#the chapter this is from is still under the works and we'll see where it ends up but for now there's this

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 4

I finished it!! It will have 8 chapters. I'm excited for you guys to see where this goes! I'm still working on Sweet Home Indiana and will be focusing on that until ITS done. Then we'll be back our regularly schedule WIPs.

We have Eddie's big plan and Steve gets his flirt on.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

****

Steve slipped into the kitchen and there in his mother’s neat handwriting was a note telling him that there were leftovers in the fridge and that they would be home again next Friday.

He sighed and opened the fridge. He immediately closed it when he saw what the leftovers were.

Boiled cabbage with chopped bacon and carrots. It wasn’t bad if it was made correctly, but his mother boiled any flavor and nutrients out of the poor vegetables and then tossed in cooked bacon to hide its sins.

He opened the cupboard and pulled out a small can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and made that. He was craving the sodium. Eddie’s beef was good to get his body to stop shaking, but he had sweat so much he needed to replenish the salt he’d lost.

Once Steve had eaten and drank another glass of water he went to go get a shower and get ready for bed. It was no use trying to get back to his homework now. He had managed to blow up his whole evening by getting lost.

He had no idea how he got to Forest Hills or even why his feet carried him there in the first place. He could feel the weariness seeping into his bones from running for so long.

He undressed and got under the scorching water, letting the heat carry away his pains. His mind ran through all the things that Munson had done for him. The guy had no reason to be nice to him, but he had been more than gracious.

Then it hit him. Munson had called him Stevie, and without thinking Steve had called him Eds.

Eds.

Where the fuck did that come from? They weren’t friends, they could barely be considered acquaintances. Was his brain reaching out to the guy subconsciously? Is that why he ended up at the trailer park? Everyone knew that’s where Munson lived. Who knew how many times the guy had been called trailer trash, but the older teen seemed to rise above the insult.

Steve shook his head, spraying water everywhere. Just because Munson picked up lost sheep, didn’t mean he’d be willing to taken in an injured wolf. Because that’s what he was, reformed or not, Steve would never be a sheep. He would always be a wolf. A predator.

But at least as a wolf he could protect those kids with everything he had. And he would, even if it killed him.

The water had long since turned cold by the time Steve stepped out of the shower. He completed his after shower routine mostly on autopilot as he kept going over his interactions with both Munson men. He didn’t really have good interactions with dads or in this case uncles. But Munson’s uncle Wayne treated him with kindness and he could see where the older boy got it from.

He dressed into his pajamas and slid under the covers. He rolled over on his back and tucked one arm under his pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

Steve thought back to the apology. One Munson really didn’t have to give but did anyway. He thought about the other jocks that bragged about hurting his hand. He held it up and looked at the fading bruise. It wasn’t as though he was even basketball anymore. Hurting his hand wouldn’t do anything but make it hard to do his homework and all he had to do is show his teachers his hurt hand and he’d get extensions for that. Like he had for his concussion last November.

But then again Tommy H. never had reasons for the people he hurt either. He just liked the power he got seeing the person helpless.

He placed his hand over his heart and let himself drift off the sleep, brown eyes and dark curls haunting his dreams.

****

Eddie had originally bought the red heart for himself like he had told the two juniors. But staring at it now, he had a better plan for it. Because that last wall, that last bastion of defense crumbled to ashes when he realized that despite the fancy car, the big house, and the expensive clothes, Steve Harrington was more like Eddie than he thought possible.

Wayne’s approval of the boy cemented that for him. Because if he could take one look at Steve and decide he was worth saving, then Eddie raring to go full steam ahead for a rescue mission.

Eddie could tell that the hearts were made from simple construction paper, like the kind found just about anywhere. He knew it would be technically cheating to just simply make more instead of buying them, but he had no intention of contributing to a dance he was never going to go to because one, it wasn’t his year; two, the whole gay thing; and three, the one person he would want to go with if the gay thing wouldn’t get him hate crimed, wouldn’t give him the time of day.

Well, all right, that might have changed with the whole rescuing him from wandering alone in the dark thing.

He forgave Eddie about being a dumbass, so maybe there was hope for, at the very least, a vast decrease in hostility. And he was willing to take what he could get.

He decided to wait until tomorrow after school to get the construction paper and hope that the high school hadn’t bought up the town’s supply.

On his way out the next morning, Wayne stopped him.

“You don’t have to tell me, son,” he said gently, “but you got feelings for that boy?”

Eddie froze and turned slowly to face his uncle. “What gave you that idea?”

Wayne chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Boy, when you’d go on rants about the Harrington boy, you’d describe his floppy hair, his hazel eyes and how unfairly good looking the kid was. I didn’t say anything because it did sound like he’d been a bit of an ass. Only after last night I got to thinking and was wondering is all.”

Eddie closed his eyes and opened them slowly. He let out a long shuddering breath, his bottom lip quivering.

“I–I don’t...” he closed his eyes again. This wasn’t Al. He wasn’t going to get beat for admitting it, but still it was so hard to say. So he just nodded.

Wayne came up and wrapped his arms around his nephew. “It’s a hell of a lot tougher batting for the other team, but I trust your judgment. Just promise me that if he shows signs of liking you back, you take the chance to tell him how you feel because...”

“You miss one hundred percent of the chances you don’t take,” they said together.

Eddie dropped his bag to the floor and hugged him back. “I know, old man. But I promise if there is a chance, I’ll be brave enough to take it.”

“Get going,” Wayne said, voicing cracking with emotion.

He pulled back and nodded. He reshouldered his backpack and got in his van.

He had a lot to think about and that really wasn’t conducive to paying attention in class or to his friends as they talked about their upcoming D&D session.

Gareth kicked his shin causing him to yelp.

“What the fuck, dude?” Eddie hissed.

“What the fuck is up with you?” Gareth hissed back. “You’ve been going on and on about the mind flayer for weeks and now that it’s literally this weekend, and you’re off in some other realm.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment before his brain came back on. He shook his head to clear it.

“Yeah, sorry, man,” he said around a pretzel. “Weird night last night.”

“What happened?” Jeff asked, tilting his head to the side.

So Eddie told them. “He was like a ghost, guys. If Wayne hadn’t seen him too, I would have thought I was hitting Mary Jane a little too hard, you know?”

“I didn’t realize he was getting bullied,” Brian said, frowning. “I would have thought with Hargrove giving the dude a wide berth, that everyone else would have too.”

“Untouchable,” Jeff agreed. “The fact that jocks are now splintering into factions tells you what kind of control Steve actually had on them.”

Eddie rubbed his chin. “I don’t know how true this is, but if Harrington wasn’t lying, he’s a real sweetheart, too.”

Then he leaned forward and explained about the pink heart scheme.

“So,” Gareth said, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them, “you’re telling us is that we have been seriously remiss in our duties in collecting lost sheep.”

The older teen sighed and shook his head. “I’d like to collect him, but I’m afraid the wolves might decide to rip him apart before we got him to safety if we tried.”

Jeff winced. He knew what Eddie was talking about. Steve Harrington wasn’t the usual lost sheep. He might be bullied now, but as King, Harrington had run far too long with the wolves to think that they could protect him one hundred percent of the time.

“So what are we going to do?” Brian asked. “Because if we let this slide, we’re throwing our lot in with the bullies and that’s something I refuse to do.”

A grin spread out over Eddie’s face, closed lips and dimples entrenched into his cheeks. “We’re going to make the school think that he’s just as popular as he ever was.”

The other three boys looked at each other in confusion.

“So what have you got?” Gareth asked, his own grin starting to take over his face.

****

Eddie made sure to get to class early so he could see where Steve was going to sit. He tried to tell himself it was about the dude’s hand, but it wasn’t working. He wanted to see if the former Hawkins royalty would chose to sit with his old friends or by him again.

He didn’t have long to wait. Steve walked in not long after he did, just as the bell rang. He didn’t even look at his old desk near the front and beelined it for the chair he had sat in on Friday.

The teacher picked up on the change immediately and wrinkled her nose. “I am to suppose that you are taking up permanent residence in the back with Mr. Munson, Mr. Harrington?”

Steve half shrugged as he began to pull out his things for class. “I got more work done, Mrs. Dixon and I really want to graduate on time.”

Mrs. Dixon nodded. “Agreed and as long as you continue the level of attention from last week, you are permitted to stay there.”

About half way through class while Mrs. Dixon was grading papers, Tommy H. turned around and kicked Steve’s chair. “Suck up,” he hissed.

Steve puckered his lips and wagged his eyebrows. “Why? Do you want to be next?”

Tommy turned back around, his face bright red.

Eddie raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side as he considered everything about that interaction.

A little blossom of hope sprouted in his chest and he fought to keep it down. Steve had insinuated that other people were gay for years, but to Eddie’s highly trained gay ears, that sounded like Steve was offering to suck Tommy H.’s dick and that Tommy didn’t exactly turn him down.

Curiouser and curiouser, he thought tapping his lips thoughtfully. More research would have to be done.

He pulled out a different notebook, the one he used for campaign notes and song lyrics.

He wrote girls over one column and boys over the other and began tallying what he knew about the former King of Hawkins.

A shit ton went into the Steve liking girls column, but there was surprisingly more in the liking boys column then he would have thought possible. He looked up to catch Steve smirking at him.

Eddie quickly covered his notebook and stuck his tongue out at Steve.

The other boy shook his head and went back to doing the assignment. Eddie was more careful about what he left out in the open because he didn’t want Steve teased for it nor did he want him to see that Eddie was trying to figure him out.

The bell rang and the notebook was suddenly whisked off his desk.

“Hey!” Eddie cried, looking up to see Steve dancing away with the notebook teasingly. “Stevie!” He grabbed his bag and chased after the other boy. But the other boy was a jock and Eddie was wheezing for breath by the time he caught up with him at his locker.

“Give that back,” he huffed.

Steve gave him a bright smile and handed it back. “I just made a minor addition.”

Eddie frowned as he flipped through the pages but didn’t see anything. Steve took it back and turned to the correct page and leaned close so that only Eddie could hear.

“I trust you’ll keep my secret,” he whispered and then dropped to one knee to start getting into his locker.

Eddie gulped at the sight and turned to the paper to avoid saying something stupid. There in bold capital letters under his girls/guys columns was the word BOTH.

He looked up at Steve who had stood up. Steve winked at him and then walked away, leaving a shocked Eddie behind.

****

Tag List:

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@spectrum-spectre @slv-333 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

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[sugawhaaa]

YEOSANG X READER

Under your spell

{Brithday special Chapter 1/2}

‼️WARNINGS:: suggestive, talk of sexual abuse/assault

💄Pairing::Idol!Yeosang x stripper!fem!reader

👠Genre:: lap dance, flirting, stripping (duh) I think that's it but please notify me if I missed anything :)

💋A/N:: This chapter is one of two. The second chapter will be erm yk actually doing it but this chapter is the layout of the story and where u are etc etc so if you just want to read the smut you can go to chapter 2. Chapter 2 will be posted on Yeosangs birthday because this is a birthday special!!!

There was no doubt that Yeosang's friends were somewhat more sexually active, we'll put it. Yeosang isn't oblivious to sex and he isn't a virgin but when it comes to super kinky things he is still testing the waters. His friends on the other hand were already swallowed by the waters. They've been to many clubs including strip clubs, they've been to sex hotels, sex stores, etc. When Yeosang's birthday rolled around they decided to give him a big surprise, perhaps the biggest you can give a man.

They booked out a personal room in a strip club, picking a specific girl that perfectly matched Yeosang's type of woman. They picked Yeosang up at his house and drove him to the location of his "birthday party" where more of his friends were waiting. Eventually, everyone gathered outside the strip club and Yeosang's face burned red.

"This…this is where my party is at?" He asked in disbelief. San nodded with a smile before hugging him, squeezing him hard.

"You're officially the big 25!" He said as he squeezed the life out of his hyung. He let go of him and smiled.

"Y-Yeah," Yeosang couldn't shake the fact they were at a strip club. His heart was racing. His hyungs led him inside and took him to the front desk. Yeosang pulled at the collar of his shirt, trying to get some air. Seonghwa gave the receptionist the information for their reservation and some staff led them to the private room.

On the way there Yeosang couldn't help but notice the main area of the club. Big groups of guys gathered around a girl on a stage. She barely wore anything except massive heels and he felt the need to look away from the way her body moved.

Finally they were all led to the private room. Soft music played with drinks were placed in a bowl of ice on the side tables. Yeosang didn't know where to go first or what to expect. He just stared at the small stage in the center of the room with a long metal pole, a circular couch around the stage. He bit his lip and one of his hyungs put an arm around his shoulders.

"I know it's a lot at first," hongjoong smiled before taking a sip of his wine. "But trust me you'll love it," he nodded before patting Yeosangs back for reassurance.

"So how does this work exactly?" Yeosang looked up at Hongjoong who definitely had experience at these places.

"There's not much to it. We basically just sit around the woman and watch her dance," Hongjoong shrugs. "It's a little stiff at first but once we start getting into the vibe it's amazing," he smiles at the birthday boy. Yeosang chuckles nervously and runs his hand through his hair.

"Right…" he looks back at the stage.

"C'mon let's go sit, she'll be here soon," Hongjoong takes his hand and leads him to the couch. The two of them sit together and have just a few drinks when you finally make your entrance. You come through the main door and shut it behind yourself. Deep down you're a little nervous, you've never had so many people in a private room with you. Most of your colleagues say the more the merrier, it's more fun when there's multiple people all having a good time but now that you're seeing all these people you're questioning them.

Hongjoong turns back to look at you and he waves kindly. You smile and walk over to him, bending down to his level from behind the couch. Yeosang stiffly turns to look at you as well but as soon as you bend over he can see basically all of your breasts. He instantly flushes and looks back at your face.

"You're the one who was booking this room right?" You ask, trying to be louder than the music without yelling. Hongjoong nods.

"That's me," he smiles before putting a hand on Yeosang's shoulder. "This here is the birthday boy though," Hongjoong chuckles as he pats his shoulder. Your attention is drawn to him and he instantly freezes up. His heart caught in his throat enabling him to speak.

"Oh~ I'll keep that in mind," you smirk and Yeosang chuckles nervously. "What's your name cutie?" You smile as you rest your forearms on the head of the couch.

"Yeosang," he blushes as he looks you up and down again.

"Yeosang," you smile. "Well I hope you enjoy tonight~" you extend your hand out to him and his body shuts down, freezing in place. You stroke some stray hairs out of his face and tuck them behind his ear. The feeling of your fingers on the back of his ear is enough to make his blood rush. You then notice the birthmark under his eye. Your eyes linger on it for a moment. "Is that a scar?" You ask, genuinely curious. Yeosang is still stuck in your trance but once his hyung hits his shoulder he comes to, realizing you asked him a question.

"I-Its a birthmark," he nods with a shy smile. You rub your thumb over the red mark.

"It's so pretty," you smile before coming back down to earth. "Well I suppose you're not here for idle chit chat are ya?" You chuckle and stand up again. You walk over to the stage and instantly all the attention is drawn to you.

You begin your little performance, starting with a little warm up to loosen up your muscles. There were a lot of people at the party so naturally not everyone's eyes were on you which was kind of a nice feeling. But as your dance got more intense and more erotic people started sitting around the stage, cheering and even throwing a bit of cash. You kept an eye on Yeosang. knowing that this was his party, You wanted him to have a good time. He seemed to loosen up a bit throughout the show which was a good start. You decided to turn things up a notch and step away from the poke for a while. You went around to the edge of the stage and interacted with some of the guests. Nothing major but little seductive movements and gently touching them on their shoulders or cheek.

It got the guests quite excited and you could see how much fun they were having now. Finally you got around to Yeosang's side of the stage and you laid down on the stage, making eye contact with him. You swing your legs around and hop off the stage. You stand in front of him before leaning down, rubbing your hands up his thighs.

At first he was star struck from the attention but as you continued to feel him up he started getting into it. You then turned to sit on his lap, grinding your hips against him to the rhythm of the song. You could feel his erection straining against his pants press into your ass. Yeosang tossed his head back and finally put his hands on you. He hesitantly lifted one of his hands up to caress your waist. You turned your head to look at him, he looked purely under your spell as you gazed into each other's eyes. You caress his jawline, guiding his face closer to yours before standing back up again.

You went to the stage and continued your dance. As the end of the party drew near some of the guests began losing interest in your dancing which was honestly okay with you. You can't expect everyone to be constantly drawn to only you, but there was one person who couldn't keep his eyes off of you. Yeosang stayed on the couch the entire time, subtly moving the fabric of his pants to rub on his boner.

Then the lights changed color in the room. The entire time they'd been here the lights were purple and red and now they're green, meaning their time is up. Everyone started packing up and getting ready to leave. Yeosang bit his lip hard before standing up, turning his back to you. You stopped dancing and watch as his band mates come over to talk to him.

"How was that Yeosang!" Mingi wrapped an arm around Yeosang with a bottle of wine in his other hand.

"It was fun," Yeosang smiled softly at Mingi. Mingi's ears were bright red and he looked like he was about to pass out from the amount of alcohol he just drank in the past 2 hours.

"She was so hot," Jongho sighed as he gathered up some of the alcohol they brought. "You're one lucky guy Yeosang," he smiles. Jongho's eyes were also glowing red but he acted far more sober than Mingi. By far the most wasted though was San. His eyes were hazy, his face was pure red, and he kept swaying as he was standing next to Seonghwa and Wooyoung.

"Seriously San you need to be careful," Seonghwa said as he cleaned up his face with a napkin. You notice the state of San and walk over to the three men.

"Is he okay? Do you want a glass of water?" You ask as you place a hand on his shoulder. San let's out a groan as he nods his head. You go back to the stage quickly and retrieve a plastic water bottle from underneath it. You also grab a robe while you're at it. You hurry back over and open the water bottle for San. Wooyoung takes it before helping San take a drink out of it.

You throw your robe on while Seonghwa thanks you.

"Thank you so much," Seonghwa says with a bow.

"Don't worry about it," you chuckle and swish your hand as if to brush off the gratitude from him.

"I think I'm gonna hurl," San mutters out when Wooyoung takes the bottle from his mouth. Wooyoung panics and looks around for a bucket or something. You overhear his words and get a garbage bin from the corner of the room before handing it to him. You turn to look away from San as he vomits into the bin. Seonghwa and Wooyoung join San in the corner comforting him.

"So sorry about that," Hongjoong apologizes with a worried expression.

"Don't worry about it. This happens all the time," you explain as you try to tune out the sound of San puking in the background. Hongjoong keeps apologizing but you keep telling him it's alright. While your talking with Hongjoong Yeosang can't help but stare at you. He keeps looking you up and down, admiring every inch of your body as you talk. "Does he have a safe ride home?" You ask genuinely concerned for all of their health due to the amount of alcohol they all chugged in the past 2 hours.

"Yeah, were waiting for our manager to arrive," hongjoong chuckles embarrassed. "Apparently there's some traffic so we might be here a while," Hongjoong says with an apologetic expression.

"Don't worry about it. Make yourselves comfortable," you smile before heading back over to the couch. "This was my last shift so I'm packing up myself," you explain and the members follow you like ducklings. They're all eager to hang out with a hot stripper after hours. They sit on the couch and go on their phones and talk amongst themselves, except for one member. Yeosang. He's just stuck in a daze and you decide to go up to him. "Is everything alright Yeosang?" You ask warmly and sit next to him on the far side of the couch.

"Y-Yeah, I'm good," he blushes and avoids making eye contact.

"Did my dance earlier bother you? Ever since I did that I've noticed you've been acting differently. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," you apologize sincerely with a bow. Yeosang instantly shakes his head and waves his hands around.

"No, no! It was amazing! It's just…" he pauses and looks down. You look at him eager to hear his response. You hold his shaking hand to comfort him.

"What's up?" You ask softly.

The two of you then get interrupted by Hongjoong.

"Alright guys, the vans parked out front,"

Yeosang looks upset as he turns to Hongjoong. You can both sense the chemistry in the air. Yeosang doesn't want to leave and you don't want him to leave either.

"I'll stay back," Yeosang blurts out without thinking. Hongjoong raises an eyebrow at him before seeing him sitting right next to you, your hands interlocked. Hongjoong nods with a wink before rounding up the members. You look into Yeosangs eyes as you hear the members all leave the room, the door slamming shut leaving the two of you alone.

"You were going to say something?" You look at him with alluring eyes. His lips part to speak but nothing comes out. He looks down at his knees. You rub his thigh gently to comfort him. His eyes follow your hands movements, looking at your long slender fingers filled with strength due to your dancing talent.

"I just wanted to say, tonight was an eye opening experience," he starts. His words are cautiously spoken as he takes deep breaths. "I've never been to a place like this. I was honestly a little afraid but," he looks up into your eyes with determination. "I've never felt so connected with a woman before. I-I just want to hang out with you," he admits with red cheeks. "I know it sounds crazy, but I…I feel like I'll regret it if I leave you," he holds your hand tightly. You tilt your head before lifting your hand from his leg, stroking back his hair.

"Honestly, I was going to say the same thing," you smile and he looks at you surprised. "Most men that come in here are rich middle aged men who think they're entitled to everything," you explain as you hold his hand. You can feel Yeosang relax as his breaths slow down. "When someone like you walked in I was so intrigued. You were shy, and respectful. You seemed to truly love me, not just my body," you smiled and his heart skipped about a thousand beats. His face flushes, the compliments circling in his head. "I just needed to learn more about you,"

Yeosangs eyes brighten as he looks at you. He wants to make a move. Pull you close, kiss you, touch you, feel you, anything. He didn't know what to do. He started to speak but he only stuttered over his words. He didn't know what to say.

He felt like he was under your spell.

[kiwichaeng]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you so much for tagging me @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad and @heartstringsduet ❤️

Every muscle in Carlos' body freezes. Very slowly, he puts the glass down on the counter, his eyes never leaving the man. The man he recognises. He's in the same outfit as earlier, a plain sweatshirt and jeans. His hair is tousled and free of blood this time, his eyes bright and colourful. Except he can't be here, in Carlos' home, sitting on his goddamn couch and looking at him with curiosity, like he's anticipating Carlos' next reaction. Carlos' mind is playing tricks on him, he's working too hard, he's seeing things. Because there is absolutely no way that Tyler Kennedy Strand, the man who's dead body Carlos saw today, is sitting on his couch.

Absolutely no pressure tags under the cut

@liminalmemories21 @orchidscript @lemonlyman-dotcom @paperstorm @strandnreyes @carlos-tk @ladytessa74 @carlos-in-glasses @theghostofashton @three-drink-amy @fallout-mars @chicgeekgirl89 @lightningboltreader

[bellshazes]

dreaming up a syllabus for an imaginary course on metanarratives about gameplay, which i think would go something like:

unit 1: who do you think you are i am - auto-documentary & games

Vlogs and the Hyperreal, Folding Ideas

The Slow Death of Let's Play Videos, Meraki (to ~10:00)

World Record Progression: Mike Tyson, Summoning Salt

ROBLOX_OOF.mp3, hbomberguy

Life as a Bokoblin: A Zelda Nature Documentary, Monster Maze

optional: Braindump on the History of Let's Plays, slowbeef

unit 2: what like it's hard? - intro to challenge narratives

Chapter 26: Games as Narrative Play: Two Structures for Narrative Play, Rules of Play

A different kind of challenge run: Minimalist 100% (BOTW), Wolf Link

Surviving 100 Days on Just Dirt, Mogswamp

Can You Beat DARK SOULS III with Only Firebombs, the Backlogs

Is it Possible to Beat Super Mario 3D World while permanently crouching?, Ceave Gaming

The Pacifist Challenge - Beating Hollow Knight Without Collecting Soul [CHALLENGE] - Sample

optional: How to 100% Snowpeak Ruins in under 15 minutes, bewildebeest

unit 3: nelly you don't understand, i AM the narrative - form and function

The Future of Writing about Games, Jacob Geller

Can You Beat GRIME Without Weapons?, the Backlogs

Mushroom Kingdom Championships, Ceave Gaming

My Life as a Barber in Hitman 2, MinMax (Leo Vader)

MyHouse.WAD - Inside Doom's Most Terrifying Mod, PowerPak

optional: Mega Microvideos, Matthewmatosis

the theme and structure is mostly intended to introduce at least one critical or historically contextual work followed by examples of the type of narrative in question.

in unit 1, this is the idea of "How do people talk about their own experiences in the context of YouTube and playing video games?" across three rather different kinds of documentaries. unit 2 is intended to take that lens of who is telling what tale and dial in on challenge running, where i first noticed the way some videos turn the story of overcoming a challenge into its own narrative that is distinct from but related to the narrative events of the game itself. unit 3 circles back to the bigger picture with a variety of examples that, to me, are maximally metanarrative, the emergent story of the player-narrator now functionally replacing the game's embedded narrative.

bonus unit: broken narratives

Glitch & the Grotesque at the MLA, Sylvia Korman

Watching time loop movies to escape my time loop, Leo Vader

The Stanley Parable, Dark Souls, and Intended Play, Folding Ideas

Breaking Madden, Jon Bois

The TRUTH about the Pizzaplex in FNAF: Security Breach, AstralSpiff

this one is highly underdeveloped, but i'd love to work out something more robust building on randomizer challenges that produce intentionally bizarre, semi-ironic "lore," and bois-esque endeavors to break games so hard the story itself crumbles. but that's really out of scope so i'm just including the links to things i couldn't bear to get rid of. more rambling abt the challenge runs I chose under the cut.

Challenge runs represent one of the most obvious places to start, due to being extremely plentiful and having a hook that makes a "here's how I did X thing in Y video game" format almost unavoidable. Minimalist 100% is an underrated and sweet straightforward example that I mostly include as a baseline for reporting-out style narrative; here are the facts, here's what happened, this is the thing that it is. Mogswamp's 100 Days on Just Dirt is similar in style, but the physical measuring of days is a delightful and, more importantly, external narrative device.

Now oriented, we get a taste of Ceave Gaming's narrative approach to Mario challenges with the no-crouching run, and while we still aren't at the degree of player-characters being constructed for the narrative's sake, the spirited belief in crouching sets the stage for other rhetoric in more extreme cases we'll see later.

The Backlogs' entire body of work qualifies here, but GRIME is the strongest inspiration for putting this list together. I include the DS3 firebombs run because what was initially a factual description of how his wife's use of firebombs inspired him to play differently in the original DS1 firebombs run has developed into full-blown multi-game narrative arc with the Firebomb Goddess (his wife, who also voices the character) compelling his in-game character to achieve his destined quest. Grime takes that even further,

In-Game Documentaries

I include Life as a Bokoblin mostly as a contrast to My Life as a Barber - there is a level of fictionalization and roleplay involved in the Zelda in-game documentary that highlights exactly what I want to single out when I am talking about metanarrative, the story about a story.

[morallyinept]

For anyone who needs to hear this today...

Dieter and I are just weighing in on some of the conversations floating around where people are feeling like they're not wanted here, or who feel like they might want to leave...

You ARE absolutely wanted here.

Whether you're a creator, reader, silent lurker. It doesn't matter if you have 1 follower or 10k. Whether you write one chapter every few weeks, or churn out fics on the daily.

This is a fandom, not a competition.

You. Are. All. Wanted. Here.

Tumblr, for want of a better analogy, is a crap factory of a website. 😝 It's gone down the pan in the last decade massively, and it's the complete opposite of what other social media platforms do, (in terms of likes and algorithims etc... you have to re-blog everything - not like it - here to get any traction) you get out of Tumblr what you put in, effectively.

No-one here is better than anyone else, we're all part of that big Pedro table and continuously squish up to make room for everyone. And if anyone isn't doing that, then they should be the one's to leave, not you.

I get it. I feel it too. I've contemplated leaving several times. Yeah. It's a hard place sometimes to try and make a tiny space of it your own.

☝🏻But remember, even the biggest blogs on here started off with zero followers and had to build their niche from scratch. Rome wasn't built in a day.

It takes time and effort. It might look like it's easy for others, but it really isn't. And I'm in no way a "big blog" in the slightest.

But I stay here doing my own thing, because ultimately, I love writing and creating - it makes me happy, and I love the sense of community here.

I get immense joy out of making my silly banners and posts, and having a giggle with like-minded people when Pedro shaves his beard off (🫠). I ignore the drama and focus on having a positive time here.

But I get that doesn't work for everybody. Sometimes it's hard to tune all the fuzz out, right? It's massively overwhelming some days on here - I feel ya, bub.

The level of talent in this fandom is incredible, but it often leaves you feeling like "where do I begin?" Or "who do I talk to?" And "how do I talk to someone without coming across as weird?" And "how the hell do I re-blog everything and reply to comments and remember to answer DM's and Asks, whilst remembering to update my WIP and see what my fav blogs have posted, and catch up on that fic I like..? 🤯

In short, you can't.

You simply can't do everything.

And you shouldn't try to either as that's when you'll burn out and when things start feeling overwhelming. Then your enjoyment wanes and then that's when you feel like you want to give it all in.

Just breathe.

The best advice I can give (and I'm no expert!) is to curate your own experience here as best as you can.

Eliminate that overwhelming feeling to make your Tumblr time and space enjoyable.

Make it work for you and your needs.

Some easy things you can do that might help:

Update your notifications - I personally filter out the likes, otherwise I find I miss notifs like new followers or comments etc... Tumblr can be glitchy as hell too, so by removing the likes, you can see all the stuff you don't wanna miss. To turn them off, go into your activity (app version) and hit custom, scroll down to custom again and then untick likes:

There's a new option now to subscribe to specific blogs you like and adjust your home feed settings to that. You click on the blogs themselves and add them to get notifications and then they'll appear under Blog Subs on your feed. You can then switch through feeds to just see the blogs you've added, rather than everyone you follow. It's then easy to switch between feeds:

Limit your time here - if it starts to feel overwhelming, take a break! That's your brain telling you that you might need it. We'll all still be here when you come back. Don't compromise your peace of mind or happiness for the sake of scrolling for hours.

If you're a creator and have writer's block etc... again, take that break! Whether it's a day or a week, or a year. Take as long as you need. Those that are worth it will still be here and will wait patiently for you. Don't put unnecessary pressure on yourself. And if anyone does pressure you, block them.

Forget the numbers. I know, I know, it's easier said than done. Of course we want re-blogs and engagement, it's why we're here and putting our work out there. We wouldn't do it if we didn't want that engagement. But don't let the numbers be the main reason why you do it, otherwise your expectation can often be met with a harsh reality when it doesn't go how you think it will. Do it because it makes you happy, first and foremost. There will always be someone who looks forward to what you put out there.

If you want engagement, you need to engage back. This community survives and thrives on sharing. Re-blog everything you like. Re-blogging is the number one must on Tumblr. It's how the site works. Likes are lovely, but it's simply just a book marking feature here, which is essentially useless as your likes get pushed to the bottom of your like pile the more you like things. RE-BLOG EVERYTHING. By re-blogging you can also use tags so you can easily find things again. Liked that Frankie Morales fic you read last week? Re-blog it with the tag 'Frankie Morales' for example, and then you can search your own blog to find everything you've ever tagged with 'Frankie Morales'. You can even schedule re-blogs in advance too. You can't do any of that with likes. You'd have to scroll through every single like you've ever liked to find it again... and ain't no-one got time for that. If you're someone who is asking for engagement, you need to be prepared to give it back. I repeat, RE-BLOG EVERYTHING!

"Yeah, but if I re-blog everything, my aesthetic will be compromised, or my blog will be bulky and I might annoy everyone by appearing on their feed too much..." These are all valid concerns, but you can simply make a side blog specific for re-blogging things if you want. Whatever way you choose to do it, re-blog, re-blog, re-blog!

Be bold and reach out using DM's and ASK's. I don' think there's a single writer or artist out there who doesn't like getting a comment or a message complimenting their work. And we all love to chat about it, and that's an easy way in and to make friends too! It can be daunting, but I assure you if you're polite and kind, people will want to engage back with you. We all have one thing in common here at least - Pedro! 🥰

Sometimes, it can feel like everyone has their own friend groups or cliques and it can be hard to find your own community within a community. Almost everyone I engage with on a daily basis here, new and old users, are some of the nicest, kindest people I've spoken to. You really have nothing to be afraid of. They're just like you - they want to talk and make friends.

These are just some tips that I've found have worked for me on my own Tumblr journey with quelling that overwhelming feeling. And I hope they can help you in some way, especially if you're contemplating being here right now.

You might feel that what you put out there isn't appreciated because it doesn't get the notes or engagement you want, but I promise you, there is always someone who you have touched with your words and work.

Be kind to yourself and know that you really are a valued part of this fandom.

🖤

YOU. ARE. STRONGER. THAN. YOU. THINK. 🖤

Do you. Then do Dieter.

Self-Care With Dieter & Jett

[viennacherries]

QUOTH THE RAVEN - CHAPTER 1

Rolan/Tav | NSFW | 5,554 words

Summary:

'"Just... Let me look after you. Please?" He doesn't say anything for a moment, so you look back up at him. His eyes flick back and forth between both of yours, as if searching for something, and finally he sighs. "Okay."'

Read it on AO3

"Seriously, soldier, we'll be fine! You need to rest."

You pout at Karlach's continued insistence, but you can feel yourself losing the battle against her iron will. "I don't need to rest, I need to make sure you idiots don't get yourselves killed!"

She laughs at that, loud and unapologetic as she always does, "I'll try not to take that personally, shall I?"

"Well. Not you , obviously. But I don't trust the others. Astarion and Laezel are liable to start swinging at the slightest inconvenience, and Gale's good at pissing people off."

Her raucous laugh continues, "I'll keep 'em in check, soldier," she lifts her hand up to her eyebrow in mock salute, before letting it drop, "you can count on me."

You sigh. Reasonably, you know they'll manage without you, but it feels wrong letting them go without you.

Karlach, as if she can read your mind, speaks again. "Seriously, Tav. We'll be okay. And you deserve a break. It's been a rough couple of weeks."

You nod silently. She's right about that, at least.

When she doesn't say anything else, you sigh. "Fine. But please be careful?"

Karlach smiles wide, "you know me!" She claps you on the back firmly, and you're thankful that her touch is palatable now with the installation of Dammon's upgrade. You're sure the gesture would've burnt a few days ago. "I spoke to Jaheria, she's sorted a room with a bed for you. Get yourself a pint and then sleep!"

The idea of an actual bed is the final tip of the scales that seals your fate, so you nod and squeeze her arm in thanks. An actual mattress? A private room rather than a tent? You couldn't possibly turn your nose up at such a generous offering.

Karlach retreats to the gate of Last Light, where the rest of your companions are waiting for her, and they all leave together into the shadows. You let out a deep sigh, then turn and head into the inn.

The atmosphere is slightly less awful now than when you first got here. People perked up a bit when your party arrived, which you're both thankful for and absolutely terrified by.

Well. Some people perked up.

Your eyes land on the back of Rolan's head, and you feel your stomach knot. His earlier admonishments towards you are probably at least half of the reason Karlach and the others insisted on leaving you here.

You'd be lying if you said his words hadn't hurt. You never wanted to be a leader, never wanted people looking to you for guidance. You're trying your best. And you like Cal and Lia.

He doesn't care about how hard you're trying. It's a little hard to blame him, but it still hurts. You'd really hoped to be able to at least call him a friend.

There had been a moment, during the celebrations at the grove, that you wondered if you'd perhaps be able to call him more. Cal and Lia had left to get drinks, and Rolan had met your eye with a lopsided, boyish grin, and you'd been struck by how handsome he was. He'd made a joke about something and your faces had inched closer as you both laughed.

Then Cal and Lia had returned, and the moment had passed.

He won't even look at you now. As you slide up to the bar and ask Ike to pour you a drink, Rolan pointedly avoids meeting your gaze. You clear your throat in a way you hope seems casual, and from the corner of your eye you see his scowl.

"Rolan..."

"I don't want to talk to you. I've said all I need to."

You frown. "I know, but-"

He huffs, "I'm not interested in hearing your apologetic platitudes. You're hiding in here while your companions do all the work. Some leader you are."

You feel your blood pressure spike, and you turn to face him properly. He still doesn't look at you, but he squirms slightly under your attention. You can't help the bite that your words come out with.

"I never wanted to be a leader, you arsehole. I never asked for any of this. If you think you could do a better job, by all means be my fucking guest." He flinches slightly as you spit the words at him, but doesn't otherwise react, so the words keep spilling out. "And it's bold of you to accuse me of hiding, considering you've been sat here on your arse doing nothing but drink since we got here. You're more than welcome to hate me, but don't try and pretend you've somehow got the moral high-ground here."

You know the words are harsh, but you still find some satisfaction in the way his posture deflates. Knowing he might now feel a portion of the guilt he thrust onto you makes you feel a little smug. Ike places your drink on the bar, looking between the two of you nervously, and you thank him before taking your drink and leaving as quickly as you can. You don't spare Rolan a second glance as you ascend the stairs to find the bed you were promised.

The door shuts behind you and you click the lock firmly, leaning your forehead against the wood. You can feel the regret seeping in, so you down half of the pint of bitter ale and rub your temples.

He deserved that. He did.

You feel better now.

Except you know you're lying to yourself.

You don't want to shout at him. You don't want to make him feel bad. You want to give him a hug and tell him how sorry you are that he's going through this.

But you don't. Instead you finish your drink.

You keep telling yourself that he deserved it as you lay back on the mattress, holding the still-cold glass to your forehead to battle the headache you can feel brewing. You eventually fall into a fitful sleep.

~~~

It's impossible to know night from day here, but when you wake you're reasonably sure by the dryness in your throat that it's the early hours of the morning. You drag yourself out of the bed somewhat reluctantly, the thought of a crisp glass of water being all that propels you forward.

The inn is quiet at this hour. There are a few people dotted around still, talking in hushed tones and nursing drinks or reading, but for the most part it's empty.

You can't help it, your eyes dart to where Rolan was. He's not there, which makes you feel a little better. Hopefully he's in a dark corner somewhere, sleeping off the drink.

There's no one tending the bar at this hour, so you round it and pour yourself a cup of water. It's as you raise it to your lips and take a sip that you notice there's a strange looking artefact sitting on the far end of the counter. You've never seen anything like it before. It looks like it's made of brass, with elaborate arching prongs surrounding a bright blue crystal in the centre.

Fuck it, you've never been one for minding your business. Besides, if it's sat out in the open it's basically begging to be touched, isn't it? You cast a sidelong glance around the tavern to check no one is looking and then sidestep towards it. As soon as you press your fingers to the cold metal, the gem begins to shine, and a projection is brought forth.

"Lia, Cal - if you see this, stay put."

Rolan looks almost regal in the projection, a picture of strength and arrogance. His tone is commanding, firm and assured, and you wonder how he feels justified in that when-

Your words from earlier flood back to you without warning.

"It's bold of you to accuse me of hiding, considering you've been sat here on your arse doing nothing but drink since we got here."

Your heart drops. Oh.

The glass of water makes a loud clinking noise as you slam it onto the bar. The sound still rings through the air as you grab a sword leaning against the doorway and sprint out into the shadows.

~~~

In hindsight, you probably should've waited for your party to return. But how could you? You have no idea how long ago Rolan left that message. He could already be in trouble.

The shadows feel colder without the company of your companions, and you're immensely grateful for the pixie's blessing. The darkness grasps at your ankles, nipping like a dog at your heel, and the cursed foliage around you seems to be watching your every step. This place is awful and dangerous enough when you're travelling with your friends, never mind completely alone.

That line of thinking just brings you back to Rolan, though. Alone somewhere in the shadows, with no real combat experience and no pixie's blessing. He's likely got a torch or a dancing lights cantrip, but those don't fend off the curse nearly as well. The realisation makes the air feel even colder.

It's dark tonight. Darker than usual, that is. There's a dense fog across the land that makes it hard to keep track of where you came from. Rolan could be anywhere, and you can barely see 10 feet in front of you. Gods, you should've waited for the others.

And then you hear it. The unmistakable sound of Rolan's voice shouting an incantation, and the withering scream of a shadow creature falling. Wherever he is he's out of your eye-line, so you sprint towards the noise blindly.

For a man with little practice in a fight, Rolan is holding his own. He stands tall and confident in the face of the several creatures surrounding him, and you can see he's felled at least two of them already. But you can also see the hidden signs of his exhaustion. Some of his spells sputter as they take shape, and the dancing lights above his head flicker every time he casts. His arms - stretched out in front of him - shake with effort, and his usually perfectly pinned hair has fallen in places. Distantly, in the background of your mind, you let yourself admire him.

The loosing of his next spell, a magic missile that cuts through the chest of the creature closest to him, pulls you from your reverie, and you jump into the fray without thought. The shadow creatures screech and howl at the sting of your blade as they disintegrate around it, and just as one grabs at your arm you feel it's grip loosen as Rolan incinerates it, the heat beating against you.

When the creatures are dispensed and you're surrounded by nothing but their vestiges, you turn back to look at Rolan. He's already looking at you.

There's a long, charged moment where you both stand there staring at each other, panting to regain your breath, and once again you're struck by his beauty. He's shrouded in the cursed gloom, but his bright yellow eyes cut through the twilight. His hair is dishevelled around him, and the loose strands fly around him in the cold breeze. The cantrip above him illuminates him from overhead and casts an intense shadow on all of his features, and it makes his jawline look even sharper.

You take a step towards him, and whatever spell that surrounds the both of you shatters. His face furrows into a scowl.

"Gods damn it all! I can do nothing right - not a damn thing!"

He's shaking, possibly with rage, possibly adrenaline. Possibly with the knowledge that he very nearly met his end.

"Rolan, what are you doing out here?"

You know the answer already, you're not sure why you ask. He answers regardless.

"I was looking for Cal and Lia! What else? Instead I found myself cornered by shadow-fiends and in need of rescue. By you of all bloody people!"

You ignore his remark, "you were trying to help your family, Rolan. You're being too hard on yourself."

His response is muttered under his breath. "Or not hard enough."

You frown, but before you can argue he speaks again. He won't look you in the eyes, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"Just... be on your way. I'll return to Last Light. I know when I'm outmatched."

He turns to leave and you reach out without thinking, grabbing his wrist and yanking him back. He looks at you in shock.

"Are you stupid? I'm not letting you go off on your own again. We're going back together."

His responding scoff sounds insulted, "brilliant, so you don't even trust me to walk on my own anymore?"

"That has nothing to do with it." You pause for a moment, hesitating over your words. "I was worried about you, Rolan. I didn't know if I'd be able to find you and-"

"Oh, so you didn't trust me to begin with! How reassuring!"

"Shut up !" His face falls at your outburst, but he doesn't say anything else. "I didn't know if I was going to be able to find you, and I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if the last thing I said to you was something horrible. Something I didn't even mean. So, for all the Gods' sake, don't wander off on your own again. Just..." You can feel a blush rising on your face, and you pray he can't see it in the low light of the evening. You drop your eyes to the ground. "Just... Let me look after you. Please?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment, so you look back up at him. His eyes flick back and forth between both of yours, as if searching for something, and finally he sighs.

"Okay."

You let out a breath. "Okay."

He snorts. "Okay."

You can't help snorting back, and shake your head at him in disbelief.

The both of you stand there for another moment, and you suddenly realise that you're still holding onto his wrist. You clear your throat and drop it, nodding decisively.

"Okay." He snorts at you again, but you ignore it. "I'm pretty sure the inn is that way."

He quirks an eyebrow, "pretty sure?"

You respond with an affirming noise and he snorts once more, "well, that's reassuring."

You glare at him. "Well, I'm incredibly sorry." You begin walking and he follows. "I wasn't paying too much attention when I legged it towards the sound of you getting your ass kicked."

He lets out a real laugh at that, which is both surprising and delightful. You can't remember if you've ever heard him actually laugh. It's bright and clear and somewhat musical, and the smile he wears with it suits him much more than his usual scowl.

"Is that what it sounded like? I rather hoped it was more like a remarkable wizard teaching some abominations their place."

It's your turn to snort at him now, "if that makes you feel better."

He chuckles, and you slip into silence as you fall into step beside each other. It's silent for a long while before you speak again.

"I wanted to-"

"I should really-"

You both stop, turning to look at each other,  and he laughs.

"Sorry, sorry. Ladies first."

"I wanted to apologise. For the way I spoke to you earlier. That wasn't fair."

He shakes his head, burying his hands in his pockets as he continues walking with you. "Not at all. I was rude to you first, I should be the one apologising."

" Ah , so you admit I was rude?"

He laughs, "well, calling me a useless drunk isn't the nicest thing I've ever heard you say, but I suppose it wasn't entirely undeserved."

You frown, "I'm pretty sure I didn't-"

"Not quite in those words, no, but I rather think that was the gist. Regardless, there's no apology necessary. I've been incredibly unfair to you."

You shrug, and your steps echo in the silence. "Not really."

You can hear the frown in his voice, "Tav, I mean it I-"

He cuts himself off as you come to an abrupt stop.

"Tav?"

You look around and sigh. "Rolan. We've gone in a circle."

"We have?"

"We have."

You can see his confusion, "how can that be possible?"

You sigh deeply. "I don't know. This place is weird, and the fog is too dense. I have no idea where we're going. All I know is that we walked past that tree stump earlier."

There's a long pause before he speaks again.

"So... What now?"

"Honestly?" You sigh again as you look off into the distance, seeing nothing but dense mist. "We can either keep going and hope we find the inn, or we can camp out here until the fog lifts a bit."

He looks scandalised, "camp? Out here ?"

"Well. It wouldn't really be camping. We don't have any supplies. Or a bedroll. Or a tent. It's more like... Sitting down and waiting."

He grimaces. "Sounds delightful."

You shrug, "it's up to you."

When you look at him again, he looks conflicted, but eventually he nods. "Very well, I suppose staying here is better than getting ourselves more lost."

You nod in agreement. "Wise choice."

~~~

It's not like you didn't already know this, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that Rolan is not a patient person.

You managed to find a spot with a rock outcropping that made a good enough shelter. The problem is, for both of you to fit under it, it's a little cramped. But you didn't want either of you sat out in the open where anything could spot you, so you'd reluctantly backed up to the wall and against Rolan's side.

It's a bit maddening, being this close to him. His scent fills your nostrils (he smells like the weave and something musky, like sandalwood), which is incredibly distracting, and up close you notice he's covered in freckles. They cover his cheeks and forehead and climb their way up to his ears. He's also taken his hair down, which is frankly rather rude of him. It looks soft.

What's ruder is the fact that he literally cannot sit still. His legs bounce where they're stretched out in front of him, and every few minutes he adjusts his posture with a loud groan.

When his leg starts bouncing again for the umpteenth time, your hand shoots out and grabs his knee on its own accord to hold it down. He jumps at the contact and whips his head towards you, and the look of alarm he's wearing would be funny if he wasn't driving you insane.

"Rolan. If you don't stop fidgeting, I'll stop you myself."

He frowns. "I can't help it."

You arch an eyebrow, "right, so you want me to hold you down for the rest of the evening? Because I will."

His face flushes and he shakes his head no, so you withdraw your hand. You feel his body relax next to you.

"You may as well try and get some sleep. I can keep watch and wake you up when it's safe to move."

He clears his throat, "that won't be necessary. I'm fine."

You scoff. He's definitely not fine, he's been wiggling around since you both sat down. You tell him as such and the blush rises back to his cheeks.

"I'm not- That's not why I'm-" He sighs "I'm fine ."

"Ah, yes. People who are fine usually writhe around like worms."

He scowls at you, but doesn't say anything. At that moment you feel a shiver rip through you, and his face softens with concern.

"Are you okay?"

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself, "I'm fine."

He pulls a face at you and crosses his arms. "Ah, yes. People who are fine usually shake like leaves."

Okay, in fairness, you walked right into that one.

"I'm okay, honestly. I'm just a bit cold."

You hadn't really thought about it when you left the inn, hopped up on adrenaline, but now you're sat here you've begun to realise you're not dressed for the chill. You're wearing a pair of light trousers and an old sweater with holes in the sleeves; the clothes you sleep in. It was fine when you were racing around looking for Rolan and fighting shadow creatures, but now that you're sat still with your back up against rock the cold is seeping into your body.

Rolan looks you up and down a few times, then makes a noise of frustration. "Gods, I'm sorry. I should've thought to- I haven't got enough magic left to cast anything to keep you warm."

"It's fine, I'll manage. Besides, you're like a furnace."

It's true, you can feel the warmth from his body where his arm is pressed up against yours. You've been trying not to think about it, but it's getting harder to focus on anything else.

There's a moment of silence, and a look of hesitation in Rolan's eye, before he lifts the arm that's against you and instead wraps it around your shoulder. You flinch.

"What are you doing?"

He's blushed again. "Well. We- tieflings, that is- we naturally run hotter. And I got you into this predicament, so the least I can do is stop you from catching pneumonia."

You try desperately to think of an argument that stops him pulling you closer, but you come up empty. You're cold and he's warm, and he smells nice and his hair looks soft, and you are a weak, weak woman.

When you don't say anything else, he tentatively stretches his arm back around your shoulder, and places his hand there awkwardly. You pull a face at him.

"That can't be comfortable, your wrist is at an angle."

He shrugs, which makes you sigh. You grab his hand where it rests on your shoulder blade and manoeuvre yourself so that you're resting your head against his chest. You wrap his arm around you and push yourself against him. He freezes.

There's a long moment where you wonder if you've overstepped a boundary, but then he's sinking himself down against the rock so you can better lean on his chest, and pulling you tight against the side of his body. There's a moment of hesitation before you feel him rest his chin on the top of your head.

His scent and warmth wraps around you and you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek. His chin on the top of your head is a comforting weight, and being surrounded by him like this feels... intimate. You like it.

"I'm sorry, Tav."

You frown, but don't move. "For what?"

He swallows heavily. "I really was unfair to you. It's not your fault Cal and Lia were taken. You're the only reason any of us made it this far in the first place. I lashed out at you."

You give a small shrug, as much as you can without shaking his arms from around you. There's a moment, and then he's moving anyway, turning to face you and holding both of your shoulders.

"Tav, I mean it. It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry."

His eyes are piercing and you struggle to look away despite how intense his gaze is. You shrug again, hoping you don't betray how much his attention affects you. "You were right. I'm not a leader. I just wanted to do what felt right, but I've put people in danger in the process."

He shakes his head, "I wasn't right. The best leaders are the ones who didn't choose it. They're the people everyone follows because they believe in them." One of his hands comes down and grasps yours, and you feel your breath hitch. "People believe in you, Tav. I... I believe in you."

You don't know how to reply to that, so you don't. Another shiver rips its way through your body, and Rolan wraps both of his arms around you and brings your head back to his chest.

"For warmth, of course." He says it softly.

You nod. "Of course." Your voice comes out quiet and breathless, and you feel Rolan shudder minutely.

A voice in the back of your head tells you that you're walking a fragile line, that you're slowly inching your way over it. That once you cross it there's no going back. The warmth of his embrace must be clouding your judgement, though, because you find you don't care.

Rolan's twists his head slightly, and instead of his chin resting in your hair it's his cheek. You feel him rub his face softly into your tresses and it's such an intimate gesture that you feel your heart start beating in your throat. You press your skull up against him tentatively and you hear his breath catch in his chest against your ear.

You adjust your position so that his cheek is pressed against your temple instead. You can feel his breath grazing the tip of your ear, can hear the moment the pace of it staccatos.

It's like a slow dance, the way you both slowly inch towards each other. Your cheek is pressed against his now, and you tilt your head slightly to the side and glance your lips along his cheekbone. You feel his eyes flutter shut as his eyelashes brush against your temple, and you hear his slow exhale.

He turns his head, and you're both face to face. There are only centimetres between you, and his breath passes across your lips.

When he closes the final distance, pressing his lips against yours in nervous, chaste kiss, it feels like the inevitable conclusion that you've been dancing around since you met him. You feel yourself trip and fall over that proverbial line, and as you land squarely on the other side a wall comes up behind you in your mind's eye, preventing you from ever returning to where you were before.

It's only several seconds, but it feels far longer before he pulls away.

He's far enough from you that he can look at you properly, and his eyes scan your face wildly. He's shaking slightly, as if he's terrified of your reaction; as if he hasn't faced cultists and shadow-creatures and come away unscathed.

As you stare at each other, you consider the consequences and implications of this. The complicated predicament you'll be putting yourself in if you entangle your life with his in this way, the unknown and the uncertainties of your life, of your future and potential lack-there-of. You think about his apprenticeship, and the diverging paths you're undoubtedly destined to take. It would almost certainly be a mistake to let yourself slip into whatever this is becoming.

You kiss him anyway.

You feel all of the tension leave his body. He makes a small noise of contentment and you use the slight part of his lips to part your own and deepen the kiss. He makes a very different kind of noise at that, and it runs through your whole body.

You can't resist sliding your tongue into his mouth, and he makes another noise that has your gut wrenching as his arms tighten around you. It turns heated and frantic as you breathe into each other, and when you trail a hand over his cheek and down his neck he shudders and moans.

When you eventually have to pull away for air he chases you, and you can't help but chuckle at him. You see the flush spread over his cheeks and he opens his eyes, clearly embarrassed, but too far gone to say anything about it. His lips are shiny from your spit and his eyes are hooded, and you can't help but lean back in to taste him again. It earns you another low moan from the back of his throat.

He raises a hand to curl into your hair, grabs a handful as he threads his fingers through it, and the noise you make is frankly embarrassing, but it only serves to encourage him. In the next moment, he's dragging you into his lap with your legs straddling his hips, and positioned like this you can kiss him deeper. His other hand grips your hip firmly and you mewl into his mouth, and in response he moans and grinds you down into his clothed length. You run your hands up and down his chest, and one hand wraps around the back of his neck to hold him to you. He keens at the touch.

A loud cracking sound splits through the air.

You both jump away from each other, eyes frantically searching the other to see who hurt what, only to realise the noise is coming from somewhere nearby. Breaking branches. Footsteps.

You leap out of Rolan's lap and crouch next to him, peeking round the edge of the rock wall. You can't see anything, but the noise is getting closer. When you turn to Rolan, his features are hard, and he nods at you decisively as he moves to crouch with you. He comes up beside you, glances out in the direction with the noise. He brings a hand up to clutch your chin, directs it slightly more to the right, and points between a set of trees in the distance.

Whatever he sees, you can't. It's far too dark, and the fog is still a little too thick for you to see through. When you shoot him a confused look, he mouths to you in response.

"Harper."

You frown at that, and quirk an eyebrow questioningly, hoping he can deduce your question: 'Shadow-curse victim?"

He seems to catch your meaning, and he turns back to the tree line, squinting and leaning forward slightly. The movement results in him baring the column of his neck to you, and despite the fact you try, you fail spectacularly at wrenching your eyes away. His skin is smooth and unblemished, in contrast to your own body which you know is covered in a variety of scars and marks. You're overwhelmed by the urge to lean forward and suck a bruise onto his pulse point, which you just barely manage to resist. Not the time .

He turns back to look at you and you flick your eyes up to his in what is unfortunately a very conspicuous manoeuvre. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he juts his chin towards the harper in the treeline and whispers; "I think they're friendly."

You nod at that, turning away to look in the direction of the harper, who you still can't see. You can feel Rolan's eyes on you, and with a bolt of arousal shooting through your body you wonder if he's looking at you the way you looked at him moments ago.

You clear your throat. "Hello? Is someone there?"

Rolan leans in and whispers into your ear, and you feel goosebumps raise over your skin. "They've turned this way, they're making their way over."

"Tav?" The mystery voice calls out from the shadows. "Is that you? Karlach sent me."

You breathe a sigh of relief at the confirmation of the stranger's allegiance, and with a pat on Rolan's shoulder you stand and begin walking to the voice. You try to ignore the fact that Rolan practically clings to your side, and the small blossom of hope that brews in your chest.

"That's me." You can see the harper now, a light skinned dwarf with slicked back brown-auburn hair who you recognise as one of the men that guards the gate of the inn. "She'll have sent you out on a rescue mission, then."

He laughs. "She did indeed. Said the fact the both of you-" he nods towards Rolan "-were gone wasn't a coincidence. Her words were something to the effect of 'if that smarmy idiot has gone off to get himself killed, she's probably followed him.'"

You flush, but don't say anything. There's no real defence you can muster, considering the fact she's pretty much spot on.

Rolan jumps in for you. "Well, I'm thankful for the intervention. I owe Tav my life. We were waiting out the fog, I don't suppose you can guide us back to the inn?"

The harper nods, "certainly can. It's not all that far, but keep your wits about you. The critters out here are feral."

~~~

The first thing Karlach does when the pair of you find her at Last Light is flick you between the eyes.

"You bloody moron! How did I know you'd be off canoodling with this prick, hm?"

You can feel yourself going red, but you puff your chest out defiantly anyway, "I went to help him!"

The gleam in her eyes and smirk on her lips tells you she's been spending far too much time with Astarion, "I'm sure you did! Bet he was real grateful for your 'help', weren't you wizard?"

Rolan scowls, but his cheeks look darker than usual. Instead of saying anything, he storms off.

Karlach laughs, but you feel your stomach sink. He doesn't even look backwards at you. Clearly he's come to his senses, now that he's out of mortal danger, and remembered that he hates your guts.

You sigh, and shake all thoughts of Rolan from your mind. "Go on then, K, tell me what you found."

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Stand-Alone Series Chapter: 1

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Prompt: Hermione gets jealous as she catches you flirting with someone else, but it ends in a heartfelt exchange between the two of you.

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings: romilda vane gets rejected like canon, y/n & hermione are soulmates its confirmed, no plot just fluff

Note: a little something to tide you guys over while i work on the final chapter. hope you enjoy! <3

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character @aki-ham @brocoliisscared

You harshly shove the Hufflepuff seeker out of the way, he doesn't budge, not until you shoulder him again. This time it unsteadies his broom, in an effort to not lose his balance, he falls back, leaving you alone in pursuit of the Golden Snitch.

You manage to locate the snitch once more, the golden ball just a few paces out of reach, as you extend your hand, you can feel its wing fluttering violently against your fingertips As you attempt to grab it, the flying ball quickly changes course trying to evade you, but you still manage to follow closely behind.

"Come on." You mutter under your breath, you are so close, the ball is practically yours.

Coincidentally, a large gust of wind graces your flight path at just the right moment. You take full advantage of it, picking up a bit of momentum, just enough to trap the Golden Snitch in your grasp.

You then whisk yourself around on the broom to face the stands, stubbornly the Snitch tries to wriggle free, but you hold it firmly still.

A large roar erupts from the audience as you hold up your prize for all to see. They were cheering for you.

The sound is exhilarating, intoxicating. It makes you feel invisible– but there was only one person's cheer worth taking notice.

In a sea of Gryffindors, you find Hermione's gaze. Your grin widens, and she smiles right back at you.

Soon enough an involuntarily blush covers your cheeks, and you are forced to look away.

"Y/n has caught the Golden Snitch. Slytherin wins!"

═══════════════════════════════════════════

The celebration continues well into the evening in the Slytherin common room. Students from all houses fill the space, taking advantage of the unlimited amounts of liquor and butter beer available.

Crabbe and Blaise insist on parading you on their shoulders for the dozenth time tonight, it seems the more intoxicated they get, the harder they find the task of leaving you alone.

“Y/n!, Y/n!, Y/n!” The crowd continues to chant beneath you, and you can only allow yourself to enjoy the moment. Even though the incessant attention from everyone tonight was starting to peeve you slightly.

The only person you wanted to spend time with tonight is Hermione– yet she is nowhere to be found.

“Alright, put me down guys.” You raise your voice over the commotion, and your friends finally oblige, taking you off their shoulders, you let out a breath of relief once your feet touch flat ground.

“If you keep it up, Y/n, we'll win all the games this season.” Pansy claims, her voice closer to a shout.

You merely give her a nod, taking her words for a compliment and nothing more. Deliberately ignoring the sudden sense of crippling responsibility that's been set upon you.

You find yourself looking through the crowd once more, hoping to spot a familiar brown-eyed beauty.

Where is she?

You push through the sea of students, a few of them continue hurling praises at you and taking the opportunity to squeeze your shoulder as a version of acclamation.

By the time you reach the large window by the far side of the room, you are out of breath.

The spot you've escaped to is somewhat secluded, so you are given a chance to gain your bearings, as you silently observe the view of the black lake.

That is, until someone unwelcomed enters your space.

“You were amazing on the pitch today–” Romilda Vane says, standing an inch too close.

You catch a whiff of alcohol on her breath, and your effort to distance yourself fails as she merely sees it as an opportunity to step closer.

“Thanks, Romilda. I didn't realize you liked Quidditch.” You state dismissively, before scanning your surroundings again, for any indication of Hermione.

“I don't, not really..” She replies, and a bold hand on your shoulder snatches your attention once more.

“I like watching you though.” Romilda says, inching even closer, you watch as her gaze manages to find your lips for a moment.

Normally, you'd entertain such a blatant attempt at flirting, especially from someone so attractive– but tonight, you couldn't care less.

Hermione is the only girl you want complimenting you.

Romilda proceeds to brazenly caress your bicep, she gasps slightly after giving your firm muscle a squeeze.

“I bet you could easily lift me.” She remarks suggestively, and you let out a dismissive scoff, but this only urges her to continue eyeing you hungrily– a mere object she'd like to toy with.

“Perhaps we could find out–” You suggest, but immediately regret your effort in humoring her.

Romilda mistakes your words as an invitation. She leans in to meet your lips and you quickly swerve out of the way.

“Some other time.” You quip, subsequently catching sight of a familiar face in the distance You don't even bother letting Romilda down easily before chasing after her.

-

“Hermione!” You call out, but the Gryffindor is making it quickly through the crowd. It seemed shouting her name only motivated her to walk further away.

You finally catch up to her in the gallery, outside the common room, the door soon shuts behind you, and the two of you are left alone.

“Hey, slow down–” You say, finally grabbing hold of Hermione’s arm.

“Where are you going?” You ask, but when she turns to look at you, her hardened expression takes you aback.

“Are you alright?” Your ask of real concern is only met with an eye-roll. Hermione groans in frustration as she tries to wrench out of your hold.

“Let me go–” She asks sternly, and you do just that, but her demeanor continues to unnerve you. You could never bear it whenever she was upset with you.

Whatever it is, you plan to rectify it now.

“Hermione..” You coax gently, and the Gryffindor no longer makes the effort to walk away from you, instead she leans against the stone wall, her gaze fixed towards the ground.

You stuff your hands into your pockets as you made the conscious effort to not reach out for her again.

“You know you can talk to me– tell me what's wrong, darling. Was it something I did?” You try once more, and finally, she graces you with a lingering glance.

"Why are you with me? You could have any girl in the school.. anyone you wanted. So why me?” Hermione asks, the faint tremor in her voice breaks you, but you can't help the incredulous look that paints your features.

“Are you really asking me that?” You ask flippantly.

Your carelessness only makes visible tears well up in Hermione's eyes, and you immediately regret opening your mouth.

“Oh– no, I'm sorry. Come here.” You remark frantically, pulling Hermione closer by the waist, and she accepts your embrace.

“I'm sorry.” You repeat earnestly. She buries her face in the crook of your neck, despite herself.

“You have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?” You mutter, as you take in the scent of her hair.

Hermione pulls back to look at you expectantly, and you don't fight the urge to hold her face in both your hands, leaning in to kiss her deeply.

“I think you're brilliant.” You admit as your lips remain less than an inch apart.

“Really?” Hermione breathes out, and you can only smile.

“Yes.” You claim before tilting your head to kiss her jaw. “Being with you.. it's like a dream.” You continue, relishing at the feeling of Hermione shifting closer to feel more of you.

“A dream I never want to wake from.” You utter directly into her ear, before placing a kiss against it.

Hermione shudders in delight, her hand slips up your chest to the collar of your shirt, she clutches it, at an effort to steady herself.

You proceed to kiss her neck, and amidst a series of soft moans, Hermione utters something far more incriminating.

“I love you..” She says breathlessly, almost too soft to be real.

You feel her tense up as you halted the string of kisses you were leaving upon her skin, trying to process what you just heard.

“What did you just say?” You ask, pulling away so you could trap Hermione's gaze.

The evident blush upon her cheeks only causes your grin to widen.

“Nothing, I–” Hermione stutters, and you decide to help refresh her memory.

“You love me?” You ask, hopeful that she wouldn't deny it.

“Yes. Maybe.. I don't know.” She averts her eyes, and you have to bite your lip to stop from smiling too wide.

“Well, that's a relief. because I think, maybe, I love you too.” You respond, tucking a strand of hair behind Hermione's ear, and this makes her look at you again.

“Wait– you do?” Hermione asks, her manner ever unassuming. She is perfect, and she loves you.

“I love you like a madman.” You admit plainly, and her chuckle causes your heart to flutter violently in your chest. “Sometimes it feels like I can hardly do anything else besides love you.”

Hermione's expression visibly softens at your admittance, she leans in to kiss you again, you gladly welcome the sensation of her tongue entering your mouth.

“You make me feel things that I don't even understand sometimes.. but I just know that, I seem to never want to be away from you.”

Hermione utters after separating her lips from your own, her hand moves to the nape of your neck, and the other runs through your hair.

“I feel the same.” You state, placing a chaste kiss against her cheek.

“So let us never part, my love.”

[bamsara]

#49. “Is somebody jealous?” If you feel like it 🤙

Sun-Centric, Moon at the end. | Wordcount: 1,763 | A03 Version

Romantic-leaning.

Taking advantage of the fact that my Sun cannot lie, so he either deflects or avoids the question, while Moon is more blunt. Takes place in ARC 2 (Moon reinstated as DCA, restrictions taken off Sun)

(Also, consider this a draft crumb for a future chapter of Solar Lunacy, so, spoilers. You may see a similar scene in the actual fic later.)

He's the father of one of the children; the boy who's got a obsession with Monty, even shares the same hairstyle and sunglasses as the animatronic, although his parent is a bit duller as you'd expect: Confident guy, cleaned up and usually wearing dull sweaters with dark hair. Used to wear glasses but just wears contacts anymore, and he's got a arm tattoo of a skeleton riding a motocycle under his sleeves hidden by the clothing so it's not an issue at his job.

You don't learn this things of free will, by the way. The guy just really likes to talk to you past departure time whenever you're the one checking the kids out at the door. He's a rabbler, that one, and it goes quickly from a refreshing casual conversation to a realization that he was staying at touch over his welcome.

Sun usually comes to your rescure, in the oddest of ways, sometimes.

Sometimes he'll come up behind you, shoo you off to go collect some other child for another parent while he 'verifies' the parent's identity (which you know is bollocks, since the father picks up the same boy every day he's dropped off and the little troublemaker never had an issue recognizing the guy)

Other times he'll yell something about children knocking over a tower, or throwing ballpit toys or pool noodles, and despite knowning damn well he can handle them well enough, you'll excuse yourself to go take care of the scene without coming off as rude to the customer.

Really, you don't want to come off rude to a Pizzaplex guest. You're not exactly sure where you're job stands as it is. You're not going to take any risks of a complaint.

It takes a little bit longer this time. A child is currently sobbing over a skinned knee they got from rough housing in the pizzaplex while you're at the doors checking out the troublemaker and the twins to their respective parents. The mothers of the twins collect their boys, bid you a good day and leave well enough. The father of the troublemaker, as usual, lingers even after his name is marked off the list.

"Gettin' pretty cold out, aint it?" He says, pulling a small phone out of his pocket and handing it to the boy. His son takes it, and is busy with a mobile game quicker than you can blink. "Not gonna be much longer until Christmas."

You smile. Sun is busy comforting the child in the back end of the Daycare, so you'll have to navigate this conversation on your own. "Yep. Look's like we'll be as busy as ever."

It's carefully chosen words, and you watch the reaction in his face as you say them. It seems to be the correct choice, because something in his face steels. "Yeah, yeah. Say, you got any hobbies outside of this place?"

A casual, nonformal shrug. "I spend most of my time here, actaully."

"Oh, I gotcha." He chuckles. "Getting tired of hanging around robots yet?"

"Not really." Still smiling, gotta keep up apperances. "They're actaully great friends of mine."

Something shifts in the man's expression. Not in the way that makes you think he'd suddenly think less of you to like hanging around robots, but like he's just unlocked some sort of secret backstory lore for his favorite character in a video game, and you're the npc. "Oh, really? That's pretty cool of you. You know, I work with a couple robots myself. Over at the office." He talks like he's bragging you have something in common. "Takes out the trash and gets the coffee. Like interns, but you don't have to pay em."

Your smile stretches a bit thin. "They do good work. My friend Sun might need my help in a moment."

It's a light excuse, one that doesn't seem likes it's going to work because you don't hear a child crying anymore, and Sun isn't anywhere to be seen from a glance around the Daycare. The father interjects again. "Oh, yeah. Lanky guy, isn't he?"

"He's probably getting things ready for naptime." You turn to step away from the door. "I should go get the blankets-"

Your step away seems to activate something in him. "Oh, wait! Before you're busy. Didn't mean wanna impose, but would you-?"

A flash of yellow, reds and oranges comes into your vision rather quickly in the corner of your eye, and Sun is there (thank god) with a toddler curled up in his arms. She's already sleeping, and he's careful the beads in her hair don't press inbetween where her head rests against his chassis, and talks in a whisper-yell. "Heelllooooooo, there!"

The father looks a bit startled to seem him for a second before his composure returns, and you try not to look visably relieved. "Everything under control?"

"You betcha!" Sun manages to be loud and quiet at the same time, a feat only he can achieve, and turns to the father and his son standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry, but the Daycare will have it's naptime soon, so we'll be turning off the lights and trying to keep to our inside voices." He talks calm, assertive. "Is there anything else I can help you with before you go?"

This seems to work, the father blows air through his nose in semblance of a sigh, and shrugs. "Ah, nah. We've got it here." He turns to you to say the goodbye, though. "See you around."

You and Sun speak in unison as the pair leaves. "Have a Faztastic day!"

The door shuts behind the man and his son, and you feel the tension leave from your shoulders. Children are already getting into their mats and blankets on their own (save for two that are trying to fit into one sleeping bag so they can nap together, but you don't break them up or else they have nightmares) and you don't see much else for you to do other than to turn the lights off.

Sun holds the sleeping toddler in one arm, a hand coming up to gently cover her ears with the other. "Bit of a talker, that one."

"It's not like he's doing anything wrong." You shrug, setting your clipboard on the security desk. "Just chooses the worst time. I mean, like, c'mon. I'm at work here. I can't chat with people at the door."

"Would you prefer outside the Pizzaplex?" The animatronic asks. He doesn't look as nervous when you approuch the light switch anymore. Well, usually. "I'm sure he'd like that."

You don't reach for the light switch yet; doing so mid conversation would be rude, but you still raise a brow. "Sounding a little suspisious there, Sunny."

"Suspisious." He repeats, scoffing. "His intentions are plain as day! And I'm the day! Look at me! I'm telling you. Right now."

It's playful behavior, and the way he sounds when it's flared up is a little funny, so you cross your arms and lean against the wall next to the light switch. "Okay? What if I like the attention?"

Sun's smile thins. "Oh, we doubt that."

"But what if you're wrong? Would it be so bad?" You're teasing him, obviously, that much is clear. You can tell by the look on your friend's face that he's two seconds away from rolling his eyes (or maybe he is already, and you just can't see the pupils) but you're allowed to poke at the Daycare Attendant every now and then. "Maybe we'll never know because you keep chasing him off."

"I would gasp right now, dramatic and awful, but the childern are trying to sleep." Sun sounds incredbably deadpan. "And I'm not going to entertain your theatrics-"

"My theatrics?" You give a short laugh. "The last time he was doing this, you pretended to fall and break a leg so I could excuse myself to 'repair' you."

Sun holds up one finger to you. "And yet you still came running!"

"...Boo."

"There will be no 'booing' in the daycare-"

"Oh, boo. You just don't want me to get a date cause you'd miss me." You snort.

Sun looks like he's about to say something, then goes quiet, face static. You grin. The girl he's holding hasn't stirred yet, but knowning him, he's probably holding back for her sake to defend himself. He only does so after a moment. "Teasing and bullying is not allowed in the Daycare either, or do you think you're always excluded from rules?"

"So you would!" You laugh, and cover your mouth with your hand so it doesn't make so much noise. "And please, you let me get away with so much-"

Sun looks esasperated. "Against our will."

"What are you, jealous?" You continue, and miss the visible stillness that takes over the animatronic when you talk. White pupils deadpan at you and you snicker. "What? Nothing to say? Is somebody jealous?"

You chuckle as the Daycare Attendant stares at you, smiling but silient. It's fun to tease him, but it's about time you let him get back to work before you waste time, and you reach for the light switch, still leaning back agaist the wall. "Alright, alright. I'm done. Let's get-"

A hand reaches out over yours, pressing it against the light switching flipping it off as your fingers are locked underneath it's own. You pause, gaze dropping from the lightswitch and traveling back in front of you towards the animatronic as the lights in the Daycare go out.

The switch happens differently each time, but better times like this, it's a blink, and the Daycare Attendant went a far cry from hiding away each time to this; unwaving eyecontact, leaning int a little too close for comfort as colors change and the pressure on your hand feels a touch sharper.

"Yes." Moon says, deadpan.

You blink. "Uh."

"Blankets." His hand drops from the light switch, from your hand, and adjusts his grip on the still sleeping toddler in his other arm.

The small-talk of an animatronic leans away from you, and casually, turns the opposite direction towards the children who were either half-asleep on their mats already, or quite excited to see him. You watch as the animatronic finds a open mat to tuck the toddler into, mummering quiet hushes to the children around him as he busies himself with his duties.

Well, you might have lost that one. You retrieve the blankets from the supply closet, using your hands to scrub at the warmness in your face when he's not looking.

[moodymisty]

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕺𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝕸𝖊

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Part 1 of 5 - Part 2

Author's Note: It's here! The first chapter of the Yandere Salamander/Fem!Reader/Yandere Night Lord love triangle(corner) fic! It's going to be 4 chapters (5 actually you'll see tehe) and I drafted a good portion of it in advance so it should be smooth posting? We'll see. Enjoy!

Summary: A Night Lord becomes interested in you while you stand under the eyes of your Salamander guardian, and you find yourself stuck between two titans.

Relationship: Yandere!Salamander/Fem!Reader/Yandere!Night Lord

Warnings: Hints of nsfw at points, Yandere, Size differences, Very toxic suffocating relationship(s), Some knight/princess dynamics, Demeaning language, Both these guys have hero complexes, Violence blood and bruises and possibly death to say without spoilers

Word Count: 2068

Word travels fast aboard even the largest of ships, you had learned quite quickly.

Space marine legions are not fond of working with one another, was what you had learned first. Many times even different squads within this same Legion can butt heads, as different styles of commanding and battle conflict with one other. Salamanders often try and remain cordial when problems within them arise, but friction was and is inevitable.

The second, was Vulkan was apparently quite firm with his legion that they were to welcome their temporary allies with respect. At least that is what you’ve heard from any Salamander that you’ve heard mumbling as you pass by, or any that have given you a moment of their time. That’s all you know, and these tidbits of knowledge fail to put together a full picture that you can understand. Their lips have been quite tight other than the bare minimum they believe you need to know.

Or what you can get from them if you ask very nicely; Much like the Commissars and Lords you've dealt with over the years, it seems Salamanders aren't immune to a bit of flattery also. You just need to make sure he doesn't find out, as you know how displeased he gets whenever he finds out you went wandering around chattering with his brothers.

Speaking of...

You can ask him about it; You just need to wait for him.

He always visits you in the librarium, once his second round of training is concluded. He then goes for his five hours of rest, and the cycle restarts. Though even if it isn't that time, you know he still keeps a keen eye on you.

You don’t wish to bother him with an issue as seemingly meaningless as gossip, but none of your fellows have been able to piece together what's happening, as none of the Salamanders have loosened their lips about it in the slightest.

It's made you more than a bit unnerved; Knowing that something is wrong but no one will tell you what it is. The tenseness in your neck is worse, and sirens and calls once normal now make you jolt when they sound off.

The large piece of parchment in front of you remains nearly empty, apart from the crude outline. Commander Artellus's face is fresh in your mind, but you for some reason can't put it to parchment.

You hear the sound of harsh, heavy boots on the ground, and turn to see who you've been waiting for coming towards you. You shift in your seat and turn to see him coming.

“Ralkan; You’re back,”

You smile wide at him, a put down the pen you'd been fruitlessly trying to use. The way his eyes look down at you is warm, his helmet hanging on the side of his hip. He stands close to where you sit alone at the massive table, covered in a mess of materials. The ink in your well shakes with waves, when he steps closer.

“You should have been there this time. I feel like I'm missing something now without your curious looks.”

You smile even wider and laugh, remembering the time. He had outpreformed Salamanders his senior, and you wondered if he was overdue for an ascension in rank, or if he was simply showing off.

“I'll come next time. As long as your battle brothers don’t mind me seeing your training again.”

He places a massive gauntlet on your shoulderblades, thumb against the side of your neck.

"They won't, I am sure of it. Though I hope you'll reserve your cheering only for me again."

His hand brushes along the upper half of your back before it slides away, his chainsword hanging neatly on his back. He looks out the massive window to the vast reaches of space directly in front of your makeshift desk for a moment, before pulling his bolter off his thigh and checking it.

He’s always meticulous. He’s been trained into flawless discipline, and it shows in every aspect of his existence. From the way he keeps his thoughts closed to the way each piece of armor and each weapon must be meticulously maintained.

You can hear the mechanics of his armor shift as he moves, but you can only tolerate few more beats of the near silence before you can’t help it anymore. Your pen twirls in your hand as a soothing gesture before you speak up.

“Ralkan?”

You look up to him, sniffling from the disturbed dust in your nose. He turns to look at you as you abandon your parchment, and finally put pen down and place your ink stained hands in your lap.

You hesitate for a moment, pursing your lips and looking away from his hard gaze as he turns back to you.

“What is happening?”

He is genuinely confused by your question for a moment, before he realizes what it is you're asking about, and his face stiffens. But still he doesn't answer. It irks you; Thinking that he’s trying to keep this all from you. You add on to your earlier question.

“I know that you are going to be fighting alongside another legion, but why are all of you acting like it's something you're all dreading?”

Perhaps you might simply be a guest aboard this ship, gifted from Terra to a legion eager to put their deeds to written memory, but you wish to know more than the servitors do. You pull your hands from your lap and lightly slap the table with them, gripping the edge.

“Ralkan, Who are the Night Lords?”

It is so instantly apparent that you struck something in him, as his body visibly tenses and his face briefly flashes with anger as a legion's name other than his own leaves your tongue.

He makes eye contact with you, the burning red of his eyes making your curiosity waver. But you still want to know- need to know. He takes a step closer, and his left hand rests against the surface of the table. He lets out a tense breath.

“The Night Lords are the 8th legion. They," Ralkan tries to find the words, pausing for a moment. "The way they wage battle is in near direct opposition to us Salamanders."

He speaks the name with a stern, cold demeanor. It fills you with a hesitant sort of interest.

These legions; Have they really developed cultures so unique that they find themselves unrecognizable to each other?

“They have no respect. They will cull entire cities for the slightest infraction.” He looks to you, and he catches that your curiosity it still taking hold; You lack the fear that he's trying to instill in you.

He takes a step forward, and you can hear his armor hiss and grind as he lowers to a knee, now only a head taller than you as you sit. He puts his hand on your shoulder again, but it lacks the gentleness it had the last time, as he grabs tight and forces you to face him. You wouldn’t be able to pull away even if you wanted to; And while he is still trying to be gentle, his gauntlet still yearns to bruise your skin underneath your clothing. The seams of his armor dig into your flesh even through the fabric.

“They are going to be crawling over the ship soon. Do not let them even see you. You cannot run from them and they will know it.” His hand makes sure you can’t look even the tiniest bit away from him. “They will take advantage of your weakness. You must stay here, in your quarters, or close to me. I was charged with protecting you, and I will see it through.”

There’s not many places on this ship you go, at least without him. He is your guard, or perhaps more accurately your handler. He is in charge of making sure you don’t wander where you don’t belong, as even if the Salamanders have been welcoming to a remembrancer on their ship, they have their limits. For your safely and their privacy.

This ship- A world for giants, it isn't meant for someone like you either. Ralkan makes it a bit easier to navigate.

Though out of all the titles he's been given, he seems to enjoy calling himself your knight first and foremost. You assume it’s simply a part of their culture, you’ve heard other Salamanders call themselves knights as well. The tone is different, but you assume it’s simply Ralkan’s own brand of oddity. Perhaps he isn't fully cognizant of the intimate undertone behind saying such a thing to you.

Stuck in his grip, your nose wrinkles as you try to say something in defiance, to learn a bit more, but you know this it all you'll get from him. Even if you ask sweetly.

“I just wanted to know what was happening. I'll," You turn your face away from him and blow air from between your tight lips. "I'll stop the questions about it."

There isn’t much you can say otherwise in the matter anyhow. You want to trust him, and to listen to him, but perhaps it’s simply curiosity that makes you hesitate on the matter. Or naivety he probably assumes, as much as that irritates you.

He lets out an audible sigh of relief, and loosens the hand on your shoulder, it drifting up your neck before it cups your jaw. The other joins it on the opposite side, holding your face in his gauntlets. They're so gentle, even with cold ceramite between your skin and his.

“You know I do this to protect you, yes?” He continues, his eyes soft as they gaze over you. “I only want for you to be safe here. With me. I have seen these astartes before; I know what they are capable of.”

His eyes are warm, brow softened. You always enjoy when he looks at you this way, even if you might fear of what lays between you being far beyond the supposed title of knight and his charge. 

He leans forward, and his forehead touches your own. You feel like he wishes to do more, but is forcing it back. Your bare hand lays overtop of his gauntlet, and you smile at him.

But after a moment, he leans back away from you.

“I must leave now. My brothers and I are part of the battalion that is due to greet our temporary allies.” 

You so desperately don’t want him to leave, but at the same time, you wonder if the weight on your chest will finally dissipate if he does.

He rises, and in doing so also removes his hands from your jaw. His cape shifts behind him just barely brushing against the floor, and you swear you can hear the crackling of a vox channel in his helmet. His battalion must be calling for him.

“I will return soon. Please, do not forget what I have said.” You nod in understanding, and pick up your pen. He smiles at you after you do, and turns to leave. You turn to watch for a moment, until he's out of your sight. You turn back to face the table and let out a sigh, rubbing your jaw.

You didn’t want him to leave, but at times Ralkan can be so, suffocating. His very energy is that way, many of the astartes are, but Ralkan seems to have his grip around you particularly tight.

You sum it up to him being dedicated to the safely of their brand new remembrancer. The sheen of a new toy that hasn't worn off yet. Or perhaps him simply wishing to make sure you don't deviate from the path, and tread where you aren't welcome.

You assume the ladder, though the way he looks at you fills you with doubt.

You aren't opposed to him being fond, but he is so overwhelming. You might consider yourself lucky you think you feel the same way, as you don't know if you'd be able to get free of his grip if you didn't.

You don’t forget his words, but as you write word after word, and the drawing of Commander Artellus's face slowly forms, your mind begins to fall into the paper, and his voice becomes little more than a tickle in the back of your mind.

[siilvan]

bloodsport – V

prologue | one | two | three | four | interlude

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: after a talk with price, you decide to make a risky move. keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, mentions of canon-typical violence, makarov's usual bs

word count: 4.3k

note: a very sincere thank you to everyone who sent support and waited so long (a month) for this update :') not super proud of this ngl, i'll try to make the next chapter better and sooner lol

"something to confess?" price utters, brows furrowing as he stares you down with a confused look.

you wring your hands together, feeling the perspiration on your palms even through your gloves. "yes, it's about makarov—"

what's left of the building around you rumbles, pieces of the wreckage crumbling into smaller pieces and falling apart. price tears his gaze from you and glances around before patting your shoulder.

"whatever it is can wait. we need to get out before the rest of this collapses on top of us." he says while turning away and motioning for you to follow, graves and the shadows already starting to move ahead. you huff to yourself and jog after him, sticking close to his side until you reach the sizeable breach that he was leading you to.

you try in vain to talk again once the team is safely outside, but graves speaks up the second you go to open your mouth.

"we need to find where they moved that control center," he says, one of the shadows nearby already grabbing his radio – communications expert, you realize after a moment. "i'm wiling to bet it's still in the city, probably a smaller base."

price nods to graves from where he's standing next to you. "might be in an entirely new spot. tell the squads to keep their eyes peeled." he looks at the communications expert at the end of his warning, directing it at him, and gets a thumbs-up in reply.

"captain, i—" you start, before getting interrupted again.

"we'll discuss this after the mission, lieutenant." price mutters, giving you a tight-lipped smile. "i promise."

you bite your tongue and try to swallow down the lump in your throat, giving him a confirmatory nod of your own. the team moves on from the derelict building, with graves and his shadows splitting off after one of the strike teams radios about a suspicious spot. price and you end up assisting the bravo team with the second-largest base; for once, you're happy to see enemies in a location.

most teams clear out their sectors without much issue, securing canisters of chemical gas and weapon caches, but the supposed nerve center isn't anywhere to be found.

after hours of searching under the scorching sun, price and graves come to a mutual agreement: cut your losses and extract with what you did manage to get your hands on.

the flight back to base is quiet for the most part. everyone's too exhausted to fuss over anything, allowing you to sit in relative peace as you debate on what to say to price. the intel from makarov – the mole within your group – replays in your head over and over again, adding to your ever-growing level of stress. if anyone notices your leg bouncing practically the whole ride, they don't comment on it.

you're chasing the captain to his office the moment you touch down, pushing the heavy door shut behind you as his eyes fall on you.

"never seen you this frazzled, lieutenant." price remarks with a soft chuckle, moving to rest against the front of his desk with his arms loosely crossed over his chest. "what's bothering you?"

you blink at him, the words that you've been wanting to say suddenly dying on your tongue. you want to tell him, you really do, but what will he think of you? what if he takes you off the team for this? brands you as a traitor for working with the enemy?

"petra? y'okay?" price asks, leaning towards you.

you wave the question off and clear your throat. "yeah, i just, uh..." you trail off, before taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly, resigning yourself to your fate. "i've been getting intel from makarov."

shock briefly crosses price's face before it returns to a somewhat neutral expression – alarmingly neutral. you know the look, you've seen it a hundred times.

he's calculating his response.

"it started when i was captured," you stutter out, trying to explain. "it was just the information on shepherd at first, but then he showed up at my apartment after you sent me home— there's a mole in our team, whoever it is put a tracker on my phone, and now shepherd knows that we're onto him—"

"lieutenant." price interrupts, his voice as cold as the ice in his stare, shutting you up with little more than a startled whimper in reply.

he pauses, his jaw tight. you stare at him, wide-eyed and waiting for a furious response, but when he speaks again, his voice is soft.

"tell me everything you know. everything."

you draw in another breath and nod your head slowly. "one of the new recruits – someone who arrived recently – is working for shepherd, keeping tabs on us. his men are targeting the one-four-one; after the building collapse, one of them tried to sneak up on me. makarov found him before i did and took him out, but—"

"wait, he was there?" price all but growls, his arms falling back to his sides as his hands clench into fists against the tabletop.

you nod, again, shrinking under the barely-kept tension rolling off him in waves. "i didn't know he'd be there, it wasn't planned," you say, gaze falling to the floor. "but, he's not important right now. what is important is stopping shepherd before he uses the conflict in al-mazrah and urzikstan as an excuse to start a global war."

price doesn't reply at first, but you can see the gears turning in his head. evaluating, scheming, doing what he does best. a painful beat of silence passes between you, prompting you to speak again, uttering words that will earn you a medal, a grave, or life behind bars.

"makarov's given me intel before, captain. he has eyes in places that we don't, more resources than us, more freedom to act—"

"petra—" price cuts in, but you keep talking.

"—if you let me go undercover," you pause, staring into his eyes, searching for approval in his gaze. "i can get the information we need and act on it. shepherd, makarov... we can eliminate them in one fell swoop. i'll use makarov's resources, then take him down from within his own group. we can't do this clean. the gloves need to come off."

you step closer to him, lowering your voice to a quiet murmur that hardly reaches him. "you said it yourself: at the end of the day, somebody needs to make the enemy scared of the dark."

price clicks his tongue before shaking his head, an amused chuckle tumbling from his lips. "this is risky, you'd be inserting yourself right into his inner circle," he comments, tilting his head at you. "do you really think you'd be able to fool him?"

"he's already offered me protection," you say. "i'll figure out a way to gain his trust." you add, grimacing.

"normally i wouldn't approve something like this, but... for whatever reason, he seems to want you on his side. we might as well use that to our advantage." he concedes, earning an affirmative hum from you.

"i'll give him a response, then. you won't regret this, captain."

⋆⋆⋆

"i'm surprised you've called so quickly." you can hear the amusement in his voice after he answers the phone. "have you come to a decision?" makarov asks.

you let your eyes flutter closed and inhale deeply through your nose, hand clenching and unclenching at your side.

"i have." you reply after a long moment. "are you really wiling to offer me protection from shepherd?"

the grin on his face is evident despite you not seeing it. "i am. all you have to do is help me kill him."

you stifle a surprised laugh. "you're asking for a miracle like it's a small favor." you mutter, to which he sighs, heavy through the speaker.

"i'm confident in your abilities, lieutenant. i will arrange a meeting point and send you the coordinates and time. don't be late."

"punctual. i look forward to it." you respond, sealing your fate as you end the call.

once again, just as you return, you're departing again. you haven't stayed anywhere for longer than a day since escaping the prison, and yet, here you are, preparing to deliver yourself to the maw of the beast. it's almost poetic, just how quickly you've leapt back into danger after weeks of wanting nothing more than to get away from it.

true to his word, you receive a set of coordinates and a time from makarov shortly after the conversation. the only goodbyes you give are rushed words shared with the captain before you take off in an unmarked helicopter, leaving behind promises to explain the situation to those who matter and to get you home as soon as possible.

the location isn't anything of significance, that you're sure of as soon as the helicopter touches down. it's a road just outside of a quiet city, unassuming aside from the sleek black car that sits pulled over to the side. as soon as the gravel crunches under your boots, a man emerges from the vehicle to greet you in a gruff murmur of your callsign. you nod once, unmoving from your position, studying the man as he remains still several feet in front of you.

dressed in painfully normal clothing, a black shirt and a pair of dark weathered jeans, you almost think he's a civilian until your eyes find the patch hastily stuck onto his sleeve, the annoyingly familiar snake skull curving around his bicep as if to taunt anyone who sees it.

he's a mercenary, no doubt. probably someone makarov hired to handle the work his soldiers are above – like this.

as you follow the man to the car, settling in the backseat as he sits in the passenger and vaguely motions to the driver, you briefly wonder just how large makarov's forces are; how far does his influence reach?

you're also left curious about the lack of soldiers. a sign of trust, perhaps? you doubt it, but he's not a man whose decisions are easy to understand. maybe his goal is making you question every little thing that he does, forcing you to stay alert until you exhaust yourself and he has the chance to strike.

the car pulls back onto the road, leaving you to stare out the window as it travels away from the city. the forest surrounding you isn't terribly dense, but enough so that you have to squint to see anything through the passing trees. the winding road heading steadily up a mountain makes it no easier; you searched the coordinates during the flight and saw nothing of significance in the area...

where are they taking you?

the man mumbles something to the driver, catching your attention despite not hearing what he said. the response he receives is in russian and, again, words that you miss due to how quietly they're uttered. once the trees start to thin, however, you assume the sight ahead is what they were discussing.

a villa. a grand one, at that. it's not far from the city, you glance at your watch and time the drive as a half-hour, but the location is secluded, sitting on the cliffside overlooking the population below. it's gated, with armed guards staring the vehicle down as it approaches the entrance; like a stronghold, a private residence barred from any unwanted visitors or influence. it reminds you of las almas, of el sin nombre's villa.

the sun starts to set behind the villa as the car passes the gate and comes to a stop in front of it. the door next to you is suddenly pulled open, yanking your focus from the building as you meet the eye of the soldier, clad in a dark uniform and balaclava, staring you down while holding the door open.

wordlessly, you climb out and narrow your eyes at him, watching as he slams the door shut behind you. there's something familiar about him, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

as his eyes meet yours, it clicks.

"are you the guard from the prison?" you ask, his tired gaze bringing you back to your imprisonment. it's barely been a day since your escape, and yet that place – the injuries that left you in near-constant misery, the prying eyes watching you, the all-too-kind doctor, the other doctor, your enemy being the only person you could even begin to trust – it all feels so distant, despite being so recent.

the soldier huffs, scratching the side of his jaw through his mask. "i have been a guard in many prisons, you will have to be more specific."

you cross your arms tightly, his voice becoming more recognizable as he speaks. thick accent, perpetual disinterest worn like a badge, treating you with indifference despite not walking away.

"i hope the trip wasn't too difficult, lieutenant." a voice pulls you away, making you turn your head to the side as a "friendly" figure emerges from the set of doors nearby. makarov regards you with a small smile, something akin to pride and a more sincere emotion – relief? – glimmering in the dark recesses of his gaze.

you shrug, standing stiff when he stops in front of you. "i think the trip was the easy part." you mutter.

"you underestimate my sense of hospitality," he chuckles, taking in your fatigued state. "you've had a long day, i'll keep the tour brief tonight. i'm sure you have a lot of questions, hm?" his head tilts to the side for a second, emphasizing the question at the end of his remark.

his behavior is… unexpected, to say the least. you were expecting cold apathy like you experienced in captivity, but instead, makarov seems eager to have you here. you're sure it's all part of a plan that you're unaware of, bigger and more important than yourself.

"that's putting it lightly." you reply, walking two paces behind him when he motions for you to follow him inside. the masked solider follows you after a nod towards makarov, accepting a silent order from his commander.

the interior of the villa is equally as extravagant as the exterior— your breath catches in your throat as your footsteps echo against the tile floor, eyes flitting to the art dotting the walls and the furniture that you're certain costs more than your apartment.

"it's all a bit excessive, don't you think?" you murmur, sending a glance to the man in front of you.

makarov hums, hardly sparing his surroundings any attention. "i think it's fitting," he says, leading you to an elevator. "konni is not like the other crude, second-rate paramilitaries you've encountered, petra... we have a goal, organization, leadership—"

"—that leader being you?" you chuckle, stepping into the elevator and facing him. makarov waves the soldier off and presses one of the buttons on the wall, leaving you alone together when the doors slide shut.

"do you doubt me?" he asks, brows furrowing. "need i remind you who is shouldering the burden of protecting you?" he adds, leaning closer as his voice lowers just slightly. you recognize the look, the intent behind the way he moves closer, forcing you to take a step back to create some distance.

"let's get one thing straight," you mutter, trying to keep your tone steady despite your back meeting the wall. "i don't need protection because you're any better than me. you just give me the freedom i need to move against shepherd without putting my squad at risk."

you pause, wetting your lips, before opening your mouth to continue. any words you planned to say leave you in a short breath as you're literally cornered in the small space, though, blinking at the man in front of you. makarov holds your gaze, amusement clearly written on his expression as his arm lifts, caging you in with a tight fist on the wall next to your head.

"you need me, petra. that is what matters." he leans closer still, shifting to rest his forearm against the wall instead, his lips twitching up in a crooked smile. you try to avert your eyes, to stare at the wall past him, but his other hand comes up to stop you with a firm grip on the sides of your jaw, keeping your head still. "i strongly suggest you find it in yourself to cooperate instead of fighting me. this is a very unique opportunity for us to help each other."

"you..." a frustrated sound escapes from you, only serving to encourage him to tighten his hold, leather-clad fingertips digging into your skin. you need to gain his trust if the plan you discussed with price has any chance of succeeding. we get dirty, world stays clean. killing shepherd is the mission; makarov comes later. play your cards right and you can take out them both.

"fine... i guess i owe you civility, at the very least." you concede, one of your hands shooting up to grab his wrist. "just get your hands off me." you grumble with a pointed glare.

makarov's hand retracts before the complaint even fully leaves your lips. "clever girl. you've made the right choice." he murmurs.

he moves away as the elevator reaches the floor and the door slides open again, immediately revealing a corridor dotted with soldiers – some conversing, some standing guard, others approaching the elevator as makarov steps out with you in tow.

"we'll have time for a proper tour later. in the meantime, if you need help navigating the grounds, any of my men will be happy to assist." he says, marching ahead.

"don't have any more room in your busy schedule for me?" you utter, trailing behind him.

he rounds a corner and keeps walking. "not at the moment, unfortunately." you arrive at a door, where he turns to you once more. "i have matters that require my attention, otherwise i would stay longer. i've arranged a place for you to sleep. i suggest you rest tonight. once we have the general's location, you will be needed."

you nod, admittedly taken aback. "i'll... do that, then. thank you." you stutter out.

"don't mention it." he says, already backing away from you and heading back down the hallway. you try not to stare as he disappears from your sight, intentionally fixing your attention on the door he led you to.

so eccentric, you think.

⋆⋆⋆

you let out a contented sigh as you pull your shirt down over your head, standing in the middle of the sizeable bedroom after your shower. a glance out the window tells you what time it is before you even check— the sun set over the horizon about an hour ago.

when you pick your phone up off the nightstand, there's a message from price waiting for you.

status report? 19:05 pm

you look to the door, debating on a response.

all settled in. nothing significant to report yet. 19:15 pm

good. keep your guard up. 19:15 pm

laswell got into contact with alex earlier. potential base in verdansk. 19:16 pm

need me to handle it? 19:16 pm

no. focus on makarov for now. we'll take care of it. 19:17 pm

copy. good luck. 19:17 pm

save some luck for yourself. stay sharp. 19:18 pm

you shove your phone into your pocket and send the door another look, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. makarov said he would be busy, but... there's something telling you to seek him out, some horrible feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach. you have a lot of questions and very few answers, things weighing on your mind that, to your chagrin, only he can ease.

"fucking fantastic," you say to the empty room, shaking off the feeling and heading out into the corridor. after getting directions from a handful of soldiers and a short elevator ride, you find yourself up on the penthouse floor, standing in front of the set of doors leading to his personal office.

you knock before you have the chance to psyche yourself out, three short taps in quick succession, your shoulders rigid until you hear an "enter" from the other side.

when you step in, letting the door softly click shut behind you, makarov lifts his head from the papers on the desk in front of him. you don't move immediately, standing with your back pressed against the smooth wood, your eyes flitting around the neatly-kept space before meeting his.

before you can say anything, he lifts a hand to stop you, bringing your attention to the phone next to his ear.

"i don't care about the weather, alexi," he mutters into the speaker, his focus never shifting from you. "you are leading a group of soldiers, not children, they can handle a storm. communicate the old-fashioned way if you're so worried about signal issues." he continues.

you awkwardly linger in your spot, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. his jaw tenses as his gaze narrows, and for a moment, a small part of you worries that the ire might be directed at you for intruding at an inconvenient time.

"i can come back," you whisper, hand already reaching for the knob behind you.

"stay." he replies, making you freeze. "no, not you, сволочь— just deliver the gas according to the schedule. i won't accept anything later than that." he grumbles into the speaker before hanging up the call and dropping his phone onto the papers, sighing heavily and moving to rub the fatigue from his eyes.

gas? as in, the chemical gas you saw in al-mazrah?

"pleasant conversation?" you tease, earning a pointed glare.

he stands from his chair with a soft groan. "what are you here for?"

you step further into the room, watching as he circles around the desk to meet you in the middle. "not sure. care to educate me on the gas you were talking about, though?" you smile, folding your hands in front of yourself.

makarov eyes you down, scrutinizing you, but gives in after a brief staring contest that you arguably win.

"after we succeed in urzikstan and the kremlin realizes what must be done, we will move on to their allies." he begins, speaking slowly. "my soldiers are making the preparations as we speak, planting it within each target nation."

as he continues, that prior feeling returns tenfold, and you mutter, "the gas used in al-mazrah and vondel?"

he nods, unchanging, even as your expression freely gives away the unease and anger steadily building under your skin. "exactly that. this is just the first step."

there's an emotion on his face, something haunting that makes your chest tighten. total apathy, as if the consequences of his actions mean nothing to him. they don't, your reasonable side is well aware of that, but the sheer wrongness of the situation nags at you, pushing you to try to prevent it in whatever ways you can.

"okay, i know you don’t care about innocent lives being lost," you start, crossing your arms over your chest. "but, i do. i'm not going to stand by and watch you destroy the world over some... bullshit hunt for glory! if you use that gas, i'm backing out." you assert. he steps back from you, creating a comfortable distance.

"i thought you were here for a reason, petra. unless, you've changed your mind?" makarov asks with a curious lilt, turning to face away from you.

your arms drop to your sides as your hands clench into fists. "we both know how deadly that gas is – it can kill millions. i'd rather take my chances with the government than assist you with that."

makarov hums in acknowledgement, standing in front of his desk now, and you watch as he reaches for the bottle of whiskey and empty tumbler sitting near the edge.

"are you seriously pouring yourself a drink right now?" you pause your rant, positively fuming while he pours the liquid into the glass. is this all some kind of fucking joke to him?

"i find it easier to listen when i have a drink," makarov replies. he produces a second glass and fills it up, before turning back to you. "but, you do raise a fair point, lieutenant. these plans can be delayed a little while longer." he says, holding it out to you in offering.

you take the glass slowly, confused. "just... like that? so easy?" you hesitate, distrustful— for good reason, too.

the amber liquid swirls in makarov's glass when he moves his hand, dismissing your concerns. "there are still steps between now and then. having you as an ally is far more important in the present."

"wh... just like that?" you parrot, gawking at him when he hands you his glass and walks past you, heading to the door. you spin on your heel and stare at the back of his head as he twists the knob and swings the door open.

he barely acknowledges you when he waves over his shoulder, again, dismissing it. "don't spend too much time on it. focus on the situation in the present."

as he disappears into the corridor, leaving the door to the very private room wide open behind him, you're completely dumbfounded. you came to him for answers; instead of getting that, all you have are more questions.

focus on the situation in the present.

it just sounds like a long-winded way of saying, "direct your anger at anyone but me."

from a tactical standpoint, it's hard to disagree. you're allies with this man, even if it is temporary. no matter how harsh his methods and unreasonable his beliefs, you'll have to learn to tolerate it. your eyes fall to the untouched glasses in your hands, then to the desk behind you, and finally back to the door.

"what the hell have i gotten myself into?"

translations:

сволочь (svoloch) - bastard

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[barefoothighlander]

spillways - panic

-simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

-warnings: mentions of ptsd, angst, bit ooc!ghost

-word count: 1.5k

-summary: after a year of working loosely alongside the 141, you are deployed on your first ground mission. trying to navigate having to work with a team and your lieutenant who seems set on getting a rise out of you.

next chapter fic masterlist

a/n: alright so I'm planning on making this a slow burn, we'll see how long that lasts, I'm trying so hard to be normal about ghost but at the same time I can't so, here you go. :)

I wonder to myself, 

could life ever be sane again?

You thrust yourself awake, alarm bells ringing in your head, something was wrong, something felt off. Faced with the darkness of your bedroom you shift your weight to glance around, nothing out of place, no noises aside from the occasional car alarm, but the buzzing, the buzzing was loud. Your head filled with the buzzing that seemed to have no end and no beginning, turning over you see the time, 3:44 am, staring back at you with that obnoxious, bright red gleam, sighing to yourself 2 hours of sleep isn’t so bad. 

Raising yourself from the bed you’re met with a cold breeze shit, the window was open, striding towards the wall to close it with a loud thud, you hated this apartment, it was old, nothing worked, and the floors creaked under any sort of movement, it didn’t feel like home. You manage the strength to walk to the kitchen and turn on a lamp, growing accustomed to residing in low light, rarely did you ever have your space fully illuminated. You pour yourself a cup of coffee and begin your day, you didn’t have much to do around the apartment considering the only thing on your agenda was to show up to base for deployment, but you still had 4 hours to kill. You occupied yourself with meaningless tasks, tidying the living space even though it had barely anything in it, you had bought the apartment 3 years ago but spent less than 9 months actually living there, it was simply a means of habitat between deployments. Truthfully you don’t know what to do with yourself if you aren’t off in some desert, or mountain range on a mission.

Finally, the clock read 7:15, you figured you had waited an adequate amount of time pacing around the apartment, so you got dressed in some casual clothes that were appropriate for any form of the tactical situation, grabbed your bag and left for the base. You made the drive often enough that it felt like your brain was on autopilot, muscle memory telling you where to turn and when. But you were right, something was off, the buzzing in your head was persistent, and your thoughts ran rampant, usually, you were halfway decent at getting your mind to quiet down, focusing it on whatever task you were assigned, but without some sort of obstacle, you found anxiety begin to bubble in your stomach. You weren’t nervous, not for a standard op, you had run through missions like this a handful of times, and you knew what to expect, what you needed to do, this was something else. Were you nervous to work directly with the 141? You had been assigned a posting with them for a little over a year now, but you never worked with them, only ever as the eye in the sky, providing aid only when deemed necessary, this time you would be on the ground with them, working with them, surviving with them.

Your thoughts occupied your time, and when you reached the base you felt like you had only been driving for 5 minutes. 7:47, enough time to sneak in, you weren’t close with the team, not like how they were with each other, they often invited you to the local pub after a successful mission but you always declined, giving them some excuse along the lines of you being too tired to stay out, most of the time they wouldn’t argue, but you could always feel a gaze staring daggers at the back of your head when you decided to not spend time with them. They meant well, you could tell, but you weren’t looking for another person to ask about your history, or why you joined the force, and you certainly weren’t looking for any sympathy, reducing yourself to a life of seclusion outside deployment.

You made your way to the briefing room, stunned to see that almost everyone was already there, everyone except one person, the only other person who found any sort of comfort in the shadows alongside you, the Ghost. Price waited another few minutes while the guys entertained themselves, recalling a few drunken stories they found amusing, Soap explaining to Gaz why he’s banned from 6 separate pubs in Manchester alone. At 7:56 you saw the door open, and the unmistakable mask breeze in, he was hard to miss, tall and broad, but quiet, always quiet. He found his place near the back of the room, settling himself to lean against a desk.

Turning your attention to Price, trying to focus on the information he was presenting, something about a cartel, and illegal weapons trading in Mexico. You couldn’t focus, not with the buzzing in your head, you tried your best, Ghost noticing the way you constantly adjusted your stance to try to hear Price better. Finally, the brief ended, and you could barely remember a thing the Captain had said aside from “meet at the heli deck 1600 hours.” Inching forward to grab a folder from the table so you could actually study what the assignment was, you felt a strong hand grab your elbow. Glancing up, Ghost was there, invading your space.

“You alright Sargeant?”

“Fine Leuitenent, why?”

“You seem agitated or something” He releases his grip on your elbow as he feels your muscles tense.

“Just tired, didn’t sleep well”

“I know the feeling, go rest, you have time” is all he says, and then he leaves.

You stop for a minute, fiddling with the edges of the folder in your hands, the buzzing is gone is all you can think, as you turn around to catch a glimpse of him, but he’s gone. 

For the first time today, your thoughts are clear, no alarm bells, no buzzing, there’s clarity, and you don’t know why. You chalk it up to the difference in humidity, or atmosphere around the base. But even in the clarity, you can’t sleep, you tried, laying down on your cot for nearly an hour, trying to will your body to rest, but it was useless, it’s hard to rest when you’re always in survival mode. Instead, you decide to take your efforts to the gym on base, choosing to put your thoughts to some use and beat the hell out of a punching bag.

Your knuckles are sore, your legs are cramping up, and you can begin to taste iron in your mouth, but none of these stop you. You continue your assault on the oversized bag of sand, forcing every ounce of energy into your punches and kicks.

“Thought I told you to rest” You didn’t hear him come in, but now, standing directly behind you, he’s hard to miss.

You keep facing away from him, centring the bag in front of you. “Couldn’t, thought my time was better spent here”

“You defied a superior's orders then?”

“A suggestion and an order are different Leuitenent”

“You always talk back? Tsk, that’s bad manners love” he asks, raising his arm to settle the bag in front of you, almost commanding your attention.

You turn to face him, finding his body much closer than you thought, you crane your neck to look into his eyes, they’re shrouded in black paint, his face concealed by the skull. 

“You don’t intimidate me, sir”

“Why not, every other bloke on this base is terrified of me,” he says leaning down a little, enough so that you can feel the warmth of his breath over your cheek.

You press your lips to his covered ear, making sure he hears you loud and clear.

“I see right through the mask,” you say, as you pull yourself back to stare into his dark eyes, and for a moment, you swear you see the telltale signs of a smile from the crinkles that form beside his eyes.

“I’ll see you on deck Sargeant” is all he says, striding away from you and down the hallway.

You stand there, breathless, you’ve never spoken to anyone that way, let alone a superior officer, but you won’t let him scare you, at the end of the day he’s just another man, made of flesh and bone, he bleeds the same colour as the rest of them.

You return to your shacks to rinse off whatever sweat you worked up. Stepping out and checking the time, 3:30, shit, how long was I in the shower for. Quickly gathering your necessary equipment for travel you make your way to the deck, only to be greeted by the loud whirring of helicopter blades, and the booming laughter of one Soap Mactavish.

“Ye ready for some fun lass?” Soap asks placing a firm hand on your shoulder.

Before you get the chance to respond Ghost once again appears out of nowhere.

“No time to waste, get packed in”

Soap glances at you but your eyes are set firm on the Leuitenent, while little feelings of anger begin to form in your chest. Removing his hand from your shoulder, Soap steps into the heli and seats himself next to some of the other guys. You situate yourself near the back of the carrier, far enough that no one would attempt to make conversation with you. To your dismay, Ghost plants himself directly next to you, close enough that your knees are forced to touch. You’re willing him to move, and he doesn’t spare a glance in your direction. 

This is gonna be a long ride.

[writeforfandoms]

The Name of the Wind 4

Find the series masterlist

Here we finally are continuing with this story! I'm trying to match up the timing on everything between these thee stories in the dragon riders 'verse. Yes, three. Our two special guests in this chapter will be leaving to their own story.

It'll be fun, I swear.

Warnings: Swearing, idiot in love, clueless reader, scheming riders, seriously the whole garrison is invested by now.

Word count: 1.8k

Dinner seemed nothing special, in the way that you'd become accustomed to meals here. There was the usual assortment of foods at every table, riders and staff settling down to eat. 

Alejandro was at the table you'd unofficially labeled his - not in the center of the room quite, but still easy to get to. Some of the usual people were there already - Rodolfo and Marin both nodded to you. 

The two new people were there as well, seated side by side across from Alejandro.

“Our guests for tonight,” Alejandro told you, motioning you to sit next to him. “Alex and Frank.” 

You greeted them both, settling next to Alejandro. They'd both cleaned up since you saw them earlier, though Frank hadn't bothered to shave. You'd never seen them before, and you were curious as to how they got here, and how long they'd be here. 

“You must be new here.” Frank eyed you, openly appraising. 

“Yes,” you admitted, a little surprised. 

“New rider?”

“Not exactly,” you hedged, on the border of being uncomfortable, and not sure why. 

“She is a leather worker,” Alejandro answered smoothly, one knee pressing into yours under the table, his elbow gently jostling your arm. “Quite skilled, as well.” 

You warmed under both the praise and the touches, shoulders relaxing even as you leaned ever so slightly into his space. 

Frank held your gaze for a moment before he nodded. “Then we'll be seeing you around again.” 

“Are you here often?” You took a tray from Alejandro, serving yourself food even as you glanced at the two men. 

Alex shrugged, a secretive half-smile twitching his lips. “We come through every so often.”

You looked between the two, seeing clearly that this was some kind of joke. But Alejandro nudged your knee again under the table, and you didn't ask. 

The conversation moved on from there, Rodolfo chiming in with daily reports. Another rider came over to talk to Alejandro for a few minutes, mostly ignoring Alex and Frank. They seemed content to be ignored, talking quietly to each other. 

You squashed your curiosity back down and ate your dinner quietly. 

Frank and Alex stood to leave in tandem, and Alejandro nodded to them. 

“Who were they?” You asked very quietly once they'd left. 

Alejandro hummed for a moment, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “You will see them from time to time,” he said slowly. “But you cannot ask what they do, or where they go. It is confidential.” 

“Okay.” You could do that. No problem. 

Well. Okay. You'd have to remind yourself not to ask, but you'd manage. 

He looked down at you, amused. “You won't see them so often it will be a problem,” he assured you. “Don't fret.” 

You chuckled. “Sure,” you agreed easily. “If you say so.” 

Alejandro shook his head but smiled, getting to his feet. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Good night.” You watched him and Rodolfo walk out together, shoulders nearly pressed together. 

The view was quite nice, after all. 

Shaking your head at yourself, you cleared your place at the table and made your way back to your room. You had a little time before bed. Plenty of time to stuff your emotions back down. 

You were still trying not to find Alejandro attractive… but it wasn't easy. He made it very difficult, in fact. Especially when he sought you out at meal times, and took you on a flight, and promised he wouldn't let harm come to you… 

Really, how were you expected to not find him attractive? 

You squished your face in your pillow to squeal, just a little bit. 

The problem over the next few weeks wasn't work. It wasn't the dragons, as they had all learned that you were to be treated gently.

No. The problem was Alejandro. 

He ate most meals with you. He took you on two more flights. He made a point of seeing you at least once each day. 

He was distracting, but in the most pleasant way. Intriguing and courteous and funny. 

He was a major problem. 

You looked for him, almost automatically, every time you went to eat, or when you were in the dragons’ nesting area. Any time you heard his voice, you paused what you were doing to look. 

Honestly, it was a bit ridiculous. You were embarrassed at yourself. 

But you still looked. 

One night after dinner, Alejandro asked if you'd take a walk with him. You agreed, heart fluttering. 

“I will be gone a few days,” he said as the two of you strolled down empty hallways. “I need to go to the capital.” 

“Oh.” You couldn't help the way your heart sank with disappointment. 

“Rodolfo will be in charge while I'm gone,” he said, looking at you and away again. “It will only be a few days.” 

“I hope you have fun?” It came out for too much of a question, and you grimaced at yourself. 

He snorted. “I will not, but thank you. I dislike going, but I must sometimes.” 

“Why do you dislike it?”

He shrugged. “Politics,” he answered dryly. “There is an overabundance of people who feel far too self-important.”

You laughed, unable to hold it in. “I'm sorry,” you managed, still giggling. “But the look on your face.” 

He huffed, smiling. “It is never a hardship to make you laugh,” he murmured. “Is there anything you want from the capital?”

You blinked at him, taken completely by surprise. “I don't know.” 

He eyed you for a moment before he nodded, just once. “I will find you something, then.” 

You almost protested, except he turned to face you fully, two fingers under your chin tipping your face towards him. Your eyes went wide. 

“I will think of you,” he promised, low and quiet. “I need to go, because I need to wake early. I will see you in a few days.” He leaned in, and for a wild moment you thought he'd kiss you. Your heart leapt and then pounded, lips parting ever so slightly. 

But his lips landed on your cheek, soft and chaste. Your eyelids fluttered, a soft breath escaping you. 

The two of you stood perfectly still for one moment. Then Alejandro stepped back, his fingers falling from your skin. 

You watched him go, hand rising to touch the spot he'd just kissed. 

You hadn't imagined that. He had really kissed your cheek. 

Oh, you were way past trouble now. Now you were in deep. 

You meandered back to your room, completely distracted and oblivious to the world around you, replaying those precious moments over and over again to make sure you remembered them. 

You didn't sleep well, half-remembered dreams of flying then falling interrupting you through the night. 

You were surprised when Marin sat with you at breakfast. She asked about your day, and seemed genuinely interested. Which was… weird, but okay. 

But the weirdness didn't stop there. 

Various riders popped in to your workshop throughout the day. Some just asked how you were doing, while some asked about bringing you things for repairs. One even brought you a canteen of water, saying she'd noticed yours was empty. 

You were deeply, deeply confused. 

But you didn't actually object. 

Rodolfo gently herded you to the normal table at dinner, but he didn't try to make you talk. Just made sure you had food. 

Alejandro left for a few days and the whole garrison went extremely weird. 

Maybe they just needed some sleep. Or something. Maybe you needed sleep. 

Except the next day passed in much the same manner. You hadn't had so much conversation… basically ever. And with so many people! Even one of the kitchen staff found you to ask if you had enough scrap leather to make a holder for a knife. 

Which, of course, you did. Not that you'd tell her, the poor woman seemed easily flustered to begin with, but you weren't using scraps for this. 

You were also debating between telling Alejandro the entire garrison went nuts while he was gone, or never mentioning any of this again. 

You skipped breakfast the next day, sneaking some bread from the kitchen to tide you over until lunch. This, apparently, was a mistake, as what felt like half the garrison showed up at your workshop before lunch. Not all at once, thankfully, mostly alone with a few pairs or small groups showing up.

But still. Highly annoying while you were trying to work. 

You were gearing up around lunch time to yell at the group of three hovering outside your door when a dragon trumpeted outside. All three riders perked up, and the youngest (and boldest) of them darted inside to grab you. You barely had time to yelp before the three were half-dragging you off, your feet barely keeping up. 

Bright sunlight blinded you for a couple moments as they dragged you clear outside. But you felt the ground-shaking thump of a dragon landing. 

You didn't even have time to ask before the three abandoned you. You nearly stumbled, but managed not to. Huffing, you shaded your eyes to look. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest. 

Caba stopped just in front of you, rumbling a friendly greeting to you, head lowering to breathe hot air on top of your head. You couldn't help but laugh a little, reaching up to pat his snout. 

“You're here.” Alejandro sounded surprised but rallied quickly, throwing one leg over Caba's back and sliding down the big dragon's side. He landed easily, making you the teensiest bit jealous - you still nearly faceplanted every time. 

“I am,” you agreed, a little perplexed but mostly just happy to see him. “How was your trip?”

He waved a hand, dismissing the question. “Uneventful. Not worth it, as usual.” He paused a moment before he smiled. “But I did find this.” 

He produced a flower from nowhere, petals marbled pink and white. 

“Oh, it's beautiful.” You smiled, leaning closer to see if the flower had any fragrance. It did, and it smelled wonderful too. 

“It's for you.” Alejandro took one of your hands, curling your fingers delicately around the stem.

Your eyes blew wide and you jerked your gaze from the flower to him. He just smiled at you, warm and soft and so pleased. 

Excited not-exactly-whispering behind you made both of you turn to look. Alejandro's smile dropped and he huffed softly. 

“Excuse me, I have some riders to speak with,” he growled, much less happy now. But he paused and cupped your cheek, leaning in close to whisper, “I'll see you later.” And then he strode off, like a man on a warpath.

You dropped your gaze back to your flower and hid your smile behind it, inexplicably giddy.

[lvlyghost]

In the Midst of War: III

PAIRINGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Shadow!Reader

SUMMARY: Home is no longer where it used to be. Left with no one else you wonder who your friends and foes are.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

TW: blood, descriptions of wounds, an old friend shows up. feelings! attempted fluff. mind the english🐸!

A/N: this GIF is my new fixation and i will not stop posting it in a long time so be advised 🤩 things are hitting the fan next chapter💗as usual thx for reading 🍁🩵

Masterlist✨Masterpost

"𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔?"

Heavy boots, a ragged breathing caused by adrenaline and the sound of his heart thumping inside his ears, those are the things that Ghost can hear as he approaches the white van. Price shouts behind him but he can't make out what he's saying.

The blood... crimson blood that spills from her wounds is frightening. He's a man accustomed to witness horrible things. Seen the worst the world had to offer. Experienced in the flesh what evil can do to a human being. And simply because the woman that he holds in his arms is supposed to be his enemy that didn't mean he wanted to see her bleed out to death. Especially when they learned the truth.

Ghost had a moral code. Things he never wanted to see people go through despite being consequential to their own decisions. She had decided to join the army. She had decided to join the Shadow Company. It was bound to happen. Still it was hard for him.

That very moral code was to not hurt women nor children under any circumstances, and may God —if it even existed— help him when he'd have no other choice.

"Open the fucking door!" He yells, accent becoming more prominent; the door instantly sliding open, readjusting her near dead body in his arms to get them inside. "Gaz, give me everything you have." He commands the Sergeant, who's quick to open his medical pouches as well as the first aid kit they had loaded just in case someone needed it. The eyes of the woman flutter shut and then open slightly again, drifting back and forth between consciousness and the arms of the reaper. Ghost barks again at Gaz, so he helps him undoing the straps of her vest so he can check the wound properly.

"There's another one on her leg, Lt." he points out, moving around him as much as he can with the vehicle moving. With no time to waste he rips the lower part of his shirt, long and wide enough for his Sergeant to work. "Tourniquet , now." Gaz nods, at the harsh and cold commands of his superior. He then turns, lifting her shirt to inspect the wound. The bullet is still lodged inside her stomach, he notices sucking in a sharp breath; part of Ghost wonders who could've been the one who shot her? What if it was him? Taking the disinfectant from the kit he poured a generous amount on her wound. Her face scrunched, lips pouting and a low whine leaves her mouth. "Sorry about that, kid." He muttered, before pressing down on her wound every single gauze he found only to slowly start tainting red. He knew well she couldn't hear him her mind far away from where she physically was.

"We're back." one of the Vaqueros announced, as the van comes to an abrupt stop.

"We need to get her to the helo as soon as possible. She's lost too much blood." Price orders.

The three men get down, military doctors rush to them.

"We'll take it from here." One of them declares, patting Ghost on the shoulder, he nearly growls.

"Let's go. This isn't finished yet."

So Price dragged him in the opposite direction where they were taking her. He didn't know if she'll make it. But that was everything they'd do for her.

-

Stepping out of the room, showered and changed into comfortable sporting clothes you look around for Ghost. The safe house is silent. Deadly silent.

You wonder if he's even here, and you wonder if escaping would be a good idea. But as for now this was everything you had, at least a bed to sleep and a roof above your head. Sighing you walk to the kitchen just to find it as empty as the rest of the rooms.

The chilly air of late November causes your skin to erupt in goosebumps the moment you step outside, the backyard stretches farther away in the distance and as if on cue, the tall broad form of the Lieutenant appears walking through massive pines, wearing nothing but the jacket and his mask.

Ghost gradually stops when his eyes land on you standing still right outside the back door, arms crossed over your chest to protect you from the weather. He remains silent for a long minute before taking another

step closer.

"All set. Come with me." He orders you.

Biting on your lower lip, stopping your mouth from saying something you'll regret.

"Are you always this bossy?" Despite not liking his tone you oblige and begin to follow as he turns on his heels. If your question annoys him he doesn't let it show in fact he ignores you completely. "Where are we going, Ghost?"

Suddenly a wave of fear washes over you, steps faltering, hands shaking ever so slightly. What if this was it? The end of everything. You didn't want to believe Ghost could kill you like you were nothing you just don't do that to someone you've taken care of for the past month. Why bothering? Why tending to your wounds and worrying for your wellbeing, even if he was forced to do it. You wanted to believe that at least he didn't hate you. Not the way he hated your former Commander. You thought something had changed between the two. He had seemed more relaxed around you; like he somehow had lowered his defenses around you.

"Silence." he hushes you in a low mutter. "M'not gonna kill you if that's what you're worried about."

His words are cold and measured, as if he doesn't want to be here at all and the feeling, the knowledge that you're a burden to him makes your heart ache. A tiny pang of sadness that that's all you've ever been. All you could ever hope to be. So you ball your clench your hands, head hanging low when the so familiar lump in your throat becomes unbearable.

Both of you make it to a clearing, birds faintly chirping on the horizon. The sun no longer greets you, a storm announces itself with heavy clouds appearing in the sky above.

And then you're not alone. Another person stands in the middle. Hands clasped behind. Your heart skips a beat.

The only person that cares enough to save you. Blonde hair in a low tight bun.

Kate turns around, eyes going wide when she finally sees you. She's about to say something but words die because you're practically running to her, ignoring Ghost's warnings on being careful.

A smile appears on her face when you finally hug her and tears roll down your cheeks.

"What took you so long?" You sniffle. Kate's arms hold you tighter.

"I came as soon as I could. Forgive me, Vesper."

Shaking your head you try to stop the tears. It's honestly humiliating but she's known you since you joined the military. Kate Laswell was the closest thing you had to a family just like Graves. "I hope Lieutenant Riley has been good to you."

You huff, making her chuckle.

"He's taken care of me. For that I am grateful."

So now you knew more about him.

Riley.

Better than just a callsign. And it suited him.

Ghost stands a few feet away, despite this being a secure area he can't afford himself to relax. He can still hear everything you say to each other.

He can hear you crying on her shoulder and bloody hell if that didn't made him feel all sorts of distressed. It was a rare thing. Something he wouldn't have thought when he first scooped you up back on that forgotten highway.

But he guesses that happens when you spend too much time with someone you were supposed to look after. It didn't help that just last night you had asked him to stay the night in your room. All kinds of wrong.

Although he had refused he could sense what was happening and he needed to stop it. Getting attached wasn't part of the plan, and it would end terribly.

Deep in his thoughts he misses the look you send him.

"He really is something else." You murmur to Kate who keeps you know at arms length. "If it wasn't for you, I'm sure they'd have killed me." A sad smile appears on your lips.

"Let's not think about what happened darling, but rather what's gonna happen, yeah? Things have taken... a turn. No, hear me out." She says, interrupting you with a soft smile. "You're not alone. Never have been." Another quick glance at Ghost confirms the both of you that he's heard you.

"You know I don't like it when you say mysterious things, Kate." She sighs, giving you another hug although this one isn't as long as the first.

"Trust me. That's all I'm asking, and hey..." he levels you with a serious look. "Ghost may seem frightening but he's a good man." A low confession that doesn't reach his ears. Your cheeks turn red and you don't know why, leaving you mortified when she notices.

"Yeah..." you mumble.

"I don't have much more time. There's matters that require my attention but you'll hear from me again sooner than you think."

-

"What's that stance?" He gruffly asks as he stands next to you, eyes sliding up and down your body. His arms are tightly crossed over his broad chest. You turn to look up to him and away from the scope of your sniper rifle, blinking rapidly not understanding the disapproving look in his brown eyes.

"Uh, this is how I shoot Ghost." You answer like it was obvious what you were doing. You notice the way he furrow his brows beneath the balaclava.

"Bloody Christ." He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. He comes behind you. "Widen your stance." He kicks one of your foot so it slides along the dirty soil.

Yelping you lose balance for a second before he steadies you with a strong hand to your waist.

"Hey! What was that about?"

Ghost tilts his head eyes narrowing.

"That stance was utter shite. Your legs were not separated enough, you'd get knocked down easily by a waft of air."

"I've been doing it like this forever."

"Well you've been doing it wrong."

"But that's..." squinting your eyes you stare at him, fuming. "My legs are not as long as yours, they're like five damn kilometers long." Ghost snorts. "What's so funny?"

"Shocked you know what a kilometer is." Shaking your head you decide to ignore him and readjust the grip on the rifle. "One of his best soldiers, I heard." He points out. He returns to his spot next to you, trying not to think of how you felt under his touch.

"You've never seen someone like me, Lieutenant Riley."

Ghost freezes, heart skipping a beat at the way you say his name. It's soft and endearing. He watches you closely, you're focused on the target one eye closed and the other fixed on the green bottle.

Breathing slowly and steadily, the exact moment when the sky rumbles you press the trigger. The bullet sound echoes through the lone forest as it hits the target, sending birds flying away from their nests. A wide grin makes its way to your lips, turning to look a Ghost who remains silent merely watching the near-perfect shot, the average size bottle shattered in a thousands pieces.

"Bullseye." you comment in a casual tone. "Your turn."

Offering him the rifle you stare at each other for a long time before he shakes his head, refusing to take it.

"Mine's better." Unfazed by his refusal you wait as he goes to the black duffel bag that he previously placed on an old wooden table. He takes out his preferred weapon. Your was... lethal, but his own, the sheer size and way it was customized for him left you speechless. You even doubted you'd be able to hold it still. "And just so you know." coming back to where he was, Ghost readies himself but not before taking off his leather jacket. Only left with his black hoodie he offers you the jacket, eyes serious. Hesitating for a second before grabbing it and putting it on, it smells like him. It's soft and warm around your body. "We're going out tomorrow."

His body prepares to take the recoil of the gun. Yet another perfect shot is made that day; body barely moving, barely flinching when he fires. You hold your breath at the sound of shattering glass and then everything goes silent. Ghost turns to look you in the face, the way his clothes hang around your body swallowing you whole. A sight he finds himself liking too much for his own bloody good.

"Taking me out on a date I see." His lips twitch although you can't see it. "Where to?" You ask rolling your eyes.

Laying down the weapon he motions you to follow him back inside, he'd clean up afterwards.

"Your first mission. Laswell wants you back asap." The air gets stuck in your throat. "Don't look at me like that. We could use a good soldier. And don't worry too much. I'm coming with."

Teaming up with Ghost was the last thing you thought would happen in your lifetime, even if you had before needlessly to say not directly. For all you knew, they considered you a hostile for your connections with the Shadow Company. But your commander was off the equation. Gone forever.

With a final glance to your way he starts to cook dinner for two so you join him.

Your new life starts now.

-

"When does this end, Laswell?" He asks her, it's not that he doesn't want to be around the girl. That is exactly why he's desperate to put an end to this, enjoying her company wasn't a part of the plan.

She breathes the cool air, and tries to calm him.

"Don't tell me you've grown to care about her, Lieutenant."

Ghost doesn't answer but the CIA agent notices the way his shoulders tense.

Part 4

[starberry-cupcake]

I have made up from last time that was about only one chapter, this time we have 5 in a row. We finished act one, fam!

previously, in harrowbean the ninth:

this happened

I want to also thank you for all your nice comments and replies, I read every single one, I promise ♥

ch. 7 to 11 summarized terribly, here we go:

it's time to cross the river

difficult task to perform

as someone who lives literally surrounded by rivers, in every direction, I can relate

my rivers don't carry ghouls though, as far as I know

I mean, there are ghost and cryptid legends, but not ghouls that stick to the windshield of a spaceship like bugs

like these ones do

so harrow and yandere twin aren't doing fantastic

yandere twin loses it in like the first 2 seconds

harrow sees the ghosts of all the ninth kids who died for her to be alive

there's water also, but that part sounds very relaxing, actually

getting covered by water but not needing to breath

I'd be there forever tbh

but we can't, because ghoulies

mercygirl is still doing sound effects like kronk

btw we're changing her name to mercygirl because it's what I've been calling her now

I have been told by a number of you that mercygirl is your camilla so I apologize for disrespecting your blorbina

I might do it again, if the situation arises, though

mercygirl is piloting the ship and emperor the fool is just chillin' until he realizes harrow is walking about and doing theorems, which they didn't think she'd be in a state to do, so they didn't tell her not to do it

these people half-assing plans, who would have thought

mercygirl calls the emperor john

emperor johnnyboy tries telling harrow to come back from her state because she's in too deep and it's becoming dangerous

mercygirl stars talking about the death of cassiopeia (another name that's easy to remember)

says cassiopeia had a ceramics collection, which makes her worthy of all my respect

harrow was thinking "five", idk what it's about

next thing we know, we're back to our gideonless retelling of gideon

in this version, teacher explains things

he says the house was inhabited previously by "ten normal human beings of the Resurrection, though half were blessed already with necromantic gifts"

I'm tired of MATH

he says they left blueprints, he tells them about the Sleeper, he tells them how not to awaken it, he tells them about the trap door, he tells them what's under the trap door, he asks them to work together...

you know what this is like

it's like reading gideon was entering a new game and skipping every tutorial they give you

and reading this is like clicking every NPC's info and reading all that they say

ANYWAY, here is where ortus 1...

wait, this is going to be confusing

I want to call ortus from the ninth "ortus 1" and the new guy "ortus 2"

because ninth ortus was the first to show up

but new ortus is actually older and also is ortus the first

we're gonna go with ortus and lyctor!ortus, for now

so, as I was saying, this is were ortus starts becoming much more insistent in these "flashbacks" about him not being the right choice

which, he's not wrong

we know he's not wrong

and harrow is saying stuff like "unless you can summon matthias nonius" (matthias nonius is becoming a recurrent thing, let's remember harrow compared gideon to him at one point)

and ortus goes "I don't understand why you chose me" to which harrow says "there was nobody else" and ortus exasperatedly says "you never did posses an imagination"

VERY IMPORTANT THING

a skeleton turns around when they're walking and says "is this how it happens?"

we'll come back to that shortly

REMEMBER IT

(I know you all remember it, you've read this already, just act like I'm dora the explorer and play along)

next chapter starts in not!dulcinea's funeral

I'm sad I used the oliver queen grave meme already, I can't use it again to express my feelings

I'm gonna use the steel magnolias scene where they laugh at the funeral instead

so, we are introduced to the famous augustine who's name I will remember

there's some conversation about first and second generations and about not!dulcinea being chosen, and Emperor Johnny Bravo says "we were all there to meet her, all sixteen of us"

MORE MATH

I guess she was the last one of these, but maybe we knew that already, I feel we knew that already

apparently, not!dulcinea was the most reluctant to slurp her cavalier, but that didn't stop any of them, not even her, so

Emperor Johnny Quest says "for god's sake" and harrow thinks "the god who became a man and yet still invoked himself, apparently"

when she's right, she's right

that's better commentary than I could make

I have to respect augustine a little bit because he asked "which one of the kiddies did her in?" and I thought that was hilarious

he is called the saint of patience, which makes my previous comment about them being named via sarcasm very correct

it's like captain planet or the power rangers but chosen as funnily as possible

they start summoning lyctor!ortus by saying that he's interested in "you-know-what", which is both suspicious and childish and the vibes of these lyctors are all over the place

augustine thinks something's wrong, which is an understatement at this point, but ok

lyctor!ortus comes in as if summoned by the gossip and harrow calls him "the next terrible part of your life" which is saying something

lyctor!ortus comes with news of the seventh beast or whatnot that's trailing them

harrow bleeds from her ears and smashes her head on the next available surface to pass out

the mood

who could blame her

this lyctor job is terrible

it's like the end of drop dead gorgeous and harrow is kristen dunst

I'm not explaining that, in case you haven't watched a classic

we are back to the "flashbacks" and we've got a special appearance from the fifth

*studio audience claps and cheers*

they say they prefer to look into books than going downstairs, which is something one would consider if one had known what the fuck was downstairs from the start

abigail also does sound effects like mercygirl, it's catching on

abigail finds a piece of a recipe note that mentions an M and a Nigella

still no G&P

we know nigella is the cav of cassiopeia, the ceramics collector

I remember nigella's name because of the cook, which makes it funnier that it's a recipe

M could be mercygirl

abigail also gives harrow a note

abigail says that she'd like to summon the ghost of a lyctor but she's not sure how that could work or where they go when they die

ortus, magnus and abigail, in this gideonless version, are a polycule

I am convinced of that

while they're talking, magnus says "is this really how it happens?"

REMEMBER I SAID WE'D BRING THAT BACK

IT'S BACK

abigail starts telling harrow that she's got the energy of a lot of dead kids in her and harrow storms out

harrow gets angry when ortus calmly agrees about things and she doesn't want to look into why

I WONDER WHY THAT IS

harrow looks at abby's note again and now there's text on it

it's a longer version of the note she found before

it's a rant

it mentions dead eggs, implantation, some guy being sent after the OP, said guy taking pity on OP

OP is mad about all of this and doesn't use punctuation

what ortus reads isn't what harrow reads, once again

NOW THIS BIT

"ortus, I need a cavalier with a backbone" "You always did and I am glad, I think, that I never became that cavalier"

the gideon points keep adding up

harrow then goes to sleep and is like this

final thing in act I, in chapter 11, is harrowbean stabbing not!dulcinea again, which

always make sure, it's like resident evil in here

just in case, let's stab her a bunch of times

so, are these "flashbacks" happening in real time whenever harrow isn't conscious?

is it her trying to remember what actually happened?

or is it her trying to hide it?

was there actually a longer period of time between the defeat of not!dulcinea and the emperor Jon Arbuckle coming to pick them up?

a period of time in which harrow learned things that made her write those letters?

and in which something happened regarding gideon?

is the note of the implantation also related?

why was gideon born in space?

of course I'm not asking you, please don't spoil anything, I'm just asking the void of desperation and chaos right now

we'll see if any of this gets answered soon or if I just get more questions

also, guess who wasn't mentioned

see you on the next one!! I'll try to get back to the awesome replies I've been getting soon ♥

[football-and-fanfics]

The Medic #14 - Jude Bellingham

About the series: The Medic is an anthology-like series about the reader working for the medical team of the club/national team. Each chapter will feature a different setting/scenario and a different player

Who: Jude Bellingham Prompt: Knocked out Requested by: anonymous Word count: 525 Warnings: descriptions of being knocked out, slight panic/anxiety. Mentions of hospital.

Jude didn't remember what had happened. He didn't know where he was, why he found himself lying on the ground, and he certainly didn't know why his head hurt so bad.

The world around him was dark, but he still felt like he was spinning slowly. The noise around him was oh so loud that it hurt his already aching head. His mind wouldn't form a coherent thought, and the last clear memory he had, was of eating breakfast that morning. After that everything was a blur.

"Jude?"

He recognized your voice, but couldn't determine where it came from, and he found himself unable to answer you calling out to him either.

"Jude, can you open your eyes for me, please?"

It was a struggle, but finally Jude managed to pry his eyes open. He only now realized the world had been so dark, because his eyes had been closed. His vision swam around for a moment, until his glassy gaze landed on you sitting next to him.

"Wh- where am I?" Jude found himself lying on his side. He recognized the feeling of grass underneath him, but that was about it. "Stadium," you answered, "you were knocked out for a few minutes." Jude stirred uneasily. You rested a soothing hand on his forearm to keep him calm. "What happened?" The fear rose quickly in Jude's eyes. "H-how did I get here? Why does my head hurt?"

Jude rapidly lost control over himself now and became very uneasy. He tried to push himself up, trampling his legs and attempting to move away. "Calm down, it's alright." You had your hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down to the ground. "No..." Jude protested as he tried to squirm out from under your hold over him.

You knew disorientation was a common side effect of people regaining consciousness, but it was never nice to see someone so confused and scared.

"Jude." You tone got a bit harder, but you needed to get through to him. "I can explain what happened to you, but I need you calm and to lie still." Jude stilled under your hands still on his shoulders. He glanced up at you again, eyes still wide with fear and disorientation. He lay breathing hard, trembling slightly, but he remained still.

"You took a knock to the head," you explained, "you were out cold for a few minutes." "Is that why my head hurts?" Jude asked softly, "and why the world keeps spinning around me?" "Absolutely." You were glad to see he remained calm and seemed a little more lucid now. "I suspect you have a concussion. That's why your memory is a bit shoddy as well." Jude nodded silently to show he had understood. "We're carrying you off the pitch in a few moments," you continued calmly, "and then we'll be taking you to the hospital for some checks."

Jude silently reached for your hand and took a tight hold of it. "Will I be alright?" His voice quivered slightly. You wrapped you hand around his and gave it a firm squeeze. "Yes." You assured him. "I'm sure you'll be perfectly fine."

Request an imagine Jude Bellingham masterlist | Full writing masterlist

[roosterforme]

Is It Working For You? Part 6 | Rooster x Reader

Just in case you need to start at the beginning or visit an earlier chapter, check out my Masterlist!

Summary: Wingwoman Phoenix strikes again. And your brain and heart are finally working together when it comes to Rooster.

Warnings: angst, fluff, some swears, adult banter, getting more into 18+

Length: 2700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Still in a haze of Bradley induced lust, you could barely figure out how to answer his phone. "Hello?" you managed, your voice sounding like something from a porno.

"Y/N? I think I took your bag by mistake! I'm so sorry!" It was Phoenix, but it took you a moment to figure out what she was even talking about.

"Oh, right. That's okay, no worries," you told her. Bradley was slowly pulling further away from you and removing his hands from your sides. "Bradley said he would drive me over to get my stuff."

"Sounds good. Can you put him on for a second?"

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

You gave the phone back to Bradley and he took it in his large hand, his eyes never leaving yours. He knew he had to have the dumbest look on his face right now, but he didn't care, because you also looked seriously blissed out at the moment.

"Yeah?" he grunted

"Did it work?" Phoenix asked.

He started laughing. "I should have known. But yeah, somehow it did."

"YES!" she shouted loudly into his ear. "We are all at the Burger Shack, but take your time getting here."

"Perfect. We'll come meet you to get her bag."

Bradley ended the call, silently taking back every mean thing he had ever said about Phoenix.

"You ready to go?" he asked you, really loving the way you were looking at him now. You nodded slowly and he placed a gentle kiss to your lips before closing your door. Unable to contain himself, he danced around the back of the Bronco before grabbing his aviators, climbing in and starting the engine. 

The start of the drive was silent except for the radio. Bradley glanced over to see you running your fingertips gently along your lips. "So, now that I have your phone number, am I allowed to use it?" he asked carefully, hoping he wasn't going to spook you.

"Yeah, I would like that," you whispered back with a smile.

"Great. Would you mind saving your number in my phone for me?" He handed the phone to you and gave you the passcode while he drove. You saved your number with your first and last name and handed it back as he pulled the Bronco into the lot of the burger place. 

"Bradley, will you please ask me out again? Please ask me if I want to go to that place in Del Mar and eat spicy food with you."

Bradley smirked as he shifted into park. "I'll think about it, Sweetheart."

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

"Well played, Bradshaw," you thought to yourself as he walked around to get your door for you. Your lack of shoes was still a problem, but he wordlessly looped an arm under your knees and scooped you up, holding you against his chest. 

You floated along like you were in a dream, your arms looped around his neck as he carried you around the back of the restaurant. "Should we be seen like this?" you whispered, realizing the position the two of you were in.

"It's sandy up ahead. I'll set you down there," he replied with a grin. "But if I had it my way, I'd be touching you all night, and I couldn't care less who was around to see it."

You bit your lip as he set you down and bounded up the steps in front of you. Your brain and heart were working in tandem for once, demanding that you grab him and get back to kissing. You had to collect yourself before walking up the steps.

"Wow, Phoenix," Bradley called toward the tables where everyone else sat eating. "How many bags did you decide to steal today? You truly are a menace."

She jumped up with your teal backpack and handed it to you. "I'm so sorry! I would have driven it back to the beach, except that Rooster was so sweet to bring you here to get it."

You were thankful that the back deck was crowded with so many people eating and hanging out. This way, you were able to slip your clothing and shoes back on without drawing a lot of attention to yourself. "It's really no big deal," you told her with a shrug, trying to play it off. "Bradley helped me get up from the beach and everything, so it's fine."

"I'm sure he helped you with a lot of things," she replied innocently before returning to her seat and her tray of food. 

You huffed out a laugh and went into the restaurant to order some food, and that's where you found Bradley. He waved you up to the front of the line where he was about to order. "What do you want to eat?" 

You were just checking your phone and saw that Cam and Maria both went home to shower instead of grabbing dinner. "A burger with everything, and a chocolate shake," you told him, rooting around in your bag to get your credit card out so you could pay for your food and his too. 

"Make that two burgers with everything, two chocolate shakes, fries and onion rings," Bradley told the kid who was taking the order before handing him his own credit card. 

"I was going to pay for it," you scolded him, finally locating your wallet. His only response was leaning a little closer to you, smiling and shaking his head. "I hope you do realize I have the clearances to have you removed from all mission details at work," you threatened with a completely serious expression. 

"You would never," Bradley said, but he did look a little nervous.

"No, I wouldn't. I just want you to know your place. So when I say I'm buying you a beer later, I don't want to hear you bitching."

You grabbed the order when it was ready and started walking to a table out on the back deck. 

"Have I mentioned that I like everything about you?" Bradley whispered in your ear as he followed you.

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

As Bradley drove you through the darkness back to the beach to get your car, he felt you reach for his hand on the center console. You seemed to have no idea what you were doing to him every time you touched him. 

"How should I save your contact name in my phone?" you asked him as he was about to park next to your car in the beach parking lot. "I feel like I'm the only person who calls you Bradley instead of Rooster."

"Here, let me do it." He thought for a minute before typing out Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3 and hitting save before handing it back to you. 

Your bright laughter filled his car and made him smile. "What if someone sees that?"

"I don't care. And if you change it, I'll be so mad," he said as he hopped out and started around to get you. He opened your door and helped you jump down. "Like now I'm going to demand that you text me a screenshot of our conversations every night so I can make sure that's still how my name is listed."

You cracked up. "And what makes you think I'll be texting you every night?"

"You will be," he said with a nod before backing you up until your butt bumped your car door. Then you reached out and touched his cheek, and it was ridiculous how quickly he had his mouth on yours.

You overtook all of his senses as he kissed you. He could still smell your coconut sunblock. Every curve of your hips fit perfectly in his hands. The little gasps and sighs coming from you sounded obscene to his ears. You tasted like a chocolate milkshake. And when he pulled away to get a good look at you, your face was bathed in moonlight. "You're fucking beautiful," he told you as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip.

"Are you going to ask me out again?" you asked him sweetly, making him chuckle. 

"I said I would think about it. Now, I'm going to stop back and get a shower before heading to the Hard Deck. And then I'm going to let you buy me exactly one beer so you'll allow me to keep my job. Sound good?"

"Yeah," you said, running your hands down his arms. "I'll see you there." 

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

"Maria!" you screamed when you got home a few minutes later.

"What's wrong?!" she asked as she came running out of her room half dressed. 

You were jumping up and down, and trying to kick off your shoes. "I kissed him! I kissed him and I should have done it a week ago!" 

Maria joined you in your jumping. "Tell me more! Is the mustache magical?"

"It is soooo magical!" you sang as you pulled your shoes off and ran toward the bathroom. "He's just.... oh my goodness, he's so sexy. I need to take a quick shower so we can go out to the bar." 

Once you were in the shower, Maria let herself in the bathroom to continue interrogating. "So what happened after Cam and I left?"

"Well Phoenix accidentally took my bag with her, so I was left with just Bradley and my towel. I didn't have my phone or keys or shoes or anything. He carried me up the rocks, Maria. Then I kissed him in the Bronco. It really is a hot car."

Maria snorted. "Yeah, it sounds like Phoenix took your stuff on purpose. She was probably trying to blindside both of you."

You poked your head around the shower curtain. "You really think so? Wow, she's a very good friend then."

Maria nodded, as you got back to showering. "So, how exactly have you solved your Rooster problem?"

"I'm still working on it."

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

Bradley tried to casually throw some darts with Hangman, but he couldn't stop looking toward the door for your arrival. And then suddenly there you were, in a cute little sundress that hit just above your knees, arm in arm with Cam. Bradley completely froze at the sight of you, just as he was about to take his turn. 

"Oh shit man, don't even bother with her," Hangman drawled once he realized who Bradley was looking at. "Been there, tried that. She's completely brutal. She'll shut you down cold and never even glance in your direction again. But it must have been fun for you to get your hands on her during football earlier. She is something to look at." 

Bradley had to work hard to hide his smile. "Yeah, she sure is." He threw the last dart, lost to Hangman, and then excused himself to get a drink. You were leaning against the bar top flanked by your friends.

"Fancy meeting you here," Bradley said, and you spun around to face him. He wanted to touch you but managed to keep his hands to himself. 

"Yes, fancy," you said with a smile. You'd taken the time to French braid your hair and put on some makeup. He desperately wanted to mess it all up. "I just ordered you a beer. Thanks for not stranding me on the beach earlier."

"I hope you realize, you're just making me think of how much fun it would be to get stranded with you," he said, low enough for just you to hear. 

"Maybe next time," you told him with a smirk as you picked up both bottles and handed him one. "I'm going to drink this beer, and then in about twenty minutes, I'm going to go outside and walk down the stairs on the far side of the deck. I wouldn't be opposed to you meeting me on the beach."

Bradley's heart was hammering in his chest. "I'll be there," he managed to say before he took his beer to the other side of the bar near the pool table. He checked the time on his phone and forced himself to be as chill as possible for the next twenty minutes. He passed the time by thanking Phoenix profusely for taking your bag. 

"I knew she liked you!" she whispered excitedly. "She just needs some time to realize you would treat her well. I'm sure she thinks all of you guys are essentially a bunch of fuckboys with more balls than brains. And honestly, that's true for most of you." 

Bradley checked the time. Four more minutes to go. "I would never fuck her over. She's amazing. She calls me out on everything, Nat. And she's hilarious. I don't understand even ten percent of what she does at work, she's so much smarter than me. I already like her more than I think I've ever liked any other girl."

Phoenix smiled up at him and patted his arm. "Then you have to figure out how to keep her around."

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

You discreetly excused yourself from your friends, who clearly knew exactly what you were doing. You crept around the perimeter of the bar until you reached the door, then you ran across the darkened deck and down the stairs to the sand. With your back pressed against the wooden pillar that was holding the deck in place, you tried to slow your breathing. The night air was cooler than you expected for late summer, and you shivered in anticipation. 

You heard heavy footsteps move quickly across the deck, and then someone was running down the stairs next to you. When Bradley landed on the sand, you reached for him and he found you in the near darkness. 

"Hi," you whispered and his lips were immediately on yours. You pulled him closer by the collar of his Hawaiian shirt, and he pressed your back against the wooden post. He smelled so good, you wanted to lick him.

"Hi," he said against your lips between kisses. He cupped your chin and tilted your face up a bit before placing teasing little kisses all over your lips. Then he let his hand trail up and down along the back of your neck, playing with your braided hair. You shivered from cold and anticipation. "Are you chilly?"

"A little bit."

"I'll keep you warm," he promised and took both of your hands in his. Then he wrapped them around his neck and moved so his large body was pressed against yours, heat rolling off him. He slowly rubbed his hands up and down your sides, warming you through the fabric of your dress and making your core ache with need. "Better?" he asked against your shoulder, tickling you with his mustache. 

"Much," you whimpered as he dragged his lips up along your neck, kissing your ear, forehead and the tip of your nose before returning to your lips.

You delved your tongue gently into his mouth, desperate to know how your favorite beer tasted on him. 

Good, it tasted very good.

He responded by digging his capable fingers a little harder into your hips. And now his tongue was in your mouth, tasting you.  You were almost seeing stars, you were so turned on. 

"Your skin is so soft," Bradley rasped as he ran his knuckles slowly across your collarbones and down a little lower, brushing the top of the swell of your breasts. Now his kisses were a little rougher, needier, but you still felt like he was worshipping you. "I'll bet you're soft everywhere."

Unable to keep control, you rubbed yourself gently against the front of his jeans. He was so hard. "Fuck, Sweetheart. Let's not go there tonight." 

"Why not?" you whined, completely lost to this man. 

"I can't really remember at the moment, but for some reason, it's not a good idea," he managed to say, bucking against you once and swallowing your moan with his mouth. Then he put a few inches of space between you so you could both catch your breath. He propped his forearm against the pillar above your head and you leaned back and looked at his face, bathed in moonlight. He was absolutely stunning.

A moment later, you could hear him softly laughing, and he tucked your braid behind your ear and stroked your neck. "I was planning on making you sweat it out for another day, but... do you want to go out with me? To Del Mar for dinner on Friday?"

"Yes."

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

Thanks for reading along! Just an FYI, smut is around the corner, so if that is not something you are interested in reading, please keep that in mind. Leave me some love, and you know I'll post again as soon as I can!

Part 7

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