Pietro blinked, clearly not expecting it. “Who?”

She smirked. “Scott.”

The reaction was instantaneous. That deadpan look returned to his face like a well-worn mask as he stared at her in exhausted disbelief.

“Good,” he snapped.

A pause.

And then, quieter, sharper: “Mutual.”

She laughed.

Not a scoff, not a sneer. A laugh.

It burst from her, sharp and musical, and it knocked the cold out of the air for a second. It was unexpected, unguarded—like a bell ringing in a quiet cathedral. Genuine, melodic, light. It peeled from her like sunlight through fog. And Pietro, who’d spent a lifetime outrunning things—responsibility, feelings, his own name—froze in place.

Because it was the kind of sound a man might go into reverence for.

It undid something in him. Made the space between them feel impossibly close, impossibly far.

Pietro would’ve done anything she asked to hear it again.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. There was a soft twitch of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed at his sides, like they ached to hold something they knew they couldn’t.

It was unfair, honestly, how good it sounded. How alive it made her look, even draped in fatigue and denim too big. The smile that followed bloomed across her face, softening her features into something sweeter than he had any right to see after threatening to drag her back to his father like a prize.

The smile on her face was gentle now, real. Something that didn’t belong on a battlefield, didn’t belong in the ruined husk of a rail yard at midnight. It belonged in gardens. In sunlit kitchens. On slow Sunday mornings and soft cotton sheets. It made her look younger, somehow—like this war hadn’t touched her quite as deeply as he knew it had.

She rolled her eyes, but there was no sharpness in the gesture. Just… tired affection. Fondness. Soft-edged history. The kind that tasted of years they pretended didn’t matter.A thread of memory pulling through the decade. The old days, back when the fights were mostly verbal and the stakes were mostly pride.

Some things didn’t change. Not really.

She slipped a hand into her pocket then, the movement smooth, easy. Like instinct. Her fingers closed around the battered pack she hadn’t even dared touch for months now. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the company. Maybe she just wanted to reclaim a little vice for herself tonight.

The Camel menthols box were practically falling apart. The cardboard was soft with wear, corners dented and edges fraying like the last edge of self-control in a stressful week. But she popped the lid open and plucked a cigarette from the pack like it was routine.

Then her eyes flicked back to him, one brow arched high.

A silent offer.

Pietro’s eyebrows rose, a soft scoff escaping him. “You smoke?” he asked, arms crossing over his chest again, the leather of his jacket groaning softly under the strain. His too-snug shirt pulled tighter across his chest with the movement. It was entirely too obvious, and he was entirely too unaware of just what he was doing to her unconsciously. She ignored it expertly.

She shrugged, the cigarette dancing slightly between her fingers. “Not really,” she said. “Sometimes.”

Another scoff. But he reached out anyway.

She didn’t hide her surprise at that, though she disguised it behind a curl of her lip. He plucked a cigarette from the pack she held, slipping it between lips that were always slightly wind-chapped, with practiced ease. 

And for a moment, they just stared at each other, smoke-less, caught in the absurdity of it all.

She tucked the pack away again, reached into the same pocket and produced a cheap plastic lighter—one of those corner-store things, half-broken and temperamental. She flicked it once, twice, three times before the  flame danced alive in the dark. She gave him a look, one of those universal gestures that meant you’re too damn tall, get down here.

He snorted but obliged, bending at the waist, so their faces were close. Too close. With only the lighter’s flame flickering in the narrow space between them. It danced like a restless spirit, casting his face in shifting gold and shadow, tracing the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the curve of his mouth.

The flame caught his eyes like a hook in water, drawing out something ancient and quiet and furious. An impossible shade of blue, not sky, not sea, not anything she’d ever seen. Something colder, deeper—like the gleam of lightning before it strikes. 

There was anger in that gaze, a deep, smoldering kind—the kind that burned low and endless. Anger at the world. At how it had turned him hard when he might’ve been something else. 

He was painfully handsome. Unfairly so. Like a statue half-broken by time—still beautiful, but not untouched. Not innocent.

But it wasn’t like she wasn’t, either. Innocence wasn’t something she could claim anymore—hadn’t been for a long time. It had been taken, not lost. Ripped away in pieces, sharp and sudden, in the way only the world could do when it didn’t care how young you were.

They’d all been too young. Too soft, too full of things like hope and wonder and the foolish belief that the world might give back what it took.

And yet—here she stood. Still holding onto that hope like a lifeline, knuckles white around it. Because that was all she had. Cause it was all she could believe in to keep herself going. Because without it, everything unraveled—everything turned gray and senseless, and she needed something to tether her to the fight. Hope was the thread she stitched herself together with each morning. Fragile, foolish, maybe, but hers.

He didn’t seem to need something as delicate as hope. Anger was enough. There was no softness in the way he looked at the world—just that simmering fury and a drive so relentless it was almost frightening. 

She stepped forward, closing the last inches of space, the heat from her hand near his jaw, the flare of fire catching the end of his cigarette. He kept his eyes on hers, unmoving. That’s when he caught a whiff of her perfume—soft, powdery, clean and sweet. Something candied-floral tucked beneath warm skin and the faint scent of ozone that always clung to her after she used her powers.

It hit him harder than expected. It made him dizzy.

It was her. And it was comfort. And it was memory. And it was the scent of someone who made abandoned train yards feel like the edge of something beautiful.

Then she stepped back, putting space between them again as she lit her own cigarette with the same soft detachment, as though she hadn’t just handed him a memory he’d crave for the rest of his life. The flame briefly illuminates the gentle curve of her face, the shadows beneath her eyes, that seemed darker these days. She inhaled, slow and long, and exhaled just as steady, smoke curling from her lips like fog rolling through forgotten hills.

Her absence was immediate. Like being snapped out of a dream too soon. The distance felt wrong, like something sacred had been broken.

Pietro took a drag, the nicotine burning hot and sharp in his chest, and for a second, they were just two people in a forgotten train yard, caught somewhere between what they were and what they could’ve been.

He savored the moment. He wanted to memorize it. To stretch it out so it could last forever. The ease. The quiet affection of an enemy who still remembered what he used to look like when he was seventeen and angry at the world.

He supposed not much had changed. He was still angry at the world. Angry at all of it.

He took another drag, this time, without looking at her, letting the menthol numb his tongue and sting the back of his throat. His jaw worked as he exhaled slowly, letting the smoke unfurl into the cold night air, curling like ghosts between them.

She leaned against the train again, one leg bent, boot still planted on the metal behind her, cigarette now resting between her fingers like an old friend. Her eyes were on the stars.

“You ever think,” she said, voice quiet now, like the moment between them had shifted into something not quite safe to name, “that if we’d met under different circumstances... things might’ve been different?”

Pietro’s gaze drifted toward her.

The wind carried her curls across her cheek. The cherry of her cigarette glowed faintly red. Her lips were parted just slightly, flushed a deeper color from the cold. She looked something straight out of a painting. A masterpiece. 

He didn’t answer right away.

He didn’t want to lie.

So he didn’t.

“Yeah,” he said eventually, exhaling smoke from the corner of his mouth. “I think about that a lot.”

She turned to look at him then. Just once.

And in the silence that followed, they both said everything they couldn't say out loud.

The smoke curled from her lips, delicate and transient, vanishing into the cold night like the moment they were standing in—fragile, stolen, doomed. They stood in that half-silence, the kind that only exists when two people are trying not to admit there’s nothing left to say. The train yard stretched around them, rusted and quiet, a graveyard of motion and memory. A place suspended in time, where the past dragged its heels and refused to die.

For a breath—a single breath—it felt like peace.

But peace was never meant to linger.

Not for people like them.

The leaves rustled in a way that wasn’t wind. In the way that whispered company. Her spine straightened before she even processed why, cigarette frozen halfway to her lips. Years of training kicking in subconsciously like reflex. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows between the train cars. She heard them before she saw them—footsteps too coordinated to be casual. Too numerous.

Pietro noticed it too. She caught the flick of his eyes, the way his jaw locked tight. Not fear. Not surprise. Just cold understanding.

​​Then they stepped out of the shadow and into the moonlight. 

Three men. 

Monsters, some would say. Freaks. 

She knew them all.

The first wore a grin that stretched too wide over his sharp face, flame-red hair catching the dim light as if already half-ignited. His eyes sparked with glee, like he loved the idea of having an audience for whatever carnage he planned. As unstable as the fire he worshipped.

The second was all smooth swagger and subtle menace, red-on-black eyes glowing faintly under the brim of his hood. With those cards of his and a mouth that dripped charm like venom. She remembered him kissing her hand once, years ago, as a distraction to swipe something from her pocket.

And the last… 

The sight of him made her stomach turn.

His footsteps were heavy and slow and sure. A beast in human skin. A hunter stepping into the world. Taller than the other already tall men, Older. Broader. Wild blond hair tangled like a lion’s mane, falling around his face like a curtain. His eyes were yellow—sharp, detachteched, cold, predatory. She didn’t even need to see the claws to feel them at her throat.

She remembered that feeling all too well. It still haunts her nightmares sometimes.

Her fingers tensed around the cigarette. Her lips parted in a breath that didn’t come. Her heart plummeted.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t dare.

Her eyes moved to look at Pietro then, with a slow turn of the head, as if she could somehow will him into explaining this away.

But he didn’t.

He stood still, expression unreadable, back straight and spine rigid like a soldier at attention. His face was blank, so carefully composed it almost hurt to look at. He wasn’t surprised.

He’d known.

The realization hit her like a blow to the gut.

She’d been set up.

The look she gave him wasn’t betrayal. Not quite. No, it was something softer, something older. The weight of inevitability. The quiet ache of knowing they’d always end up here, drawing lines in the dirt only to find themselves standing on opposite sides again and again.

Her heart dropped through her chest, nonetheless. She didn’t need to say it. The betrayal wasn’t loud, wasn’t dramatic. It bloomed quietly in her eyes, like the first crack in a stained-glass window. Barely visible.

But once it started—it never stopped.

She looked at him like someone who had almost let herself believe in something, only to be reminded why she never could.

He would say it if she gave him the chance.

I don’t owe you anything.

And he’d be right.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t defend himself.

Didn’t say anything.

Because what could he say?

They always ended up here.

Different sides. Same battlefield. The same war they never asked for. Both fighting for mutantkind in their own way, but walking paths that would run parallel for all of existence, never crossing. Not when one was lit in fire and fury and the other was a tightrope balanced over a chasm of compromise and restraint.

Maybe it was fate.

Or maybe it was another cruel trick of the universe. 

Or maybe it was just survival.

She took a final drag of her cigarette, the burn of menthol sharp and grounding. She exhaled smoke slowly, deliberately, as the three men came into clear proximity. They didn’t run. They didn’t need to. The way Pyro’s grin widened, the way Gambit rested his hands in his pockets lazily, the way Sabertooth sniffed the air like he was already tasting the hunt—it was clear.

Magneto had sent his Acolytes.

They were here to collect her.

And it was clear they didn’t think they’d have to try very hard.

"You never were very subtle, mate," Pyro called out, an Australian accent thick, “Bit dramatic for a snatch-and-grab, don’tcha think? Having a smoke under the moonlight?”

Her eyes turn back to Quicksilver’s face. "How long?"

His jaw clenched. Just a flicker.

"Since the start."

She nodded once. Not big. Not dramatic. Just an acknowledgment of something already known in her bones.

"Well, well, well," Pyro purred, voice coated in gasoline. As the three had made their way over to them. “Didn’t think we’d find you out here alone, Nightingale. Guess the songbird strayed too far from the nest, eh?”

(Y/n) didn’t answer. unblinking, unreadable.

Sabertooth chuckled low, like gravel sliding down a mountain. It was a sound that was familiar in all of the worst ways. “This her, Maximoff?”

Pietro’s voice came steady. Empty. “Yeah.”

That was all he said.

Not a warning. Not a protest. Just confirmation.

Her blood ran colder.

“You’re not walking away tonight, chère,” Gambit said smoothly,  his voice sliding around her like smoke, Cajun accent as heavy as she remembered. “We’ve got business. You, me, and the boss.”

She straightened, finally, letting the cigarette fall from her fingers to the dirt below. She ground it out beneath the heel of her boot, slow and silent. When she lifted her head, there was no fear in her expression. Only resolve. Contained. Contoured.

Like a fuse lit but not yet burning.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said, voice steadier than she felt. 

“Come on, now,” Pyro crooned. “Don’t be like that, love. Magneto’s got plans. Big ones. And you’re on the guest list, baby bird.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He just flashed his teeth at her with a knowing wink that went completely unacknowledged. 

The weight of the situation came pressing on her chest. Hot and heavy, and cold and unfeeling all at once. She looked around uselessly already knowing there wasn’t an out for her. She wouldn't be able to escape or flee. Not with Quicksilver and not with Sabretooth. And fighting seemed laughable. She was outnumbered, outclassed and outranked. She couldn't take on one of the assholes, much less all four.  It was a losing situation for her no matter the hand dealt.

She sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that night. 

Besides, she didn’t want to fight.

Not tonight. Not now.

The adrenaline was starting to mix too heavily with the nicotine in her blood, and she knew if she let her panic take the wheel, she’d regret what followed. So she reached back into her jacket instead—hands steady, slow, deliberate—and pulled out the battered pack of Camels. Her fingers dipped inside and came out with one last cigarette, slightly bent, a little weathered, but still perfectly smokable.

“Quite the party,” she murmured, voice soft but steady, refusing to look away from the approaching threat. “Didn’t realize I was so popular.”

It perched delicately between her lips, the curve of her mouth pulling around it like it belonged there.

A girl playing dress-up in her father’s jacket. A delicate, pretty thing made of soft curves and sharper edges. The cigarette looked out of place in her hand. On her mouth. She didn’t look like a smoker. But the ease with which she moved—the practiced, habitual precision of it—betrayed the truth. 

It looked out of place until it didn’t. Not when it had clearly lived a few lives with her already.

Because nothing about her was simple.

She let her eyes drag lazily over the men in front of her, as though they weren’t here to drag her  to some gilded prison of Magneto’s making. As though they were just three guys she might see in a dive bar or waiting outside a concert venue.

They were dressed like civilians, the same way Pietro was. Their attempt at blending in, at pretending this was anything less than an ambush. Gambit, of course, wore that damn trench coat—dramatic as ever, even without the armor or gear. Pyro looked like he’d stepped out of an indie band lineup, something almost artistic in the haphazard way his clothes clung to him, flannels and baggy jeans and some obscure band’s t-shirt she couldn’t tell you the first thing about .

And Sabertooth?

Sabertooth looked like a monster in borrowed clothes.

Nothing on earth could domesticate that man.

She studied them with the same gaze one might give a gallery painting from across the room. An art critic trying to decide if they were charmed or offended.

Gambit caught her eye first.

He’d changed. Gambit looked older now—matured. The boy she remembered was long gone, replaced by a man who hadn’t lost a drop of that swamp-born charm.  Heavily shadowed stubble now lined the sharp angles of his face, making him look older, rougher, better, honestly. His charm had deepened—ripened with time like some expensive wine. The smirk on his face was criminal, lethal, and she knew if the smile didn’t get a woman, the voice would. Honey-dipped and sin-slick, he’d always known how to draw hearts like blood from a wound. The kind of thing that would make a girl trip over herself and thank him for it.

But his eyes—those unforgettable eyes were the same as she remembered them. Oddly beautiful; red irises and black sclera like spilled ink and blood. They seemed amused. Like he could hear every thought in her head. Roguish charm was an understatement. 

He caught her looking.

Of course he did.

He offered her a lazy grin, slow and smooth, like molasses poured from a silver spoon. “Ma chérie,” he said with a wink that probably made hearts flutter from miles away. “If you keep lookin’ at me like that, I might start thinkin’ you missed me.”

She didn’t dignify that with a response, just raised one unimpressed brow and moved on.

Pyro—he hadn’t changed as much. His frame had filled out some, arms defined beneath the thin long-sleeved tee he wore under an open flannel. Shoulders broader than she remembers, and he might’ve been an inch or two taller than he used to be. His vibrant hair had grown a little longer, hanging in his face, which was sharper now, in artful chaos. Tonight, he’d swapped his flamethrowers for something subtler. He stood with one hand in his pocket and the other fidgeting with a matchbook—flicking it open and closed, the snap-snap-snap a rhythmic tic she remembered from years ago. There was still that unhinged brightness behind his eyes. That barely-contained chaos that looked like a spark always about to ignite.

Her eyes lingered on him a little longer.

Old crushes were a strange thing.

She remembered liking him once. Maybe it was the accent. Or the danger. Or that brand of reckless energy. Or maybe just the way his eyes used to light up when he talked about fire like it was a living thing. Like he was in love with it. That kind of devotion was rare. It was foolish, in retrospect. But she had been seventeen, and he had laughed at her jokes. Sometimes that was all it took. 

And then there was Sabertooth.

She swallowed.

He hadn’t aged a damn day.

He still looked older than any of them but was aging like some slow-turning curse. Healing factor made him almost eternal.

Out of everyone, he had changed the least. He was still enormous. Still terrifying. Still too quiet and too aware for someone so feral. Still exuding the kind of hunger that wasn’t about food or sex, but something deeper, more primal—an instinct to devour whatever he couldn’t control. His golden eyes didn’t blink as he watched her. They never had. He was the same the day she met him, and he’d be the same long after she was dead. Time didn’t touch men like him and Logan. Not the way it did everyone else. 

She looked at him, and in the quiet between her thoughts, wondered—not for the first time—how long he and Logan had been circling each other, roaming the earth. How many times had they torn chunks from each other’s flesh, only to heal and meet again? 

And how many more times were left? It seemed they’d be here till the end of the universe itself.

Star-crossed lovers, Shakespeare had written.

She supposed Logan and Creed were something else entirely.

Star-crossed enemies.

The term didn’t exist, but maybe it should’ve.

Destined to destroy, and somehow, destined not to die.

Her voice broke the stillness like glass underfoot. She turns her attention back to Pyro, her head cocked to the side, a dry smile on her lips. 

“Got a light?”she asked, utterly casually. As if she wasn’t surrounded. As if they weren’t here to kidnap her. She thought she was funny. She brought the cigarette up in front of her and waved it nonchalantly, as though that explained everything. 

Pyro blinked.

A heartbeat passed.

Then a shit-eating grin spread on his face, like a fire catching wind. God help her, he looked like the type who’d light a match just to watch it burn down to his fingers and laugh about the scars.

Oh, he liked that. Not just the question, but the whole performance. The cigarette dangling from her lips like punctuation. The way her curls framed her face in disheveled poetry. The tilt of her head like she was unbothered, like this was just another Tuesday and not a setup spiraling into something dark.

Gambit let out a low whistle under his breath. “Mon dieu chérie… bold of you.”

“Oh, Darlin’,” Pyro drawled, pulling his lighter from the inside of his coat like it was a holy relic, flicking the silver Zippo open with a practiced snap. A distinct cling sound filling the hollow air. A tiny flame danced to life, flickering gold in the shadows. “You know I always have a light.”

He took a step forward, hand outstretched. Even though he didn’t need to. They both knew that. He could’ve lit her up from ten feet away with a thought and a twitch of his fingers.

She raises a brow at him in question, and he just flashes her a brilliant smile. 

“Don’t mind sharin’. Any excuse to get close to you, songbird.”

(Y/n) didn’t flinch. She didn’t laugh either. But her lips twitched, like she was amused. Maybe she was. In a twisted sort of way.

Pietro let out a slow breath through his nose, muttering something under it that sounded suspiciously like you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

She stepped forward as well with casual ease, cigarette held delicately between her lips. She didn’t rush. The men around her, the fear clawing up her ribs, the betrayal still scalding behind her breastbone—all of it could wait.

“Let me guess. You want me to say something cheesy. ‘Light your fire, birdie?’”

“I’d actually prefer it if you’d shut up, but I never get what I want.”

“Aw don’t be like that, love.”

Pietro’s voice cut in then. Cold and sharp.

“She has her own lighter.”

(Y/n) didn’t even look at him. “It’s out of fluid.”

That was a lie. Her plastic Bic was full. She just didn’t feel like using it.

She could practically hear him grit his teeth from somewhere behind her. She didn’t really care.

She leaned in, letting the thin cylinder of her cigarette rest against the edge of Pyro’s flame. It caught with a soft flick and a brief flare, the scent of menthol curling up in the air between them. For a second—just a second—they stood close enough that she could see the ash flecks in his eyes, the faint scar near his temple she didn’t remember from before, the way his grin faltered as if surprised by the calm in her gaze. Like maybe she wasn’t scared of him. Like maybe she never had been.

She stepped back once her cigarette was lit, giving a little flick of her fingers in a mock salute.  Smoke twisted in lazy ribbons around her face. 

“Thanks, Johnny. Glad to see you’re good for something still” Her voice was breezy, offhanded, cut from the same cloth as the smoke curling from her lips—soft and biting at once.

He chuckled low, licking the inside of his cheek. “You know how much I like watching things burn. I take any chance I can get to light one up for pretty girls. 

A beat.

“Especially the mean ones”

She rolled her eyes, but the sharp edge of her mouth softened just a touch, betraying the ghost of reluctant amusement.

Behind her, somewhere closer to the rusted freight train, Quicksilver grunted.

Not loud. But sharp. Meant to be heard.

(Y/n) didn’t turn.

Pietro hadn’t moved since the moment the others arrived, but the tension had twisted his spine into something steel-cable tight. He looked like he wanted to punch something—preferably Allerdyce’s stupid face.

And Pyro, the bastard, caught his eye over her shoulder.

Met his stare.

And gave him a slow, lazy grin, mouth quirked like a match head begging for a strike. His expression said What? Jealous? as clearly as if he’d spoken it aloud. 

Go on, do something

Pietro’s finger’s twitch, every bit of self restraint he had going into not choking the redhead right here, right now.

He could. God, he could do it before anyone blinked. Pyro wouldn’t even see it coming.

But he didn’t.

“Mm. Therapy might help with that.” Nightingale replies, unaware of the silent threats the two men shared in a split second.

 The flame snapped closed with a flick, and Pyro watched her with something unreadable in his gaze as she took a drag. Something one could mistake as veneration.

Not lust. Not infatuation. Something deeper.

The kind of quiet awe a boy might carry for the storm that ruined his hometown—beautiful, destructive, unforgettable.

Behind her, the moon hung low, swollen and bruised against the indigo sky like it had seen too much and said too little. A witness draped in borrowed light. She turned her head and exhaled smoke up toward the stars. Ironic, how peaceful it looked. How quiet. Like the world wasn't holding its breath around them.

Like nothing was about to break.

“You’ve changed,” he said eventually, almost admiring.

She exhaled again, eyes on him like steel under velvet. “So have you. Still an asshole, though.”

His lips pulled into a smirk. Crooked. Honest. “Fair.”

A low growl cut through the air then like a scalpel through skin—feral, throaty, primal. The kind of sound that made your bones remember what fear was even if your brain insisted you were fine.

“You’re stalling,” Sabretooth rumbled. His voice was gravel soaked in blood, low and sharp, the warning in it unmistakable.

(Y/n)’s head snapped toward him on instinct, her pulse hitching despite her best efforts. For just a flicker—just a breath—panic danced behind her eyes, a sliver of raw instinct. The kind that came when someone called your bluff before you could salvage the illusion. Her expression didn’t falter long, but it was enough to make the corners of Sabretooth’s mouth twitch.

She covered it with a lazy draw from her cigarette, but the damage was done.

“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe I just wanted a smoke before your people started throwing punches.”

“You always this mouthy before a beating?” Sabretooth asked. He was watching her the way a lion watches a cornered gazelle—curious, patient. Hungry. A confidence that comes with knowing you’ve already won.

Something in his gaze said: Run. It’ll be more fun for me.

(Y/n) inhaled, and let the smoke sit in her lungs for a heartbeat. Then exhaled slowly through her nose, eyes trained on the older mutant like he didn’t terrify her down to the marrow.

So she opened her mouth and said something she knew was beyond stupid. 

“You always this eager to play attack dog for someone who keeps you on a leash? Or is this your way of proving you still got it after that thrashing Logan gave you?”

The silence that followed was deep and sharp, like the breath before a scream. 

Sabretooth’s snarl was instant—teeth bared, hackles raised, the line between man and beast erased in one second.

He lunged a half-step forward, claws twitching into view—

And Pietro moved.

In a blink, he was between them, arm outstretched, fingers splayed—not touching her, but blocking the space between her and the coming storm. His voice came low

“Enough.”

“You got a real goddamn mouth on you, girl,” he hissed. “Let’s see if you still got any jokes when I tear out your fucking throat—”

“Whoa, whoa—easy, mon frère,” Gambit cut in, stepping slightly in front of him, one hand raised.“Ain’t no need for that just yet. She's just talkin’, homme,” Gambit said lazily, though his tone was a notch more serious than before. “You know how birds get when they’re backed in a cage. She don’ mean nothin’ by it.”

(Y/n) turned her gaze sharply to Gambit. “Don’t speak for me.”

The look Gambit gave her was pleading—bordering on annoyed. Like a man trying to keep a bar fight from turning into a body count.

Quicksilver turned toward her at that, eyes burning. His jaw clenched hard enough to tremble at the edges.

“Stop talking,” he bit out. “Just—stop. You’re not helping yourself.”

His face was unreadable, but his eyes flickered—furious.

And beneath it all—he looked scared.

For her?

She nearly scoffed. Yeah, right. 

He’s the one who got her into this fucking mess.

From off to the side, Pyro chuckled lowly, breaking the tension just enough to turn all eyes.

“Bloody hell, love. Ain’t you just a little spitfire.” His voice was darkly amused, tinged with something she couldn’t quite place. “Careful now, Creed,” he added, eyes flicking toward Sabretooth. “Looks like the little birdie’s got claws too.”

Sabretooth growled again, a low, guttural threat vibrating up from his chest. But Pyro wasn’t finished.

“She’s not wrong though,” he mused, head cocked, genuinely entertained. “Wolverine did mop the floor with you last time. What was it—three minutes? Two?” He grinned, wicked. “Not that anyone’s counting.”

Sabretooth snarled—really snarled this time, shoulders bunching, claws arching forward like he meant to carve someone in half right then and there—

“Say that again, you little—!”

“Don’t,” Pietro snapped, venom sharp and sudden, his voice cracking like thunder across dry air. “We’re not doing this now.”

Gambit threw up a hand in warning, cool and casual but firm.

“Let it go, Victor.”

(Y/n) glanced at him, a ghost of a smirk tugging the corner of her mouth despite the pulse thudding behind her ribs.

“Thanks for the assist,” she murmured.

Pyro winked. “Anytime, birdie.”

Quicksilver made a strangled sound like he might actually implode. “Somebody shut him up” he hisses. 

Gambit’s eyes slid to (Y/n) again, sharp and steady now. The flirtation had bled out of his expression, replaced by a sort of grim calm.

“You come now, chérie. Quiet-like. We walk, we talk. No one gets hurt.”

“And if I don’t?”

No one answered.

They didn’t have to.

Sabretooth’s claws flexed in the still air with a slow, deliberate snikt.

And the night held its breath once again.

A pin drop could’ve echoed like a gunshot in the stillness that followed.

It was that quiet.

like the world itself had gone silent, teetering on the knife’s edge of violence. (Y/n)’s heart thundered in her chest, a frantic drumbeat behind her ribs. Fear had its hands on her—tight around her lungs, threading through her limbs, trembling just beneath the surface. It was there in the way her shoulders stiffened, in the twitch of her fingers at her sides, in the shallowness of each breath that left her.

She knew it.

They knew it.

She would have gotten mauled in five seconds flat had Quicksilver and Gambit not stepped in.

And still, she was stubborn.

Stupid, reckless, gut-deep stubborn. The kind that burns out stars before it ever yields.

She moved before she thought.

Shoved Quicksilver back with both hands—palms pressed to the cold leather over his chest. The contact was brief, but unexpected, and he stumbled—not from force, but from shock. His silver brows lifted a fraction, mouth parting in disbelief.

“Get away from me!,” Her voice cracked like glass, and still she stood her ground “All of you.”

Son of a bitch. The whole damn lot of them. 

She smashed the cigarette under her boot’s heel, twisting her toe into the gravel until the last ember died with deliberate finality, grinding it into the rocks like it was something she could control.

Then she straightened slowly, lifting her chin like a blade drawn from a sheath. Her voice rang out like something final—low and serious.

“I thought I made myself perfectly clear. Tell Magneto he can rot in whatever hole he crawled out of.” 

Her gaze swept over them, unflinching now despite the way her pulse screamed behind her ears.

“And if you're all so eager to follow him to hell.” her eyes landed on each of them, one by one. “be my guest, but I'm not gonna roll over so easily.”

There it was.

The line.

For one raw moment, no one breathed.

Then—

“Oh, come on,” Pietro snapped, throwing his hands up. “Are you trying to die tonight?”

Gambit winced and muttered something in French under his breath, something that sounded a lot like a prayer—or a curse.

“Merde,” he muttered under his breath. “Girl really don’ know when to shut up.”

Pyro’s expression was hard to read now. The flame in his grin had gone out, replaced by something pensive, almost cold.  There was a flicker of something in his eyes—not admiration, but maybe... regret. Maybe just the echo of it.

“You’re makin’ this harder than it needs to be, love,” he said, and for once, his voice wasn’t teasing. No lilt, no smirk hiding behind his words. Just truth. And something that could have almost been pity.

And Sabretooth?

Sabretooth laughed.

A low, guttural sound that crawled up his throat and slithered across the night air.

“Well, that settles it,” he growled, flexing his claws with audible delight. “We do this the fun way.”

 A wind stirred through the train yard then, sharp and cold as an icicle pick in winter. It slid past (Y/n)’s cheeks like a warning. 

The sound of Sabretooth’s laughter rooted her in place, that deep, lupine rumble clinging to the insides of her ears like cobwebs. He stepped forward again, slow and heavy—each movement a flex of coiled muscle and malevolent intent. The moonlight caught on his claws as they extended fully, glinting silver like the teeth of some ancient trap.

He stepped again—deliberate, savoring the moment, the way monsters do when they’re certain the end has already been written. His bulk loomed larger with each stride, shoulders rolling like tectonic plates, hands relaxed but twitching with promise.

And still—she didn’t move.

Didn’t dare to.

Every instinct screamed at her to run. But where would she go? There were four of them. Trained. Ruthless. Men who had bathed in battle since their bones were half-grown. She’d be tackled in seconds, ripped apart before she could so much as scream.

Still, she couldn’t stop her legs from tensing, couldn’t stop her fingers from curling, couldn’t stop her power from flaring just a little too bright behind her ribs.

She took one breath. Another. And then—

The air around her began to shimmer.

Faint, at first— like a flickering lightbulb.. Then stronger. A ripple of something soft and silver-blue, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks, the stars above catching in her eyes like pin-lights reflected in water.

Pietro saw it first.

“No—no, don’t,” he snapped, his voice slicing the air like a whip as he turned to her. His hand lifted, palm open, like he might physically push the power back into her chest. “(Y/n) stop!. Don’t make this worse—”

Sabretooth lunged.

Fast.

Too fast for anything but panic.

But Pietro was faster.

In a blur of black and silver and wind, he caught Sabertooth mid-leap—shoulder crashing into the older mutant’s side with the full force of a sonic boom. The impact sent both of them tumbling across the gravel in a burst of motion and fury, a cloud of dust exploding where they fell.

“Get her!” Pietro shouted mid-scuffle, his voice a gruff and a whip-crack of command as he fought to keep Sabretooth’s claws from his throat.

But (Y/n) was already turning—already moving—legs pushing off the earth like a raven. Her power bloomed behind her eyes now, lighting her skin in soft purple pulses. She moved with desperation, hands splayed, eyes scanning for the narrowest exit between rusted freight cars and stacked debris, and wooden carts.

And then Gambit stepped into her path.

He didn’t raise a hand. Had no cards visible. Didn’t reach for the bo staff strapped to his back. He just looked at her, red eyes almost glowing under the yellow streetlight

“Don’ do this, chère.”

She didn’t stop.

Didn’t even hesitate.

She ducked low and lunged past him—

—only to feel his arm loop around her waist mid-sprint, catching her momentum and spinning her hard into the wall of a derailed car. He was holding back, just wanting to use enough force to stop her. But it still hurt like a motherfucker.

She gasped, the air knocked clean out of her chest, her shoulder slamming into rusted metal with a sick clang.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” he said softly, arm tightening around her middle like a steel band. “Please.”

‘Too fucking late for that.’ She thinks bitterly in her head as her body continued to thrash, desperate and fierce.

A burst of shimmering energy flickered from her palms, reading herself to break free from his grip—only for Gambit to seize her wrists in his gloved hands and pin them to the wall beside her head.

‘Son of a bitch.’

“Enough, Nightingale,” Pietro barked from across the yard, his voice ragged with effort. Sabretooth had him pinned now, but not for long—the black blur of his limbs still jerking, struggling under the larger man’s weight. “Goddammit, get off Creed—”

“Let go of me,” she hissed, still writhing, her voice gone hoarse from panic and fury as she fought tooth and nail to break Gambit’s hold. 

“LeBeau, I will kill you, I swear to god-!”

He pulls her restrained wrists away from the wall of the car, the movement forceful enough to peel her entire back from the surface just for him to slam it back in with a force that makes a grunt leave her lips, and she bites her lip to restrain the whimper that want to follow. 

“Chère you need to calm the hell down-”

“Fuck you-!”

That’s  when she sees him from her peripheral vision. Pyro approached slowly now, arms outstretched—not threatening, not mocking, almost placating, like trying to sooth a frightened animal. His brows were drawn tight, mouth a grim line.

“You’re not gonna win this fight, love,” he said, gently now. “Not here. Not tonight.”

Her lips parted, breath catching on a sob she didn’t let out. Her wrists ached in Gambit’s grip. Her heart ached worse.

Pietro finally shoved Sabretooth off with a surge of speed and landed, panting, one arm cradling his ribs.

“Let her go,” he said, voice gravel-rough. “I’ve got her.”

Gambit hesitated.

Then slowly, he stepped back.

(Y/n) staggered forward—but not far. Pietro caught her by the elbow, not unkindly, just firm. Like a leash. Like gravity. An unstoppable force. 

She didn’t look at him.

Didn’t look at any of them.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the tracks ahead—long, endless steel rails stretching toward darkness.

And the night felt colder than before.

She felt a ringing in her ear.

Sharp, high, incessant.

She didn’t know if it was from the panic attack crawling up her throat like a hand around her windpipe, or if it was from Gambit bashing her damn head—twice—into cold, unyielding steel. Probably both. Either way, it wouldn't stop.

There was an unabating throbbing at the back of her head as well. One she was desperately trying to ignore. 

Her knees threatened to give out, breath rattling, but she didn’t fall. Wouldn’t give them that.

She hated this.

Hated the stifling heat of her own skin, hated the pounding of her blood in her ears, hated the hands that had touched her, gripped her, held her down.

She hated the freight yard, the scent of rust and ash, the cold press of gravel under her boots. She hated them—every last one of them. Why couldn’t they have just left her alone? 

She hated the way Pietro’s hand still gripped her elbow like he was the only thing keeping her from shattering.

But most of all—

She hated herself.

For letting it happen. For not being faster. For not being stronger.

She was supposed to be better than this. She had promised herself she would never be this helpless again.

She was an X-Man, dammit.

And yet—here she was.

Surrounded. Dragged from the only sense of control she’d managed to carve out for herself in this brutal, unforgiving world. Caged like a bird with clipped wings and too much pride.

(Y/n) sucked in a breath that caught in her chest like broken glass, blinking against the pressure behind her eyes.

She was not going to cry. She doesn’t think she’d be able to survive the humiliation that would come with her breaking down into tears right now. 

“Get off,” she muttered. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was steady—knife-steady. “Don’t touch me.”

Pietro didn’t move for a beat too long.

Then—slowly—he released her.

She stepped away from him like his touch burned. Like she could scrub it from her skin if she just moved fast enough.

Pyro watched her with a strange stillness now, all the fire in him dimmed to embers.

Gambit’s mouth was tight, eyes unreadable beneath the glint of shadowed red.

And Sabretooth… Sabretooth looked pleased.

Pietro’s voice came again, quiet, but with a thread of command under the weariness.

“We're leaving.”

(Y/n) didn’t answer.

Just stood there, staring at the ground. Her jaw clenched so hard it ached.

“You can walk,” Pietro said, voice a bit softer, “or someone’s going to carry you. But we’re going.”

Her fingers curled at her sides.

And after a long breath, she moved.

[gold-rhine]

as i said im gonna do another post about exploration and worldbuing of the new natlan area. and lets start with how fucking barren this area is. i don't puzzles, but like content. compare to any other "divided" area - chasm, remuria, enka. all of them have side quests in addition to main quests, all of them have secondary narratives, npcs at the very least. in this natlan area all we have is 1 (ONE) eugenicist dragon possessing different roombas, its all about the main quest which is garbage (see my post about plot)

this directly affects worldbuilding. this area is supposed to be sacred city of dragon civilization at its peak and what we get from it? nothing! well, we get transcripts of work meeting of like 10 dragon bureaucrats. and most of their interactions is telling each to shut up about problems bc if they were stronger, they would not have these problems. and like you know what, im not even gonna complain about quality of that, pyro dragons were a group chat of toxic dark souls fans telling each other to git gud, SURE. the problem is not even WHAt they are talking about, but that this one group chat is the ONLY content we have. where all other dragons?? did this city only had like 10 bureaucrats calling themselves Lords and no one else??

compare and contrast to enkanomiya. It had a main plot line, but in addition, it had a side plot about sun children, the kid rulers, manipulated by adults, their personalities, their tragedies. i think this could be equated content-wise to dragon chat logs, there about as many sun children about whom we also learn only from the walls of text from random exploration description. BUT. first, sun children get an actual side quest. second, there are a lot more people we meet and read about in enka. There are many side quests that have nothing to do with main story, there are politics with inazuma, hidden celestia lore, khaenriah envoys trying to steal that lore, rebellions, inventors, priests, drug dealers, etc. Enkanomiya feels like real place because it has many characters and complex interactions between all these characters and factions, whether if we meet them as shades or just read about them. meanwhile, the dragon civilization had like. 10 dragons in zoom meetings and one pyro sovereign and thats it. the worldbuilding is literally non existent.

oh, another moment that got me was. sigh. from the start of natlan i was saying that saurians are obviously much less intelligent that normal vishaps. and ppl were writing 3 pages of text arguing with me. now we have canon confirmation that they ARE muchy less intelligent. but their explanation for that is one sentence ffrom dragon eugenicist that celestia dropped nails on natlan, which made the land more dangerous, so dragons de-evolved to survive. like???? since when losing intelligence makes it easier to survive in dangerous places????? this is such a blatantly lazy excuse and it frankly discourages me from even thinking about larger genshin lore bc if they can just wave off entire nation of dragons losing intelligence in one stupid sentence, then whats the point to take anything seriously.

[honeytama]

Make Your Move - Chapter 2

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Matt Dierkes

Fic Masterlist

A/N: If you left a comment on Ch. 1, I love you so much <3 If you’d like to join the tag list, lmk!

Fic Summary: Having known Matt for a year already, he knows your talents and hires you as his assistant for Bad Omens' upcoming tour. You’ve had a crush on Matt, your friend, and now boss. However, his good friend and your celebrity crush, Noah, takes a liking to you the second you step through the door. What happens when your feelings develop? What happens when they find out? You only hope your heart doesn’t break trying to care for two others.

Content and Warnings for Ch. 2: Fluff, some smut 18+, stress/anxiety, alcohol, masturbation, praise kink, close proximity

Word Count: 3.4k

Tag List: @flowery-mess @abiomens @exitwoundsx @lma1986 @thatchickwiththecamera @narcissisticbehavior81 @xxkittenkissesxx @rain-down-on-me @doomhands-jr @justdamnpeachy (For tags that aren't working, I’ll try to put you in my replies)

The bus traveled for a day before it ended up at the tour’s first venue at dawn. The first bus sleep went smoother than expected as the morning wore you out.

You spent the extra travel time getting more familiar with the boys; chatting with them on the leather couches about their favorite music, hobbies, and their favorite foods. This was important as you were in charge of doing food runs and taking orders for dinners every show night.

The times you weren’t laughing it up with them or hanging out with Matt. You sat by the bus windows to focus on your many hobbies: crocheting, drawing, reading books, listening to music, and making playlists. It was surreal to watch the world whizz by as you sat alone in peace.

Although, you couldn’t help but feel an ache in your stomach thinking about your first show as assistant tour manager.

Matt was your friend, but now that you worked for him you felt as if you couldn’t talk to him about your anxiety about the first show.

For now, you brush those thoughts off your shoulders as you step off the bus into the alley behind the venue.

—

Nevertheless, the next sixteen hours gave you a headache. The guys helped you and the crew unload the trailers and help set up the stage for sound check by noon.

Matt set up the sound booth on his own in front of house, while you helped instruct the crew on how to set up the show production: confetti cannons, pyro, lighting, and video walls.

The guys did their sound check as you ran out to grab a small dinner for everyone. It was the easiest part of the day because they decided they wanted nuggets and fries.

By 6 pm, fans were entering the venue and patiently waiting for the opening band to perform.

Before and throughout the opener’s set, you were consistently running errands and making sure everything was set up perfectly for all the guys. However, every time you would try to catch Matt to ask him for help, he’d brush you off and say, “I know you’ve got this on your own. Don’t sweat it.”

Every. Time.

You loved him, but boy, was he going to hear it from you tonight.

How could he do this? The first night, even? You thought, angrily.

Luckily, the opener’s set went without a hitch and you felt somewhat proud.

Yet, the most unfortunate part of the night is the beginning of Bad Omens’ set. Being a fan for years, you had waited so long to watch them live, and you thought tonight would be even more special knowing how you affected their production. But, by the time the boys began Artificial Suicide, you feel a pain in your temple and a blanket of exhaustion drape over your body.

Side stage, you frown and make your way to the Bad Omens green room. You allow your body to rest and collapse onto the brown leather couch. The urge to allow your tears to fall and scream into the pillow is severe, but you hold it back.

I’ll get to see them tomorrow, you repeatedly think like a mantra as you close your eyes and fall asleep.

—

“Y/N?” Your name sounds like a whisper in your dream.

“Y/N, wake up, it’s time to go,” Noah says softly.

Your eyes slowly open. He stands beside the couch and your lying body with a folded towel and clothes in his hands. His hair is wet with sweat and his chest glistening in his black tank.

“Oh, my God. Noah,” you frown, “I’m so sorry.” You sit up and rub your eyes.

“What for?” he asks, concerned.

“I missed your set! It’s the first show and I missed it,” you cry out with your hands covering your face.

“It’s okay, Y/N. It’s okay. You’ll get to see us tomorrow,” Noah says soothingly.

“I would’ve taken a nap too, Y/N, today felt so long,” Jolly says from behind him.

“See? No worries. Did you get some good rest at least?” Noah asks genuinely.

“Yeah, I think I feel better,” you stand up and stretch your back.

“Well, that’s good,” he smiles, “because we’re going to have a little post-first show celebration if you’re interested?”

Your heart flutters at his invitation. “That sounds nice. I’m down.”

“It won’t be much, but we want to wind down before going to bed,” he explains. “We’re all going to go get showered and meet you on the bus in fifteen, sounds good?”

“Yeah, I might as well change into my pajamas while you guys are cleaning up,” you suggest.

Noah nods and you follow them out of the room to walk towards the back door of the venue. It’s dark out now and you can see some fans still trickling out of the venue as you walk to the bus.

Once inside, you run into Matt getting undressed to his underwear. You knew he never liked sleeping with clothes on, but the sight still made your thighs clench.

“Matt, can we talk?” You ask cautiously.

“Hey, sleepy,” Matt teases. “Could we in the morning? I’m drained,” he climbs into his bunk.

“Sure,” you yield. “Goodnight, Matt.”

“Night night,” he says, closing the curtain.

Tonight felt like such a bummer, but you wouldn't let it keep you down. In the small pile of clothes in your bunk, you choose a cute pair of pajamas to wear for the impromptu “celebration”. There are cute, sexy clothes even, that you brought just in case, but Noah didn't seem to care that you wanted to feel more comfortable this evening. You felt confident there would be at least one night on tour that you could whip out the mini skirt, but tonight isn't it.

Once dressed, you waited at the dining table at the front of the bus to scroll through your phone. Your leg bounced up and down as you considered opening Twitter to read the responses from fans for tonight’s show. Nonetheless, you thought it best to wait until the morning after talking with Matt.

“Who’s ready to drink?” Folio sings as the bus door is pulled open.

You laugh as he realizes only you and a sleeping Dierkes are aboard.

“They’re still showering?” He asks you, whining.

“I’m down to do a shot with you,” you suggest. “I need it after today.”

“I’m not a big fan of shots, but let’s do it,” he shrugs.

Folio walks over to the cabinet above the sink and grabs the bottle of Tito’s. The fridge below him is opened afterward and he pulls out a can of Sprite and a beer.

“So, how are we celebrating tonight?” You ask as he gets comfortable in the seat across from you.

“Literally just chatting and drinks,” he shrugs, smiling. “We’re pretty lame. None of us are really party guys, but I like to get down from time to time,” he pops open the bottle of Tito’s and pours shots into plastic cups for you and himself. He cracks open a can of Sprite, too. “You wanna share?”

“Sure,” you giggle. You take your cup in hand as you hear the latch of the door click open.

Jolly and Nick enter with their hair wrapped up in towels and Noah has his towel draped over his shoulder.

“Folio,” you say, raising your cup to his eye level, “Arriba.”

“Arriba?” he repeats, holding up his cup.

“Abajo,” you bring the cup to the table with a soft thud.

“Abajo,” he follows suit.

“Al centro,” you say, putting the cup in the middle of the table to encourage him to cheers you.

“Al centro,” he cheers you with a toothy smile.

“Pa' dentro!” You throw your cup back and gulp down the vodka with your eyes shut tight. Before Folio realizes, you grab the can of Sprite to chase down the bitter taste in your mouth.

“Pa' dentro!” He downs his shot and smacks the table with his fist. “Hey, give me that shit!” Folio sputters reaching for the can.

You throw your head back and laugh as Folio gulps down half the can of Sprite before you.

“You two having fun?” Jolly smiles while taking his hair down from the towel.

“So much fun,” Folio coughs. “You want one?” He raises the Tito’s bottle to Jolly.

“I’ll stick with the beer,” Jolly replies before heading toward the bus restroom.

“Same,” Nick adds and takes a seat across from Folio on the opposite wall of the bus on the long, black couch.

Noah, who’s now wearing Bad Omens joggers and an oversized white t-shirt, takes a seat next to Nick.

“Are those your pajamas, Noah? Those pants look so comfy,” you gush.

“Actually,” he laughs, “I usually just sleep in my underwear.” His cheeks turn the familiar shade of pink you witnessed just days before. “But for this tour, I thought I should cover up to show some respect to you as our guest,” he smiles.

“Oh! I don’t mind—,” you start, but you cut off when you see Folio and Nick’s lips turn up into shit-eating grins. “I mean,” you begin again, “Matt always sleeps naked when he sleeps over at my place, so I know, you know…” You wave your hands around the front of your shorts.

“She wants you to take your pants off, Noah,” Nick says, bluntly.

“Nick,” Noah and you groan before making eye contact, luckily you both can laugh it off.

Folio passes out beer to Nick, and to Jolly when he returns. You spend the next hour talking and laughing together while drinking, but Noah chooses to stay sober. You have about two and a half shots total— the other half of your shot being downed by Folio for you.

Through the hour, you couldn’t help but notice Noah talking with his hands and then brushing through his drying hair. His smile, which made you watch his lips when he talked, and his laugh, which sounded like a song. Every moment you spent around him, you grew more infatuated.

Nick checks the time, “I think it’s time for me to head to bed.”

“Yeah,” Jolly said, standing from his seat. “Folio, you coming?”

“Sure, I'll hit the hay,” he says. “Goodnight you two.” The three men follow each other to their bunks and head to sleep.

You twiddle your thumbs as you’re left alone with Noah at the front of the bus.

“You're not tired?” He asks you.

“I just took a two-hour-long nap,” you laugh, slightly embarrassed.

“Makes sense,” he shrugs.

“You?” You ask back.

“My adrenaline from the show makes it hard to sleep sometimes,” he responds. “I’ll go to sleep when you do.”

“Nice,” you reply and the conversation trails off again.

Noah clears his throat, “The show was great, by the way.”

You look up to meet his eyes, “It was?”

“Everything went off without a hitch. I don’t mean to do it, but I checked Twitter after my shower. Everyone gave us high praise. I just wish you could’ve seen it yourself,” he smiles.

“I didn’t even know you still had the app downloaded,” you say, surprised.

“I rarely do it,” Noah says. “I just thought you would want to know. I checked for you.”

“Thanks,” you smile and absentmindedly kick your legs. “It’s crazy being on this bus with you guys, by the way,” you admit. “I feel like I need to pinch myself to make sure it’s real.”

“Trust me, it’s real,” he laughs. “You deserve to be here. Matt, me and you, we made this thing happen,” he opens his arms to the air.

“I hope it’s not weird for you that I’m a fan,” you say cautiously.

“No, I think it makes things interesting,” he smirks.

You nearly choke and your face burns at his remark. “You know what? I think I’m ready for bed,” you sell it with a fake yawn and stand from the couch.

“Of course,” he gets up and suddenly you're standing right in front of him. Noah stands nearly a foot taller than you and he looks down at you with darkness in his eyes.

You give him a sheepish smile and turn to walk to the bunks.

You feel Noah’s warmth as he follows closely behind. His eyes feel like lasers on your legs as you climb up to your bunk.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Noah says softly.

“Goodnight, Noah,” you give him one final smile before quickly closing your bunk’s curtain.

How the fuck were you supposed to last a month around him? You think, shutting your eyes.

—

The next morning, Folio and you eat cereal across one another at the dining table. You had a restful night's sleep as the bus stayed stagnant to play a second show at the same venue from the night before.

“Mornin’, Folio,” you hear Matt’s voice come up from the bunk section of the bus. He walks up to you ready for the day in a new set of clothes and his charming Bad Omens baseball cap, as usual. “Y/N, can we talk?” he asks, cautiously, just like you asked last night.

You swallow your pride in wanting to respond like a brat and just nod.

Matt has you follow him outside to the side of the bus. “Will you go on a walk with me?”

You nod again and walk beside him around the perimeter of the venue.

“So, for starters, Y/N, I’m sorry,” he says.

“Matt,” you try to interrupt.

“Genuinely, you don’t deserve to be treated like I did to you yesterday,” he continues with a hand on his chest. “I was an asshole and I left you hanging on your first day on the job,” he admits.

“Thank you for saying sorry,” you say quietly.

“I think I had a bit of nerves for the first show but, that doesn't matter,” he admits. “If it's any consolation, I meant what I said. ‘I know you've got this on your own.’ I believe in you and you did it like I knew you would. You helped put on a banger of a show last night,” he shrugs his shoulders.

You laugh softly, amused by his rare moment of openness. “You’re such a sweetie,” you teasingly pull at his shirt.

“Blegh, yeah, yeah,” he shoves your hand away. “So, today, I was thinking I could help you throughout all your tasks today. I’ll be by your side the entire time. I’ll even go with you to pick up dinner,” he assures. “Then later tonight, for Bad Omens’ set, come and hang out with me in the sound deck?”

“Oh!” Your cheeks flush. “Thank you, I would love that,” you smile.

“Great,” he breathes out and his shoulders relax. “Let’s get today started.”

–

Matt stuck to his promise and this evening felt so much more nice. He took a Lyft with you to pick up Mexican food and just followed you around to all the different tasks you needed to get done before Bad Omen’s set. You felt like a badass stomping around the venue with him by your side. Both of you with walkie-talkies on your hips and facilitating the crew.

When he wasn't looking, you’d smile up at him and imagine a life where you two were doing this together, always. You daydreamed about being another power couple in the metalcore music industry.

Fifteen minutes before Bad Omens’ set, you stepped into the fenced-off section of the sound deck. You watch as he finalizes his setup as you sit in the fold-out chair he set up just for you.

“Now, we wait,” he says, sitting next to you.

“Matt, would it be unprofessional if I just screamed all the words to their songs?” You ask him, holding in your excitement.

“As your friend, I will silently judge you,” he laughs. “As your boss… just don't scream in my ear, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod vigorously.

The two of you chat until Matt gives the signal for you to stand. You fight the urge to bounce on your toes during the intro to Artificial Suicide, but it happens anyway.

Once the song starts, the crowd fades away, leaving just you and the music.

You jump, sing, and dance throughout the show while also sneaking glances over at Matt working. If there was one other person to run through the setlist as much as Noah and Matt, it was you. Matt times the pyrotechnic and CO2 cannon cues perfectly; the same cues you noted for him during rehearsals. The confetti cannons went off on time and you watched as other fans grabbed at the air for a souvenir. Lastly, the lighting and video looked spectacular; you held your hands to your chest in awe at some moments, and at other times you could feel tears well up in your eyes.

Then, there was Noah. His performance is unmatched. Goosebumps raised on your arms and neck when he screamed, gave clean vocals, and pretty much everything else he did. You couldn’t help but blush watching him flex his biceps with a mic in his hand once he was down to his tank top.

As you reach the end of their last song, Dethrone, Matt turns to try to say something to you.

“I can't hear you,” you yell over the music.

He tries to repeat himself, but gives up and steps into your space. With his chest right up against your shoulder, he leans in close to your ear, and says, “Look how fucking good you did. I’m so proud of you.”

“What?” You say, not that you couldn’t hear him, rather he shocked you dumb. A lightning bolt formed in your stomach and shot straight in between your thighs.

Matt brushes your hair and tucks it behind your ear, “I’m so glad you're here as my assistant. You’re doing so well for me.”

—

Later that night, you lie awake, tossing and turning in bed thinking about Matt’s words.

“Look how fucking good you did.”

“You’re doing so well for me.”

Even though Matt made it his life’s purpose to make you squirm with his constant flirtations, you doubted him to know that these words would affect you in this way.

Fuck Matt. Fuck him for praising me after he was a jerk for a day. Fuck him for making me squirm under his touch. Fuck his no masturbation bus rule, you think.

I want to fuck him.

Frustrated, you pull your sleep shorts to your ankles, careful not to mess with the curtain separating you from Noah’s bunk.

With one hand, your fingers rub your clit in circles over your panties, while your other hand squeezes your breast.

You softly close your eyes, and touch yourself to your imagination:

“My good little assistant,” Matt cooes. “When are you going to let me use your toys on you? I know they’re in your bag.”

Your fingers clasp your nipples roughly while you adjust your other hand to move your panties to the side. You gather your arousal and trace rings around your pussy in relief.

“Matt,” a familiar voice overtakes your imagination. “You meant us, right?” Noah comes into view.

“Noah,” you silently moan. Why’d he have to make things so complicated? You think.

“Complicated?” He scoffs. “I’m just here to make things interesting,” Noah says darkly, taking the palm vibrator from Matt and buzzing it on. He brings it to your clit as Matt presses the head of your dildo into your needy hole.

On accident, you let out a squeak, and your hand shoots from your breast to your mouth to cover it. Scared of them hearing you, you resistantly remove your fingers from yourself and pull your shorts back on.

You roll your eyes, frustrated still, and flip onto your side to try to sleep, hoping the Sandman will at least grant you a wet dream tonight.